SCARS AND STILETTOS is an incredible story told to us by the survivor, Harmony Dust.Trapped in a life of rejection and dominance, she steps out into the cold world of exotic dancing to pay the financial debt she has accumulated.Knowing she will only dance until her finances are manageable, Harmony finds herself in a world darker than the constant rejection of her boyfriend, the man who uses the money she earns to support the other women in his life.Harmony creates an alter ego, Monique and detaches herself from the nightlife she must partake in, in order to keep the love of the man that uses her.
But, Harmony’s story has an amazing ending.When God reveals himself to her, she responds.Leaving behind a life of emptiness and the feelings of self-worthlessness, she ventures out not only to change her life, but the lives of other women caught up in the sex trade.
Harmony’s story is difficult to read at times.She has such a low opinion of herself, and allows herself to be so mistreated by the “love” of her life, you want to shout at the pages of the book for her to snap out of her self-inflicted torment.But it also allows us to understand the mindset that some of these women have that allow them to partake it such a dim lifestyle.It reminds us that desperation coupled with a low self-esteem is very powerful.And, even though Harmony was a very intelligent, driven, determined woman, she allowed Satan to prey on her insecurities and feed her a lie about who she really was.An eye-opening story I will not soon forget.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!
You never know when I might play a wild card on you!
***Special thanks to Audra Jennings, Senior Media Specialist, of The B&B Media Group for sending me a review copy.***
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Kathy Herman is a best-selling suspense novelist who has written fifteen novels since retiring from her family’s Christian bookstore business. Kathy and her husband, Paul, have three grown children and five grandchildren and live in Tyler, Texas. This is the third title in the Sophie Trace trilogy, which also includes The Real Enemy, and The Last Word.
List Price: $14.99 Paperback: 400 pages Publisher: David C. Cook; New edition (March 1, 2010) Language: English ISBN-10: 1434767841 ISBN-13: 978-1434767844
AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:
Drew Langley jumped at the loud thud upstairs and resisted the temptation to bang on the wall and dispel the roaring laughter that followed. Was he the only student in the apartment building still studying for finals?
A warm breeze rattled the blinds, and he closed his eyes, inhaling the intoxicating fragrance of magnolia blossoms wafting from the south campus of Stanton College. It took every ounce of discipline he could muster not to close his books and give in to the lure of spring.
He heard rubber soles on the hardwood floor and lifted his gaze as his roommate came to a quick stop in front of the mirror over the worn living-room sofa.
Tal Davison wet his fingers and smoothed his hair. “I see you’re still studying. I guess that means you’re not coming.”
“To what? I thought you had a date.”
“Why do you make me tell you everything twice? You’re worse than my grandmother.”
Drew put down his pencil. “Sorry, I’ve been focused on other things. Tell me again. I’m listening.”
Tal came and stood in the doorway of Drew’s bedroom, his arms folded across his chest. “I’m going over to Henry’s for a junk-food buffet and beer. You’re invited.”
“Thanks. But I really need to study for my English lit final. It’s next week, and I’ve got chapters of catching up to do.”
“Suit yourself. I’m brain-dead. I couldn’t learn another thing if you paid me.” Tal started to go and then stopped. “Listen, thanks again for letting me move in here for the last few weeks. It’s nice sharing an apartment that doesn’t reek of marijuana. I hope I haven’t been as big a pain as your other roommate.” He shot Drew a half smile.
Drew leaned back and folded his arms. “Hey, not at all, man. I hope you don’t think I’ve been ignoring you. It’s just that I have to keep up the grades. No four-oh, no scholarship. There’s no way I can afford to attend Stanton without it.” I don’t have a rich father footing the bill.
“Doesn’t it cramp your style to go to college in Sophie Trace? Your parents are pretty close by, aren’t they?”
“Thanks to the scholarship I can live off campus. That’s all the independence I need. It’s nice going home whenever I want. My parents really help me stay on track.” Drew studied Tal’s expression.
“I take it you wish your dad wasn’t so close?”
Tal got quiet for a moment and seemed to be somewhere else. “He’s much too busy to breathe down my neck. And he doesn’t care about my grades as long as I pass and he can tell his cronies that his namesake’s attending his alma mater and is going to work for him after graduation.”
“Is that so bad?”
“I just wish he cared more about me and less about his image. I’m not sure I can ever measure up to his expectations.”
“Come on, man. You’ve got it made in the shade. All you have to do is get through one more year, and he’ll hand you the job of a lifetime. I thought you were pumped about it.”
Tal flashed a crooked smile. “I’m trying to be. It’s my big chance to make Dad proud of me. It’s all he’s talked about for years. But there’s a lot of pressure, learning to run a big corporation. The closer I get, the more intimidated I feel.”
“He must think you can do it, Tal. There’s a lot at stake for him, too.” Even if he is handing it to you on a silver platter.
“Maybe I’ll buy a little time after I graduate—tell Dad I’m burned-out and need to backpack across Europe for a while before I jump into the corporate world.”
A grin tugged at Drew’s cheeks. “Then you’d need someone to babysit your Hummer. Can I apply for the job? Man, I wish I’d been there when your dad had it delivered to your birthday party.”
“It was an awesome way to turn twenty-one, all right. But I’d trade it in a heartbeat for a relationship with my dad like you have with yours.”
“I guess I take it for granted.”
“Well, don’t,” Tal said. “I can’t remember the last time I sat down and had a real conversation with mine. He’s either working himself to death or hiding out at the lake house with wife number four—the fashion model who’s got silicone for brains.”
“I didn’t realize she was his fourth wife.”
“And she’s pregnant with daughter number seven. Maybe he’s going for the record.”
“Yeah, but you’re still his only son. And you and your mother are close.”
“Not in proximity. She’s spending a lot of time in New York with her boyfriend. He deals in fine art, and she likes to go to the auctions with him. I doubt I’ll see her anytime soon.”
Drew shifted his weight. Why hadn’t Tal mentioned before that his mother was seeing someone?
“Actually, I’m happy for her,” Tal said. “And I don’t mind sharing her Nashville house with the maid, the cook, and the butler. I’ll lie around the pool and read sci-fi novels and give my brain a rest. I’m so burned-out I can’t stand to think about another year of studying.”
“You’ll be ready to hit it again in the fall. Just think how good you’ll feel when you get your degree.”
Tal smiled wryly. “Would you believe my dad’s executive bonus last year was ten million? I must be nuts not to be more excited about the job.”
No kidding. “So why aren’t you?”
“I don’t know … my dad’s ruthless. And the company takes precedence over everyone and everything. I want more out of life than that.”
“I hear you. But if it were me, I’d at least try it long enough to earn a couple million and then go do whatever I wanted.“
“I’ve thought of that.” Tal stood up straight, the result of his beer drinking and bingeing hanging over his belt. “But I have a feeling that once Dad has me under his thumb, I’ll never get out from under. What I really want to do is go to the police academy.”
“Have you told him how you feel?”
“I tried. But Dad doesn’t really care how I feel. It’s my duty as his only son to keep the family business going. If I turn my back on that, he’ll basically disown me. Not that we’re close now, but it’s hard to think of having no dad. Hey, enough serious talk. It’s party time. Sure you don’t want to come?”
“Yeah, I’ve got to hit the books. Who’s your designated driver?”
“Don’t need one. I’m walking.”
“You think that’s smart? Henry’s neighborhood isn’t exactly the safest part of town.”
“I’ll be fine. But I’ll tell you what”—Tal laughed and tossed his keys to Drew—“if I don’t make it back alive, the Hummer’s all yours.”
THE RIGHT CALL is the third and final book in the Sophie Trace Trilogy.Police Chief, Brill Jessup, has had her struggles both personally and professionally.But, with her marriage back on track, her college age daughter at home with her infant son, and the town of Sophie Trace regaining its small town charm, all seems well.Unfortunately, the peace is shattered by a string of shootings.
Ethan Langley returns to Sophie Trace anxious to explore his relationship with Vanessa Jessup and her son, Carter.But when his cousin is shot in a string of random killings, his world begins to spiral out of control.When he finds out information about the shootings his life and the life of Vanessa and Carter are threatened.He struggles with doing what is right or what is safe.
Though I didn’t read the first book in the Sophie Trace Trilogy, I have thoroughly enjoyed book two, THE LAST WORD, and THE RIGHT CALL.The Jessup family is not without their flaws, but familiar and inviting.The characters that work with Chief Jessup in the Sophie Trace precinct are rich as well.But, the characters that gather at the local coffee shop though quaint, become a bit bothersome after a while.I found myself breezing over the sections containing their dialogue because I felt it slowed the story down.
Kathy Herman is a talent storyteller that knows how to keep her readers interest.
Tuesday, March 09, 2010
It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!
You never know when I might play a wild card on you!
***Special thanks to MaryLu Tyndall for sending me a review copy.***
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
M.L. Tyndall, a Christy Award Finalist, and best-selling author of the Legacy of the King’s Pirates series is known for her adventurous historical romances filled with deep spiritual themes. She holds a degree in Math and worked as a software engineer for fifteen years before testing the waters as a writer. MaryLu currently writes full time and makes her home on the California coast with her husband, six kids, and four cats. Her passion is to write page-turning, romantic adventures that not only entertain but expose Christians to their full potential in Christ.
Visit the author's website. Visit the author's blog.
Product Details:
List Price: $10.97 Paperback: 320 pages Publisher: Barbour Books (January 1, 2010) Language: English ISBN-10: 1602601585 ISBN-13: 978-1602601581
AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:
Outside Charles Towne, Carolina, October, 1718
Chapter 1
Black, menacing clouds snarled a warning from the Carolina skies.
Clutching her skirts, Grace Westcott trudged down the muddy path. A shard of white light forked across the dark vault, and she glanced up as thunder rumbled in the distance.
“I hope the rain doesn’t catch us, miss.” Alice’s shaky voice tumbled over Grace from behind.
“Never fear, Alice, we are almost there.” Grace pushed aside a leafy branch that encroached upon the trail. As the wind picked up and raindrops began to rap on the leaves above them, the wall of greenery arching overhead provided a shelter that brought an odd comfort to Grace.
“Look, miss. This plant. Isn’t it bloodroot?” Alice squeaked. “To heal afflictions of the skin?”
Grace huffed. Her legs ached from the mile-long journey from Charles Towne. She could hear the rush of the Ashley River in the distance. They were close to the Roberts’ cabin, to poor little Thomas, sick with a fever and in desperate need of the medicines they brought.
Whirling around, Grace examined the leaf in her maid’s hands. “Nay. ’Tis not bloodroot, as you well know.” She searched Alice’s eyes but the maid kept her gaze lowered. “Whatever is the matter with you today?”
The maid cast a quick glance over her shoulder and shrugged. “I am only trying to help, miss.”
“You can help by hurrying along. Thomas may be failing as we speak.” Grabbing her skirts, Grace turned and forged ahead. A drop of rain splattered on her forehead, and she swiped it away.
“But the rain, miss. Shouldn’t we return home and don some proper attire?”
“Mercy me, Alice. We are nearly there. A bit of rain will not harm us. We’ve been in far more dangerous situations.” Grace hoisted the sack stuffed with herbs, fresh fruit, and rice farther up her aching shoulder. “Besides we are going about God’s work. He will take care of us.”
Grace heard Alice’s shoes squish in the mud “Indeed, miss.”.
Her maid’s voice quivered—a quiver that set Grace’s nerves on edge, along with the dark tempest brewing above them. Something was bothering the woman, Grace couldn’t guess what.
Another flash lit up the sky. Releasing her skirts to the sticky mud, Grace pushed aside a tangled vine that seemed to be joining forces with Alice in attempting to keep her from continuing. Musky air, heavy with moisture and laden with scents of earth and life, filled her nostrils. Thunder bellowed, closer this time, and raindrops tapped upon the canopy of leaves overhead. Plowing ahead, Grace ignored the twinge of guilt at her most recent expedition. One of many expeditions she’d been strictly forbidden to embark upon—both by her father, before he set sail for Spain, and more recently, her sister Faith and Faith’s new husband, Dajon. But Grace could not allow anyone or anything to stop her from doing what God had commissioned her to do: feed the poor, tend to the sick, and spread the good news of His Gospel.
She glanced up at the dark clouds swirling like some vile witch’s brew. Perhaps she should have left a note informing Faith of her whereabouts. No matter. She would drop off the food and herbs, attend to Thomas, and be home before sunset.
Grace emerged from the green fortress into a clearing. Thunder bellowed, and she shivered as a chill struck her. In the distance, the wide Ashley River tumbled along its course. A cabin perched by the water’s edge, smoke curling from its chimney. Squaring her shoulders, she took a deep breath and quickened her pace. “Here at last. And, as you can see, Alice, all is well.”
A nervous giggle sounded from behind her.
Hoisting the sack higher up on her shoulders, Grace clutched her skirts and climbed the steps of the cabin, but before she could knock on the door, it swung open. Mr. Roberts, a burly red-faced man with unruly dark hair, stared curiously at her for a moment then cocked his head and smiled. “Miss Grace. A grand pleasure to see you.” His glance took in Alice standing on the steps behind Grace. His forehead wrinkled. “What brings you this far from home on such a rainy day? Helen, Miss Grace has come for a visit,” he yelled over his shoulder. The scent of smoke and some sort of meaty stew wafted over Grace.
“Why, we’ve come to help Thomas of course.” Lightning flashed, casting a momentary grayish shroud over Mr. Roberts’s normally ruddy face.
“Thomas needs help?” He scratched his thick, dark mane.
Alice’s boots thudded on the steps, and Grace turned to see her maid inching away from the cabin, her chin lowered.
Shaking her head, Grace faced Mr. Roberts. “Yes, you sent Alfred yesterday to inform us of Thomas’s fever and ask for my help, did you not?” The man looked puzzled. Grace slid the sack from her shoulder and set it down on the planks of the porch. “I’ve brought elder root and dogwood bark for his fever and some fresh fruit and rice for you and your family.”
Mrs. Roberts appeared in the doorway, her infant daughter cradled in her arms. “Grace, what a wonderful surprise. Henry, don’t just stand there. Invite her in out of the rain.”
“Thomas isn’t sick.” Mr. Roberts’ nose wrinkled. “And Alfred was here with us all day yesterday.”
Grace swerved about to question Alice, but the girl was nowhere in sight. Descending the stairs, she dashed into the clearing, her heart in her throat as she scanned the foliage for any sign of her maid.
A swoosh of leaves and stomp of boots reached her ears, then a band of five men materialized from the foliage. Armed with cutlasses and pistols, they stormed toward Grace. She tried to move her feet, but the thick mud clung to them like shackles. Mr. Roberts cursed and ushered his wife inside. The baby began to howl.
A tall, sinewy man halted before her. A burst of wind struck him, fluttering the green feather atop his cocked hat and the tips of the black hair grazing his shoulders. He shifted his jaw, peppered with black stubble, and gazed at her with eyes the color of the dark clouds churning above them. A slow smile crept across his lips, lifting his thin, rakish mustache. “Mademoiselle Grace Westcott, I presume.” His thick French accent turned her blood to ice.
Grace met his gaze squarely. “I am, sir.”
With a snap of his fingers, two of his men flanked her. “You will come with us.”
“I will not.” The men wrenched her arms behind her back. Pain shot across her shoulders.
The snap of a rifle sounded, drawing the man’s attention to Mr. Roberts pointing his musket in their direction. “Leave her be.”
A flicker of relief eased over Grace, quickly fading when she examined the man before her. Instead of fear, amusement sparked in his eyes. The men on either side of Grace chuckled as if Mr. Roberts had told a joke.
“Quel homme galant, but I fear I cannot do that, monsieur.” The leader crossed his arms over his gray waistcoat and scraped a finger along his lean chin. “With a bit of fortune and a good aim, you may shoot one of us. Mais that would leave you and your family completely at our mercy. Comprenez-vous?”
Mr. Roberts stared at him for a long moment, obviously measuring the man.
“Toss your weapon to the ground, monsieur and go into your house. If you come out, we will shoot you. If you fire another weapon at us, we will kill your family.
A short, barrel-chested man beside the leader drew his pistol and leveled it at Mr. Roberts. The sneer on his face suggested he would love nothing more than to shoot the man where he stood.
The musket quivered in Mr. Roberts’s hands as he perused the band of ruffians, but still he did not relent. Grace shook her head, sending her friend a silent appeal. She would not allow him to put his family in jeopardy for her.
Mr. Roberts swallowed, threw his weapon into the mud, and gave her an apologetic look before slipping inside the cabin and closing the door with an ominous thud that echoed Grace’s fate.
She faced the leader. Thunder roared across the clearing. “What have you done with Alice?”
“Alice? Hmm.” His eyes lit up. “Votre servante? I merely paid her well for leading you to us.” He grinned.
The skies opened and released a torrent of rain upon Grace as if God Himself shed the tears that now burned behind her eyes. How could Alice have done such a thing? She had been Grace’s personal maid for the past five years—had traveled with her in the crossing from Portsmouth to Charles Towne.
The rain bounced off the cocked hat and the broad shoulders of the man before her. Drops streamed down Grace’s face, her neck, soaked into her gown, and befogged the scene before her. If only the fresh water from heaven could wash away these devilish creatures like holy water sprinkled upon evil.
The black-haired man turned and marched away as though her desperate wish had reached God’s ears. But then his two minions wrenched her arms again and dragged her behind him. Panic seized her. This couldn’t be happening! She dug her heels into the mud but her captors merely lifted her from the ground. Pain scorched across her arms and neck.
“Please, sir. Please. What do you want with me?”
But the only reply came from the rain pounding on the leaves and the thunder rumbling across the sky.
They plunged back into the thick forest. Grace struggled against the men’s meaty grips. Even if she did manage to break free from them, tree trunks rose like prison bars on either side of her holding her captive within the dense thicket. They trudged down the path for what seemed an eternity. Each step dug the knife of fear deeper into Grace’s heart. Silently, she appealed to God for her salvation, begging to hear His comforting voice, but her petitions were met with the same silence her captors afforded her. Finally, they emerged onto a secluded shore, and the men shoved her onto the thwart of a small boat then launched the craft into the rushing river. In the distance Grace saw a two-masted brig swaying with the rolling tide.
Lord, where are You? She clasped her hands together and tried to catch her breath.
The black-haired man locked a smoldering gaze upon her. He did not look away as propriety demanded but perused her with alarming audacity. Rain streamed off his hat onto his black breeches, and a smirk creased one corner of his mouth. Averting her gaze to the agitated water, she considered leaping overboard. She couldn’t swim. At least not well enough to fight the strong Ashley current. Besides, surely God would rescue her from these brigands. He was simply testing her faith by waiting until the last minute when things were at their worst. Lifting her chin, she cast a defiant look upon her captor, but it only caused his smirk to widen.
Within minutes, they reached the ship and thudded against its hull. Shouts pitched upon them from above as faces popped over the bulwarks to peer down at her. Grace glanced about for the rescuer God should have sent by now. The leader pulled her to her feet, and before she could make a move, he hoisted her over his shoulder like a sack of grain and climbed the rope ladder without effort.
Grace could no longer feel the fear or even the damp chill. Numbness gripped her, born of shock at her predicament. Blood rushed to her head, and she closed her eyes, breathing in the musky scent of the man’s damp wool waistcoat and praying for the nightmare to end.
Once aboard, he carried her across deck as he issued a string of orders in French, sending his crew scrambling in every direction.
“Welcome back, Captain,” a deep voice shouted, then a shock of brown hair appeared in Grace’s vision. “I see you found her.”
“Oui, bien sûr.” His tone carried the haughtiness that excluded any other possibility as he tapped her on the rump.
“How dare you!” Grace shouted and tried to kick her legs, but the captain’s arm kept them pinned to his chest. The two men shared a chuckle.
“Weigh anchor, away aloft, and raise the main, Mr. Thorn. We set sail immediately.”
Raindrops bounced over the wooden planks, pelting her from all directions. Her head bumped against his damp coat. His hard shoulder pressed into her aching stomach as he carried her down a ladder. She stretched her hand to grab the hilt of his rapier, but it taunted her from its sheath at his other side, out of her reach. She pounded her fists against his back. Muscle as unyielding as steel sent pain through her hands.
With a chuckle, he sauntered down a hallway and kicked open a door. Grace tensed, fearing the man would toss her to the floor. Instead, grasping her waist, he gently set her down inside the tiny cabin.
Gaining her balance, Grace wiped the matted strands of wet hair from her face and faced him. “Who are you and what do you want with me?” she said in a stalwart tone that surprised her.
He doffed his feathered hat and banged it against his knee, sending droplets over the floor. Tucking an errant strand of wet hair behind his ear, he bowed. “Captain Rafe Dubois at your service, mademoiselle. I welcome you aboard Le Champion. And regarding what I want with you”—he raised one brow and allowed his gaze to scour over her—“I am to deliver you to Don Miguel De Salazar in Columbia.”
“Columbia?” Grace took a step back and gripped her throat.
“Oui, he has promised to pay quite handsomely for you.”
“For me? But why? I don’t even know the man.” A shudder ran through her.
“Ah, but your father does apparently. The two men are not…how do you say? Agreeable? Don Miguel holds him responsible for the death of his son in a skirmish with a galleon. He thought you would be adequate payment for the transgression.”
“Payment!” Grace’s fear gave way to anger. “I am no one’s payment. How can you take part in such a wicked scheme?”
The captain shrugged as if her words rolled off of him. “Like I said, he’s willing to pay handsomely.” He offered her a devious grin then donned his hat and closed the door with a resounding thud.
THE RAVEN SAINT is fantastic! The third in the Charles Towne Belle series, MaryLu Tyndall continues to wow me with her adventure-filled romances. Grace Westcott had spent her life serving God. From feeding the poor and tending to the needy, to doing all she can to impress upon her sisters the need to live a life worthy of God. When kidnapped by the French mercenary, Rafe DuBois, Grace clings to her faith, even when she finds out DuBois intends on selling her to a Spanish Don. Confident God has allowed her captivity in order to save those aboard DuBois' ship, she expounds to the crew that happiness cannot be found in money or debauchery, but only in the saving grace of Jesus Christ. When her proselytizing falls on deaf ears and her fate seems unavoidable, she questions why the God she has served with her whole heart would allow her life to come to such an end. But what she struggles with even more is her growing attraction to the reprehensible Captain DuBois.
Captain DuBois has never dabbled in the trade of innocent flesh. But with a hefty purse as his reward for turning over Grace Westcott to a Spanish Don, he will be able to build a hospital for the poor, make good on a promise to a friend, and have vengeance on the man who killed his mother. With all that the selling of Grace Westcott will bring him, then why is it he finds himself drawn to the woman of conviction?
THE RAVEN SAINT is a wonderful combination of suspense, wit, adventure, intrigue, self-examination, and love. Only MaryLu Tyndall could bring the likes of Grace Westcott and Rafe Dubois together in a believable and rewarding story.
Saturday, March 06, 2010
It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!
You never know when I might play a wild card on you!
***Special thanks to Cathy Hickling of Whitaker House for sending me a review copy.***
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
A prolific writer, Loree Lough has more than seventy-three books, sixty-three short stories, and 2,500 articles in print. Her stories have earned dozens of industry and Reader’s Choice awards. A frequent guest speaker for writers’ organizations, book clubs, private and government institutions, corporations, college and high school writing programs, and more, Loree has encouraged thousands with her comedic approach to “learned-the-hard-way” lessons about the craft and industry. Loree and her husband split their time between Baltimore suburbs and a cabin in the Allegheny Mountains.
PREVAILING LOVE is a collection of three very different love stories in very different settings.
SEALED WITH A KISS is the story of Ethan Burke who becomes an unexpected father to Molly, his best friends’ eleven-year-old daughter.Molly, shocked and devastated with the loss of her parents hides away within herself and silences herself from the world.Ethan, trying to break through this wall Molly has erected, hires Hope Majors, a Christian counselor.Hope reach through the barriers to Molly’s heart and in the process touches Ethan’s heart as well.
THE WEDDING WISH brings two high school friends together as they work to comfort their mutual friend with terminal cancer. What they don’t know is while Leah feels her life slipping away, she is orchestrating the future for her infant daughter, Fiona.
MONTANA SKY finds Sky Allen, hometown veterinarian, protecting two wolves after their mother is killed.With a bounty on their heads, Sky must do all she can to keep the wolves whereabouts a secret.Chet Cozart, a neighboring rancher, knows exactly what Sky is doing, and fears for her safety.As he tries to persuade her to give up her cause, he finds himself drawn to the women with grit and termination.
I enjoyed all three of Loree Lough’s stories.I found myself enjoying the quick pace that the stories took in order to keep their page count down, but at times, I would’ve liked to have seen and experience more details and learned more about the characters.I’m not a fan of compilations, but PREVAILING LOVE definitely kept my interest.
Monday, January 18, 2010
It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!
You never know when I might play a wild card on you!
***Special thanks to Audra Jennings of The B&B Media Group for sending me a review copy.***
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Chris Coppernoll has authored six books including A Beautiful Fall and Providence. A national speaker to singles, Chris is also the founder of Soul2Soul, a syndicated radio program airing on 800 outlets in 20 countries. Chris holds a Masters degree from Rockbridge Seminary and resides outside Nashville, Tennessee.
List Price: $14.99 Paperback: 352 pages Publisher: David C. Cook; New edition (January 1, 2010) Language: English ISBN-10: 1434764826 ISBN-13: 978-1434764829
AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:
I absolutely had to be in New York by 1:30 p.m. Did my life depend upon it? Yes, as a matter of fact, it did. Just the thought of calling Ben or Avril with bad news from O’Hare churned my stomach and made my face prickle with a dizzying fear. I joined a sea of travelers bundled in parkas, hoods, hats, and gloves; they stretched out in front of me, pressing in and wresting me through a queue of red velvet theater ropes.
All of Chicago wanted to flee the blizzard they’d awakened to. Sometime after midnight the sky exploded with snowflakes. Icy white parachutists fell from their celestial perch as innocently as doves. The year’s last snowstorm tucked the city in with a white blanket knitted through the long winter’s night.
When I reached the American Airlines check-in, I hoisted one of my two black canvas bags onto the scale for the ticket agent.
“Harper Gray?” she asked, confirming my reservation.
“Yes.”
She returned my driver’s license, dropping her gaze to the workstation and tapping my information into the system. At the kiosk next to me, a large Texan with a silver rodeo buckle typed on his iPhone with his thumbs, mumbling something about checking the weather in Dallas.
Computers, I thought. What don’t we use them for?
It was obvious how many of my fellow travelers were heading somewhere for the New Year’s Eve festivities. I couldn’t help but eavesdrop on a cluster of merry college students reveling in their Christmas
break. They joked and chattered, mentioning Times Square, unbothered by long lines or the imminent threat of weather delays. At thirty, almost thirty-one, I could no longer relate to their carefree lifestyle. Too much water under the bridge, most of it dark and all of it numbing.
“Here you are,” the ticket agent said, handing me a boarding pass still warm from the printer. I fumbled with my things, stuffing my photo ID into my wallet as a mother and her young son squeezed in next to me. The crowd current swept me away from the ticket counter, denying me a chance to ask the agent the one question I most wanted answered.
Is anyone flying out of here this morning?
I rolled my carry-on through the main concourse. I’d used the small black Samsonite for so many trips, I thought the airlines should paste labels on it like an old vaudevillian’s steamer trunk. A row of display monitors hung from a galvanized pipe, cobalt blue icicles glowing all the brighter in the dark and windowless hallway. I joined a beleaguered crowd of gawkers studying the departure screens. Their collective moans of frustration confirmed what I already knew. My flight—indeed, all flights out of O’Hare—was:
DELAYED
I pinched my eyes shut. This was not what I needed. Not today, not today of all days. I absolutely had to be in New York by 1:30 p.m. Did my life depend upon it? Yes, as a matter of fact, it did.
I’ve decided that Chris Coppernoll is a risk taker. I say that, because I feel his writing style is like that of a whispered song that slowly builds into a resounding crescendo. At first, nothing in his writing stands out to me. He does not drop you into the middle of a quick moving scene, or use hooks to keep you reading. He just writes in a simplistic manner without highs or low, monotone if you will. I found it easy to put down SCREEN PLAY and only picked it up when I had time to commit to it. But somewhere in the middle of this slow-moving tune, his characters became real, the settings tangible, the tempo building to something more than just a leisure novel. I had no choice but to read late into the night to finish the second half of the story I was invested in emotionally, just so I could exhale the breath I had been holding. There is a unique voice to Coppernoll’s writing. I can’t put my finger on it, but I will always know to stick with his novels, because the tune that lingers in your heart after following his characters through the high and lows of life is well worth the wait.
