Posts
About the Author
Teasi Cannon Teasi (pronounced Tee See) is married to her best friend, Bill Cannon, and
they have three awesome children: Carli, Ben, and Sam. Teasi has a master’s degree in
pastoral counseling from Liberty Theological Seminary, and is a sought-after speaker who
loves to help women remember who they are in Christ.
Monday, June 11, 2012
My Big Bottom Blessings, and GIVEAWAY!
The first thing I noticed about My Big Bottom Blessing by Teasi Cannon, is her author pic. She looks like someone you would sit down and have coffee with, go shopping with, try on hats in the store, and just over all have a good time with. She just looks that happy and friendly.
My Big Bottom Blessing is filled with things that make you sit back and think "hrmmmmm, how's she get in my head like that?", as well as things that make you ROFL. I loved reading Teasi's perspective, and how she made the journey to being comfortable in her own skin.
I am doubly blessed to be able to offer a copy of My Big Bottom Blessing to one of my readers! The contest runs til June 15 at 11:59pm EST. To enter all you have to do is comment on this post telling me one thing you LOVE about yourself! It can be physical, personality based, or whatever! Just one thing you LOVE!!!!!!!
Mine, I love my legs. I've always had nice legs! Well shaped, in proportion... the rest of my body... no so much! But hey, I'm working on it!
My Big Bottom Blessing as described by Amazon:
One woman's hilarious, yet totally honest battle with body image exposes the secret that loving the girl in the mirror isn't about changing how you look, but about changing what you see. Teasi Cannon's lifelong struggle with weight loss not only made her hate her body, but destroyed her marriage and led to an emotional breakdown. Today she's happy about her bottom, not because the size has changed, but because her perspective has. Her funny, gut-honest insights will inspire millions of women of all ages with body image issues to embrace their value and beauty. They'll learn to silence their own inner critics, debunk self-sabotaging lies, and get spiritually and emotionally happy. Her book includes an in-depth book club or small group study guide.
About the Author
Teasi Cannon Teasi (pronounced Tee See) is married to her best friend, Bill Cannon, and
they have three awesome children: Carli, Ben, and Sam. Teasi has a master’s degree in
pastoral counseling from Liberty Theological Seminary, and is a sought-after speaker who
loves to help women remember who they are in Christ.
About the Author
Teasi Cannon Teasi (pronounced Tee See) is married to her best friend, Bill Cannon, and
they have three awesome children: Carli, Ben, and Sam. Teasi has a master’s degree in
pastoral counseling from Liberty Theological Seminary, and is a sought-after speaker who
loves to help women remember who they are in Christ.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Girl Ain't Fat, She Just Weighs Heavy!
The bestselling author of Suck Your Stomach In & Put Some Color On! returns with more helpful how-to's and keen observations from Dixie.
Girl Ain't Fat, She Just Weighs Heavy by Sue Ellen Tomlinson , is a total breathe of fresh air to me! It felt like I walked into my own home, and sat down with a glass of iced tea and had a conversation with myself! Believe it or not, that is a compliment. I had never read any of Sue Ellen Tomlinson's books before, but I will be grabbing them up as quickly as possible now.
Guided by principles from the ancient Belle Doctrine, the host of radio and television's All Things Southern offers down-home advice on everything from health and fitness-managing thy caloric calculations without going Straight Running Crazy and surviving the Raging Inferno Syndrome (aka hot flashes)-to the Southern art of handling your man (Bubba Whispering). Whether giving business tips or debunking the Big Boned Theory, making political observations or celebrating the inevitable resurgence of big hair, Shellie is an adviser women can relate to and laugh with regardless of their age or which side of the Mason-Dixon they call home.
Shellie Rushing Tomlinson and her husband Phil live and farm in the Louisiana Delta. Shellie is the author of Lessons Learned on Bull Run Road, Twas the Night Before the Very First Christmas, Southern Comfort with Shellie Rushing Tomlinson, and the Penguin Group USA release, Suck Your Stomach In and Put Some Color On, voted Nonfiction Finalist of 2009 by SIBA Independent Booksellers Alliance.
Tomlinson is owner and publisher of All Things Southern and the host of the weekly radio show All Things Southern as well as a weekly video segment by the same name. Listeners also hear Shellie in her All Things Southern radio segments aired across the South. Shellie writes a weekly inspirational feature in Newsstar and a monthly print and online column for Lousiana Road Trips.
When Shellie isn't writing, speaking, taping her show, answering email or writing content for the next deadline, you can find her playing tennis with Dixie Belle, (the chocolate lab who thinks she is in charge of running Shellie's life).
To Order Girl Ain't Fat, She Just Weighs Heavy, go to Amazon
To celebrate the Sue Ellen’s release, Shellie is having a Facebook Party!
Join Shellie and the gang on June 2nd at 5:00 PM PST (6 MST, 7 CST, 8 EST) for a Southern style shin-dig! She'll be dishing on Bubba Whispering, debunking the Big Boned Theory, and how to manage going Straight Running Crazy. If you don't know what any of that is, then be sure to pick up a copy of the book (Not necessary to join the fun! Who knows - you might win a copy!) and join us at 5:00 pm on June 2nd at Shellie's Facebook page. And tell your friends - she's giving away copies of her books and some great gift certificates
A special thanks to Litfuse for hooking me up with a preview copy of this book. They provided the book, I provided the opinion!
Girl Ain't Fat, She Just Weighs Heavy by Sue Ellen Tomlinson , is a total breathe of fresh air to me! It felt like I walked into my own home, and sat down with a glass of iced tea and had a conversation with myself! Believe it or not, that is a compliment. I had never read any of Sue Ellen Tomlinson's books before, but I will be grabbing them up as quickly as possible now.
Guided by principles from the ancient Belle Doctrine, the host of radio and television's All Things Southern offers down-home advice on everything from health and fitness-managing thy caloric calculations without going Straight Running Crazy and surviving the Raging Inferno Syndrome (aka hot flashes)-to the Southern art of handling your man (Bubba Whispering). Whether giving business tips or debunking the Big Boned Theory, making political observations or celebrating the inevitable resurgence of big hair, Shellie is an adviser women can relate to and laugh with regardless of their age or which side of the Mason-Dixon they call home.
Shellie Rushing Tomlinson and her husband Phil live and farm in the Louisiana Delta. Shellie is the author of Lessons Learned on Bull Run Road, Twas the Night Before the Very First Christmas, Southern Comfort with Shellie Rushing Tomlinson, and the Penguin Group USA release, Suck Your Stomach In and Put Some Color On, voted Nonfiction Finalist of 2009 by SIBA Independent Booksellers Alliance.
Tomlinson is owner and publisher of All Things Southern and the host of the weekly radio show All Things Southern as well as a weekly video segment by the same name. Listeners also hear Shellie in her All Things Southern radio segments aired across the South. Shellie writes a weekly inspirational feature in Newsstar and a monthly print and online column for Lousiana Road Trips.
When Shellie isn't writing, speaking, taping her show, answering email or writing content for the next deadline, you can find her playing tennis with Dixie Belle, (the chocolate lab who thinks she is in charge of running Shellie's life).
To Order Girl Ain't Fat, She Just Weighs Heavy, go to Amazon
To celebrate the Sue Ellen’s release, Shellie is having a Facebook Party!
Join Shellie and the gang on June 2nd at 5:00 PM PST (6 MST, 7 CST, 8 EST) for a Southern style shin-dig! She'll be dishing on Bubba Whispering, debunking the Big Boned Theory, and how to manage going Straight Running Crazy. If you don't know what any of that is, then be sure to pick up a copy of the book (Not necessary to join the fun! Who knows - you might win a copy!) and join us at 5:00 pm on June 2nd at Shellie's Facebook page. And tell your friends - she's giving away copies of her books and some great gift certificates
A special thanks to Litfuse for hooking me up with a preview copy of this book. They provided the book, I provided the opinion!
Sunday, May 15, 2011
The Lightkeeper's Ball
It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!You never know when I might play a wild card on you!
Today's Wild Card author is:
and the book:
Thomas Nelson; 1 edition (April 19, 2011)
***Special thanks to Audra Jennings, Senior Media Specialist, The B&B Media Group for sending me a review copy.***ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Colleen Coble’s thirty-five novels and novellas have won or finaled in awards ranging from the Romance Writers of America prestigious RITA, the Holt Medallion, the ACFW Book of the Year, the Daphne du Maurier, National Readers’ Choice, the Booksellers Best, and the 2009 Best Books of Indiana-Fiction award. She writes romantic mysteries because she loves to see justice prevail and love begin with a happy ending.
Visit the author's website.
SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:
Olivia seems to have it all, but her heart yearns for more.Olivia Stewart's family is one of the Four Hundred—the highest echelon of society in 1910. When her sister dies under mysterious circumstances, Olivia leaves their New York City home for Mercy Falls, California, to determine what befell Eleanor. She suspects Harrison Bennett, the man Eleanor planned to marry. But the more Olivia gets to know him, the more she doubts his guilt—and the more she is drawn to him herself.
When several attempts are made on her life, Olivia turns to Harrison for help. He takes her on a ride in his aeroplane, but then crashes, and they’re forced to spend two days alone together. With her reputation hanging by a thread, Harrison offers to marry her to make the situation right. As a charity ball to rebuild the Mercy Falls lighthouse draws near, she realizes she wants more than a sham engagement—she wants Harrison in her life forever. But her enemy plans to shatter the happiness she is ready to grasp. If Olivia dares to drop her masquerade, she just might see the path to true happiness.
Product Details:
List Price: $14.99
Paperback: 304 pages
Publisher: Thomas Nelson; 1 edition (April 19, 2011)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 159554268X
ISBN-13: 978-1595542687
AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:
The New York brownstone was just half a block down from the Astor mansion on Fifth Avenue, the most prestigious address in the country. The carriage, monogrammed with the Stewart emblem, rattled through the iron gates and came to a halt in front of the ornate doors. Assisted by the doorman, Olivia Stewart descended and rushed for the steps of her home. She was late for tea, and her mother would be furious. Mrs. Astor herself had agreed to join them today.
Olivia handed her hat to the maid, who opened the door. “They’re in the drawing room, Miss Olivia,” Goldia whispered. “Your mama is ready to pace the floor.”
Olivia patted at her hair, straightened her shoulders, and pinned a smile in place as she forced her stride to a ladylike stroll to join the other women. Two women turned to face her as she entered: her mother and Mrs. Astor. They wore identical expressions of disapproval.
“Olivia, there you are,” her mother said. “Sit down before your tea gets cold.”
Olivia pulled off her gloves as she settled into the Queen Anne chair beside Mrs. Astor. “I apologize for my tardiness,” she said. “A lorry filled with tomatoes overturned in the street, and my driver couldn’t get around it.”
Mrs. Astor’s face cleared. “Of course, my dear.” She sipped her tea from the delicate blue-and-white china. “Your dear mother and I were just discussing your prospects. It’s time you married.”
Oh dear. She’d hoped to engage in light conversation that had nothing to do with the fact that she was twenty-five and still unmarried. Her unmarried state distressed her if she let it, but every man her father brought to her wanted only her status. She doubted any of them had ever looked into her soul. “I’m honored you would care about my marital status, Mrs. Astor,” Olivia said.
“Mrs. Astor wants to hold a ball in your honor, Olivia,” her mother gushed. “She has a distant cousin coming to town whom she wants you to meet.”
Mrs. Astor nodded. “I believe you and Matthew would suit. He owns property just down the street.”
Olivia didn’t mistake the reference to the man’s money. Wealth would be sure to impact her mother. She opened her mouth to ask if the man was her age, then closed it at the warning glint in her mother’s eyes.
“He’s been widowed for fifteen years and is long overdue for a suitable wife,” Mrs. Astor said.
Olivia barely suppressed a sigh. So he was another of the decrepit gentlemen who showed up from time to time. “You’re very kind,” she said.
“He’s most suitable,” her mother said. “Most suitable.”
Olivia caught the implication. They spent the next half an hour discussing the date and the location. She tried to enter into the conversation with interest, but all she could do was imagine some gray-whiskered blue blood dancing her around the ballroom. She stifled a sigh of relief when Mrs. Astor took her leave and called for her carriage.
“I’ll be happy when you’re settled, Olivia,” her mother said when they returned to the drawing room. “Mrs. Astor is most kind.”
“She is indeed.” Olivia pleated her skirt with her fingers. “Do you ever wish you could go somewhere incognito, Mother? Where no one has expectations of you because you are a Stewart?”
Her mother put down her saucer with a clatter. “Whatever are you babbling about, my dear?”
“Haven’t you noticed that people look at us differently because we’re Stewarts? How is a man ever to love me for myself when all he sees is what my name can gain him? Men never see inside to the real me. They notice only that I’m a Stewart.”
“Have you been reading those novels again?” Her mother sniffed and narrowed her gaze on Olivia. “Marriage is about making suitable connections. You owe it to your future children to consider the life you give them. Love comes from respect. I would find it quite difficult to respect someone who didn’t have the gumption to make his way in the world. Besides, we need you to marry well. You’re twenty-five years old and I’ve indulged your romantic notions long enough. Heaven knows your sister’s marriage isn’t what I had in mind, essential though it may be. Someone has to keep the family name in good standing.”
Olivia knew what her duty demanded, but she didn’t have to like it. “Do all the suitable men have to be in their dotage?”
Her mother’s eyes sparked fire but before she spoke, Goldia appeared in the doorway. “Mr. Bennett is here, Mrs. Stewart.”
Olivia straightened in her chair. “Show him in. He’ll have news of Eleanor.”
Bennett appeared in the doorway moments later. He shouldn’t have been imposing. He stood only five-foot-three in his shoes, which were always freshly polished. He was slim, nearly gaunt, with a patrician nose and obsidian eyes. He’d always reminded Olivia of a snake about to strike. His expression never betrayed any emotion, and today was no exception. She’d never understood why her father entertained an acquaintance with the man let alone desired their families to be joined.
“Mr. Bennett.” She rose and extended her hand and tried not to flinch as he brushed his lips across it.
“Miss Olivia,” he said, releasing her hand. He moved to her mother’s chair and bowed over her extended hand.
Olivia sank back into her chair. “What do you hear of my sister? I have received no answer to any of my letters.”
He took a seat, steepled his fingers, and leaned forward. “That’s the reason for our meeting today. I fear I have bad news to impart.”
Her pulse thumped erratically against her ribcage. She wetted her lips and drew in a deep breath. “What news of Eleanor?” How bad could it be? Eleanor had gone to marry Harrison, a man she hardly knew. But she was in love with the idea of the Wild West, and therefore more than happy to marry the son of her father’s business partner.
He never blinked. “I shall just have to blurt it out then. I’m sorry to inform you that Eleanor is dead.”
Her mother moaned. Olivia stared at him. “I don’t believe it,” she said.
“I know, it’s a shock.”
There must have been some mistake. She searched his face for some clue that this was a jest. “What happened?”
He didn’t hold her gaze. “She drowned.”
“How?”
“No one knows. I’m sorry.”
Her mother stood and swayed. “What are you saying?” Her voice rose in a shriek. “Eleanor can’t be dead! Are you quite mad?”
He stood and took her arm. “I suggest you lie down, Mrs. Stewart. You’re quite pale.”
Her mother put her hands to her cheeks. “Tell me it isn’t true,” she begged. Then she keeled over in a dead faint.
#
Harrison Bennett tugged on his tie, glanced at his shoes to make sure no speck of dirt marred their perfection, then disembarked from his motorcar in front of the mansion. The cab had rolled up Nob Hill much too quickly for him to gather his courage to face the party. Electric lights pushed back the darkness from the curving brick driveway to the porch with its impressive white pillars. Doormen flanked the double doors at the entry. Through the large windows, he saw the ballroom. Ladies in luxurious gowns and gentlemen in tuxedos danced under glittering chandeliers, and their laughter tinkled on the wind.
His valet, Eugene, exited behind him. “I’ll wait in the kitchen, sir.”
Harrison adjusted his hat and strode with all the confidence he could muster to the front door. “Mr. Harrison Bennett,” he said to the doorman.
The man scanned the paper in his hand. “Welcome, Mr. Bennett. Mr. Rothschild is in the ballroom.”
Harrison thanked him and stepped into the opulent hall papered in gold foil. He went in the direction of the voices with a sense of purpose. This night could change his future. He glanced around the enormous ballroom, and he recognized no one among the glittering gowns and expensive suits. In subtle ways, these nobs would try to keep him in his place. It would take all his gumption not to let them. It was a miracle he’d received an invitation. Only the very wealthy or titled were invited to the Rothschilds’ annual ball in San Francisco. Harrison was determined to do whatever was necessary to secure the contract inside his coat pocket.
A young woman in an evening gown fluttered her lashes at him over the top of her fan. When she lowered it, she approached with a coaxing smile on her lips. “Mr. Bennett, I’d hoped to see you here tonight.”
He struggled to remember her name. Miss Kessler. She’d made her interest in him known at Eleanor’s funeral. Hardly a suitable time. He took her gloved hand and bowed over it. “Miss Kessler. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”
“I came when I heard you were on the guest list.”
He ignored her brazen remark. “It’s good to see you again. I have some business to attend to. Perhaps later?”
Her eyes darkened and she withdrew her hand. “I shall watch for you,” she said.
And he’d do the same, with the intent to avoid her. “If you’ll excuse me.” He didn’t wait for an answer but strolled through the crowd. He finally spied his host standing in front of a marble fireplace. A flame danced in the eight-foot hearth. Harrison stepped through the crowd to join the four men clustered around the wealthy Rothschild.
The man closest to Harrison was in his fifties and had a curling mustache. “They’ll never get that amendment ratified,” he said. “An income tax! It’s quite ridiculous to expect us to pay something so outrageous.”
A younger man in a gray suit shook his head. “If it means better roads, I’ll gladly write them a check. The potholes outside of town ruined my front axels.”
“We can take care of our own roads,” Rothschild said. “I have no need of the government in my affairs. At least until we’re all using flying machines.” He snickered, then glanced at Harrison. “You look familiar, young man. Have we met?”
Flying machines. Maybe this meeting was something God had arranged. Harrison thrust out his hand. “Harrison Bennett.”
“Claude’s son?”’
Was that distaste in the twist of Rothschild’s mouth? Harrison put confidence into his grip. “Yes, sir.”
“How is your father?”
“Quite well. He’s back in New York by now.”
“I heard about your fiancée’s death. I’m sorry for your loss.”
Harrison managed not to wince. “Thank you.” He pushed away his memories of that terrible day, the day he’d seen Eleanor Stewart for what she really was.
“Your father was most insistent I meet you. He seems to think you have a business proposition I might be interested in.”
Harrison smiled and began to tell the men of the new diamond mines that Bennett and Bennett had found in Africa. A mere week after Mr. Stewart’s passing, Mr. Bennett had renamed the venture to include Harrison. An hour later, he had appointments set up with three of the men as possible investors. His father would be pleased.
Harrison smiled and retraced his steps to toward the front door but was waylaid by four women in brightly colored silk. They swooped around him, and Miss Kessler took him by the hand and led him to a quiet corner.
“Let’s not talk about anything boring like work,” she said, her blue eyes sparkling. “Tell me what you love to do most.”
He glanced at the other women clustered around. “I’m building an aeroplane. I’d like to have it in the air by the time Earth passes through the tail of Halley’s Comet.”
She gasped. “Do you have a death wish, Mr. Bennett? You would be breathing the poisonous fumes directly. No one even knows if the Earth will survive this.”
He’d heard this before. “The scientists I’ve discussed this with believe we shall be just fine,” Harrison said.
“I assume you’ve purchased comet pills?” the blonde closest to him said.
“I have no fear.”
The brunette in red silk smiled. “If man were meant to fly, God would have given him wings. Or so I’ve heard the minister say.”
He finally placed the brunette. Her uncle was Rothschild. No wonder she had such contempt for Harrison’s tone. All the nobs cared for were trains and ships. “It’s just a matter of perfecting the machine,” Harrison said. “Someday aeroplanes will be the main mode of transcontinental transportation.”
The brunette laughed. “Transcontinental? My uncle would call it balderdash.”
He glanced at his pocket watch without replying. “I fear I must leave you lovely ladies. Thank you for the conversation.”
He found Eugene in the kitchen and beckoned to his valet.
Eugene put down his coffee cup and followed. “You didn’t stay long, sir,” he said. “Is everything all right?”
Harrison stalked out the door and toward the car. “Are there no visionaries left in the country?”
Eugene followed a step behind. “You spoke of your flying machine?”
“The world is changing, Eugene, right under their noses—and they don’t see it.”
Eugene opened the door for Harrison. “You will show them the future, sir.”
He set his jaw. “I shall indeed.”
“I have a small savings set aside, Mr. Bennett. I’d like to invest in your company. With your permission, of course.”
Eugene’s trust bolstered Harrison’s determination. “I’d be honored to partner with you, Eugene. We are going to change the world.”
Olivia handed her hat to the maid, who opened the door. “They’re in the drawing room, Miss Olivia,” Goldia whispered. “Your mama is ready to pace the floor.”
Olivia patted at her hair, straightened her shoulders, and pinned a smile in place as she forced her stride to a ladylike stroll to join the other women. Two women turned to face her as she entered: her mother and Mrs. Astor. They wore identical expressions of disapproval.
“Olivia, there you are,” her mother said. “Sit down before your tea gets cold.”
Olivia pulled off her gloves as she settled into the Queen Anne chair beside Mrs. Astor. “I apologize for my tardiness,” she said. “A lorry filled with tomatoes overturned in the street, and my driver couldn’t get around it.”
Mrs. Astor’s face cleared. “Of course, my dear.” She sipped her tea from the delicate blue-and-white china. “Your dear mother and I were just discussing your prospects. It’s time you married.”
Oh dear. She’d hoped to engage in light conversation that had nothing to do with the fact that she was twenty-five and still unmarried. Her unmarried state distressed her if she let it, but every man her father brought to her wanted only her status. She doubted any of them had ever looked into her soul. “I’m honored you would care about my marital status, Mrs. Astor,” Olivia said.
“Mrs. Astor wants to hold a ball in your honor, Olivia,” her mother gushed. “She has a distant cousin coming to town whom she wants you to meet.”
Mrs. Astor nodded. “I believe you and Matthew would suit. He owns property just down the street.”
Olivia didn’t mistake the reference to the man’s money. Wealth would be sure to impact her mother. She opened her mouth to ask if the man was her age, then closed it at the warning glint in her mother’s eyes.
“He’s been widowed for fifteen years and is long overdue for a suitable wife,” Mrs. Astor said.
Olivia barely suppressed a sigh. So he was another of the decrepit gentlemen who showed up from time to time. “You’re very kind,” she said.
“He’s most suitable,” her mother said. “Most suitable.”
Olivia caught the implication. They spent the next half an hour discussing the date and the location. She tried to enter into the conversation with interest, but all she could do was imagine some gray-whiskered blue blood dancing her around the ballroom. She stifled a sigh of relief when Mrs. Astor took her leave and called for her carriage.
“I’ll be happy when you’re settled, Olivia,” her mother said when they returned to the drawing room. “Mrs. Astor is most kind.”
“She is indeed.” Olivia pleated her skirt with her fingers. “Do you ever wish you could go somewhere incognito, Mother? Where no one has expectations of you because you are a Stewart?”
Her mother put down her saucer with a clatter. “Whatever are you babbling about, my dear?”
“Haven’t you noticed that people look at us differently because we’re Stewarts? How is a man ever to love me for myself when all he sees is what my name can gain him? Men never see inside to the real me. They notice only that I’m a Stewart.”
“Have you been reading those novels again?” Her mother sniffed and narrowed her gaze on Olivia. “Marriage is about making suitable connections. You owe it to your future children to consider the life you give them. Love comes from respect. I would find it quite difficult to respect someone who didn’t have the gumption to make his way in the world. Besides, we need you to marry well. You’re twenty-five years old and I’ve indulged your romantic notions long enough. Heaven knows your sister’s marriage isn’t what I had in mind, essential though it may be. Someone has to keep the family name in good standing.”
Olivia knew what her duty demanded, but she didn’t have to like it. “Do all the suitable men have to be in their dotage?”
Her mother’s eyes sparked fire but before she spoke, Goldia appeared in the doorway. “Mr. Bennett is here, Mrs. Stewart.”
Olivia straightened in her chair. “Show him in. He’ll have news of Eleanor.”
Bennett appeared in the doorway moments later. He shouldn’t have been imposing. He stood only five-foot-three in his shoes, which were always freshly polished. He was slim, nearly gaunt, with a patrician nose and obsidian eyes. He’d always reminded Olivia of a snake about to strike. His expression never betrayed any emotion, and today was no exception. She’d never understood why her father entertained an acquaintance with the man let alone desired their families to be joined.
“Mr. Bennett.” She rose and extended her hand and tried not to flinch as he brushed his lips across it.
“Miss Olivia,” he said, releasing her hand. He moved to her mother’s chair and bowed over her extended hand.
Olivia sank back into her chair. “What do you hear of my sister? I have received no answer to any of my letters.”
He took a seat, steepled his fingers, and leaned forward. “That’s the reason for our meeting today. I fear I have bad news to impart.”
Her pulse thumped erratically against her ribcage. She wetted her lips and drew in a deep breath. “What news of Eleanor?” How bad could it be? Eleanor had gone to marry Harrison, a man she hardly knew. But she was in love with the idea of the Wild West, and therefore more than happy to marry the son of her father’s business partner.
He never blinked. “I shall just have to blurt it out then. I’m sorry to inform you that Eleanor is dead.”
Her mother moaned. Olivia stared at him. “I don’t believe it,” she said.
“I know, it’s a shock.”
There must have been some mistake. She searched his face for some clue that this was a jest. “What happened?”
He didn’t hold her gaze. “She drowned.”
“How?”
“No one knows. I’m sorry.”
Her mother stood and swayed. “What are you saying?” Her voice rose in a shriek. “Eleanor can’t be dead! Are you quite mad?”
He stood and took her arm. “I suggest you lie down, Mrs. Stewart. You’re quite pale.”
Her mother put her hands to her cheeks. “Tell me it isn’t true,” she begged. Then she keeled over in a dead faint.
#
Harrison Bennett tugged on his tie, glanced at his shoes to make sure no speck of dirt marred their perfection, then disembarked from his motorcar in front of the mansion. The cab had rolled up Nob Hill much too quickly for him to gather his courage to face the party. Electric lights pushed back the darkness from the curving brick driveway to the porch with its impressive white pillars. Doormen flanked the double doors at the entry. Through the large windows, he saw the ballroom. Ladies in luxurious gowns and gentlemen in tuxedos danced under glittering chandeliers, and their laughter tinkled on the wind.
His valet, Eugene, exited behind him. “I’ll wait in the kitchen, sir.”
Harrison adjusted his hat and strode with all the confidence he could muster to the front door. “Mr. Harrison Bennett,” he said to the doorman.
The man scanned the paper in his hand. “Welcome, Mr. Bennett. Mr. Rothschild is in the ballroom.”
Harrison thanked him and stepped into the opulent hall papered in gold foil. He went in the direction of the voices with a sense of purpose. This night could change his future. He glanced around the enormous ballroom, and he recognized no one among the glittering gowns and expensive suits. In subtle ways, these nobs would try to keep him in his place. It would take all his gumption not to let them. It was a miracle he’d received an invitation. Only the very wealthy or titled were invited to the Rothschilds’ annual ball in San Francisco. Harrison was determined to do whatever was necessary to secure the contract inside his coat pocket.
A young woman in an evening gown fluttered her lashes at him over the top of her fan. When she lowered it, she approached with a coaxing smile on her lips. “Mr. Bennett, I’d hoped to see you here tonight.”
He struggled to remember her name. Miss Kessler. She’d made her interest in him known at Eleanor’s funeral. Hardly a suitable time. He took her gloved hand and bowed over it. “Miss Kessler. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”
“I came when I heard you were on the guest list.”
He ignored her brazen remark. “It’s good to see you again. I have some business to attend to. Perhaps later?”
Her eyes darkened and she withdrew her hand. “I shall watch for you,” she said.
And he’d do the same, with the intent to avoid her. “If you’ll excuse me.” He didn’t wait for an answer but strolled through the crowd. He finally spied his host standing in front of a marble fireplace. A flame danced in the eight-foot hearth. Harrison stepped through the crowd to join the four men clustered around the wealthy Rothschild.
The man closest to Harrison was in his fifties and had a curling mustache. “They’ll never get that amendment ratified,” he said. “An income tax! It’s quite ridiculous to expect us to pay something so outrageous.”
A younger man in a gray suit shook his head. “If it means better roads, I’ll gladly write them a check. The potholes outside of town ruined my front axels.”
“We can take care of our own roads,” Rothschild said. “I have no need of the government in my affairs. At least until we’re all using flying machines.” He snickered, then glanced at Harrison. “You look familiar, young man. Have we met?”
Flying machines. Maybe this meeting was something God had arranged. Harrison thrust out his hand. “Harrison Bennett.”
“Claude’s son?”’
Was that distaste in the twist of Rothschild’s mouth? Harrison put confidence into his grip. “Yes, sir.”
“How is your father?”
“Quite well. He’s back in New York by now.”
“I heard about your fiancée’s death. I’m sorry for your loss.”
Harrison managed not to wince. “Thank you.” He pushed away his memories of that terrible day, the day he’d seen Eleanor Stewart for what she really was.
“Your father was most insistent I meet you. He seems to think you have a business proposition I might be interested in.”
Harrison smiled and began to tell the men of the new diamond mines that Bennett and Bennett had found in Africa. A mere week after Mr. Stewart’s passing, Mr. Bennett had renamed the venture to include Harrison. An hour later, he had appointments set up with three of the men as possible investors. His father would be pleased.
Harrison smiled and retraced his steps to toward the front door but was waylaid by four women in brightly colored silk. They swooped around him, and Miss Kessler took him by the hand and led him to a quiet corner.
“Let’s not talk about anything boring like work,” she said, her blue eyes sparkling. “Tell me what you love to do most.”
He glanced at the other women clustered around. “I’m building an aeroplane. I’d like to have it in the air by the time Earth passes through the tail of Halley’s Comet.”
She gasped. “Do you have a death wish, Mr. Bennett? You would be breathing the poisonous fumes directly. No one even knows if the Earth will survive this.”
He’d heard this before. “The scientists I’ve discussed this with believe we shall be just fine,” Harrison said.
“I assume you’ve purchased comet pills?” the blonde closest to him said.
“I have no fear.”
The brunette in red silk smiled. “If man were meant to fly, God would have given him wings. Or so I’ve heard the minister say.”
He finally placed the brunette. Her uncle was Rothschild. No wonder she had such contempt for Harrison’s tone. All the nobs cared for were trains and ships. “It’s just a matter of perfecting the machine,” Harrison said. “Someday aeroplanes will be the main mode of transcontinental transportation.”
The brunette laughed. “Transcontinental? My uncle would call it balderdash.”
He glanced at his pocket watch without replying. “I fear I must leave you lovely ladies. Thank you for the conversation.”
He found Eugene in the kitchen and beckoned to his valet.
Eugene put down his coffee cup and followed. “You didn’t stay long, sir,” he said. “Is everything all right?”
Harrison stalked out the door and toward the car. “Are there no visionaries left in the country?”
Eugene followed a step behind. “You spoke of your flying machine?”
“The world is changing, Eugene, right under their noses—and they don’t see it.”
Eugene opened the door for Harrison. “You will show them the future, sir.”
He set his jaw. “I shall indeed.”
“I have a small savings set aside, Mr. Bennett. I’d like to invest in your company. With your permission, of course.”
Eugene’s trust bolstered Harrison’s determination. “I’d be honored to partner with you, Eugene. We are going to change the world.”
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Pearl Pins
Pearl Mother's Day blog series. The series is week long celebration of moms
and mothering. Each day will feature a new post by some of today's best writer's (Tricia
Goyer, Megan Alexander, Suzanne Woods Fisher, Beth Engelman, Holley Gerth,
Shellie Rushing Tomlinson, and more). I hope you'll join us each day for another unique
perspective on Mother's Day.
AND ... do enter the contest for a chance to win a beautiful hand crafted pearl
necklace. To enter, just {CLICK THIS
LINK} and fill out the short form. Contest runs 5/1-5/8 and the winner will on
5/11. Contest is only open to US and Canadian residents.
If you are unfamiliar with Pearl Girls™, please visit www.pearlgirls.info
and see what we're all about. In short, we exist to support the work of charities
that help women and children in the US and around the globe. Consider purchasing
a copy of Pearl Girls:
Encountering Grit, Experiencing Grace or one of the Pearl Girls™ products (all GREAT Mother's Day gifts!) to help support Pearl Girls.
And to all you MOMS out there! Happy Mother's Day!
PEARL PINS by Margaret
McSweeney
At age 49, I am a mom without a mom. This deep longing for my mother continues to
surprise me. During milestone moments, I imagine phone conversations with her.
“Can you believe that Melissa is graduating from high school in June? I’m so glad you
will be flying to Chicago to be here with us.”
“Wasn’t that a fun family dinner we all had last weekend to celebrate Katie’s ‘sweet
sixteen?’ I am so glad you could join us.”
“Isn’t this exciting? I just got a new book contract. Will you please edit my manuscript
before I send it in?”
Sadly, this will be my eighth Mother’s Day to spend without my mother. She has missed
some poignant milestones in my life and in the lives of my daughters. Both Melissa and
Katie were very young when she died so they don’t have a full reservoir of memories
about Grandmommy Rhea. However, they do have the legacy of faith that she helped
instill in them as toddlers. She loved to send Veggie Tales tapes, Children’s Bibles and
devotional books.
Melissa and Katie were blessed to have Nana, (Dave’s mother) around for much longer.
Nana passed away two years ago. A few years before Nana died, she gave me a beautiful
necklace with a diamond pendant made from her wedding ring along with a pair of
diamond earrings. She asked me to give these special gifts to Melissa and Katie for their
sixteenth birthdays. Even though Nana wasn’t around to celebrate, my daughters were so
happy to receive such special keepsakes from her. Hugs from heaven.
Last week on Katie’s 16th birthday, I discovered an unexpected blessing that had been
tucked away in a cardboard container of my mother’s things. A jewelry box with three
pearl pins! I gave one to Melissa as a belated 16th birthday gift, and I presented one to
Katie for her 16th birthday. This Mother’s Day, I will wear my mother’s pearl pin as a
tangible reminder that a mother’s love (and a grandmother’s love) is an everlasting gift
from God.
Finding these gifts made me think about what I might leave for my own daughters
someday. It isn’t the external value of the gift that matters, but rather the love that it
represents.
Is there a special gift or letter that you would like to leave your children?
Margaret McSweeney lives with her husband, David and two teenage daughters
in the Chicago suburbs. After earning a master’s degree in international
business from the University of South Carolina, Margaret moved to New York
City to work at a large bank where she met David. Margaret is the editor
of Pearl Girls, author of A Mother’s Heart Knows and co-author of Go Back and
Be Happy. Charity and community involvement are very important to Margaret.
She has served on the board of directors for WINGS (Women in Need Growing
Stronger) for over eight years. For more information, find Margaret at www.pearlgirls.info and www.kitchenchat.info.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Beside Still Waters by Tricia Goyer!
Since my unfortunate lack of gainful employment, I’ve had a lot of reading time on my hands, well that and all the Dr appointments I’ve had, lots of waiting and lots of boredom equals lots of reading. Luckily this book was one on my list to read, Beside Still Waters by Tricia Goyer.
I’ve read my share of Amish books, but this one resonates with me more than any other Amish book has. Beside Still Waters follows the Sommer family as they make an unexpected move from one amish community to another trying to get passed the past. Marianna Sommer is a conflicted but dutiful heroine. I could feel her turmoil as she followed as the “perfect daughter” to care for her family instead of staying behind and following her dream of marrying Aaron Zook. My heart ached when she realized there was more to life, more to God and knowing him than what she had been taught from birth. I understood the conflict she felt what trying to reconcile what her Ordung had told her was right and wrong, with that of what felt right and wrong.
Marianna’s journey to a relationship with God that was hers and hers alone is one that I have taken myself. I know what it is like to find that my relationship with God has nothing to do with that of my parents, my church or anyone else. It is tough to realize that everything “taught” is not always true. Tricia delves in to this topic in an amazing way. She presents it to you in a story that is not only believable but that pulls you in and makes you think about your own relationship with God, how it came about and how it needs to grow. I can’t wait to read more about the Sommer family in the next Big Sky novel by Tricia Goyer.
I do want to thank the folks over at Litfuse for allowing me to participate in this blog tour! They sent me the book to read, and asked nothing more in return than an honest review!
About the book: Marianna Sommer believes she knows where her life is headed. Nineteen years old and Amish, her plan is to get baptized into the church, marry Aaron Zook, and live in the only community she’s ever known.
When Marianna’s family moves from Indiana to Montana she discovers life and faith will never be the same. As she builds an easy friendship with local guy, Ben Stone, Ben not only draws her heart, he also gets her thinking about what loving God and living in community is all about.
As Marianna struggles to find “home”, she also encounters God in intimate ways.
To order this book, go here: Amazon, or CBD
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
About Tricia: Tricia Goyer is the author of twenty-four books including Songbird Under a German Moon, The Swiss Courier, and the mommy memoir, Blue Like Play Dough. She won Historical Novel of the Year in 2005 and 2006 from ACFW, and was honored with the Writer of the Year award from Mt. Hermon Writer’s Conference in 2003. Tricia’s book Life Interrupted was a finalist for the Gold Medallion in 2005. In addition to her novels, Tricia writes non-fiction books and magazine articles for publications like MomSense and Thriving Family. Tricia is a regular speaker at conventions and conferences, and has been a workshop presenter at the MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) International Conventions. She and her family make their home in Little Rock, Arkansas where they are part of the ministry of FamilyLife.
For more about Tricia please visit www.triciagoyer.com.
I’ve read my share of Amish books, but this one resonates with me more than any other Amish book has. Beside Still Waters follows the Sommer family as they make an unexpected move from one amish community to another trying to get passed the past. Marianna Sommer is a conflicted but dutiful heroine. I could feel her turmoil as she followed as the “perfect daughter” to care for her family instead of staying behind and following her dream of marrying Aaron Zook. My heart ached when she realized there was more to life, more to God and knowing him than what she had been taught from birth. I understood the conflict she felt what trying to reconcile what her Ordung had told her was right and wrong, with that of what felt right and wrong.
Marianna’s journey to a relationship with God that was hers and hers alone is one that I have taken myself. I know what it is like to find that my relationship with God has nothing to do with that of my parents, my church or anyone else. It is tough to realize that everything “taught” is not always true. Tricia delves in to this topic in an amazing way. She presents it to you in a story that is not only believable but that pulls you in and makes you think about your own relationship with God, how it came about and how it needs to grow. I can’t wait to read more about the Sommer family in the next Big Sky novel by Tricia Goyer.
I do want to thank the folks over at Litfuse for allowing me to participate in this blog tour! They sent me the book to read, and asked nothing more in return than an honest review!
About the book: Marianna Sommer believes she knows where her life is headed. Nineteen years old and Amish, her plan is to get baptized into the church, marry Aaron Zook, and live in the only community she’s ever known.
When Marianna’s family moves from Indiana to Montana she discovers life and faith will never be the same. As she builds an easy friendship with local guy, Ben Stone, Ben not only draws her heart, he also gets her thinking about what loving God and living in community is all about.
As Marianna struggles to find “home”, she also encounters God in intimate ways.
To order this book, go here: Amazon, or CBD
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
About Tricia: Tricia Goyer is the author of twenty-four books including Songbird Under a German Moon, The Swiss Courier, and the mommy memoir, Blue Like Play Dough. She won Historical Novel of the Year in 2005 and 2006 from ACFW, and was honored with the Writer of the Year award from Mt. Hermon Writer’s Conference in 2003. Tricia’s book Life Interrupted was a finalist for the Gold Medallion in 2005. In addition to her novels, Tricia writes non-fiction books and magazine articles for publications like MomSense and Thriving Family. Tricia is a regular speaker at conventions and conferences, and has been a workshop presenter at the MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) International Conventions. She and her family make their home in Little Rock, Arkansas where they are part of the ministry of FamilyLife.
For more about Tricia please visit www.triciagoyer.com.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
A Cowboy's Touch by Denise Hunter
It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!You never know when I might play a wild card on you!
Today's Wild Card author is:
and the book:
Thomas Nelson (March 29, 2011)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Denise lives in Indiana with her husband Kevin and their three sons. In 1996, Denise began her first book, a Christian romance novel, writing while her children napped. Two years later it was published, and she's been writing ever since. Her books often contain a strong romantic element, and her husband Kevin says he provides all her romantic material, but Denise insists a good imagination helps too! Visit the author's website.
SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:
Wade's ranch home needs a woman's touch. Abigail's life needs a cowboy's touch.
Four years ago, rodeo celebrity Wade Ryan gave up his identity to protect his daughter. Now, settled on a ranch in Big Sky Country, he lives in obscurity, his heart guarded by a high, thick fence.
Abigail Jones isn’t sure how she went from big-city columnist to small-town nanny, but her new charge is growing on her, to say nothing of her ruggedly handsome boss. Love blossoms between Abigail and Wade--despite her better judgment. Will the secrets she brought with her to Moose Creek, Montana separate her from the cowboy who finally captured her heart?
Product Details:
List Price: $14.99
Paperback: 320 pages
Publisher: Thomas Nelson (March 29, 2011)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1595548017
ISBN-13: 978-1595548016
AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:
Abigail Jones knew the truth. She frowned at the blinking curser on her monitor and tapped her fingers on the keyboard-what next?
Beyond the screen's glow, darkness washed the cubicles. Her computer hummed, and outside the office windows a screech of tires broke the relative stillness ofthe Chicago night.
She shuffled her note cards. The story had been long in coming, but it was finished now, all except the telling. She knew where she wanted to take it next.
Her fingers stirred into motion, dancing across the keys. This was her favorite part, exposingtruth to the world. Well, okay, not the world exactly, not with Viewpoint's paltry circulation. But now, during the writing, it felt like the world.
Four paragraphs later, the office had shrunk away, and all that existed were the words on the monitor and her memory playing in full color on the screen of her mind.
Something dropped onto her desk with a sudden thud. Abigail’s hand flew to her heart, and her chair darted from her desk. She looked up at her boss’s frowning face, then shared a frown of her own. “You scared me.”
“And you’re scaring me. It’s after midnight, Abigail—what are you doing here?” Marilyn Jones’s hand settled on her hip.
The blast of adrenaline settled into Abigail’s bloodstream, though her heart was still in overdrive. “Being an ambitious staffer?”
“You mean an obsessive workaholic.”
“Something wrong with that?”
“What’s wrong is my twenty-eight-year-old daughter is working all hours on a Saturday night instead of dating an eligible bachelor like all the other single women her age.” Her mom tossed her head, but her short brown hair hardly budged. “You could’ve at least gone out with your sister and me. We had a good time.”
“I’m down to the wire.”
“You’ve been here every night for two weeks.” Her mother rolled up a chair and sank into it. “Your father always thought you’d be a schoolteacher, did I ever tell you that?”
“About a million times.” Abigail settled into the chair, rubbed the ache in her temple. Her heart was still recovering, but she wanted to return to her column. She was just getting to the good part.
“You had a doctor’s appointment yesterday,” Mom said. Abigail sighed hard.
“Whatever happened to doctor-patient confidentiality?”
“Goes out the window when the doctor is your sister. Come on, Abigail, this is your health. Reagan prescribed rest—R-E-S-T—and yet here you are.”
“A couple more days and the story will be put to bed.”
“And then there’ll be another story.”
“That’s what I do, Mother.”
“You’ve had a headache for weeks, and the fact that you made an appointment with your sister is proof you’re not feeling well.”
Abigail pulled her hand from her temple. “I’m fine.”
“That’s what your father said the week before he collapsed.”
Compassion and frustration warred inside Abigail. “He was sixty-two.” And his pork habit hadn’t helped matters. Thin didn’t necessarily mean healthy. She skimmed her own long legs, encased in her favorite jeans . . . exhibit A.
“I’ve been thinking you should go visit your great-aunt.” Abigail already had a story in the works, but maybe her mom had a lead on something else. “New York sounds interesting. What’s the assignment?”
“Rest and relaxation. And I’m not talking about your Aunt Eloise—as if you’d get any rest there—I’m talking about your Aunt Lucy.”
Abigail’s spirits dropped to the basement. “Aunt Lucy lives in Montana.” Where cattle outnumbered people. She felt for the familiar ring on her right hand and began twisting.
“She seems a bit . . . confused lately.”
Abigail recalled the birthday gifts her great-aunt had sent over the years, and her lips twitched. “Aunt Lucy has always been confused.”
“Someone needs to check on her. Her latest letter was full of comments about some girls who live with her, when I know perfectly well she lives alone. I think it may be time for assisted living or a retirement community.”
Abigail’s eyes flashed to the screen. A series of nonsensical letters showed where she’d stopped in alarm at her mother’s appearance. She hit the delete button. “Let’s invite her to Chicago for a few weeks.”
“She needs to be observed in her own surroundings. Besides, that woman hasn’t set foot on a plane since Uncle Murray passed, and I sure wouldn’t trust her to travel across the country alone. You know what happened when she came out for your father’s funeral.”
“Dad always said she had a bad sense of direction.”
“Nevertheless, I don’t have time to hunt her down in Canada again. Now, come on, Abigail, it makes perfect sense for you to go. You need a break, and Aunt Lucy was your father’s favorite relative. It’s our job to look after her now, and if she’s incapable of making coherent decisions, we need to help her.”
Abigail’s conscience tweaked her. She had a soft spot for Aunt Lucy, and her mom knew it. Still, that identity theft story called her name, and she had a reliable source who might or might not be willing to talk in a couple weeks.
“Reagan should do it. I’ll need the full month for my column, and we can’t afford to scrap it. Distribution is down enough as it is. Just last month you were concerned—”
Her mother stood abruptly, the chair reeling backward into the aisle. She walked as far as the next cubicle, then turned. “Hypertension is nothing to mess with, Abigail. You’re so . . . rest- less. You need a break—a chance to find some peace in your life.” She cleared her throat, then her face took on that I’ve-made-up- my-mind look. “Whether you go to your aunt’s or not, I’m insisting you take a leave of absence.”
There was no point arguing once her mother took that tone. She could always do research online—and she wouldn’t mind visiting a part of the country she’d never seen. “Fine. I’ll finish this story, then go out to Montana for a week or so.”
“Finish the story, yes. But your leave of absence will last three months.”
“Three months!”
“It may take that long to make a decision about Aunt Lucy.”
“What about my apartment?”
“Reagan will look after it. You’re hardly there anyway. You need a break, and Moose Creek is the perfect place.”
Moose Creek. “I’ll say. Sounds like nothing more than a traffic signal with a gas pump on the corner.”
“Don’t be silly. Moose Creek has no traffic signal. Abigail, you have become wholly obsessed with—”
“So I’m a hard worker . . .” She lifted her shoulders.
Her mom’s lips compressed into a hard line. “Wholly obsessed with your job. Look, you know I admire hard work, but it feels like you’re always chasing something and never quite catching it. I want you to find some contentment, for your health if nothing else. There’s more to life than investigative reporting.”
“I’m the Truthseeker, Mom. That’s who I am.” Her fist found home over her heart.
Her mother shouldered her purse, then zipped her light sweater, her movements irritatingly slow. She tugged down the ribbed hem and smoothed the material of her pants. “Three months, Abigail. Not a day less.”
Beyond the screen's glow, darkness washed the cubicles. Her computer hummed, and outside the office windows a screech of tires broke the relative stillness ofthe Chicago night.
She shuffled her note cards. The story had been long in coming, but it was finished now, all except the telling. She knew where she wanted to take it next.
Her fingers stirred into motion, dancing across the keys. This was her favorite part, exposingtruth to the world. Well, okay, not the world exactly, not with Viewpoint's paltry circulation. But now, during the writing, it felt like the world.
Four paragraphs later, the office had shrunk away, and all that existed were the words on the monitor and her memory playing in full color on the screen of her mind.
Something dropped onto her desk with a sudden thud. Abigail’s hand flew to her heart, and her chair darted from her desk. She looked up at her boss’s frowning face, then shared a frown of her own. “You scared me.”
“And you’re scaring me. It’s after midnight, Abigail—what are you doing here?” Marilyn Jones’s hand settled on her hip.
The blast of adrenaline settled into Abigail’s bloodstream, though her heart was still in overdrive. “Being an ambitious staffer?”
“You mean an obsessive workaholic.”
“Something wrong with that?”
“What’s wrong is my twenty-eight-year-old daughter is working all hours on a Saturday night instead of dating an eligible bachelor like all the other single women her age.” Her mom tossed her head, but her short brown hair hardly budged. “You could’ve at least gone out with your sister and me. We had a good time.”
“I’m down to the wire.”
“You’ve been here every night for two weeks.” Her mother rolled up a chair and sank into it. “Your father always thought you’d be a schoolteacher, did I ever tell you that?”
“About a million times.” Abigail settled into the chair, rubbed the ache in her temple. Her heart was still recovering, but she wanted to return to her column. She was just getting to the good part.
“You had a doctor’s appointment yesterday,” Mom said. Abigail sighed hard.
“Whatever happened to doctor-patient confidentiality?”
“Goes out the window when the doctor is your sister. Come on, Abigail, this is your health. Reagan prescribed rest—R-E-S-T—and yet here you are.”
“A couple more days and the story will be put to bed.”
“And then there’ll be another story.”
“That’s what I do, Mother.”
“You’ve had a headache for weeks, and the fact that you made an appointment with your sister is proof you’re not feeling well.”
Abigail pulled her hand from her temple. “I’m fine.”
“That’s what your father said the week before he collapsed.”
Compassion and frustration warred inside Abigail. “He was sixty-two.” And his pork habit hadn’t helped matters. Thin didn’t necessarily mean healthy. She skimmed her own long legs, encased in her favorite jeans . . . exhibit A.
“I’ve been thinking you should go visit your great-aunt.” Abigail already had a story in the works, but maybe her mom had a lead on something else. “New York sounds interesting. What’s the assignment?”
“Rest and relaxation. And I’m not talking about your Aunt Eloise—as if you’d get any rest there—I’m talking about your Aunt Lucy.”
Abigail’s spirits dropped to the basement. “Aunt Lucy lives in Montana.” Where cattle outnumbered people. She felt for the familiar ring on her right hand and began twisting.
“She seems a bit . . . confused lately.”
Abigail recalled the birthday gifts her great-aunt had sent over the years, and her lips twitched. “Aunt Lucy has always been confused.”
“Someone needs to check on her. Her latest letter was full of comments about some girls who live with her, when I know perfectly well she lives alone. I think it may be time for assisted living or a retirement community.”
Abigail’s eyes flashed to the screen. A series of nonsensical letters showed where she’d stopped in alarm at her mother’s appearance. She hit the delete button. “Let’s invite her to Chicago for a few weeks.”
“She needs to be observed in her own surroundings. Besides, that woman hasn’t set foot on a plane since Uncle Murray passed, and I sure wouldn’t trust her to travel across the country alone. You know what happened when she came out for your father’s funeral.”
“Dad always said she had a bad sense of direction.”
“Nevertheless, I don’t have time to hunt her down in Canada again. Now, come on, Abigail, it makes perfect sense for you to go. You need a break, and Aunt Lucy was your father’s favorite relative. It’s our job to look after her now, and if she’s incapable of making coherent decisions, we need to help her.”
Abigail’s conscience tweaked her. She had a soft spot for Aunt Lucy, and her mom knew it. Still, that identity theft story called her name, and she had a reliable source who might or might not be willing to talk in a couple weeks.
“Reagan should do it. I’ll need the full month for my column, and we can’t afford to scrap it. Distribution is down enough as it is. Just last month you were concerned—”
Her mother stood abruptly, the chair reeling backward into the aisle. She walked as far as the next cubicle, then turned. “Hypertension is nothing to mess with, Abigail. You’re so . . . rest- less. You need a break—a chance to find some peace in your life.” She cleared her throat, then her face took on that I’ve-made-up- my-mind look. “Whether you go to your aunt’s or not, I’m insisting you take a leave of absence.”
There was no point arguing once her mother took that tone. She could always do research online—and she wouldn’t mind visiting a part of the country she’d never seen. “Fine. I’ll finish this story, then go out to Montana for a week or so.”
“Finish the story, yes. But your leave of absence will last three months.”
“Three months!”
“It may take that long to make a decision about Aunt Lucy.”
“What about my apartment?”
“Reagan will look after it. You’re hardly there anyway. You need a break, and Moose Creek is the perfect place.”
Moose Creek. “I’ll say. Sounds like nothing more than a traffic signal with a gas pump on the corner.”
“Don’t be silly. Moose Creek has no traffic signal. Abigail, you have become wholly obsessed with—”
“So I’m a hard worker . . .” She lifted her shoulders.
Her mom’s lips compressed into a hard line. “Wholly obsessed with your job. Look, you know I admire hard work, but it feels like you’re always chasing something and never quite catching it. I want you to find some contentment, for your health if nothing else. There’s more to life than investigative reporting.”
“I’m the Truthseeker, Mom. That’s who I am.” Her fist found home over her heart.
Her mother shouldered her purse, then zipped her light sweater, her movements irritatingly slow. She tugged down the ribbed hem and smoothed the material of her pants. “Three months, Abigail. Not a day less.”
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Yoplait WINNER!!!!!!
Here ya go, its today's winner for the yoplait giftpack! I will be contacting the winner via email, if I get no response within 48 hours I will draw another number!
True Random Number Generator
Min: 1
Max: 56
Result:
28
Powered by RANDOM.ORG
So the winner is.......
Ponia Baum
Strawberry
poniabaum at gmail dot com
APRIL 8, 2011 2:46 PM
True Random Number Generator
Min: 1
Max: 56
Result:
28
Powered by RANDOM.ORG
So the winner is.......
Ponia Baum
Strawberry
poniabaum at gmail dot com
APRIL 8, 2011 2:46 PM
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Yoplait challenge and GIVEAWAY!!!!!!
I was asked to participate Yoplait's 2 week tune up challenge and am totally thrilled about it! Recently getting some rather disturbing news in regards to my health has made me realize how much I need to change what snacks I eat, and what better way that with Yoplait! With all the great flavors they have, I can have the taste I want without the calories that usually come with it!
I'm a bit behind on my Yoplait 2 week challange, BUT I am starting it today! Better late than never I say! After doing some research, here are five great ways to ‘get your snack on’ with Yoplait this month!
Start spring off right with Yoplait Light’s Two Week Tune Up Plan – Replace breakfast and lunch with a cup of your favorite flavor of Yoplait Light, a whole grain and a piece of fruit and you could lose 5 pounds in two weeks. Go to Yoplait.com for full diet details.
Get more calcium with Yoplait Original style yogurt - Now with two times the calcium of the leading yogurt (50 percent of the Recommended Daily Value) in one convenient 6-ounce cup*, Yoplait Original style yogurt is committed to women’s health, offering a product that has even more of the calcium women need for strong, healthy bodies. Grab a free cup while supplies last during the Million Cup Giveaway on Yoplait on Facebook!
Try the newest flavor from Yoplait Fiber One – Yoplait Fiber One’s new Blueberry flavor yogurt is packed with filling fiber, calcium, vitamins A and D, real fruit and the great taste of blueberries. With only 50 calories, 5 grams of fiber and 0 grams of fat, this deliciously creamy yogurt won’t break your calorie bank.
Stress less over snack time with Yoplait Kids yogurt – With a wholesome and fun snack like Yoplait Kids yogurt in the fridge, you can feel good about what your children are eating at snack time. Yoplait Kids provides an excellent source of calcium and vitamin D, and has 25% less sugar than the leading kids’ yogurt**. With yummy flavors, and favorite friends like Dora and Lightning McQueen on the packages, Yoplait Kids is a hit with moms and children alike.
End the day with a Delight Parfait from Yoplait – Even with two luscious layers providing a double shot of rich and creamy yogurt, these 100 calorie indulgences from Yoplait contain only 1.5 grams of fat per serving. Now available in two new flavors, Chocolate Éclair and Cherry Cheesecake, you can enjoy a dessert that’s 100 percent guilt-free.
To help women look and feel their best, Yoplait Light has provided tips and advice available on Yoplait.com, along with valuable online weight loss tools such as a meal planner, healthy recipes and a daily food and exercise tracker. With 33 delicious flavors of Yoplait Light to choose from, you can switch up your diet menu as often as you like.
Now to the good part, Yoplait was nice enough to give me a prize pack through MyBlogSpark to jump start my challenge, and they are also offering one to one of my readers! This pack includes some great stuff to help with your tune up challence, like a pedometer, fitness bag, a coupon for a free yoplait light, and other goodies to get you started!
To win all you have to do is comment here about which yoplait light flavor you would like to try!
For extra entries:
follow me on GFC- 1 entry,
"like" yoplait on fb- 1 entry.
Vote for me on Picket Fences- 1 entry! can be done daily.
Leave a separate comment for each entry please!
I will chose a winner on April 8th, 2011 via Random.org!
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Deadly Ties by Vickie Hinze.
I am so glad I found Vickie Hinze! Her books pull you in, wrap you up and don't turn you loose until the very last page! Deadly Ties by Vickie Hinze is now officially my favorite book of Vickie Hinze.
Lisa Harper is an amazingly strong woman who has overcome the trauma of witnessing her father's murder, a childhood filled with fear and mental abuse, watching her mother's physical abuse by her step-father, and is now a new Doctor, working at the Crossroads Crisis Center. Lisa's main goal in life is to get her mother away from her controlling abusive husband.
Mark Taylor is a security expert, former Spec Ops officer, and long time friend of Lisa's, who just happens to be in love with her.
Together Mark and Lisa take on her step-father, human traffickers, and a world wide crime ring, all while discovering feelings they have for each other.
Vickie Hinze weaves a suspense filled tale that keeps you so hooked you can't put the book down! I can't wait for the next installment in this series!
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
In the Shadow of Evil
It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!You never know when I might play a wild card on you!
Today's Wild Card author is:
and the book:
B&H Books (March 1, 2011)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Robin Caroll is a leading Christian suspense novelist. She gives back to the writing community as conference director for the American Christian Fiction Writers organization. A proud southerner through and through, Robin lives with her husband and three daughters in Arkansas.
Visit the author's website.
SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:
Informed by the real-life fallout of the U.S. economy and devastation caused by multiple hurricanes along the southern coast, In the Shadow of Evil tells a modern day story involving the exposure of a building rebound scam. Amidst the layers of unethical practices, supply shortages, and excess murders, a top Louisiana homicide detective loses his heart to a charitable contractor while uncovering a secret about his tragic past.
Product Details:
List Price: $14.98
Paperback: 320 pages
Publisher: B&H Books (March 1, 2011)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0805449795
ISBN-13: 978-0805449792
AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:
Prologue
Eighteen Years Earlier
What a night!
Maddox turned his car into the residential area and glanced at the digital display on the dash—12:28. Great, late for curfew. He smiled. Being late was worth it when he’d had a hot date with Julie Cordon. Man, the girl was something else. Beautiful, sexy, and funny. Just being with her made him feel special. Made him forget lots of things, including time.
Besides, he was seventeen. Curfews were for kids! A senior in high school, and he had to be home by midnight? All his Pop’s doing.
Tyson Bishop…Mr. Air Force man, determined to force the entire family to live by rules and regulations.
But his dad was over foreign soil right now, jumping out of perfectly good airplanes. Mom understood better, wasn’t quite the stickler about curfews like his dad. Good thing, too. Maddox was almost thirty minutes late tonight. Pop would blow his top and ground him for at least a month. Probably take away his car. But not Mom. She’d just caution him to pay closer attention to the time. Launch into the whole spiel about responsibility and accountability. He could recite it from memory.
Maddox whipped into the driveway and pressed the garage door opener. The light from the kitchen door spilled into the garage. Mom would be up…waiting. He should’ve called.
But being around Julie was like being caught in a time warp. Even the car’s interior held her smell. Light, flowery…teasing and tempting.
He killed the engine and jogged up the steps, slipping his charming smile into place. His mom had never been able to stay mad or disappointed when he flashed his dimples at her. He’d promise to mow the grass tomorrow before Pop got home, and she’d forget all about his tardiness.
He shut the garage door behind him and entered the kitchen. “Mom? I’m home.” The hint of roast lingered in the air.
The house was as silent as a tomb.
Odd. She would normally be on her feet to meet him.
He passed the kitchen’s butcher-block island and continued into the living room. A soft light filled the space beside her reading chair, but no sign of her.
“Mom?”
Maddox backtracked to the kitchen. Maybe she was in the downstairs bathroom.
“Hello?” His voice rose an octave as his pulse hammered. The bathroom door was wide open, the room dark.
Where was she?
His steps faltered as he pressed into the kitchen again. The backdoor stood open, the glass pane closest to the knob—shattered. His heart jumped into his throat.
“Mom!”
Using the agility that had garnered him the wide receiver place on the varsity football team, Maddox flew down the hall toward his parents’ bedroom. He pushed open the door with shaking hands.
His mother lay sprawled on the floor, a pool of blood staining the carpet around her. Her face pale against the dark red spilling from her chest. A metallic odor permeated the room.
What? He blinked repeatedly, his mind not processing what his eyes saw. Then…he did. And nearly vomited.
He raced to her side, lifting her head into his lap. “Mom.” Tears backed up in his eyes as he smoothed her hair.
“Mad-dy,” she croaked.
He grabbed the phone from the nightstand, the base landing on the floor with a resounding thud. He grabbed the receiver and punched in 9-1-1.
“Hang on, Mom. I’m calling for help.” Every nerve in his body stood at high alert.
“Too. Late.” She grimaced. A gurgling seeped from between her lips. Her body went slack in his arms.
“911, what is the nature of your emergency?”
He closed his eyes. Fought back scalding tears. “My mother. She’s been murdered.”
Eighteen Years Earlier
What a night!
Maddox turned his car into the residential area and glanced at the digital display on the dash—12:28. Great, late for curfew. He smiled. Being late was worth it when he’d had a hot date with Julie Cordon. Man, the girl was something else. Beautiful, sexy, and funny. Just being with her made him feel special. Made him forget lots of things, including time.
Besides, he was seventeen. Curfews were for kids! A senior in high school, and he had to be home by midnight? All his Pop’s doing.
Tyson Bishop…Mr. Air Force man, determined to force the entire family to live by rules and regulations.
But his dad was over foreign soil right now, jumping out of perfectly good airplanes. Mom understood better, wasn’t quite the stickler about curfews like his dad. Good thing, too. Maddox was almost thirty minutes late tonight. Pop would blow his top and ground him for at least a month. Probably take away his car. But not Mom. She’d just caution him to pay closer attention to the time. Launch into the whole spiel about responsibility and accountability. He could recite it from memory.
Maddox whipped into the driveway and pressed the garage door opener. The light from the kitchen door spilled into the garage. Mom would be up…waiting. He should’ve called.
But being around Julie was like being caught in a time warp. Even the car’s interior held her smell. Light, flowery…teasing and tempting.
He killed the engine and jogged up the steps, slipping his charming smile into place. His mom had never been able to stay mad or disappointed when he flashed his dimples at her. He’d promise to mow the grass tomorrow before Pop got home, and she’d forget all about his tardiness.
He shut the garage door behind him and entered the kitchen. “Mom? I’m home.” The hint of roast lingered in the air.
The house was as silent as a tomb.
Odd. She would normally be on her feet to meet him.
He passed the kitchen’s butcher-block island and continued into the living room. A soft light filled the space beside her reading chair, but no sign of her.
“Mom?”
Maddox backtracked to the kitchen. Maybe she was in the downstairs bathroom.
“Hello?” His voice rose an octave as his pulse hammered. The bathroom door was wide open, the room dark.
Where was she?
His steps faltered as he pressed into the kitchen again. The backdoor stood open, the glass pane closest to the knob—shattered. His heart jumped into his throat.
“Mom!”
Using the agility that had garnered him the wide receiver place on the varsity football team, Maddox flew down the hall toward his parents’ bedroom. He pushed open the door with shaking hands.
His mother lay sprawled on the floor, a pool of blood staining the carpet around her. Her face pale against the dark red spilling from her chest. A metallic odor permeated the room.
What? He blinked repeatedly, his mind not processing what his eyes saw. Then…he did. And nearly vomited.
He raced to her side, lifting her head into his lap. “Mom.” Tears backed up in his eyes as he smoothed her hair.
“Mad-dy,” she croaked.
He grabbed the phone from the nightstand, the base landing on the floor with a resounding thud. He grabbed the receiver and punched in 9-1-1.
“Hang on, Mom. I’m calling for help.” Every nerve in his body stood at high alert.
“Too. Late.” She grimaced. A gurgling seeped from between her lips. Her body went slack in his arms.
“911, what is the nature of your emergency?”
He closed his eyes. Fought back scalding tears. “My mother. She’s been murdered.”
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
