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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!

 

 

 

and the book:

 

Abbie Ann

Whitaker House (April 6, 2010)

***Special thanks to Cathy Hickling of Whitaker House for sending me a review copy.***

Sharlene MacLaren has released eight successful novels since retiring from her longtime career as an elementary school teacher. Her first book, Through Every Storm, won an American Christian Fictions Writers’ award for best in general fiction in 2007. While both her historic and contemporary releases are unmistakably inspirational romance novels, her characters and plots deviate from formula, resulting in unexpected twists and turns – and fat books – to the delight of her fans. At 480 pages, Abbie Ann is her longest to date. Shar and her husband Cecil have two grown children and three grandchildren; they live in western Michigan.

Visit the author’s website.

Product Details:

List Price: $9.99

Paperback: 400 pages

Publisher: Whitaker House (April 6, 2010)

Language: English

ISBN-10: 1603740767

ISBN-13: 978-1603740760

AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:

Multitalented author Sharlene MacLaren has once again given readers a story that artfully blends excitement, humor, and romance. It isn’t every writer who can pluck every human emotion and deliver the promised happy ending, but this one can! If you can afford only one book this month, make it Abbie Ann. You won’t be sorry you did!
—Loree Lough

Author of more than seventy award-winning inspirational romances,

including Love Finds You in Paradise, Pennsylvania
With the skill and flair her readers have come to know and love, Shar weaves yet another wonderfully captivating historical tale in Abbie Ann. This third book in her Daughters of Jacob Kane series will thrill and delight, as each character learns obedience to God and discovers triumph over tragedy.
—Jean E. Syswerda

Best-selling coauthor, Women of the Bible

Author, NIrV Read with Me Bible

General Editor, NIV Women of Faith Study Bible
A delightful voice in the CBA market, Sharlene MacLaren captures the true essence of God’s restoring power. Abbie Ann is a must-read.
—Debra Ullrick

Author, The Bride Wore Coveralls, Déjà vu Bride, and Dixie Hearts
A fast-paced, gripping historical romance with true-to-life characters and lively dialogue, filled with surprising twists and turns, Abbie Ann, MacLaren’s third and final installment in The Daughters of Jacob Kane series, will have you rapidly turning the pages. Absolutely captivating!
—Cindy Bauer

Author, Chasing Memories and Shades of Blue
With entertaining and emotive prose, Sharlene MacLaren’s historical romance novels hold their own amid this ever-popular genre. Her characters have spirit and passion in abundance, and Michigan in the early 1900s is brought to life with her vivid and authentic descriptions. Abbie Ann is another feather in Sharlene’s auspicious author’s cap!
—Rel Mollet

Professional book reviewer, relzreviews.blogspot.com
Abbie Ann offers it all—adventure, romance, and the rewards of seeking God’s will. As always, Sharlene MacLaren pens a story that will pull you in and not let go.
—Roseanna White

Senior Reviewer, The Christian Review of Books

Sharlene MacLaren has written a story rich in emotion that will tug at your heart with characters that will live on long after you reach the final page. If you love historical fiction with a sweet romance beautifully woven into a captivating story, then you will love Abbie Ann.
—Miralee Ferrell

Author, Love Finds You in Last Chance, California and The Other Daughter
Publisher’s Note:

This novel is a work of fiction. References to real events, organizations, or places are used in a fictional context. Any resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, are entirely coincidental.

All Scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Holy Bible.

Abbie Ann

Third in The Daughters of Jacob Kane Series

Sharlene MacLaren

www.sharlenemaclaren.com

ISBN: 978-1-60374-076-0

Printed in the United States of America

© 2010 by Sharlene MacLaren
Whitaker House

1030 Hunt Valley Circle

New Kensington, PA 15068

www.whitakerhouse.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

MacLaren, Sharlene, 1948–

Abbie Ann / by Sharlene MacLaren.

p. cm. — (The daughters of Jacob Kane ; 3)

Summary: “Abbie Ann, Jacob Kane’s youngest daughter, is a busy woman with little time for frivolous matters, including romance—until a handsome, divorced shipbuilder comes to town, his young son in tow, and God changes their hearts”—Provided by publisher.

ISBN 978-1-60374-076-0 (trade pbk.)

1. Fathers and daughters—Fiction. 2. Shipwrights—Fiction. I. Title.

PS3613.A27356A63 2010

813′.6—dc22

2009053168
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical—including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system—without permission in writing from the publisher. Please direct your inquiries to permissionseditor@whitakerhouse.com.

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DEDICATION

To my beautiful mother, Dorothy, and my precious mother-in-law, Chrystal. In so many ways, you two fabulous ladies, by SHINING example, have shown Christ to countless others. I love you both and thank you from the deepest regions of my heart.
CHAPTER ONE

February 1907

Sandy Shores, Michigan

Abbie Ann Kane marched through the blinding snow on her way to her family’s general store as howling winds curled their icy fingers around the buildings of downtown Sandy Shores, hissing and spitting and stinging her nose and cheeks. She pulled her woolen scarf tighter about her neck, but the bitter air still managed to find a hole through which to pass, making her shiver with each hurried step.

The Interurban railcar rumbled past, its whistle alerting pedestrians and horses to make way for its journey up Water Street, Sandy Shores’ main thoroughfare. Through its frosty windows, Abbie made out a scant number of passengers and even caught a glimpse of someone drawing letters on a foggy pane. Probably some bored youngster, she mused.

Turning her gaze downward, she headed into the strong, easterly gusts, passing the Star Bakery, Van Poort’s Grocery Store, Thom Gerritt’s Meat Market, Jellema Newsstand, Moretti’s Candy Company, Hansen’s Shoe Repair, DeBoer’s Hardware, and Grant and Son Tailor Shop. Two more doors and she would reach her destination—Kane’s Whatnot. Normally, her oldest sister, Hannah, would be working there, but Abbie had assumed primary responsibility for Kane’s Whatnot since the birth of Hannah’s daughter on January 15. RoseAnn Devlin was Hannah and Gabe’s third child, and Hannah had her hands full also caring for eighteen-month-old Alex and their eleven-year-old adopted son, Jesse. Taking responsibility for Kane’s Whatnot was the least Abbie could have done, never mind that she barely had time to turn around, what with her teaching Sunday school, serving as president of the local Woman’s Christian Temperance Union, assisting Grandmother Kane with the household chores, and visiting the elderly Plooster sisters as often as possible. Poor things depended on her to keep them abreast of all the news in town.

The bell above the wooden door tinkled as Abbie pulled it open, a cold blast of air scooting past her ankles. Her father looked up from his place behind the brass National cash register. “Ah, you’re back from lunch, and not a second too soon. I have an appointment with a client at one o’clock. Can you take over from here?”

“Of course, Papa. Just let me hang up my wrap.” Besides owning Kane’s Whatnot, her father also partnered with Leo Perkins in the insurance business, and the Kane and Perkins office was conveniently situated directly across the street from the Whatnot. Both businesses thrived in this lively, little resort town on the beautiful shores of Lake Michigan, where the winters could be bitter, but the summers were delightfully warm and cheery.

The line for the cash register wound around the center aisle. There were Maxine Card and her young daughter, Lily, their arms full of candles, two loaves of bread, a wooden bowl, and an eggbeater; Landon and Florence Meir, each toting grocery items; and Fred and Dorothy Link, Fred hefting a sack of flour over his shoulder, Dorothy holding some canned goods and a few other items. Abbie moved past her father to hang her winter gear on a hook in the small closet behind the counter, which also served as a washroom. After a quick glance in the tiny mirror on the wall to rearrange the side combs in her flowing, black hair, she rubbed her icy fingers together and joined her father on the other side of the curtain. She felt slightly perturbed that the stove at the back of the store was not giving off nearly enough heat to quell today’s subzero temperatures.

“My stars in glory, it’s cold,” she said. “In fact, I do believe I saw some icicles shivering on my way here.”

Precocious Lily Card caught the joke and giggled. “You’re silly, Miss Kane. How could icicles shiver?”

“Oh, but they can! And not only that,” Abbie added, leaning over the counter to tap the little girl’s nose, “but I heard that when the farmers have been milking their cows, they’ve been getting ice cream!”

This remark earned another rousing giggle from the child, as well as a few good-humored chuckles from the adults within earshot.

“Abbie Ann, where do you come up with these things?” Jacob Kane asked his daughter, shaking his head with a smile.

“If you ask me, it’s the worst winter we ever had,” Landon Meir groused, obviously finding no humor in Abbie’s remarks. “Got more snow out there than Mr. Bayer has aspirin. Probably won’t melt till June, neither.”

“Or later,” his wife countered, ever the pessimist. For as long as Abbie could recall, the woman’s face had been pinched in a tight scowl.

Jacob finished ringing up Maxine Card’s order, put the items in her burlap sack, and then immediately set to ringing up the Meirs’ purchases. Maxine and Lily waved good-bye and exited as two more customers entered, ushering in with them a blast of cold air. Saturdays in winter were usually like this, with folks considering the weather and feeling the need to stock up on supplies. Why, one turn of the wind could make for an all-out blizzard!

“You go on now, Papa. I’ll take over,” Abbie said, edging her father out of his place behind the cash register.

“All right, then,” he said, tallying up the last of the Meirs’ purchases. Abbie began stack each item in a small crate. “You’ll find today’s receipts in the bottom drawer,” Jacob told her.

“Fine, Papa. Go, or you’ll be late.” The clock on the opposite wall registered two minutes till one.

Florence Meir stretched out a palm for her change of two dollars and some odd cents, which Abbie found interesting, since her husband had been the one doling it out. Jacob handed it over, and Florence dropped it into her little drawstring purse. “Come along, Landon; you’ve got wood to chop and stalls to muck and cows to milk and feed,” she murmured through pursed lips as she turned to go. “Best get your chores done ’fore this weather kicks up.”

Landon shuffled along behind her. “Crack that whip, Mother.”

“Hush up, you ol’ fool.” The two were still going at it when they stepped into the arctic air, the wind catching the door and closing it with a loud whack. Jacob raised his eyebrows and shook his head, then donned his winter gear and left in the Meirs’ wake.

“Ain’t them Meirs the happiest pair?” commented the middle-aged Fred Link as he laid a twenty-five-pound sack of flour on the counter.

Dorothy Link set her grocery items beside it and nodded. “I think they love each other in their own way, but Fred here thinks they drink vinegar for breakfast.”

“Oh, my goodness!” Abbie covered her mouth to hide her spurt of laughter. “You two behave yourselves.”

Behind them, Reba Ortlund chortled. “I’d guess the last time Florence Meir smiled was that Sunday Tillie Overmyer tripped on the top step on her way to the organ. There she was, all sprawled out like a gigantic tortoise on its back, her petticoats fanning her chubby—”

“Mrs. Ortlund!” Abbie cut in, her eyes traversing from Reba Ortlund to her young son at her side. The woman looked only a little sheepish. Fortunately, it seemed that Robert was paying no heed to the conversation, his attentions focused instead on his peppermint stick, which was creating a pink smear across his face that grew with every lick.

Abbie proceeded to tally up the Links’ items as quickly as she could with hands that were still thawing, biting her lip to hide her smile. Then, all of a sudden, a thundering crash outside the store shook the building’s foundation, shattering the front window and sending store merchandise in every direction. Abbie jolted violently and shrieked, Dorothy Link screamed, and little Robert Ortlund leaped into his mother’s arms, his eyes as round as pie shells. It took several seconds to figure out what had happened, but the tongue of a wagon and a bent wheel protruding through the broken window signified a buggy mishap, whether from the icy road conditions, poor visibility, or, perhaps, a spooked horse.

“What in tarnation?” Fred Link bellowed.

Hardly knowing what to do first, Abbie instinctively left her station and ran around the counter, but Fred snagged her by the arm. “Just a minute, there, Miss Abbie. There’s shattered glass everywhere. Best hold back till we find out the damages.”

“Oh, my London stars!” Abbie gasped, borrowing one of her grandmother’s favorite phrases of exclamation and then covering her open mouth. Icy blasts and bursts of snow blew in through the cavernous hole in the wall where a large display window had once been. Outside, a horse gave a mournful whinny, and a soothing, male voice said, “Easy, Ruby Sue.” Another male voice asked, “What happened here? Anybody hurt?”

At that, Abbie twisted out of Fred’s hold and rushed toward the front of the store, stepping over debris and nearly twisting her ankle as she picked her way through a pile of potatoes that had tumbled out of an overturned barrel. The frigid winds continued to howl, exposing everyone and everything to the outside elements.

Suddenly, folks seemed to come to life as frenzied voices started speaking all at once, and several customers emerged from the far corners of the store to investigate what had happened. Through the yawning hole in the wall, a tall, strapping man materialized, with a young boy clinging tightly to his thigh. “Everyone all right in here?” he asked, bending over at the waist to see inside. His striking, blue eyes came to rest on Abbie, and, despite her tangled thoughts, she couldn’t help noticing the way they pulled at her. She’d seen him before, but now was not the time for trying to remember when or where. From beneath the rim of his worn hat, a thick tuft of chestnut-colored hair fell across his forehead.

“I—I think so,” she managed, pinching the bridge of her nose in consternation. “What—what just happened?”

“Another rig slid out of control and nearly hit me head-on. I had to swerve to avoid a full-out collision. My horse panicked and went up on the sidewalk, veered off, and sent my rig through your window.” He gave a heavy sigh. “Looks like we’ve done some serious damage.” As if on cue, the horse whinnied in loud protest, its hooves pounding on the walkway. Someone on the other side of the wall spoke in steadying tones to the animal, probably to try to keep it from going completely berserk.

“Oh, my goodness! Are you all right? Was—was anyone hurt?” Abbie wasn’t sure where to put her eyes—on him or on the little fellow still clinging to the man’s leg.

“We’re fine. Can’t say for sure about that man who almost hit me, though. What about you folks?” At last, he looked away from Abbie to peruse the group of wide-eyed bystanders.

Fred Link stepped forward. “Thank the Lord no one was standing at the front of the store when that window came crashing in—or walking through the door, for that matter. An instant sooner, and the Meirs or Jacob Kane might well have met their ends.” Abbie shivered at the very notion of such a tragedy, the bitter air accentuating her chills. Some kind soul retrieved her coat and threw it around her shoulders. She muttered her thanks while trying to collect herself.

Just then, Jacob Kane rushed through the door, his eyes wild with worry. “Abigail Ann! Oh, thank God you’re standing.”

“Of course, I am, Papa.” Like a mere child, she wilted into his open arms, thankful he’d arrived to see to things. She didn’t mind the day-to-day responsibilities at the store, but the business end of things—along with major crises—belonged to Hannah Grace and her father. In fact, if all went as planned, Kane’s Whatnot would one day fall to Hannah, who truly had a heart for entrepreneurship. Abbie would stick around for as long as necessary to help run the store, but she had no interest in owning or maintaining it.

“Is everyone all right?” Jacob asked, setting Abbie back from him to assess the matter.

“That seems to be the standard question, Jacob,” Fred Link answered. He frowned and scratched behind his ear. “I do believe we’re none the worse, but I wouldn’t say the same for that window or the front display table, Jacob.”

“Ah, well. People are far more important than property,” Jacob said, his eyes making a quick scan of the place before focusing on the tall man who had yet to introduce himself. The fellow wiped a gloved hand across his clean-shaven, square-set face, then ducked all the way through the opening. The young boy followed him but stayed in the shadows, probably still frightened nearly to death. Praise God his little body hadn’t been thrown from the wagon. The man removed his glove and extended a hand to Jacob. “Noah Carson, sir. You must be Jacob Kane, the owner of this store. I believe you know my uncle, Delbert Huizenga.”

“Del Huizenga, of course. We’re old friends.” Jacob pumped the man’s hand. “So, you’re Noah Carson. I hear you used to come here about every summer as a lad. Your uncle told me you’d moved to town a few months back, said you’d joined him in his window and door business.” Jacob made a half-turn and gestured toward Abbie. “This is my daughter, Abbie Ann. She’s been running the store pretty much on her own for the past few weeks.”

Noah tipped his hat at Abbie, giving her a better glimpse of his sea-blue eyes with their ocean depth. If he planned to smile, one never materialized. “How-do, ma’am,” he said in a stiff manner, his gaze flitting over her face. Despite his formality, she offered a pleasant smile and mentally berated herself for noting his wholly masculine deportment. Her best friend, Katrina Sterling, would say he was like candy to the eyes—never mind that Katrina had a husband and twin girl toddlers, to boot. Whenever she saw a nice-looking man, she’d say, “I may have spent my money all in one place, but that don’t mean I can’t still look at the merchandise.” Of course, everyone knew that Katrina Sterling loved to say brash things. Good thing her husband, Micah, never took her too seriously.

“You really couldn’t have avoided that mishap out there,” Jacob was saying. “I witnessed the entire thing from my office door across the street. Was just about to step inside when I saw Shamus Rogan barreling up the road, his horses at a full canter.” He shook his head. “If you ask me, he was driving that wagon of his far too fast for these weather conditions. Matter of fact, it almost looked like he was heading straight at you with the intention of ramming into you. Thank God things didn’t turn out any worse.”

“Wouldn’t doubt ol’ Shamus just pulled out of some saloon,” Reba Ortlund offered, sticking out her pointy chin with the declaration. “A body can spot his bloodshot eyes a mile away.” Little Robert had resumed work on his peppermint stick, fully engrossed in the gooey substance and seeming to have fully recovered from the shock that Abbie had only now started wrapping her mind around. “Seems like he’s always comin’ or goin’ from one o’ them dens of iniquity.”

Despite the woman’s lack of tact, she did speak the truth. Shamus Rogan was a menace to Sandy Shores and a terror to his family. According to Hannah, over the past year, Arlena Rogan had come into the Whatnot bearing suspicious bruises on her arms and face but always attributing them to her own clumsiness. Hannah had believed her, but Abbie hadn’t bought it. Just a few weeks ago, when Arlena had come in bearing bad scratch marks on her neck, Abbie had pressed her for specifics, and she’d relented, her eyes moist in the corners. “My Shamus gets a bit carried away with his temper. ’Fraid he drinks too much, and I complain that he’s lazy and doesn’t give me any grocery money, even though he makes a decent paycheck at the leather factory…and, well, one thing leads to another, and he puts me in my place.” She’d fidgeted with her grocery list, looking down at her shoes. “I must learn to keep my mouth shut, I guess.”

The door had opened just then, ushering in several new customers, so Abbie had leaned forward and whispered, “You must take care of yourself and your children and get out of there as quickly as possible. He could kill you in one of his drunken fits.”

“Oh, I couldn’t divorce him.”

“No, I’m not suggesting that. I’m saying you should go to a safe place.”

“But I have no place to go. Besides, he’d chase me and the girls down. He wants to be the one pulling all the strings.” At that, the woman had gathered up her purchases and headed for the door.

“Mrs. Rogan,” Abbie had called after her. “Anytime you need to talk, I’m here.”

And that had been invitation enough. Since her initial disclosure, Arlena had come back a number of times to talk to Abbie about her desperate situation. Unfortunately, Abbie had no real solution, other than to tell her she would pray for her.

Indeed, Sandy Shores had far too many drinking establishments, which was the very reason she’d joined ranks with the Woman’s Christian Temperance Union a year ago to fight against the town’s unbridled use of alcohol. Of course, educating folks about the destructive powers of alcohol wasn’t all the W.C.T.U. stood for. They also fought for women’s rights and suffrage, fair labor laws, federal aid for education, bans on prostitution, improved public health and sanitation, and international peace, all things for which Abbie had a growing passion. Some called her radical—Peter Sinclair, her beau of eight months, for one. Peter thought a woman’s proper place was in the home, and many were the debates they’d had over the matter. Although Abbie’s father didn’t go that far, he did worry about her, especially since she and several other members of the W.C.T.U. had started singing hymns and holding prayer vigils outside many local saloons. Last month, a dozen or so of them actually had walked straight inside Ervin Baxter’s establishment, known simply as Erv’s Place, to hold a peaceful gathering. Of course, Erv Baxter’s rude behavior in response to their hymn singing, Bible reading, and praying couldn’t have been defined as peaceful. No, he’d screamed to the heavens at them after all but a few of his regulars had walked out.

“You’re ruining my business!” he’d shouted. “And you’re not welcome here. Matter of fact, women in general are not allowed through these doors.”

“But there was a woman singing on stage,” Abbie had countered, “not to mention those sitting on your patrons’ laps.”

“They don’t count. We got women comin’ in here for entertainment purposes.” Abbie’s spine had gone straight at the implication. Entertainment purposes? “Simply put, we don’t need your kind coming in here creating a disturbance.”

“We are not a disorderly organization, sir. We are merely interested in reform, of which this country is in deep need. Why, do you know that American men spend more money on beer than they do on meat for their families? That is a disgrace, Mr. Baxter, and you are part of the problem for peddling that poison.”

The man’s chest had swelled to twice its size as he’d tried to breathe through his obvious anger. “How dare you,” he’d growled, putting a pause between each word. “It’s not my problem if folks got a thirst for booze. It ain’t like I’m forcin’ it down their throats. I’m just tryin’ to make a living, like everybody else in this town, and I’d appreciate a little respect.”

The W.C.T.U. purposed not to argue or defy, a policy Abbie sometimes had difficulty following, yet it had been clear she’d get nowhere by continuing a dialogue with Erv Baxter. Best leave before his hostile attitude burgeons out of control, she’d thought. “We’ll be going now, sir, but you can be assured we will continue our campaign. Make no mistake, the prohibition of alcoholic beverages will one day prevail in this country.”

He’d cleared his throat and spat on the already sticky wood floor, having no apparent compunction amid the small group of dignified women. “You ladies stay away from my saloon, or I’ll—I’ll make you plenty sorry.”

Ignoring his halfhearted threat, Abbie had turned on her heel, her silent band of nervous crusaders following after her like ducklings after their mama.

“Well, Gabe will get to the bottom of this,” her father was saying, quickly calling Abbie back to the present. “Someone’s fetched him, so he should be arriving on the scene most any minute, if he’s not already out there.” Jacob put a hand on one of Noah’s broad shoulders. “Looks like we’ll be needing your window-building skills around here, young man.”

“You’ve got it, sir. In fact, I’ll take full responsibility for cleaning up this place and making all the necessary repairs.”

“We’ll see about that. Seems to me Shamus Rogan ought to own up to some of the blame. In the meantime, we’ll board up the hole and replace the window when the weather calms down.” Jacob took a moment to look at the young boy beside Noah. “What’s your name, young fellow?”

Noah nudged the little guy forward. “This here is my boy. Say hello, Toby.”

The child raised his gaze long enough to peek at Jacob, and that’s when it dawned on Abbie that she’d seen him before—in her Sunday school class of six-year-olds. An older woman, Julia Huizenga, had started dropping him off at the door about three weeks ago. As far as Noah’s familiarity, she now recalled having spotted him perched on a pew at the back of the church following Sunday school.

Abbie bent at the waist, her clasped hands on her knees. “Well, hello there, Toby. Do you remember me?”

Toby considered her thoughtfully and scrunched his cherub nose, which was covered with a spray of freckles. Then, his blue eyes brightened. “You’re my Sunday school teacher. You’re the one what taught us about that old fellow who built the big boat before it rained. His name was Noah, just like my dad.”

“That’s exactly right,” Abbie said, her eyes roaming from the boy to his father and quickly back again. “Aren’t you clever for remembering that?”

“He’s a smart boy,” his father said, his voice bolstered by pride, and he pulled Toby to his side.

A gust of wind bellowed through the building. “My sweet sister, it’s cold in here!” Reba Ortlund exclaimed. “Can someone ring up my items so Robert and I can be on our way?”

Abbie gave a quick turn. “Oh, mercy, yes. I almost forgot I was in the middle of totaling up the Links’ items. Let’s finish so you folks can go home and get warm.”

“I think we’d best close up the store for the remainder of the afternoon,” Jacob said. The customers who had been in the store prior to the accident had wandered out to the street, where a curious crowd had gathered, despite the unrelenting wind.

“What say I run over to the shop and pick up some wood to fix that gaping hole, sir?” Noah Carson said to her father. “Afterward, Toby and I’ll help clean up this mess.”

Jacob nodded and pulled at his gray beard, allowing his eyes to appraise his surroundings. It took a lot to dampen Jacob Kane’s spirits, and this minor setback to his business would not come close to succeeding.

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!

 

 

 

and the book:

 

The Juice Lady’s Turbo Diet

Siloam Press (May 4, 2010)

***Special thanks to Anna Coelho Silva | Publicity Coordinator, Book Group | Strang Communications for sending me a review copy.***

Cherie Calbom, MS is the author of the best-selling Juicing for Life, which has nearly two million books in print in the US. Known as “The Juice Lady” for her work with juicing and health, her juice therapy and cleansing programs have been popular for more than a decade. Cherie has worked as a clinical nutritionist and has a master’s degree in nutrition from Bastyr University, where she now serves on the Board of Regents. She is also known as George Foreman’s nutritionist and the other spokesperson for the George Foreman grills.

Visit the author’s website.

Product Details:

List Price: $17.99

Paperback: 242 pages

Publisher: Siloam Press (May 4, 2010)

Language: English

ISBN-10: 1616381493

ISBN-13: 978-1616381493

AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:

I answered the phone one afternoon to hear the excited voice of Denise at the other end of the line. She had just lost 8 pounds on the Turbo Diet. Having read about it in the cover story of Woman’s World magazine’s May 4, 2009, issue, she had tried the juice diet as a last resort. “It’s just amazing to me,” she said, “that I’ve lost this much weight so quickly and easily. I’ve dieted and dieted on all sorts of plans and couldn’t lose any weight. I even went on a strict three-day water fast and hardly lost anything. Now, the weight is just melting off. It’s amazing!”

Amazing is a word I hear frequently about this diet.

Why have so many people found the Turbo Diet to be amazing?

Simply said—it works!

The Turbo Diet is loaded with nutrients—enzymes, minerals, vitamins, phytonutrients, and life! That’s right! It’s full of those little energy sparks we call life. Fresh raw juices are considered live food because they feed the body a cornucopia of nutrients that have not been destroyed by heat or processing along with the energy the plants absorb from the sun. This diet is also high alkaline, low acidic, and low glycemic. Achieving a healthy alkaline-acid balance through your diet and lifestyle is so important to weight loss and health that once you understand the importance of this factor, vegetable juices will taste even better.

On the Turbo Diet, “the munchies” just seem to disappear. You might realize one day that you don’t want the junk food you used to eat. In fact, you will probably find that junk food makes you feel awful and it’s just not worth it. I’m not saying that a potato chip won’t ever lure you into its grip. But you will be better able to resist the call of that starch, grease, and salt when your body is well fed and pulsating with energy.

Freshly made vegetable juices are at the center of the Turbo Diet. They provide concentrated sources of very absorbable nutrients. They are low in fat and calories, so replacing higher-calorie foods with fresh juice is a shoo-in for weight-loss success.

But the benefits of juicing don’t stop there. Vegetable juices help curb cravings because they satisfy your body’s nutrient needs. They’re alkaline, which is very helpful to balance out a system that’s probably too acidic. They’re also high in antioxidants that are antiaging and immune enhancing—that means you’re giving your body the things it needs to start looking and feeling younger. How cool is that!

And this diet doesn’t toss the carrots out with the potato chips because all carbohydrates are not created equal. You will learn which carbohydrates are healthy and which are not as you discover why the low-glycemic diet works so well with vegetable juices. Your taste buds will be happy—the juices taste great! But clearly the most important aspect is that juicing helps you improve your health. And since you get one precious body for one lifetime, that’s far more important than just getting skinny.

The Juice Lady’s Turbo Diet teaches you how to eat healthily to stay trim by consuming good carbohydrates, lean proteins (unless you’re vegan), healthy fats, and two glasses of fresh vegetable juice each day. You will be arming your body with an arsenal of powerful weapons to help you lose weight, lose cravings, and get healthy—maybe healthier than you have been in years. That’s weight loss with a mission!

Radio broadcaster Sarah Taylor was on the cover of the May 4, 2009, issue of Woman’s World magazine and the featured person in the Turbo Juice Diet story. “I’m currently down 20 pounds, which is HUGE for me, as I haven’t successfully lost weight in years,” said Sarah. “But the best part is that I wasn’t trying to lose weight. I just incorporated healthy, live foods through juicing for nutrition. The weight loss was just a bonus!” She said she started filling herself up with the right foods and her body said thank you! “I lost 20 pounds in ten weeks,” she added. “This is the only diet that’s ever worked for me. I love it!”

The Secrets of the Turbo Diet

Vegetable juice is the secret ingredient to your weight-loss success. It assists you in becoming slim and healthy due to its alkalinizing, nutrition-packed, energizing properties. Let’s face it—juicing is a lot easier than spending all your time chowing down brussels sprouts, carrots, and broccoli. Don’t get me wrong. I recommend that you eat these vegetables often, but really, just how many vegetables can you eat in a day? But you can juice them and drink them with ease.

Because vegetable juice has very little sugar, while offering an abundance of vitamins, minerals, enzymes, and phytonutrients, it’s incredibly helpful for weight loss. It offers what your body needs to fight cravings and do its work to keep you healthy. You will not only want to eat fewer calories when you include vegetable juicing in your daily routine, but you will also gain energy. On the other hand, you can eat a whole bag of chips and still want something more to eat because your body was given a lot of empty calories that made you feel sluggish and tired. The biggest plus of a juicing program is that it adds valuable nutrients (vitamins, minerals, enzymes, and phytonutrients) that are easy for your body to absorb and that have a heap of health benefits at minimal calorie cost.

You will be downing highly concentrated health cocktails brimming with life and loaded with nature’s bounty of nutrition necessary for vitality and a healthy immune system. This facilitates optimal functioning of all your body’s systems.

Most of us are very aware of the side effects of unhealthy appetite suppressants or risky surgery, but sometimes people feel that they have no other option. I’m here to tell you that you do have options, and the Turbo Diet is one of the healthiest options on the earth! The vegetable juices act as healthy, harmless appetite suppressants. You can opt for a glass of fresh veggie juice before your main meal and quickly experience those hunger pangs taking an exit. That’s just one of the secret reasons why the Turbo Diet works.
Sometimes people say that they just don’t have time to juice. My answer is that there’s always time and creative ways to accomplish what we value. I have a friend known as “Dave the ‘Raw Foods’ Trucker” who’s lost a truckload of weight by juicing. Dave was desperate to drop about half his weight and restore his health. Weighing in at 430 pounds, he faced losing his job because of his poor health. He had no idea how he would earn a living if he lost his driving profession. To say the least, this made him anxious to find an answer that worked quickly.

When a friend introduced him to vegetable juicing, it made sense that this could change his life. Dave bought four juicers—two for his house and two for the truck—two so that he’d always have a backup in case one broke down wherever he was. He also bought the longest extension cord he could find. He’d plug in the cord in restrooms at truck stops and juice on picnic tables. He said this was not easy because he’d often draw a crowd of folks who were very curious about what he was doing. They’d ask lots of questions and slow him down as he tried to explain what he was up to. But Dave never gave up. He just kept juicing and drinking his hearty green juice combinations on the road six days a week.

It paid off! Dave has lost well over 230 pounds. But that’s not all. He has energy and vitality! He said he’s noticed emotional changes as well as physical, such as feeling more loving toward people. Recently a friend told me she was standing near him at a raw foods lecture at Thrive Café—one of our local Seattle raw foods hangouts. “Dave was vibrating with energy,” she said. “It was like he had electricity pumping through his body.” (I think Dave was saturated with the vitality of raw plant life.)

I now say to people, “If Dave can juice on the road, living out of a truck most of the week, plugging in an extension cord in a restroom, and juicing on picnic tables, you can juice at home or at work.” No more excuses!

Vegetable juice can also play an important role in stabilizing blood sugar, a vital factor in appetite control, because it’s very low in sugar. Sugar and foods like refined flour products (such as bread, rolls, and pasta) that quickly turn into sugar in your body cause spikes and dips in blood sugar. Now that’s something to get excited about. When your blood sugar gets low, you can get ravenously hungry and sometimes grouchy. The sugar percentage of vegetable juice is much lower than that of fruit juice and the calorie count is up to 50 percent less, yet the juice succeeds in satisfying a sweet tooth. Amazing! This makes vegetable juicing an absolute must for successful dieting. Experiment with carrot, lemon, and ginger or a combination of carrot, Jerusalem artichoke, lemon, and parsley juice when a carb-craving hits. The juice jolt will give those cravings a knockout!

We all know about cravings that kick up the appetite for things like chocolate chip cookies, ice cream, or tortilla chips. Experiencing strong food urges for sweets or salty snacks can feel almost as overwhelming as getting caught in a big ocean wave. The most frequently craved foods are usually high in sugar and unhealthy fat—the stuff that packs on the pounds big-time! We don’t eat these foods for their nutritive value but usually for psychological reasons such as depression, disappointment, stress, or boredom. Or we may suffer from conditions like seasonal affective disorder (SAD) or PMS that cause us to want to clean out the fridge from time to time. Whatever it is that has you craving high-carb snacks, feeding your body super nutritious juices can make a huge difference in overcoming the hankering.

Vegetable juice helps curb your cravings because it’s broken down into an easily absorbed form of nutrition that your body can quickly utilize. That means it doesn’t have to go through the normal digestive process, which takes time. You can pack in a lot of food when you’re really hungry before your brain kicks out the signal that there’s enough nutrition to burn for energy. It’s estimated that juice is at work in your system within about thirty minutes. Your body is supplied with supernutrients in short order. The signal goes to your brain that you’re well fed and you no longer have the urge to eat.

I’ve tried so many times to lose weight over the years. I’ve taken it off and put it back on more than once. The problem has been not being able to make a lifestyle change that I could live with and be consistent. I love to cook. I’ve found that I can get the same satisfaction out of choosing and juicing the right vegetables and fruit that I used to get from shopping and cooking. During the past three weeks, I haven’t experienced food cravings that I used to when I tried other diets. I look at this as a healthy eating change, not a diet. I’ve already gone down one dress size and can see a difference almost daily! This is by far the quickest weight loss that I’ve ever experienced. I wasn’t even trying for that initially; I just wanted to feel better first. I got both at the same time.

—Michelle

When you satisfy your body with alkaline-rich, nutrient-dense juices and foods and your blood sugar stabilizes, your appetite for junk food, sweets, and high-carb fare begins to fade away. You may notice that your fatigue vanishes and energy zooms. You will feel more like getting up and going in the morning, working out, and getting things done. Like so many other juicing enthusiasts, you may also notice that your focus improves dramatically. That’s because your brain is being well fed. When you eat nutrient-depleted food, your brain doesn’t get as much of the raw materials it needs to make reactions happen. Things misfire, and you walk around looking for your car keys for ten minutes when they’re in your pocket all the time. Now you can say good-bye to brain fog!

As you can see, there are a lot of benefits with the Turbo Diet. What other program can offer all of this?

Let me first say a huge thank-you for all the work you do—for the books you’ve written and the many, many people you have helped, including myself. I feel very blessed to have been led to your juice book. I know I have embarked on a path that will be lifelong. I have been on every diet imaginable and every exercise program there is, and not one of them has had the impact on my life and my health like the information I got from you. I completed the liver cleanse and two weeks of the colon cleanse [from my book Juicing, Fasting, and Detoxing for Life]. It’s amazing! I’m down 10 pounds. I’m loving every minute of the day—every mouthful of juice and food!

—Janice

Metabolism begins the moment we’re conceived and ends the moment we die. It is a constant and vital process for all life forms, not just human beings. If metabolism stops, death occurs.

In humans, metabolism begins with plants. A green plant takes in energy from sunlight. Photosynthesis then takes place as the plant uses this energy and chlorophyll to build nutrients from water and carbon dioxide.

When a person eats the plants or meat from animals that have eaten the plants, he or she absorbs this energy in the form of carbohydrates, along with other nutrients. Then the carbohydrates are broken down so that the energy can be distributed to the body’s cells.

Glucagon is involved in the distribution of this energy. It’s an important hormone involved in carbohydrate metabolism. Produced by the pancreas, it’s released when blood glucose levels start to fall too low, causing the liver to convert stored glycogen into glucose and release it into the bloodstream. This raises blood glucose levels and ultimately prevents the development of low blood sugar. Glucagon also stimulates the release of insulin, so that newly available glucose in the bloodstream can be taken up and used by insulin-dependent cells.

The primary job of glucagon is to maintain stable blood sugar levels in the body by releasing stored body fat so it can be burned for energy. The pancreas, in response to protein, stimulates glucagon, which then stimulates the use of fat for energy. It shifts metabolism into a fat-burning mode and mobilizes the release of stored body fat from fat tissue directly into the bloodstream. This process allows muscles to burn fat instead of glucose for energy, converts dietary fats to ketones and sends them to the cells for energy, and releases fat from fat cells into the bloodstream for use. The result is effective weight management. When this system gets out of balance from consumption of too many simple and refined carbohydrates, we gain weight and find it hard to lose the extra pounds.

The Turbo Diet in a Nutshell

The Turbo Diet has payoffs with great dividends. I have personally witnessed people who have lost as much as a pound a day and without a lot of effort. There’s no starvation, no deprivation.

Following are the basics of the program. (See the details of the complete program in chapter 7.) On the Turbo Diet, you will:

Drink two glasses (10 to 12 ounces each) of fresh vegetable juice every day. If you don’t have a juicer and can’t afford to buy one right now, you can get premade juices at juice bars. If you don’t have access to a juice bar, then you can purchase premade veggie juices from the cooler section of your grocery store. If those aren’t available, then you can choose low-sodium V-8 juice. (Keep in mind that if the juice is bottled or canned, even if it’s kept in the cooler section of a store, it has to be pasteurized. The heat used in pasteurization kills the vitamins, enzymes, and that mysterious life substance that you can only get in high measure in raw foods. You won’t get the same effect from these juices as you do from fresh ones.) When you travel or it’s not convenient to take juice along, you can get green powder, carrot powder, and beet powder to mix in water. (See Appendix A.)

Eat a high-alkaline, low-glycemic diet. You will eat the largest portion of your foods from the alkaline-rich category consisting of vegetables, fruit, sprouts, nuts, seeds, healthy oils, and super greens. The rest of your diet will come from vegetarian or animal protein and a small amount of whole grains.

Eat a large portion of your food raw—70 to 80 percent is your goal. Raw foods are loaded with enzymes and vitamins that are destroyed during cooking. Raw foods especially help you to lose weight.

Eat plenty of vegetables on this diet, especially the brightly colored veggies that are highest in antioxidants. It is recommended that you consume at least two to three servings of veggies in addition to your vegetable juices.

Eat small portions of lean protein—fish, chicken, turkey, lamb, beef, and eggs (if you don’t choose to be vegan). Make these organic and free range for the healthiest choice.

Drink eight to ten 8-ounce glasses of purified water each day. You could add some cranberry concentrate or pure unsweetened cranberry juice to the water to improve flavor and help to get rid of stored-up water in your body. Cranberry is a natural diuretic, is helpful for kidney cleansing, and contains high levels of organic substances that are thought to have an emulsifying effect upon fat deposits.

Drink a cup of green tea every day. Green tea is thermogenic, meaning that it helps to improve metabolism. If the caffeine in green tea (only about one-third that of coffee) does not agree with your system, then choose white tea (still has a little caffeine) or herbal tea. It’s best to avoid coffee as much as possible since it’s very acidic. It can also cause irritability and difficulty concentrating. Although coffee does rouse one a bit, later on it causes a collapse of energy, which can make you want to eat fattening food.

Consume good fats such as avocado, extra-virgin olive oil, and virgin coconut oil. Coconut oil is a thermogenic; the liver likes to burn it. Contrary to popular opinion, it’s a heart-healthy, slimming fat.

Avoid starches, refined carbohydrates, sugar, sweets, alcohol, and sodas, including diet sodas.

If you want the fast track, you can juice fast (some people call it juice feast) one day a week. That’s where you drink just vegetable juices for a day. (See chapter 8 for the Turbo Diet Fast Menu Plan.) On these days you should drink around two quarts of vegetable juice. You could make one of the juice meals a raw energy soup (juice to which you add avocado; see page 144 for recipes) to help with energy and to stabilize blood sugar.

You will also exercise three to four times per week.

Sleep enough; sleep well. When we don’t sleep enough or sleep well, our appetite-controlling hormones get out of whack and cause us to want to eat more, especially more carbohydrates. (If you need help with getting a good night’s sleep, see chapter 5.)

Keep your colon moving. Constipation can contribute to weight gain.

Keep well hydrated. Some individuals end up in a state of chronic dehydration when they are trying to lose weight because they don’t drink enough water; they are afraid of additional water weight. But they are actually hindering their bodies’ ability to metabolize fat. A state of chronic dehydration will inevitably lead to weight gain. Being fully hydrated is a prerequisite to weight loss. To achieve successful weight loss, you must drink enough water so that your body is not in a state of chronic dehydration. When your body is in this state, you will not lose the excess fat very easily.

Keep a positive attitude. Never tell yourself that you can’t do something like lose weight. Remove all negative thoughts from your mind; speak and think only positive words to yourself and others. If you have a 5-pound reduction goal by the end of two weeks, see those 5 pounds gone. Think about this in terms of what you want to weigh by the end of two weeks. How great will you feel when you are 5 pounds lighter? Guard against self-defeat. Don’t let it get you before you even get started.

If you reach a plateau at any time during your Turbo Diet or you want to accelerate your weight loss and healthy lifestyle plan, you can cleanse your body, starting with the colon cleanse program and then the seven-day Liver and Gallbladder Cleanse, which are outlined in detail in my books Juicing, Fasting, and Detoxing for Life and The Juice Lady’s Guide to Juicing for Health. A congested liver and gallbladder could prevent you from losing weight. Also, you may find it impossible to shed pounds until you cleanse toxins from your body, especially the organs of elimination. For example, toxins trap water and fat cells in pockets we call cellulite. Detoxing your body is the key to ridding it of these lumpy fat deposits.

When you’ve lost most of the weight you want, you can slowly add in more healthy carbohydrates, including whole grains, potatoes, squash, and fruit. Typically, in this phase, you will lose about a pound per week. If you eat too many of these higher carb foods or you splurge for holidays, vacations, or special occasions and gain weight, you can quickly lose the extra pounds by cleansing your body with the One-Day Vegetable Juice Cleanse and strictly sticking with the Turbo Diet.

One day you will celebrate the achievement of your weight-loss goals. Then you will be able to eat more healthy carbohydrates, but you will be in the habit of choosing the right ones by this time. If you eat too much and put on a few pounds, you can get right back on track by going back to the Turbo Diet. If you trip up and binge during a stressful time, you can schedule a vegetable juice cleanse day and flush out the toxins. This is the design that can help you maintain your ideal weight for the rest of your life.

Research Proves the Juice Diet Works!

Two university studies have shown that one to two glasses of vegetable juice a day promote four times the weight loss of non-juice drinkers on the same American Heart Association diet. Both studies were randomized controlled trials, each lasting twelve weeks.1

In the study conducted by University of California–Davis among ninety healthy adults between the ages of forty and sixty-five, it was found that each person who drank at least two cups of vegetable juice a day met their weight-loss goal while only 7 percent of the non-juice drinkers met it. Participants who drank either one or two cups of vegetable juice per day lost an average of 4 pounds, while those who drank no vegetable juice lost only 1 pound. The researchers also found that people in the vegetable juice groups had significantly higher vitamin C and potassium intake and a significantly lower intake of carbohydrates. Participants with borderline high blood pressure who drank one or two servings of vegetable juice lowered their blood pressure significantly.2

The vegetable juice drinkers said they enjoyed the juice and felt like they were doing something good for themselves by drinking it. According to Carl Keen, PhD, professor of Nutrition and Internal Medicine at UC–Davis and coauthor of the study, “Enjoyment is so critical to developing good eating habits you can stick with for a long time.?.?.?.?Vegetable juice is something that people enjoy, plus it’s convenient and portable, which makes it simple to drink every day.”3

The Baylor College of Medicine study involved eighty-one adults who drank 8 to 16 ounces of vegetable juice daily as part of a calorie-controlled, heart-healthy diet. They showed an average of 4 pounds lost over a twelve-week study period compared with those who did not drink juice and lost only 1 pound. Of the participants in the study, almost three-quarters of whom were women, 83 percent had metabolic syndrome, which is a cluster of risk factors including excess body fat around the midsection, high blood pressure, high blood sugar, and elevated cholesterol.4

It is estimated that 47 million Americans have some combination of these risk factors, placing them at increased risk for diabetes and heart disease.5 That’s why the low-glycemic Turbo Diet works so well for weight loss and can be especially helpful for people with blood sugar challenges such as those with metabolic syndrome.

Metabolic Syndrome

Insulin is a powerful hormone, its primary job being to push glucose out of the blood and into cells where it’s converted into energy. It plays a critical role in blood sugar balance, weight management, and other important health factors. When blood sugar goes up, the pancreas releases insulin to deal with the sugar, but it often overreacts by releasing too much insulin. Then your blood sugar drops down, often way down, and so you eat more carbohydrates to bring it up again. The pancreas releases more insulin—and on it goes.

Things like alcohol; pastries; candy; ice cream; pie; cake; refined flour products like bread, bagels, pizza, and pasta; and starches such as white potatoes and white rice rapidly break down to sugar and quickly enter the bloodstream where it causes insulin to spike. “It doesn’t take much?.?.?.?to cause your blood sugar to skyrocket,” says Ron Rosedale, MD. He notes that one saltine cracker can take blood sugar to over 100, and in many people it can cause it to go over 150.6

As insulin becomes overabundant, the normal target cells in the muscles and liver will no longer recognize it. When this happens on a continual basis, insulin floats in the bloodstream much of the time. When insulin becomes the dominant, active hormone, it triggers a hormone imbalance that sets the stage for weight gain, obesity, type 2 diabetes, and even cancer.

Even if you exercise rigorously, elevated insulin levels will not maximize fat burning. Still worse, elevated insulin levels will stimulate your body to store fat. Remember, this response is primarily the result of eating too many carbohydrates and not enough protein, fat, and fiber, which are found in complex carbohydrates such as vegetables, legumes, and whole grains.

The key to correcting this imbalance begins with controlling insulin levels. Whether or not you have any of the symptoms of insulin resistance or metabolic syndrome, insulin control is vital for weight loss and maintenance. The low-glycemic diet with two glasses of vegetable juice per day is a good plan for you to control insulin response and maintain a lifetime of fitness.

Insulin carries glucose to the trillions of cells in your body. When you are insulin sensitive, your body will do a much better job of shuttling glucose (blood sugar) into your cells than when they are not sensitive to this hormone. The open doors of your cells allow this fuel to be used for energy. How easily glucose is shuttled into your cells defines how sensitive they are to insulin.

When your cells are not sensitive to insulin, insulin levels go up, and target cells will develop what is termed insulin resistance. When your cells are insulin resistant, your body must contend with extra “free-roaming” glucose that can’t get into your cells. Some of this will be stored as fat and lead to weight gain. Without insulin sensitivity, you may struggle with your weight continually. Insulin resistance is thought to be one of the primary causes of overweight associated with metabolic syndrome.7

The Baylor College of Medicine study mentioned earlier involved a large percentage of participants with metabolic syndrome—a cluster of characteristics that include weight gain at the midsection, insulin resistance, low HDL, high blood pressure, and elevated triglycerides. If not corrected by following a low-glycemic diet, this syndrome usually evolves into diabetes. Most of the people with metabolic syndrome in the study lost weight when adding vegetable juice to their diet, four times the weight of others that did not drink juice. You can read more about this syndrome and how to correct it in chapter 5.

The standard Western diet produces inflammation. Inflammation produces insulin resistance. Insulin resistance produces weight gain. Weight gain produces inflammatory cytokines leading to more insulin resistance and more weight gain. It’s a frustrating cycle. Insulin resistance starves the muscles, which react by sending signals to lower the metabolism to conserve energy reserves. Additionally, insulin resistance makes us hungry in an effort to feed our starving muscles.

Under these conditions, weight loss becomes almost impossible. We look overweight, but our muscles think we’re starving. The sad fact is that many grossly overweight people are in fact starving. As a result of this starvation, we eat more and more food, but often we reach for the wrong foods—sugars, refined carbohydrates, simple starches, and unhealthy fats in response to brain signals calling for more nutrition. This impedes weight loss in spite of our best dieting efforts. As these conditions worsen, we may develop cardiovascular diseases, diabetes, and hypertension. The Turbo Diet halts the inflammatory response in its tracks, putting a stop to this cascade of unhealthy reactions, and turns the body around to a balanced biochemistry.

What Is the Low-Glycemic Diet?

The glycemic index (GI) has become a popular weight-loss tool based in part on the fact that high-glycemic foods raise blood sugar levels, cause the body to secrete excess insulin, and lead to the storage of fat. Originally developed to help diabetics manage blood sugar control, the glycemic index has become popular in the weight-loss market largely because it works so well. Researchers reported in the Journal of the American Medical Association that patients who lost weight with a low-glycemic diet kept the weight off longer than patients who lost the same amount of weight with a low-fat diet.8

The GI diet refers to a system of ranking carbohydrates according to how much a certain amount of each food raises a person’s blood sugar level. It’s determined by measuring how much a 50-gram serving of carbohydrate raises a person’s blood sugar level compared with a control.

Virtually all carbohydrates are digested into glucose and cause a temporary rise in blood glucose levels, called the glycemic response. But some foods raise it more than others. This response is affected by many factors, including the quantity of food, the amount and type of carbohydrate, how it’s cooked or eaten raw, and the degree of processing. Each food is assigned an index number from 1 to 100, with 100 as the reference score for pure glucose. Typically, foods are rated high (greater than 70), moderate (56–69), and low (less than 55).

Over the four-day Thanksgiving vacation I decided to try your low-glycemic diet. I am sixty-one years old and have survived cancer five times as well as chemotherapy, radiation, and nearly two dozen surgeries. I have serious radiation burns in my abdomen. It’s also contributed to arthritis in my joints and legs. I wanted to lose some weight, but the most surprising thing is that about three days after I cleansed my system of the simple carbohydrates, the arthritis pain began to leave. I have not experienced arthritis pain for nearly four weeks now. I have lost 10 pounds and feel 100 percent better. I have researched many comments about your plan (which included coconut oil) and find nothing but fabulous reviews. This is a simple, easy, effective plan to follow.

—Carolyn

Low-glycemic foods, especially raw vegetables, can help control blood sugar, appetite, and weight. Though helpful for everyone, they are especially helpful for people with type 2 diabetes, prediabetes, hypoglycemia, insulin resistance, and metabolic syndrome. Low-glycemic foods are absorbed more slowly, allowing a person to feel full longer and therefore less likely to overeat. Raw food experts such as Dr. John Douglas have found that raw carbohydrates such as the raw juices are better tolerated than cooked carbs. They don’t elicit the addictive cravings that cooked foods cause. Douglas believes, as does the Finnish expert A. I. Virtanen, that the enzymes in raw food play an important role in the way they stimulate weight loss as they do in the treatment of obesity.9

On the Turbo Diet, you are encouraged to choose most of your carbohydrate foods from the low-glycemic index and a large percentage of those foods as raw. The foods on the recommended list on pages 128–137 are for the most part low glycemic and are nutrient-rich, not refined, and higher in fiber—like whole vegetables, fruit, and legumes (beans, lentils, split peas).
Different carbohydrates take different pathways in the body after digestion. For example, some starchy foods are bound by an outer layer of very complex starches (fiber) like the legumes (beans, lentils, split peas), which increases the time it takes for them to be digested. So even though legumes are relatively high in carbohydrates, they have a lower glycemic response because of their complex encasing.

Carrots are another example of glycemic inconsistency; they’re often referred to as a high-glycemic vegetable. If a person consumes 50 grams of carrots, which are required for the test, they’ve eaten about 5 cups of carrots. Not many of us would eat that many carrots, even when juicing them. And even in that high quantity, carrots are still in the low-glycemic category, just a little higher than many other vegetables.

There is also the antioxidant potential of foods to consider, meaning the amount of antioxidant nutrients a food contains, like beta-carotene and vitamin C that are abundant in many fruits and vegetables. In Chinese culture, carrots are often used as cooling medicine. Carrots, beets (both very rich in beta-carotene), and other brightly colored vegetables are especially important to include in our diet to prevent disease. These days many health professionals suggest we eliminate carrots and beets because of their glycemic rating, but the Turbo Diet does not exclude them because of their high nutrient and fiber content.

The Turbo Diet has eliminated foods that are higher on the glycemic index and foods that do not have fiber and turn to glucose rapidly. This diet also eliminates foods that aren’t rich in nutrients. Also, fruit is limited in the beginning because of the higher sugar content and because many people suffer from yeast overgrowth (candidiasis), to which fruit sugar contributes.

Choosing low-glycemic foods that do not promote a rapid rise in insulin, and therefore do not promote fat storage, and foods that are rich in fiber and thus slow down the release of sugar into the bloodstream are the Turbo Diet’s wise choices for weight loss.

In contrast, higher glycemic index foods will trigger a rise in blood sugar, followed by a drop in blood sugar and a cascade of hormonal changes, which tend to make you hungry again quickly. The higher glycemic index foods are metabolized more quickly than low-glycemic foods. The blood sugar spikes of high-glycemic foods cause particular problems for people with diabetes, prediabetes, hypoglycemia, and metabolic syndrome.

Quality, not quantity, of carbohydrates is the goal of the Turbo Diet. The aim is to feel full by enjoying plenty of smart carbs—like whole vegetables, limited amounts of whole grains, and legumes—along with lean protein, healthy fats, and a little fruit. You will completely avoid the high-glycemic foods, which tend to be made with sugar and/or white flour and are often highly processed.

The Glycemic Index Review

The glycemic index was developed by David Jenkins in 1981 to measure the rise in blood glucose after consumption of a particular food. This index shows the rate at which carbohydrates break down to glucose in the bloodstream. Test subjects are given a specified amount (50 grams) of carbohydrates in a test food, and then their blood glucose is measured over a period of time to see how it is affected. The blood sugar response is compared to a standard food, usually white bread, and a rating is given to determine how blood sugar is affected.

Keep in mind that not all low-glycemic foods are healthy fare. Low-glycemic foods include candy bars and potato chips. These foods are not on the Turbo Diet because they are very nutrient depleted, contain sugar or turn to sugar easily, and lack fiber. You need to get the best nutrition for your choices. Likewise, there are moderate-scored foods such as beets and high-glycemic foods such as rutabagas and parsnips that are part of this plan because they are nutrient rich.

With this plan, there’s no obsessing over the glycemic index either, just a basic understanding of the principles. Keep in mind that certain factors can change a score, such as the riper the fruit, the higher the glycemic index score. But always choose ripe fruits and vegetables over unripe; they are healthier by far. Adding good fat to foods can lower the GI score. And keep in mind that the GI response to any given food also varies widely from person to person. It can even vary within the same person from day to day.10 That’s why it’s so important to be able to listen to your body and determine how the foods you are eating are affecting you.
I lost 40 pounds mostly from around my waist over about a six-month period after I started juicing. I’m an athlete and used to working out a lot. But when I got a knee injury that prevented workouts, it became tougher to stay in shape. Then I started juicing every day. The weight just melted off without any effort. I went from a 38-inch waist to a 32-inch waist and from about 230 pounds to 190. I’m committed to juicing for the rest of my life.

—Dmitriy

Weight Loss on a Mission

Years ago when I was taking prerequisites for my masters of science program in whole foods nutrition at Bastyr University, I worked for a weight-loss center part-time as a nutrition counselor. I noticed that a number of people who entered the program looked healthy, meaning they had good skin color and tone and vibrancy—they were just overweight. Soon into the program, I noticed that though they were losing weight, they weren’t looking healthier. I observed a loss of skin tone, skin color turning a grayish pallor, and a loss of energy and vitality. I was alarmed. Even as a student I knew that it was not just about dropping weight; it was about getting healthier. I quit the job, unable to promote something that I felt did harm.

Since I started juicing, my eyes are brighter and the pain in my left foot is gone! I could hardly walk before. I started juicing because I wanted to feel better and because I had lots of digestive problems. I had no idea that I would get rid of the pain in my left foot.

—Margo

When you embark on a weight-loss program, it should be about getting healthier along with losing weight. Whether you want to lose 10, 20, 50, 100, or even more than 200 pounds like Dave the “Raw Foods” Trucker, it isn’t just about getting the weight off any way you can. I know people who have lost weight through drastic means and ruined their health in the process.

Losing weight with vegetable juices and the Turbo Diet is one way to ensure that you choose a weight-loss regimen that doesn’t sacrifice your health. That’s why I’m excited about introducing you to the Turbo Diet. I know what it can do for you. So many people have praised this diet because of the increased health and energy they experienced. And if they can experience these great results, you can too. You’re off to a great start and a lifetime of fitness!

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!

and the book:

Texas Roads

WordVessel Press (March 1, 2010)

***Special thanks to Cathy Bryant for sending me a review copy.***

Cathy Bryant is a proud member of FIRST and a country girl at heart. Her debut novel, Texas Roads, was a 2009 finalist in the American Christian Fiction Writers’ Genesis competition. A Texas gal by birth, Cathy lives with her husband in a century-old Texas farmhouse, complete with picket fence, flowers, butterflies, and late summer mosquitoes the size of your fist.

Visit the author’s book website.
Visit the author’s website.
Visit the author’s blog.

Product Details:

List Price: $12.99
Paperback: 304 pages
Publisher: WordVessel Press (March 1, 2010)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0984431101
ISBN-13: 978-0984431106

ISLAND BREEZES

Secrets.  This book is full of them and the problems they can cause.  Especially when most of them involve one cute little city gal who’s longing for a home.

It takes a lot of pain and all the secrets made public before Dani finds the home she’s been longing for all her life. 

Meet Dani, Mama Beth, Steve and all the others to see why I’d like to call Miller’s Creek home.  Hopefully, this won’t be the only Miller’s Creek novel.  This book has abundent possibilities for more to follow.  Do you hear me, Cathy?

AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:

Dani’s blue Honda Civic lurched and sputtered, drawing her attention to the neon-orange needle on the gas gauge. Empty. A frustrated growl rushed from her throat as she maneuvered onto the tufts of new spring grass at the side of the country road, turned off the ignition, and leaned her head back against the seat, berating herself for her forgetfulness. She’d love to blame this on the fight with her mother, but it wouldn’t explain the hundreds of times she’d made similar mistakes. One more to add to her collection.

She rubbed the dull ache building between her eyes, and stared at her surroundings on this Texas back road. Why did she choose today, of all days, to visit her aunt, a woman she knew only from chatty letters and a brief phone call?

Escape.

She longed to escape. To disappear, to travel so far away that painful memories became yesterday’s ashes.

A stray tear wandered down her cheek and she banished it with a swipe. Today marked the one-year anniversary of Richard’s death. Death had robbed her—not only of her husband, but of her dream—and stamped her heart’s one desire with angry red letters: REQUEST DENIED. Thanks to the life insurance and the inheritance of her father’s company, a ridiculous sum of money now graced her bank account, but not enough to buy what couldn’t be purchased. A house, yes—but not a home.

Stop wallowing, Dani. She grabbed her cell phone and flipped it opened. No signal. Of course. She climbed from the car to scan the horizon. Nothing but tree-dotted pastures and a few cows. Breathing deep to quell the rush of panic, she closed her eyes and envisioned a sweet grandmother-type driving up to offer a ride. Her eyes fluttered open. Yeah, right. She wasn’t Cinderella. Godmothers didn’t exist. And Prince Charming? The biggest fairy tale of all.

Her marriage was proof.

Waiting to be rescued just squandered precious hours of daylight. She snatched her purse from the passenger seat, slammed the car door, and stamped toward Miller’s Creek. Like a scratched CD, Mother’s hurtful words from the earlier phone conversation replayed in her mind, and none of it made sense. Why did her mother oppose this visit to see Aunt Beth? And what had caused a rift the size of Texas between the two sisters?

A cramp commenced in her toes and inched into her feet. With a frown, she eyed her shoes. Heels weren’t exactly the footwear of choice for hiking country roads. Balancing her discount-store purse in the crook of her arm, she rifled through its contents, searching for the keys as she marched back to the car. A sudden realization forced her into a stilted run, and a strangled sound ripped from her throat. “Please, no!”

The keys dangled from the ignition, teasing her like chocolate candy behind a counter of glass. With a guttural groan, Dani tilted her face toward the cloud-darkened sky. “What do You have against me?”

The isolated countryside responded with silence.

On the continued trek toward Miller’s Creek, the hush enveloped her, the only sound an occasional bird’s song and the rhythmic thud of her heels against the pavement. So peaceful. So unlike the city’s unending drone. The bluebonnets and Indian Blankets of early spring painted the countryside, stretching beyond the barbed-wire fence into open fields, and the breeze tangled her hair. As she breathed in the fresh air, her shoulder muscles unknotted. Then a low rumble pulled her gaze to the clouded sky.

Heavy raindrops pelted Dani’s face and dotted her consignment shop designer jacket. Within minutes she was drenched, the metallic taste of make-up dribbling into her mouth. She kicked at a rock, self-pity seeping through her like the rain through her dry-clean-only suit.

With a shiver she hunched over and pulled the soggy jacket closer in an effort to get warm. Burning pain in her left little toe hinted at the formation of a blister, but she hobbled on, her thoughts on her aunt. Could Aunt Beth provide the sense of family she so desperately needed? She attempted to toss the question from her mind. One thing was for certain. Her drowned-rat-appearance would make a memorable first impression. Just not in a good way.

The faint roar of an engine sounded behind her and intensified. Finally. She turned to see an older model pickup top the hill, and waved her arms in an effort to make herself seen in the rain and approaching nightfall. The beat-up truck slowed to a stop and the window lowered.

Dani tried to swallow, but her throat clamped shut. This was no grandmother. With one finger, a dusty cowboy pushed up his sweat-stained hat, his other arm draped over the steering wheel. “Can I give you a ride, ma’am?”

Dani brushed the drippy hair from her eyes, resisting the urge to correct his grammar. The word was may, not can. “I…uh…r-ran out of gas.”

The cowboy smiled, his teeth white against his dirt-smudged face. “That’s not what I asked.”

With a glance in the direction of her car, Dani’s brain accelerated into high gear. “Actually, if you’d be so kind as to get me some gas—”

A soft chuckle resonated from him, and his eyes twinkled.

She hoisted her chin. How dare he laugh at her.

“Look, ma’am.” His picture-perfect smile disappeared behind the long line of his lips, his voice laced with impatience. “I know you’re concerned about accepting a ride with someone you don’t know. Can’t say I blame you. But by the time I get to town, get gas and get back out here, it’s going to be dark. Then you’ll have plenty of reason to be afraid.”

She raised a hand to her lips. What he said made sense, but could she trust him?

His mouth curled at the corners. “Coyotes are pretty bad in these parts. Sure wouldn’t want to be out here after dark. Especially alone.”

Coyotes? Dani yanked on the door handle and hoisted herself onto the grimy seat. After one breath in, she wrinkled her nose and sniffed. What was that smell? Eau de Sweat? She swiveled her head toward him and found his gaze trained on her, his face lined with suppressed laughter.

He needn’t be so amused. Dani fidgeted with the seat belt, and held it with one hand to keep it from riding across her nose. “I think someone up there must not like me.”

“What makes you say that?” He stared at her like she was mentally unbalanced and put the truck in gear.

“It’s just been a rough day. Like God has it in for me or something.”

He raised one brow. “I think God must love you a lot, or I wouldn’t have come home this way. Not many people use this road anymore.”

Dani drew in a sharp breath. Did God love her? She gave her wet head a shake, sending droplets of water to the worn seat. Yeah, right. No one could love her. Not even God.

Conversation lapsed as the rain continued its steady stream, thundering against the roof, yet unable to drown out the hum of the truck’s engine. What would’ve happened to her if he hadn’t driven by? The only coyote she’d seen were the ones in science videos at school. A surprising shudder scuttled down her spine, followed by a shiver that rattled her teeth.

The cowboy shifted her direction, his dark eyes focused on her ruined jacket. “You must be cold.”

Brilliant deduction, Sherlock. Were all small-town people as intelligent as him? “What clued you in? My dripping clothes or blue lips?”

He laughed out loud, a hearty sound that made her somehow feel better. “Feeling a little testy, huh?” His eyes sparkled with amusement.

She hung her head, half in shame and partly to conceal the smile that crept onto her face without permission. “Sorry.”

Dani started as he reached toward her, but relaxed when he pulled a brown suede leather jacket from behind the seat. “Here. This ought to warm you up.”

“Thanks.” She gripped the stained coat with two fingers, and examined it for signs of vermin. None she could see. “Looks…uh…nice and cozy.” She snuggled into its warmth and breathed in the light scent of men’s cologne.

Richard.

Dani closed her eyes, the unwelcome memories and emotions clawing their way through her insides. The feelings still took her by surprise, crawling into her consciousness at unexpected times. Had she not been a good enough wife? Is that why he’d betrayed her?

“By the way, I’m Steve Miller.” The stranger’s silky baritone interrupted her thoughts.

She opened her eyes to find his hand extended toward her. “Dani.” She clasped his hand. Not as rough as she expected for a cowboy.

“You really shouldn’t be on the back roads without enough fuel, you know.” The look he gave her was stern, but kind.

Dani swallowed the sarcastic reply that popped into her head, and instead sent him a pasted-on smile.

His gaze rested on her wedding band. “Your husband not able to come along?”

The irony of his question made her grimace. At least the ring had served its purpose. She shook her head and focused on the passing terrain, some fields completely covered in wildflowers. How many more miles?

He leaned forward and made eye contact. “Been to Miller’s Creek before?”

“Once when I was little, but I don’t remember much about it.”

“It’s a nice place.” His voice held a hint of pride. “Any family there?”

She slid a hand over her wet hair and cleared her throat. Time to change the subject. Let him enjoy the hot seat for a while. “An aunt. What about you? Have you lived in Miller’s Creek long?”

His eyebrow cocked into a furry question mark. “All my life.”

“No surprise there,” she muttered to herself. She glanced at his filthy blue jeans and tattered shirt. It had probably been that long since he’d taken a bath. Immediate guilt rained over her. Ease up, Dani. At least he offered you a ride.

“Excuse the way I look. We had a fence to mend today at the ranch.”

Heat built up steam under her cheeks, and she averted her eyes. Okay, he wasn’t supposed to hear that.

His expression held nothing but friendliness. “I might know your aunt. What’s her name?”

She rubbed fingers against her damp pants. Was it wise to divulge that information?

“Never mind.” Steve held up a hand, a thin layer of black showing beneath his nails. “I know you city folks have to be careful about stuff like that.”

What was it with his ability to read her mind? “City folks? You make it sound like a disease or something.” She hugged her arms to her chest. “Besides, how do you know I’m from the city?”

“’Cause people from around here don’t dress up in such fancy duds.” His dark eyes glinted and her nerves unraveled more.

“True. They wear cowboy hats and drive beat-up trucks.”

His throaty laughter reverberated in the cab. “Guess I had that coming.”

Once again her cheeks fired up. Resting her elbow on the door, Dani leaned her hot face against her fist and wished for a punching bag.

“Which city?”

She stared at the tattered pickup cab ceiling and drew in a breath. “Dallas.” If they didn’t get to Miller’s Creek soon she was going to blow.

“Should-a guessed that.” Steve’s face scrunched up. “How can you stand living in the city with all that noise and traffic?”

“I suppose the same way you live with stinky old cows and a lack of civilization.” Her voice rose in frustration.

Dani wished the blurted-out words back in her mouth. Too late.

She started to apologize, but Steve spoke before she could get a word out. “You in business for yourself, or you work for a corporation?”

Where’d he get that idea? “I’m an elementary school teacher.”

“Really?” His brows notched up and he snickered.

Irritation seeped through the cracks of her frazzled nerves like floodwater penetrating a leaky dam. She twisted her head to glare at him. “Is that so difficult to believe?”

A smirky smile snaked across the cowboy’s face. “Guess not. It’s just that Miller’s Creek teachers don’t dress up like you. They get down on the floor with their kids.”

The dam burst wide open. “Well now it’s my turn to be amazed. I didn’t know small towns like Miller’s Creek had schools.” Dani huffed out the words then yanked her head around to clamp a hand over her mouth. What was wrong with her today?

Broken only by the swish of the windshield wipers and the pit-pat of rain drops, the silence hung between them, thick and sultry. Suffocating. She let out a slow breath and ducked her head to study him from beneath her lashes. Steve faced forward, the dark hair at the nape of his neck curling upward, his stubbled jaw locked. Most of her friends would classify him as handsome, but she wasn’t looking for a man. Not ever again.

He began to whistle, a shrill sound that chafed against her raw nerve endings. She pressed a hand to her temple. How much farther could it be? “Is there a convenience store in Miller’s Creek by any chance?” She tried to infuse her tone with kindness.

His cinnamon eyes turned on her—dry hot winds that withered everything in their path. “Of course. Right next to the community outhouse.”

A nervous giggle escaped before she could stifle it, but Steve’s daggered glare brought it to a quick halt. After a few minutes she peeked at his face, now chiseled from granite. Way to go, Dani. She’d already offended one member of Miller’s Creek, and hadn’t even made it to the city limits.

The rain ceased as they pulled into town, and Dani sat up straighter at the sight of country cottages lining the street. Homey. A little tired, but nothing a fresh coat of paint couldn’t fix. Tree branches arched across the road to create a living canopy. The sun, sandwiched between cloud and earth, changed the leaf-clinging raindrops to diamonds.

And children. Everywhere she looked. They splashed in puddles and chased each other across spring green lawns, their shouts and laughter a symphony of careless joy. So Mayberry RFD.

The hunger for home haunted her, and a familiar ache settled over her heart like ancient dust. “Unbelievable.” Dani whispered the word and relaxed into the seat, then glanced at Steve, his face impassive. She tried to push aside the fear of never finding a home, but it clung to her with razor-sharp talons.

In one deft movement, Steve jerked the pickup into a parking lot and came to a whiplash stop. She avoided eye contact and allowed the sign above the door to capture her interest. B & B Hardware? Dani peered to her right where two lanes of gas pumps stood, and a smile wiggled onto her face. A hardware-store-slash-gas-station. Only in a small town.

She plucked a hundred-dollar bill from her purse and offered it to him. “I appreciate—”

“Keep it.” Steve spat out the words and leaned away, his mouth a taut slash.

Surely he needed the money. His ragged jeans and this rattletrap he drove suggested as much. Dani squeezed her eyebrows together. For whatever reason, he wasn’t about to take the money, so she stuffed the bill back in her wallet, shrugged off the coat and handed it to him.

“Thanks for the ride.” With a release of the door she lowered herself to the ground.

Without looking her direction the cowboy put the truck in reverse, barely allowing her time to shut the door. As he tore out of the parking lot, his rear wheels spewed gravel.

Dani sucked in air and blew it out in a gush. Thank goodness that was over. Now to call Aunt Beth and end this nightmare. She faced the store, her heart pounding like a child on the first day of school.

Yes, it’s Memorial Day and I remember.  I remember my father, George Lawson.  I remember Doctor John M. Palm, a family friend who was like a second father.  I remember Brent, a classmate who was killed in Vietnam, and I remember Keith, a friend who came home from Vietnam.  I remember my brother, Jerry, who will soon be heading for Afghanistan.  I pray that he will come back home to us.

  What’s a piny?  A lot of people don’t have any idea what a piny looks like.  Unless you’re from the Midwest and have spent time around older people.  Then you most likely know. 

Folks, we’re talking about peonies.  I don’t have a clue as to the piny bit.  But this is the time of the year you can see lots and lots of them blooming.  They were always the flowers we took around to the graves each year in memory of loved ones who are no longer with us in body. 

Memorial Day used to be called Decoration Day.  I guess they changed the name as people got too busy to decorate the grave sites.  But now Memorial Day isn’t celebrated in memory of those whose lives were lost as they defended our country – and our right to ignore the day that honors them.

It looks as if they’ll have to change the name again sometime to something more appropriate such as national grill out instead of work day.

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!

and the book:

A Tailor-Made Bride

Bethany House (June 1, 2010)

***Special thanks to Karen Witemeyer for sending me a review copy.***

Karen Witemeyer holds a master’s degree in psychology from Abilene Christian University and is a member of ACFW, RWA, and the Texas Coalition of Authors. She has published fiction in Focus on the Family’s children’s magazine, and has written several articles for online publications and anthologies. Tailor-Made Bride is her first novel. Karen lives in Abilene, Texas, with her husband and three children.

Visit the author’s website.

Product Details:

List Price: $14.99
Paperback: 352 pages
Publisher: Bethany House (June 1, 2010)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0764207555
ISBN-13: 978-0764207556

ISLAND BREEZES

My, oh my.  Is J.T. ever uptight and huffy where the town’s new dressmaker, Hannah, is concerned!  And as far as Hannah is concerned, J.T.’s arrogant and gruff.  Besides she doesn’t need a man in her life.  She is doing quite well without one, thank you.

Will they ever learn to appreciate each other?  It certainly won’t come easy.

A lesson in this book is that one can’t put all Christians into the same pigeon hole.  God made each one of us beautiful in our own way. 

AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:

San Antonio, Texas—March 1881
“Red? Have you no shame, Auntie Vic? You can’t be buried in a scarlet gown.”

“It’s cerise, Nan.”

Hannah Richards bit back a laugh as Victoria Ashmont effectively put her nephew’s wife in her place with three little words. Trying hard to appear as if she wasn’t listening to her client’s conversation, Hannah pulled the last pin from between her lips and slid it into the hem of the controversial fabric.

“Must you flout convention to the very end?” Nan’s whine heightened to a near screech as she stomped toward the door. A delicate sniff followed by a tiny hiccup foreshadowed the coming of tears. “Sherman and I will be the ones to pay the price. You’ll make us a laughingstock among our friends. But then, you’ve never cared for anyone except yourself, have you?”

Miss Victoria pivoted with impressive speed, the cane she used for balance nearly clobbering Hannah in the head as she spun.

“You may have my nephew wrapped around your little finger, but don’t think you can manipulate me with your theatrics.” Like an angry goddess from the Greek myths, Victoria Ashmont held her chin at a regal angle and pointed her aged hand toward the woman who dared challenge her. Hannah almost expected a lightning bolt to shoot from her finger to disintegrate Nan where she stood.

“You’ve been circling like a vulture since the day Dr. Bowman declared my heart to be failing, taking over the running of my household and plotting how to spend Sherman’s inheritance. Well, you won’t be controlling me, missy. I’ll wear what I choose, when I choose, whether or not you approve. And if your friends have nothing better to do at a funeral than snicker about your great aunt’s attire, perhaps you’d do well to find some companions with a little more depth of character.”

Nan’s affronted gasp echoed through the room like the crack of a mule skinner’s whip.

“Don’t worry, dear,” Miss Victoria called out as her niece yanked open the bedchamber door. “You’ll have my money to console you. I’m sure you’ll recover from any embarrassment I cause in the blink of an eye.”

The door slammed shut, and the resulting bang appeared to knock the starch right out of Miss Victoria. She wobbled, and Hannah lurched to her feet to steady the elderly lady.

“Here, ma’am. Why don’t you rest for a minute?” Hannah gripped her client’s arm and led her to the fainting couch at the foot of the large four-poster bed that dominated the room. “Would you like me to ring for some tea?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, girl. I’m not so infirm that a verbal skirmish leaves me in want of fortification. I just need to catch my breath.”

Hannah nodded, not about to argue. She gathered her sewing box instead, collecting her shears, pins, and needle case from where they lay upon the thick tapestry carpet.

She had sewn for Miss Victoria for the last eighteen months, and it disturbed her to see the woman reduced to tremors and pallor so easily. The eccentric spinster never shied from a fight and always kept her razor-sharp tongue at the ready.

Hannah had felt the lash of that tongue herself on several occasions, but she’d developed a thick skin over the years. A woman making her own way in the world had to toughen up quickly or get squashed. Perhaps that was why she respected Victoria Ashmont enough to brave her scathing comments time after time. The woman had been living life on her own terms for years and had done well for herself in the process. True, she’d had money and the power of the Ashmont name to lend her support, but from all public reports—and a few overheard conversations—it was clear Victoria Ashmont’s fortune had steadily grown during her tenure as head of the family, not dwindled, which was more than many men could say. Hannah liked to think that, given half a chance, she’d be able to duplicate the woman’s success. At least to a modest degree.

“How long have you worked for Mrs. Granbury, Miss Richards?”

Hannah jumped at the barked question and scurried back to Miss Victoria’s side, her sewing box tucked under her arm. “Nearly two years, ma’am.”

“Hmmph.” The woman’s cane rapped three staccato beats against the leg of the couch before she continued. “I nagged that woman for years to hire some girls with gumption. I was pleased when she finally took my advice. Your predecessors failed to last more than a month or two with me. Either I didn’t approve of their workmanship, or they couldn’t stand up to my plain speaking. It’s a dratted nuisance having to explain my preferences over and over to new girls every time I need something made up. I’ve not missed that chore.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Hannah’s forehead scrunched. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought Victoria Ashmont might have just paid her a compliment.

“Have you ever thought of opening your own shop?”

Hannah’s gaze flew to her client’s face. Miss Victoria’s slate gray eyes assessed her, probing, drilling into her core, as if she meant to rip the truth from her with or without her consent.

Ducking away from the penetrating stare, Hannah fiddled with the sewing box. “Mrs. Granbury has been good to me, and I’ve been fortunate enough to set some of my earnings aside. It will be several years yet, but one day I do hope to set up my own establishment.”

“Good. Now help me get out of this dress.”

Dizzy from the abrupt starts, stops, and turns of the strange conversation, Hannah kept her mouth closed and assisted Miss Victoria. She unfastened the brightly colored silk, careful not to snag the pins on either the delicate material of the gown or on Miss Victoria’s stockings. Once the dress had been safely removed, she set it aside and helped the woman don a loose-fitting wrapper.

“I’m anxious to have these details put in order,” Miss Victoria said as she took a seat at the ladies’ writing desk along the east wall. “I will pay you a bonus if you will stay here and finish the garment for me before you leave. You may use the chair in the corner.” She gestured toward a small upholstered rocker that sat angled toward the desk.

Hannah’s throat constricted. Her mind scrambled for a polite refusal, yet she found no excuse valid enough to withstand Miss Victoria’s scrutiny. Left with no choice, she swallowed her misgivings and forced the appropriate reply past her lips.

“As you wish.”

Masking her disappointment, Hannah set her box of supplies on the floor near the chair Miss Victoria had indicated and turned to fetch the dress.

She disliked sewing in front of clients. Though her tiny boardinghouse room was dim and lacked the comforts afforded in Miss Victoria’s mansion, the solitude saved her from suffering endless questions and suggestions while she worked.

Hannah drew in a deep breath. I might as well make the best of it. No use dwelling on what couldn’t be changed. It was just a hem and few darts to compensate for her client’s recent weight loss. She could finish the task in less than an hour.

Miss Victoria proved gracious. She busied herself with papers of some kind at her desk and didn’t interfere with Hannah’s work. She did keep up a healthy stream of chatter, though.

“You probably think me morbid for finalizing all my funeral details in advance.” Miss Victoria lifted the lid of a small silver case and extracted a pair of eyeglasses. She wedged them onto her nose and began leafing through a stack of documents in a large oak box.

Hannah turned back to her stitching. “Not morbid, ma’am. Just . . . efficient.”

“Hmmph. Truth is, I know I’m dying, and I’d rather go out in a memorable fashion than slip away quietly, never to be thought of again.”

“I’m sure your nephew will remember you.” Hannah glanced up as she twisted the dress to allow her better access to the next section of hem.

“Sherman? Bah! That boy would forget his own name if given half a chance.” Miss Victoria pulled a document out of the box. She set it in front of her, then dragged her inkstand close and unscrewed the cap. “I’ve got half a mind to donate my estate to charity instead of letting it sift through my nephew’s fingers. He and that flighty wife of his will surely do nothing of value with it.” A heavy sigh escaped her. “But they are family, after all, and I suppose I’ll no longer care about how the money is spent after I’m gone.”

Hannah poked her needle up and back through the red silk in rapid succession, focused on making each stitch even and straight. It wasn’t her place to offer advice, but it burned on her tongue nonetheless. Any church or charitable organization in the city could do a great amount of good with even a fraction of the Ashmont estate. Miss Victoria could make several small donations without her nephew ever knowing the difference. Hannah pressed her lips together and continued weaving her needle in and out, keeping her unsolicited opinion to herself.

She was relieved when a soft tapping at the door saved her from having to come up with an appropriate response.

A young maid entered and bobbed a curtsy. “The post has arrived, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Millie.” Miss Victoria accepted the envelope. “You may go.”

The sound of paper ripping echoed in the quiet room as Miss Victoria slid her letter opener through the upper edge of the flap.

“Well, I must give the gentleman credit for persistence,” the older woman murmured. “This is the third letter he’s sent in two months.”

Hannah turned the dress again and bent her head a little closer to her task, hoping to escape Miss Victoria’s notice. It was not to be. The older woman’s voice only grew louder and more pointed as she continued.

“He wants to buy one of my railroad properties.”

Hannah made the mistake of looking up. Miss Victoria’s eyes, magnified by the lenses she wore, demanded a response. Yet how did a working-class seamstress participate in a conversation of a personal nature with one so above her station? She didn’t want to offend by appearing uninterested. However, showing too keen an interest might come across as presumptuous. Hannah floundered to find a suitably innocuous response and finally settled on, “Oh?”

It seemed to be enough, and Miss Victoria turned back to her correspondence as she continued her ramblings.

“When the Gulf, Colorado and Santa Fe Railway out of Galveston started up construction again last year, I invested in a handful of properties along the proposed route, in towns that were already established. I’ve made a tidy profit on most, but for some reason, I find myself reluctant to part with this one.”

An expectant pause hung in the air. Keeping her eyes on her work, Hannah voiced the first thought that came to mind.

“Does the gentleman not make a fair offer?”

“No, Mr. Tucker proposes a respectable price.” Miss Victoria tapped the handle of the letter opener against the desktop in a rhythmic pattern, then seemed to become aware of what she was doing and set it aside. “Perhaps I am reticent because I do not know the man personally. He is in good standing with the bank in Coventry and by all accounts is respected in the community, yet in the past I’ve made my decision to sell after meeting with the buyer in person. Unfortunately, my health precludes that now.”

“Coventry?” Hannah seized upon the less personal topic. “I’m not familiar with that town.”

“That’s because it’s about two hundred miles north of here—and it is quite small. The surveyors tell me it’s in a pretty little spot along the North Bosque River. I had hoped to visit, but it looks as if I won’t be afforded that opportunity.”

Hannah tied off her thread and snipped the tail. She reached for her spool and unwound another long section, thankful that the discussion had finally moved in a more neutral direction. She clipped the end of the thread and held the needle up to gauge the position of the eye.

“What do you think, Miss Richards? Should I sell it to him?”

The needle slipped out of her hand.

“You’re asking me?”

“Is there another Miss Richards in the room? Of course I’m asking you.” She clicked her tongue in disappointment. “Goodness, girl. I’ve always thought you to be an intelligent sort. Have I been wrong all this time?”

That rankled. Hannah sat a little straighter and lifted her chin. “No, ma’am.”

“Good.” Miss Victoria slapped her palm against the desk. “Now, tell me what you think.”

If the woman was determined to have her speak her mind, Hannah would oblige. This was the last project she’d ever sew for the woman anyway. It couldn’t hurt. The only problem was, she’d worked so hard not to form an opinion during this exchange, that now that she was asked for one, she had none to give. Trying not to let the silence rush her into saying something that would indeed prove her lacking in intellect, she scrambled to gather her thoughts while she searched for the dropped needle.

“It seems to me,” she said, uncovering the needle along with a speck of insight, “you need to decide if you would rather have the property go to a man you know only by reputation or to the nephew you know through experience.” Hannah lifted her gaze to meet Miss Victoria’s and held firm, not allowing the woman’s critical stare to cow her. “Which scenario gives you the greatest likelihood of leaving behind the legacy you desire?”

Victoria Ashmontconsidered her for several moments, her eyes piercing Hannah and bringing to mind the staring contests the school boys used to challenge her to when she was still in braids. The memory triggered her competitive nature, and a stubborn determination to win rose within her.

At last, Miss Victoria nodded and turned away. “Thank you, Miss Richards. I think I have my answer.”

Exultation flashed through her for a brief second at her victory, but self-recrimination soon followed. This wasn’t a schoolyard game. It was an aging woman’s search to create meaning in her death.

“Forgive my boldness, ma’am.”

Her client turned back and wagged a bony finger at Hannah. “Boldness is exactly what you need to run your own business, girl. Boldness, skill, and a lot of hard work. When you get that shop of yours, hardships are sure to find their way to your doorstep. Confidence is the only way to combat them—confidence in yourself and in the God who equips you to overcome. Never forget that.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Feeling chastised and oddly encouraged at the same time, Hannah threaded her needle and returned to work. The scratching of pen against paper replaced the chatter of Miss Victoria’s voice as the woman gave her full attention to the documents spread across her desk. Time passed swiftly, and soon the alterations were complete.

After trying the gown on a second time to assure a proper fit and examining every seam for quality and durability, as was her custom, Victoria Ashmont ushered Hannah down to the front hall.

“My man will see you home, Miss Richards.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Hannah collected her bonnet from the butler and tied the ribbons beneath her chin.

“I will settle my account with Mrs. Granbury by the end of the week, but here is the bonus I promised you.” She held out a plain white envelope.

Hannah accepted it and placed it carefully in her reticule. She dipped her head and made a quick curtsy. “Thank you. I have enjoyed the privilege of working for you, ma’am, and I pray that your health improves so that I might do so again.”

A strange light came into Miss Victoria’s eyes, a secretive gleam, as if she could see into the future. “You have better things to do than make outlandish red dresses for old women, Miss Richards. Don’t waste your energy worrying over my health. I’ll go when it’s my time and not a moment before.”

Hannah smiled as she stepped out the door, sure that not even the angels could drag Miss Victoria away until she was ready to go. Yet underneath the woman’s tough exterior beat a kind heart. Although Hannah didn’t fully understand how kind until she arrived home and opened her bonus envelope.

Instead of the two or three greenbacks she had assumed were tucked inside, she found a gift that stole her breath and her balance. She slumped against the boardinghouse wall and slid down its blue-papered length into a trembling heap on the floor. She blinked several times, but the writing on the paper didn’t change, only blurred as tears welled and distorted her vision.

She held in her hand the deed to her new dress shop in Coventry, Texas.

Chapter One

Coventry, Texas—September 1881
“J.T.! J.T.! I got a customer for ya.” Tom Packard lumbered down the street with his distinctive uneven gait, waving his arm in the air.

Jericho “J.T.” Tucker stepped out of the livery’s office with a sigh and waited for his right-hand man to jog past the blacksmith and bootmaker shops. He’d lost count of how many times he’d reminded Tom not to yell out his business for everyone to hear, but social niceties tended to slip the boy’s notice when he got excited.

It wasn’t his fault, though. At eighteen, Tom had the body of a man, but his mind hadn’t developed quite as far. He couldn’t read a lick and could barely pen his own name, but he had a gentle way with horses, so J.T. let him hang around the stable and paid him to help out with the chores. In gratitude, the boy did everything in his power to prove himself worthy, including trying to drum up clientele from among the railroad passengers who unloaded at the station a mile south of town. After weeks without so much as a nibble, it seemed the kid had finally managed to hook himself a fish.

J.T. leaned a shoulder against the doorframeand slid a toothpick out of his shirt pocket. He clamped the wooden sliver between his teeth and kept his face void of expression save for a single raised brow as Tom stumbled to a halt in front of him. The kid grasped his knees and gulped air for a moment, then unfolded to his full height, which was nearly as tall as his employer. His cheeks, flushed from his exertions, darkened further when he met J.T.’s eye.

“I done forgot about the yelling again, huh? Sorry.” Tom slumped, his chin bending toward his chest.

J.T. gripped the kid’s shoulder, straightened him up, and slapped him on the back. “You’ll remember next time. Now, what’s this about a customer?”

Tom brightened in an instant. “I gots us a good one. She’s right purty and has more boxes and gewgaws than I ever did see. I ’spect there’s enough to fill up the General.”

“The General, huh?” J.T. rubbed his jaw and used the motion to cover his grin.

Tom had names for all the wagons. Fancy Pants was the fringed surrey J.T. kept on hand for family outings or courting couples; the buggy’s name was Doc after the man who rented it out most frequently; the buckboard was just plain Buck; and his freight wagon was affectionately dubbed The General. The kid’s monikers inspired a heap of good-natured ribbing amongst the men who gathered at the livery to swap stories and escape their womenfolk, but over time the names stuck. Just last week, Alistair Smytheplopped down a silver dollar and demanded he be allowed to take Fancy Pants out for a drive. Hearing the pretentious bank clerk use Tom’s nickname for the surrey left the fellas guffawing for days.

J.T. thrust the memory from his mind and crossed his arms over his chest, using his tongue to shift the toothpick to the other side of his mouth. “The buckboard is easier to get to. I reckon it’d do the job just as well.”

“I dunno.” Tom mimicked J.T.’s posture, crossing his own arms and leaning against the livery wall. “She said her stuff was mighty heavy and she’d pay extra to have it unloaded at her shop.”

“Shop?” J.T.’s good humor shriveled. His arms fell to his sides as his gaze slid past Tom to the vacant building across the street. The only unoccupied shop in Coventry stood adjacent to Louisa James’s laundry—the shop he’d tried, and failed, to purchase. J.T.’s jaw clenched so tight the toothpick started to splinter. Forcing himself to relax, he straightened away from the doorpost.

“I think she’s a dressmaker,” Tom said. “There were a bunch of them dummies with no heads or arms with her on the platform. Looked right peculiar, them all standin’ around her like they’s gonna start a quiltin’ bee or something.” The kid chuckled at his own joke, but J.T. didn’t join in his amusement.

A dressmaker? A woman who made her living by exploiting the vanity of her customers? That’s who was moving into his shop?

A sick sensation oozed like molasses through his gut as memories clawed over the wall he’d erected to keep them contained.

“So we gonna get the General, J.T.?”

Tom’s question jerked him back to the present and allowed him to stuff the unpleasant thoughts back down where they belonged. He loosened his fingers from the fist he didn’t remember making and adjusted his hat to sit lower on his forehead, covering his eyes. It wouldn’t do for the kid to see the anger that surely lurked there. He’d probably go and make some fool assumption that he’d done something wrong. Or worse, he’d ask questions J.T. didn’t want to answer.

He cleared his throat and clasped the kid’s shoulder. “If you think we need the freight wagon, then we’ll get the freight wagon. Why don’t you harness up the grays then come help me wrangle the General?”

“Yes, sir!” Tom bounded off to the corral to gather the horses, his chest so inflated with pride J.T. was amazed he could see where he was going.

Ducking back inside the livery, J.T. closed up his office and strode past the stalls to the oversized double doors that opened his wagon shed up to the street. He grasped the handle of the first and rolled it backward, using his body weight as leverage. As his muscles strained against the heavy wooden door, his mind struggled to control his rising frustration.

He’d finally accepted the fact that the owner of the shop across the street refused to sell to him. J.T. believed in Providence, that the Lord would direct his steps. He didn’t like it, but he’d worked his way to peace with the decision. Until a few minutes ago. The idea that God would allow it to go to a dressmaker really stuck in his craw.

It wasn’t as if he wanted the shop for selfish reasons. He saw it as a chance to help out a widow and her orphans. Isn’t that what the Bible defined as “pure religion”? What could be nobler than that? Louisa James supported three kids with her laundry business and barely eked out an existence. The building she worked in was crumbling around her ears even though the majority of her income went to pay the rent. He’d planned to buy the adjacent shop and rent it to her at half the price she was currently paying in exchange for storing some of his tack in the large back room.

J.T. squinted against the afternoon sunlight that streamed into the dim stable and strode to the opposite side of the entrance, his indignation growing with every step. Ignoring the handle, he slammed his shoulder into the second door and ground his teeth as he dug his boots into the packed dirt floor, forcing the wood to yield to his will.

How could a bunch of fripperies and ruffles do more to serve the community than a new roof for a family in need? Most of the women in and around Coventry sewed their own clothes, and those that didn’t bought ready-made duds through the dry-goods store or mail order. Sensible clothes, durable clothes, not fashion-plate items that stroked their vanity or elicited covetous desires in their hearts for things they couldn’t afford. A dressmaker had no place in Coventry.

This can’t be God’s will. The world and its schemers had brought her to town, not God.

Horse hooves thudded and harness jangled as Tom led the grays toward the front of the livery.

J.T. blew out a breath and rubbed a hand along his jaw. No matter what had brought her to Coventry, the dressmaker was still a woman, and his father had drummed into him the truth that all women were to be treated with courtesy and respect. So he’d smile and doff his hat and make polite conversation. Shoot, he’d even lug her heavy junk around for her and unload all her falderal. But once she was out of his wagon, he’d have nothing more to do with her.

———

Hannah sat atop one of her five trunks, waiting for young Tom to return. Most of the other passengers had left the depot already, making their way on foot or in wagons with family members who’d come to meet them. Hannah wasn’t about to let her belongings out of her sight, though—or trust them to a porter she didn’t know. So she waited.

Thanks to Victoria Ashmont’s generosity, she’d been able to use the money she’d saved for a shop to buy fabric and supplies. Not knowing what would be available in the small town of Coventry, she brought everything she needed with her. Including her prized possession—a Singer Improved Family Model 15 treadle machine with five-drawer walnut cabinet and extension leaf. The monster weighed nearly as much as the locomotive that brought her here, but it was a thing of beauty, and she intended to make certain it arrived at the shop without incident.

Her toes tapped against the wooden platform. Only a mile of dusty road stood between her and her dream. Yet the final minutes of waiting felt longer than the hours, even years, that preceded them. Could she really run her own business, or would Miss Ashmont’s belief in her prove misplaced? A tingle of apprehension tiptoed over Hannah’s spine. What if the women of Coventry had no need of a dressmaker? What if they didn’t like her designs? What if . . .

Hannah surged to her feet and began to pace. Miss Ashmont had directed her to be bold. Bold and self-confident. Oh, and confident in God. Hannah paused. Her gaze slid to the bushy hills rising around her like ocean swells. “I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help. My help cometh from the Lord, which made heaven and earth.” The psalm seeped into her soul, bringing a measure of assurance with it. God had led her here. He would provide.

She resumed her pacing, anticipation building as fear receded. On her sixth lap around her mound of luggage, the creak of wagon wheels brought her to a halt.

A conveyance drew near, and Hannah’s pulse vaulted into a new pace. Young Tom wasn’t driving. Another man with a worn brown felt hat pulled low over his eyes sat on the bench. It must be that J.T. person Tom had rambled on about. Well, it didn’t matter who was driving, as long as he had the strength to maneuver her sewing machine without dropping it.

A figure in the back of the wagon waved a cheerful greeting, and the movement caught Hannah’s eye. She waved back, glad to see Tom had returned as well. Two men working together would have a much easier time of it.

The liveryman pulled the horses to a halt and set the brake. Masculine grace exuded from him as he climbed down and made his way to the platform. His long stride projected confidence, a vivid contrast to Tom’s childish gamboling behind him. Judging by the breadth of his shoulders and the way the blue cotton of his shirt stretched across the expanse of his chest and arms, this man would have no trouble moving her sewing cabinet.

Tom dashed ahead of the newcomer and swiped the gray slouch hat from his head. Tufts of his dark blond hair stuck out at odd angles, but his eyes sparkled with warmth. “I got the General, ma’am. We’ll get you fixed up in a jiffy.” Not wasting a minute, he slapped his hat back on and moved past her.

Hannah’s gaze roamed to the man waiting a few steps away. He didn’t look much like a general. No military uniform. Instead he sported scuffed boots and denims that were wearing thin at the knees. The tip of a toothpick protruded from his lips, wiggling a little as he gnawed on it. Perhaps General was a nickname of sorts. He hadn’t spoken a word, yet there was something about his carriage and posture that gave him an air of authority.

She straightened her shoulders in response and closed the distance between them. Still giddy about starting up her shop, she couldn’t resist the urge to tease the stoic man who held himself apart.

“Thank you for assisting me today, General.” She smiled up at him as she drew near, finally able to see more than just his jaw. He had lovely amber eyes, although they were a bit cold. “Should I salute or something?”

His right brow arced upward. Then a tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth told her he’d caught on.

“I’m afraid I’m a civilian through and through, ma’am.” He tilted his head in the direction of the wagon. “That’s the General. Tom likes to name things.”

Hannah gave a little laugh. “I see. Well, I’m glad to have you both lending me a hand. I’m Hannah Richards.”

The man tweaked the brim of his hat. “J.T. Tucker.”

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Tucker.”

He dipped his chin in a small nod. Not a very demonstrative fellow. Nor very talkative.

“Lay those things down, Tom,” he called out as he stepped away. “We don’t want them to tip over the side if we hit a rut.”

“Oh. Wait just a minute, please.” There was no telling what foul things had been carted around in that wagon bed before today. It didn’t matter so much for her trunks and sewing cabinet, but the linen covering her mannequins would be easily soiled.

“I have an old quilt that I wrapped around them in the railroad freight car. Let me fetch it.”

Hannah sensed more than heard Mr. Tucker’s sigh as she hurried to collect the quilt from the trunk she had been sitting on. Well, he could sigh all he liked. Her display dummies were going to be covered. She had one chance to make a first impression on the ladies of Coventry, and she vowed it would be a pristine one.

Making a point not to look at the liveryman as she scurried by, Hannah clutched the quilt to her chest and headed for the wagon. She draped it over the side, then climbed the spokes and hopped into the back, just as she had done as a child. Then she laid out the quilt along the back wall and gently piled the six dummies horizontally atop it, alternating the placement of the tripod pedestals to allow them to fit together in a more compact fashion. As she flipped the remaining fabric of the quilt over the pile, a loud thud sounded from behind, and the wagon jostled her. She gasped and teetered to the side. Glancing over her shoulder, she caught sight of Mr. Tucker as he shoved the first of her trunks into the wagon bed, its iron bottom scraping against the wooden floor.

The man could have warned her of his presence instead of scaring the wits out of her like that. But taking him to task would only make her look like a shrew, so she ignored him. When Tom arrived with the second trunk, she was ready. After he set it down, she moved to the end of the wagon.

“Would you help me down, please?”

He grinned up at her. “Sure thing.”

Hannah set her hands on his shoulders as he clasped her waist and lifted her down. A tiny voice of regret chided her for not asking the favor of the rugged Mr. Tucker, but she squelched it. Tom was a safer choice. Besides, his affable manner put her at ease—unlike his companion, who from one minute to the next alternated between sparking her interest and her ire.

She bit back her admonishments to take care as the men hefted her sewing machine. Thankfully, they managed to accomplish the task without her guidance. With the large cabinet secured in the wagon bed, it didn’t take long for them to load the rest of her belongings. Once they finished, Tom handed her up to the bench seat, then scrambled into the back, leaving her alone with Mr. Tucker.

A cool autumn breeze caressed her cheeks and tugged lightly on her bonnet as the wagon rolled forward. She smoothed her skirts, not sure what to say to the reticent man beside her. However, he surprised her by starting the conversation on his own.

“What made you choose Coventry, Miss Richards?”

She twisted on the seat to look at him, but his eyes remained focused on the road.

“I guess you could say it chose me.”

“How so?”

“It was really a most extraordinary sequence of events. I do not doubt that the Lord’s Providence brought me here.”

That got a reaction. His chin swiveled toward her, and beneath his hat, his intense gaze speared her for a handful of seconds before he blinked and turned away.

She swallowed the moisture that had accumulated under her tongue as he stared at her, then continued.

“Two years ago, I was hired by Mrs. Granbury of San Antonio to sew for her most particular clientele. One of these clients was an elderly spinster with a reputation for being impossible to work with. Well, I needed the job too badly to allow her to scare me away and was too stubborn to let her get the best of me, so I stuck it out and eventually the two of us found a way to coexist and even respect each other.

“Before she died, she called me in to make a final gown for her, and we fell to talking about her legacy. She had invested in several railroad properties, and had only one left that had not sold. In an act of generosity that I still find hard to believe, she gave me the deed as a gift, knowing that I had always dreamed of opening my own shop.”

“What kept her from selling it before then?” His deep voice rumbled with something more pointed than simple curiosity.

A prickle of unease wiggled down Hannah’s neck, but she couldn’t quite pinpoint the cause.

“She told me that she preferred to meet the buyers in person, to assess their character before selling off her properties. Unfortunately, her health had begun to decline, and she was unable to travel. There had been a gentleman of good reputation from this area who made an offer several times. A Mr. Tuck…”

A hard lump of dread formed in the back of Hannah’s throat.

“Oh dear. Don’t tell me you’re that Mr. Tucker?”

focus: tools for beating distraction

  Should your springs be scattered abroad, streams of water in the streets?

Let them be for yourself alone, and not for sharing with strangers.

Let your fountain be blessed, and rejoice in the wife of your youth, a lovely deer, a graceful doe.

May her breasts satisfy you at all time; may you be intoxicated always by her love.

Proverbs 6:16-19

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!

and the book:

Making Money from Home

Tyndale House Publishers, Inc. (March 4, 2010)

***Special thanks to Maggie Rowe of Tyndale House Publishers for sending me a review copy.***

Donna Partow is a bestselling Christian author whose books have sold almost a million copies. She has travelled in ministry on six continents and has been featured on hundreds of radio and TV shows, including the Focus on the Family daily broadcast. Donna has operated her own home-based business since being laid off as an investment banker in 1988, routinely generating a six-figure annual sales volume. She has spoken nationwide on the topic of women’s entrepreneurship, including two engagements at the CIA Headquarters in Langley, Virginia. Donna also appeared three years in a row at Senator John McCain’s conference for Arizona women. She attended the University of Pennsylvania’s School of Arts & Sciences, and Wharton Business School. She holds a B.A. in English from Rutgers University. Donna and her family live in Arizona.

Visit the author’s website.

Product Details:

List Price: $13.99
Paperback: 272 pages
Publisher: Tyndale House Publishers, Inc. (March 4, 2010)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1589976088
ISBN-13: 978-1589976085

ISLAND BREEZES

Donna Partow has successfully run a long term home-based business. This tells me that she has learned how to handle almost any problem we’re likely to have.  She starts with the very basics such as the type business that is right for you and writing a business plan.  

She then progresses through business basics and marketing, and ends with helping us in balancing the business and our family’s needs. 

Donna gives us inspiration, motivation and the knowledge to go through with our plan.  During this time of recession, you can have a business/job that won’t be outsourced right out from under you.  Thank you, Donna.

AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:

Foundations for a

Home-Based Business

Seven years ago, Kimber King was a busy stay-at-home mom with three boys, ages six, four, and two. She wasn’t looking for a way to make money from home, but when she began using a line of products that dramatically impacted her health; she couldn’t help telling everyone she knew about it. Kimber recalls, “The products were sold through a network marketing company and I actually had a very negative view of the industry. But the results I had with my own health far outweighed all the negative things I felt about the business.” So she quickly signed up enough family and friends to reach the top rank level in her company in the first six weeks. Within ninety days, her monthly earnings matched the full-time income she had previously been paid in the corporate world.

Kimber soon began reaching beyond her immediate circle of contacts through social networking on the Internet. She recalls, “One night I stumbled upon a site on the Internet that described itself as a business networking site. It was free and on the site you had the opportunity to create a profile page for yourself. I dove right in and started connecting with a ton of people. I did some things very naturally that literally launched my business on the Internet and to this day, from this one site I have an organization of six thousand plus members. Then I started branching out onto other sites like message boards and forums. I began cultivating online relationships mostly focusing on other stay-at-home moms.”

Another of Kimber’s success secrets is working with a personal business coach. Although she was earning a great income from home, she was working long hours on the computer and her income had remained the same for nearly two and a half years. “It was a very lucrative income for a stay-at-home mom of three,” she says, “But I began to have great goals for my family and helping others, and I was frankly stuck.”

Within eight weeks of working with the network marketing coach, Kimber was earning a monthly five-figure income and an annual six figure income while reducing her workload to less than twenty hours per week.

Kimber also credits her parents for much of her success. “My dad instilled a spirit of excellence in me. By watching my mother work in her own hair salon, I learned how to treat customers.” Kimber says the key is focusing on others. “It’s always about them and not me! What are their needs? What are their goals? What are their strengths? What are their desires? It’s never been about me and my income goals or rank advancements. If you focus on others, all that will come! One of my mentors says it like this: ‘If you focus on the mission, you get the commission!’ ”

Trust in God is also central to her business approach. As she explains, “When I start a dialogue with someone, my main intention is to discover how I can bless them. It might not be about business at all. It’s all about relationships first and then anything that flows out of it from there I leave up to God! I trust Him completely with my business and that He will also put those in front of me that I am supposed to serve. When people ask what I do to create success in my home business, I tell them two simple things: Pray and take action. I pray for those who are looking for me and for those I can serve. Then I pick up that phone

or connect with someone. “Faith without works is dead!” I have faith in my heavenly Father to provide the way but I also know that I have to step out on that path in faith.”

Kimber has stepped out in faith knowing that God is the provider in her home business and that’s made all the difference. Now seven years later, she earns a six-figure income from home, working part-time, raising her sons, and modeling the same entrepreneurial spirit she saw in her own mother.

1

Discover the

Advantages of

Working from Home

Let me begin with a brief look at the “why ” of running a home-based business to show you the benefits, because your motivation and belief in the benefits are what keep you going when the going gets tough. But then we’ll quickly shift gears to the more essential and practical how-to suggestions on the following pages.

Like any job, working at home offers both advantages and disadvantages. In the days and months ahead, times of discouragement will come. You may struggle with prioritization and time management. In addition to those burdens, the physical and emotional demands of promoting your business can drain you. You may begin to wonder if all your hard work is worthwhile, and you may even be tempted to give up your plans. In those moments, turn back to this chapter, reexamine the many benefits of working at home, and redouble your efforts to succeed. Remember, anything worth having is worth fighting for.

Your Home Can Be the Center of Your Life

There’s no place like home. I believe that with all my heart. Home can be the center of our lives, not just the place we come to recover from our lives. We can create an environment that fosters creativity and launch not just one narrow home business but a broad range of income-generating activities.

My first home-based business was in marketing communications: writing press releases, brochures, and ad campaigns. It was hard to get people to take me seriously as I tried to compete with the big-city advertising agencies. But I had a talent for writing and was absolutely determined to be a stay-at-home mother. I landed my largest client when I walked into his office wearing a dark pinstriped business suit and pushing my newborn in her stroller. Thisman said he was impressed with my motivation and touched by my priorities.

Over the past twenty years, I’ve launched countless different moneymaking enterprises. Some were dismal failures; others were wildly successful. Most were somewhere in between. As of this writing, I have a dozen income sources. Granted, some provide only $20 here and there. But hey, $20 is $20!

Let me illustrate. While away on a recent missions trip to Mozambique, I received checks from three businesses, totaling $800.The amazing part is that it was all passive income from businesses I had set up on autopilot on the Internet.

How would you like to earn $800 a week? Would you be thrilled with $800 a month? Maybe you plan to become a business tycoon and earn $800 a day. It’s up to you! But whatever your financial goals, I’m here to tell you that anyone can make extra money or have a full-time career from home if he or she is willing to work smart.

For almost twenty years, I’ve been a leader in promoting home-based businesses for women. I have spoken around the country on the topic of women’s entrepreneurship, including two events at the CIA Headquarters in Langley, Virginia, and three conferences hosted by Senator John McCain. I have loudly proclaimed my firm conviction that every man and woman in America should develop some creative way to make extra money from home. And, under appropriate learning conditions, children, too, should develop those skills.

You Can Be Available for Your Children and Others

By working from home, you can avoid the hassles and costs of day care (which are far more substantial than most people realize) and enjoy spending time with your children. Even if you have to hire a babysitter to watch your kids in your home while you work, you’ll be available at a moment’s notice if needed. And you can keep a watchful eye on all that

goes on throughout the day rather than sitting at a desk wondering if your children are okay.

My older daughter, Leah, is now in college. She was homeschooled much of her life, and I was a stay-at-home mom throughout her entire childhood. Although I was often extremely busy working forty hours a week, and even more on my businesses, I was always available when she truly needed me. Won’t it be nice, when your children reach adulthood, to look back and say the same?

Perhaps you have a disabled family member or are caring for elderly parents. Maybe someone in your home has a chronic illness, and you need to be available for doctor and other appointments. Working from home allows you to be there to care for them and gives you the flexibility to take time off during the day, setting your own schedule.

You Can Be a Positive Role Model for Your Children

Some would argue, “I’m too busy raising my children to run a home business.”

I counter, “Don’t you think it just makes sense to include your children in your business so they learn to be entrepreneurial and self sufficient under God’s sufficiency? Don’t you think that training them to run their own businesses might prove to be more significant than running them around to various afterschool activities?”

Fortunately neither of my daughters has the mind-set that some corporation is going to give her a paycheck and job security for the rest of her life. That is an absolute delusion. We need to train our children for the real world, where wise people use the gifts God has given them to mind their own businesses—even if they also have careers. Both of my daughters, who are now nineteen and thirteen, have already had many moneymaking businesses. They’ve done everything from making bookmarks and jewelry to running my book table and processing credit-card orders from my Web site.

When my oldest daughter was fifteen, she organized a teen missions conference that attracted seven hundred people. I had very little involvement. How did she know how to do that? She’s been working at Christian conferences since she was two years old! Leah has also raised thousands of dollars for her various missions trips by making and selling

crystal bracelets

In addition to being able to watch my children grow while I worked from home, they also watched me grow as a businesswoman. By observing me model entrepreneurship, both ofmy daughters learned valuable business skills.

You Can Help Shoulder the Financial Load

Not only can you work from home; you should. With few exceptions, it’s unwise to rely solely on one income source in today’s unstable economy. Now more than ever, I thank God that I have multiple streams of income from my various home-based enterprises. All over the world, mothers not only nurture their families, but they also play a vital role in ensuring the economic survival of their families. I’ve seen this with my own eyes as I’ve traveled worldwide—from the subsistence farmer in Africa bent over her crops with a baby slung on her back to the Asian mother selling items in the local market while children sit nearby, often working as well.

Women throughout history have contributed to the economic survival of their families. We can do the same, and if we exercise wisdom, we can do so in a way that won’t detract from our role as nurturers. In fact, working from home will enhance all of the roles we play and increase our stature in the eyes of our family members. My children not only love me, but they also openly admire me. How can you put a price tag on that?

You Can Enjoy a Sense of Accomplishment

One of the most important things I hope my children have learned from observing me making money from home is that productive work is not a punishment; in fact, it’s inherently rewarding. Many of us have experienced that exhilarating feeling of working hard to complete a project or the joy of beholding something we’ve made with our own hands. A home business will provide abundant opportunities for you to enjoy that exhilaration.

As the old saying goes, “If Mamma ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.” It’s equally true that when Mamma is happily enjoying a sense of accomplishment, everyone around her benefits. I think I’ve modeled a wonderful lifestyle for my daughters. It’s a lifestyle I’m quite certain they’ll choose to replicate.

You Can Be Your Own Boss

Many people fear dependence on a corporation because they have had the rug pulled out from under them or have seen it happen to so many of their colleagues. The days when you could rely on a company to look out for your best interests are long gone. While you’re working diligently for XYZ Corporation, it’s entirely possible they’re filling out your pink slip. Once you establish your own home-based business, you’ll have the pleasure of signing your own paycheck. And when you think you deserve a raise, you can give yourself one.

When you work for an employer, you’re required to work when, where, and how they choose. When you have your own home business, you have more control over when, where, and how you work. Of course, you’re still responsible to your customers, and there will be crunch times when you don’t have a choice about how many hours you put in. But there is usually much more time flexibility when you are your own boss.

Once in a while when I’m struggling with some aspect of my home business, one of my relatives will joke, “Donna, you should go back to banking.” But we all know I’m completely unemployable! I’ve been my own boss for too long, and I don’t think I could ever go back to having someone else tell me what to do with my time.

You Can Continue Your Career

Many women spend years training for a career before their children arrive on the scene. Teachers, nurses, doctors, lawyers, and many other professionals can quite easily transfer their hard-earned skills to a home-based business. Knowing that your career isn’t on hold will give you satisfaction, even though the majority of your time may be spent with family. This is especially important if you want to resume your before children career after the children have grown.

The amazing thing about the Internet is how easy it now is for a woman to stay current and relevant in her field while mothering and earning money from home. These types of opportunities were hard to come by when I wrote my first home-based business book. Now they abound. Let’s hear it for technology!

There Are Opportunities for Tremendous Success

When you work nine to five for someone else’s company, to a large extent your boss controls how well you do. But when you work for yourself, only your ability and determination set the limits, assuming you start with a great product or service people want. Maybe there’s something you’ve always dreamed of doing. Now is your chance to do it! You

may aspire only to make a little extra money, but there’s always the chance that your “silly idea” will catch on, and you’ll find yourself transformed into a very successful entrepreneur. Someone has to think up those great ideas. Why not you?

I know a number of Christian women who earn six-figure incomes thanks to their home businesses. Yes, you read that right. Six figures! I even know women who’ve earned more than a million dollars, and one woman who has earned several million. With few exceptions, these women did not set out to achieve such tremendous success. They were just doing what they loved, and the success followed. Put another way, they were walking in obedience, and God’s blessings chased them down the street and overtook them. It could happen to you!

The Top Ten Ways to Avoid Scams

1. Surf with caution. Understand that the mainstreaming of the Internet has created both good news and bad news for aspiring home-based business entrepreneurs. Good news: Opportunities abound. Bad news: Scams abound.

2. Beware advertisements. No legitimate company on the planet will advertise to hire an employee to work from home. Not gonna happen. Never. No, not ever. Why? Very simple: If a company had a legitimate interest in hiring employees to work from home, there would be an instantaneous pileup of current employees and their circles of influence. The very fact that a company is advertising work from home is your first clue that it’s a scam.

3. Never buy a list or directory of companies that supposedly hire people to work from home. These are phony! Once and for all: The answer to the question of who will hire you, keep you secure, pay you lots of money, and grant you the freedom to set your own hours from home is no one. You don’t need a list or directory of no one.

4. Choose freedom or security. I constantly hear from people who want the freedom of working from home as well as the perceived security of a job. Freedom and security are always a trade. Will you give up some of your freedom for security? Or will you give up some of your security in return for freedom? You’ll never have both in full measure. Accept reality: You cannot ha e your cake and eat it too.

5. Understand the role of oDesk and similar outsourcing Web sites. In the introduction, I mentioned the emergence of Web sites like oDesk and, in one sense, this is an example of companies looking for people to work from home. And yes, many Americans are trying to capitalize on this new trend. Some are e en succeeding. Howe er, for the most part, companies who post on oDesk aren’t “hiring”; they’re simply outsourcing on a project-by-project basis for the express purpose of not hiring employees. So although some opportunities exist, I belie e sites like oDesk are actually bad news for any North American woman who wants to work from home and is hoping she might find someone to hire her. If you thought the competition was fierce when millions of Americans were looking to work from home, now millions more people around the globe are in the mix. You’ll ha e to compete with people who are willing to work for a few dollars an hour, and it’s nearly impossible to build a successful North American business like that. Now, if you’re willing to move overseas, that’s a whole new ball game, and oDesk can become your very best friend. That’s well beyond the scope of this book, but if it’s something you’re interested in pursuing, read The 4-Hour Work Week by Timothy Ferriss.

6. Know the code. As soon as you hear phrases like “more work than I can handle” or “looking to train someone” or “just want to help others duplicate my success,” run for the door. Or click the mouse. It’s a scam. If these people really had more work than they could handle, their relatives and friends would be beating down the door to get in on it. But since it’s a scam and they’ e already driven away all their friends and relatives, they’re on the Internet trying to scam you. Don’t be fooled. . Beware whirlwind friendships. There are some unethical people whose entire marketing strategy consists of befriending people just to recruit them for this, that, or the other “business opportunity.” Over the years a number of people have swept into my life with a friendship that felt more like a whirlwind romance. In every instance it turned out they were in a network marketing business. As soon as they discovered I wasn’t interested, the whirlwind friendship ended, and they moved on to the next person.

8. Check it out. Don’t rely on information provided by the person trying to sell you. Turn to Google, the Better Business Bureau, and the Federal Trade Commission (FTC) to verify the claims and promises.

9. Take your time. Don’t let anyone pressure you into making a decision on the spot. If it’s a great opportunity today, it will be a great opportunity a week from today.

10 . Big dollars should raise a big red flag. It shouldn’t cost more than $500 to $1,000 to launch a business from home.

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