New York Debut by Melody Carlson

Carter House Girls, Book 6
The girls return from the holidays in time for a New Year’s party, and Mrs. Carter announces that it’s time to get ready for Spring Fashion Week. A designer friend has invited the girls to participate in the big New York event and they have one month to get ready. Only God can catch those who fall this time.

From the Back Cover:
Mix six teenage girls and one ‘60s fashion icon (retired, of course) in an old Victorian-era boarding home. Add boys and dating, a little high-school angst, and throw in a Kate Spade bag or two . . . and you’ve got The Carter House Girls, Melody Carlson’s new chick lit series for young adults!

The New Year promises to be lively for the Carter House girls. No sooner does the calendar page turn and the girls are forced to confront a whole load of difficulties. There is constant pressure from Mrs. Carter as the household prepares to participate in the high stakes Spring Fashion Week in New York City. Competition flares from all directions as the girls vie for top billing, premium outfits, and attention from favorite guys. Stresses mount and some personal challenges grow into serious problems. Will the girls survive the big city experience and the even bigger trials that come along with it?

My Review:
Although this teen book is meant to be read as part of a series, it can be understood without having read the others because the author does a good job filling in the gaps.

This installment of the Carter House Girls series highlights teen drinking and eating disorders.  Six girls live together in a boarding house and study modeling. Excitement builds as Spring Fashion Week in New York City nears. The girls actually participate by modeling in the show. Some modeling tips are included.

Taylor is in rehab when the story begins. DJ continues to mature in her Christian walk as she influences others for the good. Eliza represents evil and pays for some bad choices.  

The book ends where the next volume will begin. Most female teens will enjoy this series.

And now, the first chapter:

“Where is Taylor?” asked Grandmother as she drove DJ home from the airport.
”Is she coming on a later flight?”

DJ hadn’t told her the whole story yet. In fact, she hadn’t said much of anything to Grandmother at all during the past week, except to leave a message saying that she’d changed her flight and planned to be home two days earlier than expected. Obviously, Grandmother had assumed that Taylor had changed her plans as well.

“Taylor’s in LA,” DJ said slowly, wishing she could add something to that, something to deflect further questioning.

“Visiting her father?”

“No…”

“Touring with Eva?”

“No…”
“What then?” Grandmother’s voice was getting irritated as she drove away from the terminal. “Where is the girl, Desiree? Speak up.”

“She’s in rehab.”

“Rehab?” Grandmother turned to stare at DJ with widened eyes. “Whatever for?”

“For alcohol treatment.”

Grandmother seemed stunned into speechlessness, which was a relief since DJ didn’t really want to discuss this. She was still trying to grasp the whole strange phenomenon. It was hard to admit, but the past few days of being mostly by herself in Las Vegas had been lonely and depressing and one of the reasons she’d been desperate to change her flight and come home early. She had really missed Taylor. The hardest part was when she discovered that Taylor wasn’t allowed any communication from outside the rehab facility. This concerned DJ. No cell phone calls, email, or anything. It seemed weird. Although DJ was praying for her roommate, she was worried. What if it wasn’t a reputable place? What if Taylor never came back? What if something bad happened to her? Not only would DJ blame herself, she figured everyone else would too.

Finally Grandmother spoke. “Did you girls get into some kind of trouble in Las Vegas, Desiree?”

“No…”

“I want you to be honest with me. Did something happen to precipitate this?”

“The only thing that happened is that Taylor came to grips with the fact that she has a serious drinking problem. If you’ll remember, I tried to let you in on this some time ago.”

“Yes, I remember the vodka bottle. I simply assumed it was a one-time occurrence.”

“I told you otherwise.”

“Well, I know that girls will be girls, Desiree. You can’t have spent as much time as I in the fashion industry and not know this.”

“Were you ever like that?” asked DJ. “I mean that girls will be girls bit?”

Grandmother cleared her throat. “I wasn’t an angel, Desiree, if that’s what you’re hinting at. However, I did understand the need for manners and decorum. I witnessed numerous young women spinning out of control. Beautiful or not, a model won’t last long if she is unable to work.”

“Isn’t that true with everything?”

“Yes…I suppose. How long is Taylor going to be in…this rehabilitation place?”

“I don’t know. You should probably call her mom.”

“Oh, dear…that’s something else I hadn’t considered. Certainly Eva Perez won’t be blaming me for her daughter’s, well, her drinking problem.”
“Eva is fully aware that Taylor had this drinking problem long before she came to Carter House.”

“Good.” Grandmother sighed and shook her head. “I just hope her treatment won’t prevent her from participating in Fashion Week. That would be a disaster.”

“Seems like it would be a worse disaster if Taylor didn’t get the help she needs.”

“Yes, of course, that goes without saying. But I would think that a week or two should be sufficient. Goodness, just how bad can a problem get when you’re only seventeen?”

DJ shrugged, but didn’t say anything. The truth was she thought it could get pretty bad, and in Taylor’s case it was bad. And it could’ve gotten worse. To think that Taylor had been drinking daily and DJ never even knew it.

“It’s just as well you came home early, Desiree,” said Grandmother as she turned onto the parkway. “Already Casey and Rhiannon are back. And Kriti is supposed to return tomorrow. Eliza will be back on New Year’s Eve.”

“I’m surprised she didn’t want to stay in France for New Year’s.”

“As am I. If I were over there, I’d certainly have booked a room in Paris. Nothing is more spectacular than fireworks over the City of Light. But apparently Eliza has plans with her boyfriend. Imagine—giving up Paris for your boyfriend!”

Of course, DJ knew that Eliza’s life of lavish luxury didn’t mean all that much to her. Like a poor little rich girl, Eliza wanted a slice of “normal.” Well, normal with a few little extras like good shoes, designer bags, and her pretty white Porsche.

“It’s good to be home,” DJ proclaimed as her grandmother turned into the driveway.

“It’s good to hear you say that,” said Grandmother.

And it was the truth. After a week in Vegas, DJ was extremely thankful to be back. Maybe for the first time, Carter House did feel like a home. She couldn’t wait to see Casey and Rhiannon.

“Welcome back,” called Casey as she opened the door, dashed out onto the porch, and hugged DJ. “Need some help with those bags?”

“Thanks.” DJ studied Casey for a moment, trying to figure out what had changed. “Your hair!”

Casey picked up one of DJ’s bags then grinned as she gave her strawberry blond hair a shake. “Like it?”

“It’s the old you—only better.”

“My mom talked me into it. The black was a little dramatic, don’t you think?”

“I think you look fantastic. And that choppy layered cut is very cute.”

“Your grandmother approved it too. And I got highlights.”

DJ touched her own hair. “Taylor had been nagging me to get mine redone. But it was so expensive in Vegas. I figured I’d do it here.”

Casey lowered her voice. “So how’d your grandmother take the news about Taylor?”

DJ stopped at the foot of the stairs and stared at Casey. “Did Rhiannon tell you everything?”
“Yeah, is it supposed to be a big secret?” Casey made a hurt face now. “I was wondering why you told Rhiannon and not me. I thought we were friends, DJ.”

“I didn’t mean to, but I sort of spilled the beans with Rhiannon because I was so desperate and didn’t know what to do at the time. But then I felt bad. I mean it was possible that Taylor wanted to keep it private, you know?”

Casey nodded somberly. “Yeah, I guess I do know.”

“You should.” After all, it had only been a few months since they had intervened with Casey in regard to her pain pill snitching.

“So, are you saying mum’s the word?”

“Until Taylor comes back. Don’t you think it’s up to her to say something or not?”

“Yeah. I can just imagine Eliza with that tasty little morsel of gossip. It’d be all over the school in no time.”

“Speaking of Eliza, that means Kriti too.”

“Kriti just got here about an hour ago.” Casey paused, nodding toward the room that Kriti and Eliza shared. The taxi dropped her and she went straight to her room. But something seems wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not sure. She just looks different. Kind of unhappy. I mean she didn’t even say hello or anything.”

“Maybe she was missing her family.”

“Maybe, but my guess is it’s something more.”

“We should probably try harder to reach out to her and make her feel at home.”

“You’re here!” Rhiannon burst out of the room and threw her arms around DJ. “Welcome home!”

“Man, it is so good to be back. Vegas—for more than a day or two—is a nightmare.”

“At least you got a tan,” observed Rhiannon. She glanced at Casey. “Both of you, in fact.”

“It’s that California sun.”

“Don’t make me envious,” said Rhiannon.

“Hey, look at you,” said DJ as she noticed that Rhiannon had on a very cool outfit. “Is that new?”

“Old and new. My great aunt gave me some of her old clothes and I’ve been altering them.” She held out her hands and turned around to make the long circular skirt spin out. “Fun, huh?”

“And cool,” said DJ.

“She’s got all kinds of stuff,” said Casey. “Hats and costume jewelry and scarves and things. I told her she should open a retro shop and get rich.”

“Maybe I will someday.”

“Or just sell things here in Carter House,” suggested DJ. “Between Eliza and Taylor’s clothing budget, you could clean up.”

“Oh, yeah, DJ, Conner just called,” said Rhiannon. “They just got back from their ski trip and he said he tried your cell a few times, but it seemed to be turned off.”

“More like dead. My flight was so early this morning, I forgot to charge it.”

“Well, I told him you’d call.”

Casey set DJ’s bag inside her door. “Speaking of boys, I think I’ll check and see how Garrison is doing—find out if he missed me or not.” She touched her hair. “Do you think he’ll like it?”

“How could he not,” said Rhiannon. “It’s so cool.”

“Later,” called Casey as she headed for her room.

“So, how’s Taylor?” asked Rhiannon quietly.

“You didn’t tell Kriti, did you?” whispered DJ, pulling Rhiannon into her room then closing the door.

“No, why would I?”

“I just wanted to be sure. I think we need to respect Taylor’s privacy with this.”

“Absolutely. So, have you talked to her?”

“They won’t let me. They have this no communication policy. No email, cell phones…nothing. It’s like a black hole. Weird.”

Rhiannon nodded. “Yeah, it was like that with my mom at first. I think they wanted to keep her cut off from any bad connections. Then after a while, you earn communication privileges.”

“Oh, that’s a relief. I was really worried.”

“I still can hardly believe Taylor went willingly.”

“Yeah, our strong-willed wild child…putting herself into rehab.” DJ shook her head.

“That remind me, Seth has called a few times too. He wanted to know why Taylor’s cell was off and where she was.”

“What’d you say?”

“That I didn’t know.” She shrugged. “Actually, that was the truth.”

“But nothing else?”
“No.”

“Good. I mean it’s not like we need to keep it top secret, but until we hear from Taylor, let’s not talk about it.”

“Sure.” Rhiannon put a hand on DJ’s shoulder. “And don’t worry about her, DJ. She’ll be fine.”
“I know.” DJ nodded as she put her bags on her bed and started to unzip them. But as soon as Rhiannon left, DJ wasn’t so sure. What if Taylor wasn’t fine? What if something had gone wrong? And what if it was all DJ’s fault?

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Nothing But Trouble: A PJ Sugar Novel by Susan May Warren

PJ Sugar knows three things for sure:
1) After traveling the country for ten years hoping to shake free from the trail of disaster that's become her life, she needs a fresh start.
2) The last person she wants to see when she heads home for her sister's wedding is Boone--her former flame and the reason she left town.
3) Her best friend's husband absolutely did not commit the first murder Kellogg, Minnesota, has seen in more than a decade.

What PJ doesn't know is that when she starts digging for evidence, she'll uncover much more than she bargained for--a deadly conspiracy, a knack for investigation, and maybe, just maybe, that fresh start she's been longing for.

It's not fair to say that trouble happens every time PJ Sugar is around, but it feels that way when she returns to her hometown, looking for a fresh start. Within a week, her former teacher is murdered and her best friend's husband is arrested as the number-one suspect. Although the police detective investigating the murder--who also happens to be PJ's former flame--is convinced it's an open-and-shut case, PJ's not so sure. She begins digging for clues in an effort to clear her friend's husband and ends up reigniting old passions, uncovering an international conspiracy, and solving a murder along the way. She also discovers that maybe God can use a woman who never seems to get it right.

My Review:
This chick lit is a whodunit murder mystery, with a touch of romance and a bit of humor. It's a quick read; the pages seem to turn themselves. I enjoyed it. 

The protagonist, PJ Sugar, a young lady with major self-esteem issues who returns home afraid that no one will accept her, let alone welcome her. She's NBT--nothing but trouble, according to one person in town. Somehow, PJ handles the curves life throws her way. I like the way she handles her four-year-old nephew, Davy. 

I look forward to reading the next book in the series. PJ's relationship with her mother is slowly revealed in this novel, and I look forward to reading more about that. Boone and PJ are made for each other, but Jeremy promises to complicate things in the future. This series is off to a good start.  

If you would like to read the first chapter, click here.

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Giveaway! A Vote of Confidence by Robin Lee Hatcher

Sisters of Bethlehem Springs

In A Vote of Confidence, the stage is set for some intriguing insight into what it was like during 1915 to be a woman in a “man’s world.”

Guinevere Arlington is a beautiful young woman determined to remain in charge of her own life. For seven years, Gwen has carved out a full life in the bustling town of Bethlehem Springs, Idaho, where she teaches piano and writes for the local newspaper. Her passion for the town, its people, and the surrounding land prompt Gwen to run for mayor. After all, who says a woman can’t do a man’s job?

But stepping outside the boundaries of convention can get messy. A shady lawyer backs Gwen, believing he can control her once she’s in office. A wealthy newcomer throws his hat into the ring in an effort to overcome opposition to the health resort he’s building north of town. When the opponents fall in love, everything changes, forcing Gwen to face what she may have to lose in order to win.

My Review:
The protagonist, Guinevere Arlington, better known as Gwen, is so beautiful that she stops men in their tracks, but if they want to make points with her, they'd better not mention her looks. She's much more than that, and she resents the common thinking that women should not be involved with things other than housekeeping and child-rearing. 

Then, the unthinkable happens. Gwen decides to run for mayor--in 1915--in the small town of Bethlehem Springs, Idaho, and she sets the town to talking!

This first book of the Sisters of Bethlehem Springs series asks the question, "Who says a woman can't be mayor?" The second in the series, Fit to Be Tied, the story of Gwen's sister, Cleo, is due out the end of this year. The question in that novel is "Who says a woman can't be a wrangler?" If you like historical romance novels, this is a good one to grab.

If you'd like to read the first chapter, click here.

If you'd like to buy a copy, click here.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am willing to give away my ARC (Advanced Reader Copy) copy of this book. (HINT: I like to give away books to people who regularly leave me comments.)

• Winners are restricted to the US and Canada. No PO Box mailing addresses, please.
• Leave your email address in code in your comment (This is the biggest mistake entrants make. They forget to leave their email address! Please do not ask me to look it up. This is the only thing I ask you to do.)
• I'll close the comments at 6 PM EST May 7th and pick the winner. I will contact the winner via email to get her mailing information. She will have three days to respond. If I do not hear from her within three days, I will select another winner(s).
• If you're interested, just say so in a comment with that all-important email address in code.
  Example of email in code: yourname AT hotmail DOT com.

Enduring Justice by Amy Wallace

Defenders of Hope Series #3

A PAINFUL PAST
Hanna Kessler’s childhood secret has remained buried for over two decades. But when the dark shadows of her past threaten to destroy those she loves, Hanna must face the summer that changed her life and the man who still haunts her memories.

A RACIALLY-MOTIVATED KILLER
As a Crimes Against Children FBI Agent, Michael Parker knows what it means to get knocked down. Difficult cases and broken relationships have plagued his entire year. But when the system fails and a white supremacist is set free, Michael’s drive for retribution eclipses all else.

A LIFE-ALTERING CHOICE
A racist’s well-planned assault forces Hanna and Michael to decide between executing vengeance and pursuing justice. The dividing line between the two is the choice to heal. But when the attack turns personal, is justice enough?

My Review:
Hatred is one of the themes in this novel. Because of her past, Hanna Kessler hates herself; she wrongly blames herself for all of the bad things that happen to those around her. Michael Parker hates his father for his abusive childhood. Sean Haines, a white supremacist, hates so thoroughly that those parts of the novel make for especially tough reading. Child abuse and racism are difficult topics. This is edgy fiction.

I found the pace slow from time to time. The characters are one-dimensional and not believable. Still, the book will be a good one to read, especially for those who read the first two in the series. All loose ends are neatly tied up. Some mild profanity. Discussion questions are included.

And now, the first chapter:

The wall she’d built with years of secrecy started to crack.


Hanna Kessler wrapped trembling arms around her waist and stared through the glass door into her parents’ backyard. A place she’d avoided her whole stay. Sunlight danced in the still water of her mother’s koi pond and highlighted all the landscaping changes Dad had made since Mom’s death.


Hanna closed her eyes against warring memories of past and present. As a child, she’d loved feeding the beautiful orange fish and hearing Mom laugh as the koi swarmed to the food. Now the little pond area was the only bit of her mother remaining. Maybe that was why she’d glanced outside and then stood transfixed. She needed her mom now more than ever.


Swallowing hard, she opened her eyes and focused on Mom’s teakwood dolphin statue and the white rocks around the water, glinting in the late afternoon sun. She reached out to touch the warm glass but couldn’t force herself to open the door. Goose bumps trailed her arms and she shivered.


She couldn’t go outside.


But she had to do something. Had to get away. So she stumbled into the rustic living room, her favorite place in the house. The surrounding family snapshots reminded her of simpler times. Boating on Kentucky Lake. Thunder over Louisville. Playing at Iroquois Park. Times when Mom and Dad and her brother, Steven, had wrapped her in their protection and love.


The front door rattled, then creaked open. “Anyone home?” A man’s deep voice carried through the safe place she’d escaped to months ago. It wasn’t safe anymore.


But her frozen feet refused to move. Where could she hide? Footsteps thundered through the front hall, drawing closer. She had to get out.


Choking down the lump of panic in her throat, she ran back to the sliding glass doors and forced her feet to move outside, onto the concrete patio. She could get to her car from there. The keys! Turning back to the house, she focused on the tall form stepping out of the house and walking toward her.


“Hanna-girl, what’s gotten into you?”


Her brain snapped to attention. The man in front of her was no threat.


“Daddy!” She ran into his outstretched arms.


Andrew Kessler kissed the top of her head and chuckled. “You looked like you’d seen a ghost. Didn’t you get the message I left this morning?”


Heartbeat still pounding out of her rib cage, she inhaled a few deep breaths before answering. She hadn’t checked messages today. And no way could she admit she’d listened to most of the messages her family had left, never intending to return the calls. “I…I must have missed it. Sorry, Daddy.”


Try as she might to hide it, calling her father Daddy only happened when she was terrified. Or hiding. And she’d done a lot of hiding.


Dad stepped back and tilted his head, still holding her in his arms. “Well, I’m in Louisville for the weekend and had to see my girl. I miss you. So does everyone back in Alexandria.”


Even Michael? She wouldn’t ask. She had no right. Not after ignoring all the calls and letters he’d sent. The ones declaring his love even though she’d run away from everyone after her brother’s wedding. She couldn’t meet Dad’s eyes.


“Hanna, look at me.” He tilted her chin up. She fought to not pull away. “Steven asks about you every day. I’m surprised your brother and Clint and the rest of their FBI friends haven’t hightailed it up here to drag you home.”


“They wouldn’t.” Especially not Michael. Not after almost two months of her frosty silence.


Dad laughed again. He had no idea the pain his questions, his presence here, caused. “Steven’s planned it. So has Michael. But they’re waiting for you to come back, on your terms.” As if that would happen. “Susannah’s birthday party is a week from Saturday. Clint and the rest of us are praying you’ll come. Take pictures. Let us show you how much we love having you in Alexandria.”


A week from Saturday. The twenty-fifth of August. She wouldn’t be there. Couldn’t face Clint Rollins. Not after her negligence had nearly cost Clint’s son his life.


Tears slipped past her clenched eyes.


“Oh, honey.” Dad gathered her back into his arms. “No one blames you, Hanna. No one. You need to let the past go. Everyone is safe now. All the Rollins clan. Even Conor.”


So Sara’s baby was still alive. Just like Steven’s and Clint’s messages had said. Relief rushed through her, causing her knees to wobble. But other guilt arrows pierced her heart. All the lies she’d told Steven and Michael. Dad too. Clint’s son wasn’t the only reason she’d fled Alexandria.


“You’ll be there for Susannah’s party, right?” His hopeful blue eyes begged.


She pulled out of his arms and walked back into the house. Dad followed. “I…I need a Kleenex.” Searching through the oak cabinets in the kitchen didn’t produce any tissues. So she grabbed a paper towel from the counter. “What brings you in town? During our phone calls last week, you never mentioned coming home.”


“If I had, would you have been here?”


Ouch. “Yes, Daddy.” Another lie. “So are you here to check on the Mall St. Matthews coffee shop? I’ve been working there every day, just like you arranged. It’s going well.” And she was babbling.

“I’m here to meet with some old friends on Friday and talk about upcoming business opportunities.”

Old friends. The memories rushing in unbidden surfaced more tears. And more cracks in the wall of secrecy. She needed to get out of the house, out of the neighborhood. Now. Maybe then she could exhibit some self-control.


“Why don’t we grab a late lunch at the Cheesecake Factory? After your long drive you’re bound to be hungry, right?” She forced a smile.


“Okay, Hanna-girl.” He wiped away one of her stray tears. “On one condition.”


Please don’t ask about the party, Daddy. Please.


He lifted his bushy graying eyebrows. “Promise you’ll come back to us and take pictures at Susannah’s birthday party next week.”


The very thing she couldn’t do. How would she get out of this without telling more lies or spilling everything? She had to avoid that. Maybe one last fib would get her though the weekend with Dad.

Then she could find somewhere else to run.



Excerpted from Enduring Justice by Amy Wallace. Copyright© 2009 by Amy Nicole Wallace. Excerpted by permission of Multnomah Books, a division of Random House, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.


http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/1601420145

http://www.amywallace.com/ej_chapter.html First Two Chapters of Enduring Justice

http://www.amywallace.com/Newsletter.html Dark Chocolate Suspense Newsletter

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Happy Birthday, Shakespeare!

William Shakespeare influenced the language we speak far more than most realize. Here's a listing of things you've heard and spoken, perhaps without realizing that Shakespeare penned it first. A few from that list:

The course of true love never did run smooth
Off with his head!
The green-eyed monster
A blinking idiot
A dish fit for the gods
A pound of flesh
A sorry sight
A spotless reputation
A tower of strength
Good riddance
Too much of a good thing
What the dickens

Gardenias for Breakfast by Robin Jones Gunn

A Women of Faith Novel
"Everybody has a story. You listen to that story, Honeygirl, and your story will come find you."

Her Grand Lady spoke these words when Abby was just a girl, spending the summer in rural Louisiana, surrounded by an extended, loving family. She's been listening carefully ever since.

Now Abby is raising her own family thousands of miles away. And even though Hawaii might seem like paradise to some, it's a long way away from those idyllic days she remembers, sitting with her grandmother, learning about the beauty and mystery of life. So Abby has just one wish: that her daughter Hannah might be touched by the beauty of her 92-year-old Grand Lady's stories, before it's too late.

But when Hannah finally does spend time with Grand Lady, the old woman crushes her tender spirit. And a mother-daughter journey home becomes an adventure of discovery-about the importance of family and the healing found in forgiveness. Mothers and daughters may recognize a branch or two from their own family trees and find themselves wishing not only for Grand Lady's guidance but also for Hannah's ability to smell the clouds.

My Review:
What a gem! I thoroughly enjoyed this book about mother/daughter relationships. The author knows how to write; no wonder it's a Women of Faith Fiction Book. I plan to share it with the women in my family.

The plot centers around Abby and her daughter Hannah who travel thousands of miles together from their home in Hawaii to reach the Louisiana, home of the Grand Lady, Abby's much-loved grandmother. They fly to Washington and begin their road trip. As they drive through Washington, Oregon, California, Texas and into Louisiana, they experience a deeper bond and learn about the healing of forgiveness. I enjoyed the descriptions of the places they visited along the way.

I learned a some things about Hawaii reading this novel. Hawaiian "da' kine" means the same as "whatchmacallit" and leis mean more than just "welcome." The "da' kine" that mothers and daughters experience will be enhanced by the reading of this wonderful novel. I admit that I shed some tears at the end. Discussion questions are included.

If you would like to read an excerpt, click here.

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Unquiet Bones by Mel Starr

The First Chronicle of Hugh de Singleton, Surgeon

Hugh of Singleton, fourth son of a minor knight, has been educated as a clerk, usually a prelude to taking holy orders. However, feeling no certain calling despite a lively faith, he turns to the profession of surgeon, training in Paris and then hanging out his sign in Oxford.

A local lord asks him to track the killer of a young woman whose bones have been found in the castle cess pit. She is identified as the impetuous missing daughter of a local blacksmith, and her young man, whom she had provoked very publicly, is in due course arrested and sentenced at the Oxford assizes.

From there the tale unfolds, with graphic medical procedures, droll medieval wit, misdirection, ambition, romantic distractions and a consistent underlying Christian compassion.

My Review:
Oh, how I loved going back to medieval England to read about life and love at that time! Written in the first person narrative of the protagonist, Hugh of Singleton, who consults with John Wyclif before deciding to study medicine. After completing his education, he hangs out his shingle to practice surgery and meets with success when he treats Lord Gilbert who gratefully sets Hugh up in practice at Bampton, where Lord Gilbert resides in his castle. When bones are found in the castle grounds, Hugh is chosen to become a private detective, and he roams the countryside with his investigation. The character, written in depth, is quite believable.

The author does a fine job of researching life in the middle ages and the practice of medicine during this time of the plague.  There's a bit of romance, some interesting surgeries, and even a troupe of actors who perform.

An extensive glossary makes the novel easy to read. All in all, this is a delightful book. I look forward to the next in the series, and I recommend this to one and all!

And now, the first chapter:

Uctred thought he had discovered pig bones. He did not know or care why they were in the

cesspit at the base of Bampton Castle wall.

Then he found the skull. Uctred is a villein, bound to the land of Lord Gilbert, third Baron Talbot, lord of Bampton Castle, and had slaughtered many pigs. He knew the difference between human and pig skulls.

Lord Gilbert called for me to inspect the bones. All knew whose bones they must be. Only two men had recently gone missing in Bampton. These must be the bones of one of them.

Sir Robert Mallory had been the intended suitor of Lord Gilbert's beautious sister, Lady Joan. Shortly after Easter he and his squire called at the castle, having, it was said, business with Lord Gilbert. What business this was I know not, but suspect a dowry was part of the conversation. Two days later he and his squire rode out the castle gate to the road north toward Burford. The porter saw him go. No one saw him or his squire after. He never arrived at his father’s manor at Northleech. How he arrived, dead, unseen, back within--or nearly within--the walls of Bampton Castle no one could say. Foul play seemed likely.

I was called to the castle because of my profession; surgeon. Had I known when I chose such work that cleaning filth from bones might be part of my duties I might have continued the original calling chosen for me: clerk.

I am Hugh of Singleton, fourth and last son of a minor knight from the county of Lancashire. The manor of Little Singleton is aptly named; it is small. My father held the manor in fief from Robert de Sandford. It was a pleasant place to grow up. Flat as a table, with a wandering,

sluggish tidal stream, the Wyre, pushing through it on its journey from the hills, just visible ten miles to the east, to the sea, an equal distance to the northwest.

As youngest son, the holding would play no part in my future. My oldest brother, Roger, would receive the manor, such as it was. I remember when I was but a tiny lad overhearing him discuss with my father a choice of brides who might bring with them a dowry which would enlarge his lands. In this they were moderately successful. Maud’s dowry doubled my brother’s holdings. After three children Roger doubled the size of his bed, as well. Maud was never a frail girl. Each heir she produced added to her bulk. This seemed not to trouble Roger. Heirs are important.

Our village priest, Father Aymer, taught the manor school. When I was nine years old, the year the great death first appeared, he spoke to my father and my future was decided.

I showed a scholar’s aptitude, so it would be the university for me. At age fourteen I was sent off to Oxford to become a clerk, and, who knows, perhaps eventually a lawyer or a priest. This was poor timing, for in my second year at the university a fellow student became enraged at the watered beer he was served in a High Street tavern and with some cohorts destroyed the place. The proprietor sought assistance, and the melee became a wild brawl known ever after as the St. Scholastica Day Riot. Near a hundred scholars and townsmen died before the sheriff restored the peace. When I dared emerge from my lodgings I fled to Lancashire and did not return until Michealmas term.

I might instead have inherited Little Singleton had the Black Death been any worse.

Roger and one of his sons perished in 1349, but two days apart, in the week before St. Peter’s Day. Then, at the Feast of St. Mary my third brother died within a day of falling ill. Father Aymer said an imbalance of the four humors; air, earth, fire, and water, caused the sickness. Most priests, and indeed the laymen as well, thought this imbalance due to God’s wrath. Certainly men gave Him reason enough to be angry.

Most physicians ascribed the imbalance to the air. Father Aymer recommended burning wet wood to make smoky fires, ringing the church bell at regular intervals, and the wearing of a bag of spices around the neck to perfume the air. I was but a child, however it seemed to me even then that these precautions were not successful. Father Aymer, who did not shirk his duties as did some scoundrel priests, died a week after administering extreme unction to my brother Henry. I watched from the door, a respectful distance from my brother’s bed. I can see in my memory Father Aymer bending over my wheezing, dying brother, his spice bag swinging out from his body as he chanted the phrases of the sacrament.

So my nephew and his mother inherited little Singleton and I made my way to Oxford. I found the course of study mildly interesting. Father Aymer had taught me Latin and some Greek, so it was no struggle to advance my skills in these languages.

I completed the trivium and quadrivium in the allotted six years, but chose not to take holy orders after the award of my bachelor’s degree. I had no desire to remain a bachelor, although I had no particular lady in mind with whom I might terminate my solitary condition.

I desired to continue my studies. Perhaps, I thought, I shall study law, move to

London, and advise kings. The number of kingly advisors who ended their lives in prison or at the block should have dissuaded me of this conceit. But the young are seldom deterred from following foolish ideas.

You see how little I esteemed life as a vicar in some lonely village, or even the life of a rector with livings to support me. This is not because I did not wish to serve God. My desire in that regard, I think, was greater than many who took a vocation; serving the church while they served themselves.

In 1361, while I completed a Master of Arts degree, plague struck again. Oxford, as before, was hard hit. The colleges were much reduced. I lost many friends, but once again God chose to spare me. I have prayed many times since that I might live so as to make Him pleased that He did so.

I lived in a room on St. Michael’s Street, with three other students. One fled the town at the first hint the disease had returned. Two others perished. I could do nothing to help them, but tried to make them comfortable. No; when a man is covered from neck to groin in bursting pustules he cannot be made comfortable. I brought water to them, and put cool cloths on their fevered foreheads, and waited with them for death.

William of Garstang had been a friend since he enrolled in Balliol College five years earlier. We came from villages but ten miles apart -- although his was much larger; it held a weekly market -- but we did not meet until we became students together. An hour before he died William beckoned me to approach his bed. I dared not remain close, but heard his rasping whisper as he willed to me his possessions. Among his meager goods were three books.

God works in mysterious ways. Between terms, in August of 1361, He chose to do three things which would forever alter my life. First, I read one of William’s books: SURGERY, by Henry de Mondeville, and learned of the amazing intricacies of the human body. I read all day, and late into the night, until my supply of candles was gone. When I finished, I read the book again, and bought more candles.

Secondly, I fell in love. I did not know her name, or her home. But one glance told me she was a lady of rank and beyond my station. The heart, however, does not deal in social convention.

I had laid down de Mondeville’s book long enough to seek a meal. I saw her as I left the inn. She rode a gray palfrey with easy grace. A man I assumed to be her husband escorted her. Another woman, also quite handsome, rode with them, but I noticed little about her. A half-dozen grooms rode behind this trio: their tunics of blue and black might have identified the lady’s family, but I paid little attention to them, either.

Had I rank enough to someday receive a bishopric I might choose a mistress and disregard vows of chastity. Many who choose a vocation do. Secular priests in lower orders must be more circumspect, but even many of these keep women. This is not usually held against them, so long as they are loyal to the woman who lives with them and bears their children. But I found the thought of violating a vow as repugnant as a solitary life, wedded only to the church. And the Church is already the bride of Christ and needs no other spouse.

She wore a deep red cotehardie -- the vision on the gray mare. Because it was warm she needed no cloak or mantle. She wore a simple white hood, turned back, so that

chestnut-colored hair visibly framed a flawless face. Beautiful women had smitten me before. It was a regular occurrence. But not like this. Of course, that’s what I said the last time, also.

I followed the trio and their grooms at a discreet distance, hoping they might halt before some house. I was disappointed. The party rode on to Oxpens Road, crossed the Castle Mill Stream, and disappeared to the west as I stood watching, quite lost, from the bridge. Why should I have been lovelorn over a lady who seemed to be another man’s wife? Who can know? I cannot. It seems foolish when I look back to the day. It did not seem so at the time.

I put the lady out of my mind. No; I lie. A beautiful woman is as impossible to put out of mind as a corn on one’s toe. And just as disquieting. I did try, however.

I returned to de Mondeville’s book and completed a third journey through its pages. I was confused, but t’was not de Mondeville’s writing which caused my perplexity. The profession I thought lay before me no longer appealed. Providing advice to princes seemed unattractive. Healing men’s broken and damaged bodies now occupied near all my waking thoughts.

I feared a leap into the unknown. Oxford was full to bursting with scholars and lawyers and clerks. No surprises awaited one who chose to join them. And the town was home also to many physicians, who thought themselves far above the barbers who usually performed the stitching of wounds and phlebotomies when such services were needed. Even a physician’s work, with salves and potions, was familiar. But the pages of de Mondeville’s book told me how little I knew of surgery, and how much I must learn should I chose such a vocation. I needed advice.

There is, I think, no wiser man in Oxford than Master John Wyclif. There are men who hold different opinions, of course. Often these are scholars Master John has bested in disputation. Tact is not one among his many virtues, but care for his students is. I sought him out for advice and found him in his chamber at Balliol College, bent over a book. I was loath to disturb him, but he received me warmly when he saw t’was me who rapped upon his door.

“Hugh . . . come in. You look well. Come and sit.”

He motioned to a bench, and resumed his own seat as I perched on the offered bench. The scholar peered silently at me, awaiting announcement of the reason for my visit.

“I seek advice,” I began. “I had it in mind to study law, as many here do, but a new career entices me.”

“Law is safe . . . for most,” Wyclif remarked. “What is this new path which interests you?”

“Surgery. I have a book which tells of old and new knowledge in the treatment of injuries and disease.”

“And from this book alone you would venture on a new vocation?”

“You think it unwise?”

“Not at all. So long as men do injury to themselves or others, surgeons will be needed.”

“Then I should always be employed.”

“Aye,” Wyclif grimaced. “But why seek my counsel? I know little of such matters.”

“I do not seek you for your surgical knowledge, but for aid in thinking through my decision.”

“Have you sought the advice of any other?”

“Nay.”

“Then there is your first mistake.”

“Who else must I seek? Do you know of a man who can advise about a life as a surgeon?”

“Indeed. He can advise on any career. I consulted Him when I decided to seek a degree in theology.”

I fell silent, for I knew of no man so capable as Master John asserted, able to advise in both theology and surgery. Perhaps the fellow did not live in Oxford. Wyclif saw my consternation.

“Do you seek God’s will and direction?”

“Ah . . . I understand. Have I prayed about this matter, you ask? Aye, I have, but God is silent.”

“So you seek me as second best.”

“But . . . t’was you just said our Lord could advise on any career.”

“I jest. Of course I, like any man, am second to our Lord Christ . . . or perhaps third, or fourth.”

“So you will not guide my decision?”

“Did I say that? Why do you wish to become a surgeon? Do you enjoy blood and wounds and hurts?”

“No. I worry that I may not have the stomach for it.”

“Then why?”

“I find the study of man and his hurts and their cures fascinating. And I . . . I wish to help others.”

“You could do so as a priest.”

“Aye. But I lack the boldness to deal with another man’s eternal soul.”

“You would risk a man’s body, but not his soul?”

“The body cannot last long, regardless of what a surgeon or physician may do, but a man’s soul may rise to heaven or be doomed to hell . . . forever.”

“And a priest may influence the direction, for good or ill,” Wyclif completed my thought.

“Just so. The responsibility is too great for me.”

“Would that all priests thought as you,” Wyclif muttered. “But lopping off an arm destroyed in battle would not trouble you?”

“T’is but flesh, not an everlasting soul.”

“You speak true, Hugh. And there is much merit in helping ease men’s lives. Our Lord Christ worked many miracles, did he not, to grant men relief from their afflictions. Should you do the same you would be following in his path.”

“I had not considered that,” I admitted.

“Then consider it now. And should you become a surgeon keep our Lord as your model and your work will prosper.”

And so God’s third wonder; a profession. I would go to Paris to study. My income from the manor at Little Singleton was L6, 15 shillings each year, to be awarded so long as I was a student, and to terminate after eight years.

My purse would permit one year in Paris. I know what you are thinking. But I did not spend my resources on riotous living. Paris is an expensive city. I learned much there. I watched, and then participated in dissections. I learned phlebotomy, suturing, cautery, the removal of arrows, the setting of broken bones, and the treatment of scrofulous sores. I learned how to extract a tooth and remove a tumor. I learned trepanning to relieve a headache, and how to lance a fistula. I learned which herbs might staunch bleeding, or dull pain, or cleanse a wound. I spent both time and money as wisely as I knew how, learning the skills which I hoped would one day earn me a living.

If you would like to buy a book, click below.

Isn't It Lovely?

Bella at Bella Reads has kindly presented me with the Lovely Blog Award.


There are the usual rules that go with most awards. I'm to pass it along to 15 Bloggy friends or acquaintances. (Bella gave it to 20!)

However, I'm a rebel and tired. Now that's a wicked combination! So I'll offer this lovely award to anyone who would like to have it and leaves me a comment saying so. I'm justified in doing this as I consider those who leave comments quite lovely indeed!

❤  ♡  ❤  ♡  ❤
Speaking of coments, Robin of My Two Blessings gave me the You Don’t Say? award “to recognize some special bloggers whose comments have made such an impact on me.” The You Don’t Say? award is given to special bloggers in hopes that they will pass the award along to 5-10 of their best commenters! Robin has a gizmo that figured out exactly how many comments I had left on her blog. 
I don't have that gizmo, and I don't know how many comments you have left, so once again, I'll share the lazy way. If you would like this award, leave two comments on this blog and take it! Life is to be enjoyed, and if you are gizmo-less, you should be able to take the easy road.

Fatal Illusions by Adam Blumer

Gillian Thayer’s calligraphy business helps to keep her mind off two small headstones in the cemetery. Still healing from the death of her twins during birth, Gillian absorbs another emotional blow when she finds a love letter addressed to her husband Marc, a pastor and counselor. But before Gillian can confront him, a gunshot shatters her already fragile world.

Gillian’s family is forced to leave Chicago to escape the eye of the media. Together they seek refuge in Whistler’s Point, a historic lighthouse on Lake Superior near the tiny town of Newberry, Michigan. But they are not the only new arrivals looking for a place to lay low. Haydon Owens, an amateur magician and accomplished killer, has also come to Newberry hoping to start a new life, but he isn’t there long before he spots another potential victim.



My Review:
From the first page to the last, I loved this Christian suspense novel. I had a doctor's appointment and took the book with me, knowing that I'd have time to read. Picture this: in a waiting room full of patients, with the inevitable television in the background, I gasp aloud! It's that good.

The plot weaves two stories into one fascinating tapestry thriller. One of a pastor in a megachurch, counseling an obsessive woman, who misunderstands Christian love and won't back off from pursuing him. The second story is of an amateur magician who stalks and kills young, blonde, blue-eyed girls who wear wire-rimmed glasses. The talent of the author has the divergent stories neatly converge.

Characters are well rounded and quite believable. At various times, I wanted to shake one and hug another. There is a theme of trust and forgiveness that point the characters (and the reader) toward God.

This is one fabulous book that I highly recommend. Reader's Group Guide included.

And now, the first chapter:

Prologue

As dusk settled over the suburban Cincinnati neighborhood, the sodium-vapor lights along the quiet street blinked and came to life on cue. They chased the shadows from the grade school parking lot, now littered with dried leaves that scraped across the pavement and swirled in their seasonal dance of joy.

Across the way, a man in a jet-black jogging suit eased behind a tree and checked his watch as the chilly breeze tousled his hair. He breathed deeply, noting the intoxicating aroma of burning leaves, and impatiently studied the faces of the pedestrians now strolling toward the school auditorium. Anxious children tugged at reluctant parents, their excitement barely contained.

“Yes, yes,” he overheard a woman tell a child. “We’ll get there in plenty of time. No need to rush.”

He smiled. He had been that overzealous child once, but that was a long time ago. He’d grown up, things had changed, and not every change had been welcome.

His smile faded as he continued to search for a certain bespectacled face. He’d been watching her for weeks and knew everything about her: when she got up in the morning, when she went to bed, where she went each day, how she spent her time. He even knew she was failing English for the second time, even after her teacher had given her a two-week extension on her term paper. Going through her trash, he’d discovered her addiction to Snickers bars, her affection for Ruffles potato chips and cream soda, and her preference for Pantene shampoo, which added luster to the blond hair she wore long and wavy.

A familiar red nylon jacket caught his eye, and he sucked in his breath. Concealing himself further behind the tree, he waited for her to pass.

Hmm. She was so close. He could have reached out, could have touched her hair. But he steadied his breathing and let the moment pass, deciding that reason must win the battle with emotion. There were simply too many people around who might see him and remember his face. He watched as she strolled into the school with her two charges in tow, carefree and unsuspecting.

Just the way he wanted her.

He took another deep breath, surprised by how calm he felt tonight. He knew what he needed to do and realized he had the resolve to execute his plan. Now all he needed was the opportunity, but waiting had never been easy for him. He could hear his mother’s chiding words strumming across the strings of his memory.

You’re so impatient, Donny. So restless. Don’t you know that good things come to those who wait?

Time to get inside.

***

Someone was watching her. For weeks, she’d felt unseen eyes following her every move. Evaluating. Judging. But when she would whirl around, no one was ever there—just brittle leaves scudding across the empty sidewalks.

“C’mon, you two. Hurry up.”

Clutching their hands with icy fingers, Erin yanked Daphne and Thomas along to match her stride. It was bad enough that she was stuck taking care of these first-grade brats on a Friday night. Worse, the evening’s entertainment promised to be a childish, elementary school musical, and she had better things to do with her time.

She’d been planning to give Sheryl a cut and dye job tonight. Her hairdressing service brought in more money than babysitting, but her mom had said she owed the Spensers a favor.

Yeah, whatever.

Erin wished for her father right now. Divorced from her mom and recently remarried, he had moved three states away, leaving them with the mortgage and a barely enough paycheck from her mom’s job as a nighttime gas station attendant. Her mom had said he was a no-good lowlife, that they were better off without him, but Erin wasn’t so sure. She had fond memories of her dad taking her ice-skating, just the two of them. He had shown her the spins he’d mastered as a young man, when he had almost qualified for the Olympics.

Almost. Dreams are never easy, he’d told her. You have to work hard and never, ever give up.

One more year and she would graduate from high school. Maybe then she could free herself from her mother’s stranglehold and open the beautician’s shop she’d always wanted.

The lights of Bridgetown Elementary glimmered against the darkening sky, the crisp wind swirling the leaves at her feet. She wished she’d worn her jean jacket instead of the thin, red windbreaker. She pushed her wire rim glasses up on her nose and glanced at her watch, realizing that in her reverie she’d slowed her stride.

“C’mon, we’re going to be late if you two don’t hurry,” she said.

“Slow down!” Daphne cried. “We can’t keep up.”

Erin peered down into Daphne’s frustrated hazel eyes. “Look, I’ll let you wear my watch if you’ll get a move on.”

Daphne squealed. “Cool!”

Though they were five minutes late, the program hadn’t yet started. But Erin realized that they should have come much earlier if they’d wanted to get a good seat. The place was packed, and she didn’t see an open row anywhere.

Biting her lip, she spied a friend coming down the aisle toward her. Laurie was a stagehand—and, as it happened, she was also the solution to their problem. She had been saving seats for her mother and sisters, but they’d all been waylaid by food poisoning or something, and wouldn’t be coming.

Three seats. Right in front. Perfect.

Erin couldn’t help smiling smugly as Laurie escorted them to the front row like celebrities at the Academy Awards, minus the red carpet pre-show, of course. She felt the indignant glares drilling into her back from those who had arrived a half hour early to get their seats. She felt a rush of pleasure at the realization that she was the cause of their indignation.

Let them sulk. Sometimes good things happen when you least expect it.

Her mind replayed a similar thrill she’d felt just a month ago, when she’d been summoned to give testimony in a big court case downtown.

***

She’d done up her hair special, dry-cleaned her special navy twin set, and worn her new high-heeled shoes, which made her short, lithe figure seem several inches taller. Approaching the stand, she had, for once in her life, felt important; felt as if every eye in the room was glued to her, mesmerized by this long-haired, blonde goddess with the porcelain skin and sapphire blue eyes. She hadn’t realized until later how important her testimony had been.

“And you saw the defendants enter Margaret Stowe’s house?” Stan Loomis, the prosecuting attorney, had asked.

“That’s right.”

“And you’re sure it was Walter and Virginia Owens. You’re positive?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Remember, Miss Walker, you are under oath. You saw their faces?”

She had bitten her lip as she tried to remember.

She had just finished house-sitting for Mrs. Stowe, as another way to make some extra money. The old lady was loaded. She had said good night to Mrs. Stowe and had walked off, feeling giddy at the sizable check. Almost to her car, she’d dropped her keys and bent to pick them up. Hearing voices, she’d glanced back and had seen two people walking up the sidewalk to Mrs. Stowe’s front door.

A man and a woman, wearing long, dark overcoats. They had looked wealthy. The man had placed his black-gloved hand at the middle of the woman’s back.

“You don’t think she’ll mind?” the woman had asked, a musical quality to her husky voice. “It’s late.”

“You’re right. It is late. Too late.” The man’s voice had sounded rough, like a smoker’s. “She can’t turn us away now.”

Standing beside her car, Erin had watched as the man knocked. When the door opened, a band of light had slashed across their faces for an instant before they disappeared inside.

Staring unflinchingly at Stan Loomis, she had said, “Yes, it was them. I’m sure of it.” She’d pushed away the fact that the encounter at Mrs. Stowe’s house had occurred the week before she’d gotten her new glasses.

“For the benefit of the jury, would you please point out who you saw?”

Her hand had trembled as she pointed to the pale-faced Owenses, who sulked beside their defense attorney. They didn’t flinch. They didn’t move. But their eyes—they hated her. They wanted her dead. Ever since, those eyes had stared back at her in her dreams.

Those dark, hateful eyes.

If you would like to buy a copy, click below.

Giveaway! The Voice by Bill Myers

Charlie Madison is a burned out Special Forces Agent and his world is about to be turned upside down. When his 13-year-old niece barges into his reclusive life, Charlie must come out of retirement to rescue her parents and a computer Program that has recorded the actual Voice of God--the implications of which have shaken the world's religions to their core. 

Together, with the help of the attractive and mysterious Lisa Harmon, Charlie and his niece circle the globe, tracking down the religious radicals who have kidnapped his sister and brother-in-law. But, there is far more at stake than the safety of the parents or even religion. 

If the Voice of God created reality, It can destroy it. If controlled, It would become a weapon of mass destruction making all others obsolete. Soon the trio not only fights against various religious powers, but major governments as well . . . until the Program is discovered and played back with unimaginable results.

My Review:
This Christian science fiction is not written for the squeamish; rather, it's for those who love action-packed novels that read like action-packed movies. There are plenty of shots fired, explosions, people tortured, fist fights, and car chases. In fact, it begins at such an eye-blinking speed that this reader had a tough time hanging on.

Imagine God's voice print captured in molten rocks. What do the various religions and world powers do to possess the mathematical formula/technological program that will release it from those rocks? Talk about a weapon of mass destruction! Whatever you believe or don't believe, this premise will get you thinking.

Characters are believable from the eye-rolling Jazmin and her Uncle Charlie, a former Special Operations agent to Lisa, a FBI agent who refuses to go along with the flow. The author personifies Charlie's pent-up anger quite well. The setting moves from California to Switzerland to Egypt.

If you appreciate a fast-paced thriller, this one's for you.

If you would like to buy a copy, click below.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The generous folks at Hachette Book Group are allowing me to host this book giveaway for five (5) copies!

• Winners are restricted to the US and Canada. No PO Box mailing addresses, please.
• Leave your email address in code in your comment (Please do not ask me to look it up!)
• I'll close the comments at 6 PM EST April 30th and pick the five winners. I will contact the winners via email to get their mailing information. The winners will have three days to respond. If I do not hear from them within three days, I will select another winner(s).
• If you're interested, just say so in a comment with that all-important email address in code.
  Example of email in code: you[at]yourmail[dot]com
  
  

Wondrous Words Wednesday

Wondrous Words Wednesday is a weekly meme where readers share new (to us) words encountered in our reading.

Feel free to join by posting your new words, and then leaving a comment for Kathy with your link at Bermuda Onion.

The object is to increase our vocabulary while having a bit of fun. Here are new words that I’ve discovered while reading this week;

miasma - "A dusty miasma assaulted her nostrils as she pulled the door open, and she faced a darkness as impenetrable as granite" (367). Fatal Illusions, a fantastic first novel by Adam Blummer.

miasma - a dangerous, foreboding, or deathlike influence or atmosphere.

♈ ♈ ♈

The following words are from The Unquiet Bones, an enjoyable medieval English mystery by Melvin R. Starr. Even with an extensive five page glossary, these nine words stumped me, and I had to look them up!

coney - "John had sent the two girls from the castle to clean the dusty place,and I found a coney pie still warm on the table" (39).

coney - any of various burrowing animals of the family Leporidae having long ears and short tails; some domesticated and raised for pets or food



osseous - "But my expertise in osseous materials seemed hardly necessary" (40).

osseous - Composed of, containing, or resembling bone; bony.



dags - "The long sleeves were cut in dags, ornamented with a trim of yellow velvet, and emgroidered with gold thread" (78).

dags - A hanging end or shred.



fecundity - "The youth spoke of his reasons for desiring Margaret for a wife, among which were her health, her likely fecundity, her reputation for hard work won at her father's forge, an even her appearance" (88).

fecundity - The quality or power of producing abundantly; fruitfulness or fertility.



surfeit - "I gave him three farthings, which did not cause him a surfeit of joy" (122).

surfeit - excess; an excessive amount:



imprecations - "He will kick and struggle while students shout imprecations at him" (158).

imprecations - A curse



parsimonious - "Not so, Lord Gilbert, who, as I have related, could be parsimonious" (196).

parsimonious - frugal or stingy.



trencher - "I sat before the trencher assigned to me, and washed my when servants brought pitcher and towel" (196).

trencher - a rectangular or circular flat piece of wood on which meat, or other food, is served or carved.



destrier - "The horse was large and strong, a destrier worth 40 or more" (209)

destrier - a war-horse; charger.

Deadlock (A John Hutchinson Novel) by Robert Liparulo

Hutch's survival skills and ingenuity saved him once in the deep woods. Can they save him this time in the city?

John Hutchinson thinks it's no coincidence that Brendan Page runs this modern Praetorian Guard, and that the billionaire military industrialist must have had something to do with the atrocities his son Declan committed in Canada. The Canadian and U.S. Justice departments disagree, but Hutch has been digging for dirt ever since.

When Hutch discovers the secret of Page's success, Page decides to teach him a lesson. But the operation goes terribly wrong, and Hutch's son is kidnapped. While a lone man stands little chance against the best black op soldiers ever issued M-16s, Hutch manages to survive longer than Page anticipated.

As far as Hutch is concerned, high-tech helmets, machine guns, and hand grenades are nothing compared to a man determined to save his son. It's a lesson he sets out to teach Page, and one that he can only hope works as well in the real world as it does in his heart.

My Review:
Video games, virtual reality, and tactical simulations are on steroids in this science fiction novel. Reality blurs with fantasy; lines are obscured as young boys train to become assassins. "Are you real?" one confused boy asks a family.

I did not read the first in this series, Deadfall, but the author did such a fine job of writing that I had no difficulty jumping in. Pages were rapidly turning with this compelling novel.

Having once visited Casa Bonita, a huge Denver restaurant, I enjoyed experiencing it again through the author's description. I was reminded of the three-story cliff divers and an artist who drew a caricature of my husband. It's a perfect setting for this story.

This action-packed thriller would make a movie that my husband would love. Do ya hear that Hollywood?

If you would like to read the first chapter, click here.

If you would like to buy a copy, click here.

Happy Easter!

Christ, the Lord, is risen today, Alleluia!
Sons of men and angels say, Alleluia!
Raise your joys and triumphs high, Alleluia!
Sing, ye heavens, and earth, reply, Alleluia!

I'll Make You an Offer You Can't Refuse: Insider Business Tips from a Former Mob Boss by Michael Franzese

About the Author:
Michael Franzese was one of the mob's biggest earners since Al Capone, and the youngest individual at age 24 on Fortune magazine's "Fifty Biggest Mafia Bosses." Then, after dodging the law for years, Franzese pled guilty, accepted a ten-year prison sentence, and quit the mob.

What secrets can a former mob boss share about how to do legit business? Let's have a sit-down and find out.

 As one of the rare people who quit the mob and lived to tell about it, Franzese has a unique perspective on how business is done. And one thing he noticed was that the way he made millions per week in business inside the mob can be applied to doing business outside the mob (minus the illegal part):

· Mob Rule # 4; Be an Early Riser & Avoid Getting Killed in Your Pajamas

· Mob Rule # 5: Ya Gotta Have a Crew

· Mob Rule # 7: Cook the Pasta, Not the Books

"Anyone who sells the mob short when it comes to its ingenuity, its ability to connect with people from all walks of life, and its substantial profit margins is simply kidding themselves." This book promises a mob's eye view of business that will change the way you see business forever.

My Review:
I thoroughly enjoyed this easy-to-read, up-to-date, nonfiction book, which is chock full of good business advice offered with anecdotes and quotes from Machiavelli, Solomon, as well as mobsters. Humorous Italian references ring true; mafia background information is fascinating to read.

The author compares the Machiavellian philosophy of "the end justifying the means" with Solomon's advice from Proverbs, which he clearly favors. This is no ordinary self-help business book. For instance, Chapter six, "Master the Art of the Sit-Down" gives good business advice about incorporating the mob's art of conducting a sit-down while using Solomon's advice. Any one in business would do well to master this chapter.

At the end of each chapter, the author sums up his major points with a "Get The Message" list.

Innovative idea
This is a NelsonFree book. Once the book is purchased, the owner can download an audio MP3 file and several types of e-book files, including EPub, MobiPocket, and PDF. For more information, click here. I tried it out. I downloaded one chapter at a time. It was quite simple and took less than two minutes. I can see that someone might download a chapter to "read" while driving to work, or download the entire book to "read" while traveling. With this innovative method, readers can read wherever they choose.

If you would like to buy a copy, click below.

Wondrous Words Wednesday

Wondrous Words Wednesday is a weekly meme where readers share new (to us) words encountered in our reading.

Feel free to join by posting your new words, and then leaving a comment for Kathy with your link at Bermuda Onion.

The object is to increase our vocabulary while having a bit of fun.

Here are new words that I’ve discovered this week;

1. portcullis - "The gate here was no retractable barrier, but a massive portcullis set in ancient-looking stone-blockwall running in both directions" (108). Deadlock by Robert Liparulo

portcullis - a grating of iron hung over the gateway of a fortified place and lowered between grooves to prevent passage

2. sumptuary - Sumptuary laws can be slippery things, Miss Arlington" (87). A Vote of Confidence by Robin Lee Hatcher

sumptuary - designed to regulate extravagant expenditures or habits especially on moral or religious grounds

The Marriage Turnaround by Mitch Temple

How Thinking Differently About Your Relationship Can Change Everything

What if you were sitting in a room with all sorts of dysfunctional couples, and you were one of them! What would it take to turn your marriage around in a short period of time? Mitch Temple says it would take a change of mind, of heart, and of practice, all of which could be done by two people willing to discard the old myths and put on the new truth.

Mitch has been a family therapist for many years, and is on staff with Focus on the Family, bringing his counseling expertise and humor to the table for you to munch on. Real-life stories and biblical solutions will have the reader uncovering a great marriage behind their long-held myths.

My Review:
Most little girls grow up believing that one day their prince will come riding up on his white horse, and they'll live happily ever after. No one ever told them that someone has to clean up after that horse! Although the "happily ever after" myth is not discussed in this book, many other myths are. The author advises, "Don't try to correct every myth, every invalid thought in one afternoon. Work on one at a time. Take baby steps toward a better marriage."

This is a lighthearted look at a serious subject by an expert in the field. In a straight-forward manner, the author points out fallacies of harmful myths and offers solutions from real life anecdotes. Some of the twelve chapters have checklists. I wish that I had the opportunity to have a tool like this fifty years ago when I first said, "I do." Even so, I see the worth in it now.

This would make a lovely shower gift for an engaged couple. It would be a good book for any married couple to study together. However, it can be helpful if read by one person who would like to improve relationships.

And now, the first chapter:

The Myths That Can

Make You Miserable


“The grass is greener on the other side . . .

until you get over there and realize it’s artificial turf.”


My favorite show on the Discovery Channel, MythBusters, exposes common myths. Each week, the hosts, Adam Savage and Jamie Hyneman, challenge myths by using science to show the audience what’s true . . . and what’s bunk. Sometimes they even blow things up as part of their experimentation. What more can a guy ask for?

Myths that couples believe about marriage can be much harder to recognize than those on MythBusters. I’m convinced that marriage myths—false beliefs, unexamined assumptions—can make a couple miserable and mess up any good relationship.

I can’t count the number of good-hearted, well-meaning Christian couples I’ve counseled over the years who’ve left their partner because of their belief that “I should be happy no matter what,” or “I deserve to have an affair because of the way I’ve been treated,” or the classic: “The grass is greener on the other side of the fence.”

Here’s a news bulletin: People on the other side, no matter how appealing they seem, are just as flawed as your spouse.

Maybe, like my wife and me, you strolled into marriage with more than a few crazy ideas about romantic love. Though Rhonda and I have enjoyed twenty-six years of matrimony, our success didn’t come without struggle. We had to face down our own marriage myths soon after we walked the aisle.

I actually thought we would have sex every day, or at least every other day. Isn’t that what every guy thinks? It took less than a week to put that particular myth to rest! One night I showered, shaved, slathered on my best cologne, and slid into bed, when I heard Rhonda practically snoring. Nothing like a little cold water to put my fire out.

Rhonda also brought her fair share of myths into marriage. She assumed, like many women, that I would always be as expressive and affectionate as I was while we were dating. Apparently, it didn’t take me very long to fall short of that mark.

Both of our expectations were based on wrong thinking that brought emotional pain and some intense arguments into our young marriage.

God’s heart breaks when He sees His children buy into myths and act on them. He grieves when He watches friends and family take sides and innocent children become emotionally wounded when they see Mommy and Daddy attack each other. God grieves when He sees the unhappiness, hopelessness, destruction, resentment, division, and financial strain that inevitably come when couples embrace marital myths.

Satan, however, is overjoyed.


The Ultimate Author of Marriage Myths


If you had enough time, a detailed atlas, and some excellent hiking boots, you could trace every mighty river in the world back to its headwaters. Every river, every stream, every brook has its source. It comes from somewhere. It might flow from a deep, spring-fed lake, from a bubbling artesian well, or from some underground river that breaks free and flows down a mountainside.

In the same way, you can follow every lie, every deception, every false teaching, every harmful myth back to its headwaters. In fact, all of these things flow from the same source—Satan himself.

Jesus made that clear when He said of the Devil, “He was a murderer from the beginning, not holding to the truth, for there is no truth in him. When he lies, he speaks his native language, for he is a liar and the father of lies” (John 8:44).

Satan doesn’t just have a casual disregard for the truth, he hates it. He began twisting, bending, and warping the truth of God’s Word from the first words he uttered in the garden of Eden, speaking through a serpent.

If there is truth anywhere, Satan in his hatred will do everything within his power to distort it, dilute it, denounce it, or sprinkle it with just enough falsehood to destroy its intended meaning. Failing these tactics, he will seek to rip truthful words out of their proper context and drop them into a setting where they don’t belong at all.

Every lie that was ever told calls Satan “daddy.” Every false advertising claim, every instance of political double-speak, every used car salesman’s exaggeration, and every “little lie” we utter can ultimately be traced to the one that the Bible calls our enemy and adversary.

The Devil couldn’t care less about how you are hurting or how he hurts your children as he tears your family apart. He will not keep his hands off your home. His goal is to mislead you and stage your home for doom and destruction.

Just as much as God loves unity and teamwork in families, Satan hates it. Satan likes to see marriages struggle, suffer, and fail. He does this through the deception of myths—lies, wrong thinking, false assumptions. He is a master at using myths to convince you that something is right when it’s really wrong and that your spouse is the enemy.

When I finally understood this—that Satan has no positive concern about my family and that he is out to destroy my marriage—it transformed the way I treated Rhonda. I finally understood that I was fighting spiritual battles every day over the holy ground of marriage.


Right Thinking, Right Actions


Since you’re reading this book, it’s probably safe for me to make a few assumptions about you. Either you are about to be married, you’re newly married, or are a marriage veteran. Perhaps you feel anxious about the direction your marriage is headed. Maybe you’re considering walking out because you feel that your marriage is no longer fulfilling—or even that it’s the marriage from hell.

In all of this, perhaps you’ve lost hope.

The good news is that you can hope again. A bad marriage is not like a piece of fruit that goes bad and has to be tossed in the garbage. It’s more like a person with a serious illness who gets some timely help . . . and begins to heal and regain strength. Sick marriages can heal. I’ve seen it happen time after time.

I’ve seen old lies jerked from the soil like long-rooted weeds. I’ve seen truth take root and begin to flower. I’ve seen love return like April sunshine after a long winter. You can call it a reconciliation or a restoration or a rebuilt home.

I always call it a miracle.

My sincere prayer is that this book will cause you to take a closer look at the myths you believe—sometimes without even knowing that you believe them. Your marriage is too valuable to be driven by wrong thinking. You need the truth that will lead you to right feelings and right actions. Jesus said only the truth gives us true freedom (John 8:32). The truth will lead you to serve one another and nurture your mate’s spiritual well-being. Truth will also cause you to fulfill your lifetime commitment to God and to your mate, no matter how hard it gets.

Even seasoned couples who make marriage look effortless admit that they’ve had their fair share of distorted thoughts and feelings. When my wife reflects on our early days together, she reminds me, “Mitch, you were the most naïve man I ever met. You were really messed up, but I married you because I knew you had a good heart.”

I think her marriage to me was a kind of spiritual benevolence—a way to save me from myself. No matter what kind of benevolence I feel it was, I’m glad she became my wife. Gratefully, God has molded our relationship into one of the strongest I know.

In spite of Satan’s best attempts to destroy your marriage, my desire is to help you make it as great as God intended. I want to guide you through a minefield of myths with God’s Word as our source of truth. I want to help you turn your marriage around. Let’s get started.

If you would like to buy a book, click below.