Unbridled Hope by Loree Lough

Book Three in the Lone Star Legends Series

Life is a dream come true for Callie Roberts—until her worst nightmare ruins the fairy tale. A steamboat boiler explosion kills her parents, her older brother, and her beloved fiancé. It also deafens her younger brother and leaves Callie with a scar from cheek to chin, a haunting reminder of the tragedy for which she was partly responsible. To put the past behind her, she settles in Eagle Pass, Texas, and launches a business that takes off.

The same is hardly true for the Neville family, whose nearby Lazy N Ranch is struggling. Micah volunteers to go to Lubbock for fresh seed, but his offer is not without an ulterior motive. A letter he mistakenly intercepted leads him to believe that his cousin Dan is in trouble. And Micah intends to set things right.

It's a shock to everyone when Micah returns with not only the seed but also a baby boy in tow. But he'll do anything to protect Dan's honor, even if it means pretending to be the father. He can handle the gossip and glances just fine, until he meets Callie and learns the meaning of love at first sight. Will the misguided decisions these two have made keep them apart, or can they face the truth about each other–and themselves–and discover a love they never could have imagined?

My Review:
The book sent to me is not the finished novel and is therefore, difficult for me to review. Chunks of the storyline were skipped. Characters are briefly introduced and not heard from again. A mine explosion occurs, and a rescue takes place, all in the space of a few pages, leaving many loose ends.

Thank you to FirstWildCard and Whitaker House for my copy.

And now, the first chapter:

December 1887

On the Brazos River near Sweetwater, Texas

Raw, unrelenting wind whistled across the deck boards, scattering newspapers and rattling the cleats as the steamboat chugged toward its next major stop, Clear Fork. Callie cupped her elbows, wishing she’d thought to grab her shawl. She’d never liked weather like this, for it reminded her too much of the bitter Baltimore winter of ’85 that had nearly killed her mother and had prompted her father’s decision to move the family west. Ever since, Callie had begun every day with a prayer for her mother and ended by asking God to ease the ache of homesickness.

In time, the Lord had answered her first prayer, restoring her mother to robust health. The second He’d granted in the form of a young seminary graduate who’d been hired to entertain guests with the soothing sonatas of Beethoven and Bach. And, just as the sunshine dispels the nippy mists from the river, the music of Seth’s love had turned her longing for Maryland into a dim yet melodious memory.

Tonight, her beloved beau would give his final performance for the tycoons, high rollers, and politicians who gathered nightly in the grand salon. His final because, in twelve short hours, Callie’s father, a chaplain and owner of the Maybelline, would pronounce him and Callie man and wife.

Heart throbbing with hope and excitement, she hurried toward the jackstay, the secret meeting place where Seth had first confessed his love. Her fingers throbbed, too, from sewing fifty-two satin-covered buttons up the back of her full-skirted gown and from attaching a feathered headdress to her long, lacy veil. Callie smiled, knowing the discomfort would vanish the instant she saw Seth smiling at her from the makeshift altar where he would become her husband.

Sadly, the gown would not fit inside her valise. What a pity she wouldn’t be able to save her beautiful dress for the daughters she and Seth might have! She imagined a bright-eyed young woman with her papa’s dark eyes and her mama’s diminutive stature, walking down the center aisle toward her intended in the little church in Eagle Pass, Texas, where Seth’s dream of shepherding a flock of his own would come true, and he would eventually unite his own daughter with her soul mate.

Still, she took comfort in knowing that her hours of hard work had not been in vain. She said a little prayer for the senator’s wife, who’d agreed to pay a handsome sum for the gown and veil—and for Callie’s eternal silence. “Lord, help the poor woman keep secret the fact that her daughter will be married in a used—”

“Talking to yourself again?”

She stifled a tiny squeal. “Jonah Everett Roberts, you frightened me half to death!” How a boy of her brother’s height and weight managed to sneak up on her at least once a day, she’d never know. Raising one eyebrow, she rested a fist on her hip. “Say, what are you doing out here, anyway? Didn’t I hear Papa ask you to sweep out the saloon?”

He frowned. “I’m waiting for the green flash,” he said, taking a bite of an apple.

Not that again, she thought. “Well,” she said on a sigh, “if that’s the cause for the holdup, you’ll never get the job done, because the sun went down more than an hour ago.”

“Humpf. Leave it to little miss stick-in-the-mud to spoil the moment for a boy.”

“Boy, indeed. Papa says when he was sixteen, he worked as hard as any man on the family farm, and that his folks never had to remind him to do his chores.”

Jonah swallowed a mouthful of fruit. “Yeah, and he also says that if I’m patient, I’ll see the green flash, eventually.”

Callie couldn’t count the number of times she’d heard the same assurance. In fact, she’d heard so much about the elusive emerald flare, which was visible only under precise atmospheric conditions as the sun disappeared into the horizon, that she’d wished a time or two for the patience to believe in the phenomenon, herself.

But wishing wouldn’t get her any closer to the jackstay and her darling Seth. “Your tactic might work on Mama and Tim,” she said, giving his shoulder a playful shove, “but I see it for what it is: a ‘clever’ way to shirk your responsibility—”

A thunderous roar set the deck to quaking beneath their feet. Please, Lord, not the boilers! she thought as a second deafening blast threw her and Jonah to the floor. Instinct made her grab his collar and drag him under a heavy table, where she covered their heads with a tablecloth. Shards of glass and splinters of wood rained down as a third explosion rocked the steamer.

Choking smoke closed in around them as flecks of glowing ash floated down like fiery snowflakes. With its shallow keel and inch-thin hull, the Maybelline’s flimsy design assured swift river travel—and guaranteed that it would sink swiftly, too.

If that happened, it would be her fault.

If only she’d stoked the boilers like she was supposed to, instead of handing the job over to Tim! She’d seen the vacant “I don’t understand” stare in her older brother’s eyes enough times to recognize it for what it was, yet she’d ignored it to gain a few minutes more with Seth.

Callie scrambled forward with one objective: to make sure that Tim, her parents, and her beloved Seth had survived.

“Wait!” Jonah hollered.

“You’re safer right here,” she said, meeting his frightened eyes. “I know you’re scared, Jonah. I’m scared, too.” Using a corner of her apron, she dabbed at the blood dribbling from both of his ears. “But you need to stay here, before you’re hurt even worse.” She gave him a little shake. “If the steamer starts taking on water, I want you to make your way to the riverbank. Once you’re there, find the biggest tree and stay put. Do you understand?”

His confused expression mirrored the one that had long seemed frozen to Tim’s face. But their older brother had been slow from the day he was born, unlike Jonah, who could solve arithmetic problems without the aid of slate and chalk. She blamed Jonah’s expression on fear and scrambled to her feet. Why did both her brothers turn to her for comfort and support, when she was younger than both of them?

On the heels of a frustrated sigh, she scooted out from under the table. “Lord, watch over him,” she prayed as she raced along, darting between rivers of blue-orange fire that snaked and coiled across the deck and dodging the witch-finger flames that flared from each cabin window. When a fierce groan sounded from above, she crooked her elbow to protect her eyes and looked up. The breath caught in her throat when she saw the tallest of the three fat smokestacks teeter as it gave way to the gluttonous fire monster gnawing at its wooden moorings.

Callie barely gathered her wits in time to sidestep it. If only she’d thought to gather her skirts, too. The heel of her boot caught on a fold of muslin, slowing her escape by a mere fraction of a second. She was already falling when a grapefruit-sized lump of glowing coal slammed into her right temple.

“Sweet Jesus,” she prayed as dizziness overwhelmed her “Keep…them all…safe.”

For the second time in as many minutes, her prayer was interrupted, as she slipped into the dark unconscious.

Two years later~October 2, 1889

The Lazy N Ranch, Eagle Pass, Texas

The sweet-smelling envelope was addressed to “M. Neville.” At least, that’s what Micah had thought at first glance. But the message inside the envelope didn’t make a lick of sense. So, he studied the addressee a second time, and a third, before realizing that the fanciful M was, instead, a D. Guilt at reading his cousin’s mail was quickly overshadowed by concern at the nature of the message. Dan had already lived two lifetimes’ worth of misery in his twenty-eight years.

Micah shook his head and said a silent prayer for Dan, who’d shouldered a burden of self-blame ever since his twin sister had died tragically at the age of thirteen, even though nobody held him responsible. Guilt and remorse, along with the whiskey used to numb the emotional pain of his loss and the physical torment of a bum leg suffered in a stampede, had managed to turn the once shy, gentle boy into a man hell-bent on self-destruction and prone to angry brawls. About once a year, Dan had summoned the strength to shake his addiction, but, all too soon, self-loathing would lure him back to the bottle. Fourteen months into the latest stint of sobriety, Micah had begun to notice signs that made him fear things were about to take another ugly turn, but then, praise God, Levee O’Reilly had come to town as the new schoolteacher. She’d taught her students reading, writing, and arithmetic, all the while teaching Dan to value his own life.

The two had married, and their relationship seemed solid and strong. But now, something like this? Micah glared at the single sheet of scented ivory paper on which, with a few well-chosen words, the writer had implied a dozen sinister things, any one of which could start the dominos toppling in Dan’s life yet again.

Slumping onto the edge of his bed, Micah read the letter a fourth time. Maybe he’d underestimated his cousin’s ability to stand strong, even in the face of this woman’s spiteful threats. He had a lot more to live for now, though. Maybe this woman wanted to destroy him, once and for all.

Micah would not take that chance. For one thing, Dan had always been his favorite cousin—a statement in itself, since there were dozens in the Neville clan. For another, Dan had protected him more times than Micah could count. As a youngster, he’d been puny and timid and had spoken with a lisp, just the sort of stuff that invited the taunts of the bigger, older boys. But, without fail, Dan would always put a stop to it.

Eventually, Micah’s front teeth had grown together, eliminating the lisp, and his body had grown, too. At six feet three inches, and with two hundred and twenty pounds of raw muscle, Micah’s size alone would have discouraged any bully. But by the time the Neville men had embarked on the trail drive of ’86, Dan’s determination to defend Micah had become so ingrained that he hadn’t thought twice about maneuvering his horse between his cousin and a bevy of gun-blasting rustlers. Dan had laughed off the bullet in his shoulder in exactly the same way he’d laughed off every swollen knuckle, bloodied lip, and black eye endured to protect Micah. “You’ve done me a favor, cousin,” he’d said, gritting his teeth as Cookie dug out the slug, “because certain ladies like a man with scars!”

Had the author of this letter been one of those ladies?

Micah harrumphed. “A female, maybe, but I’d bet my horse she’s no lady.” Scooting closer to the night table, he turned up the lantern and leaned into the golden light to read those ominous closing lines yet again:

…at two o’clock on Friday afternoon, the fifteenth of October, I will be at the train station in San Antonio, Texas. If you choose not to meet me there, I shall have no alternative but to bring this very urgent matter to the attention of the authorities.

Most sincerely yours,

Pauline Eden Devereaux

“Urgent matter”? A dozen possible scenarios flashed in Micah’s brain, none of them good. Under ordinary circumstances, Dan wouldn’t squash a beetle under his boot, but there was nothing ordinary about the way his personality changed once a few pints of whiskey burned in his veins. If he was drinking when he ran into this woman….

Micah got to his feet and started pacing. He didn’t want to believe that Dan was guilty of any offense. The more likely story, he told himself, was that this Pauline character had gotten wind of how many acres made up the Lazy N Ranch and hoped to weasel a few hundred dollars in exchange for her silence about whatever matter she seemed to believe might interest the authorities. And, since the family never discussed their troubles beyond the closed door of Uncle Matthew’s office, she had no way of knowing how steeply their profits had dropped due to anthrax, weevils, droughts, and storms.

There was only one way to know for sure, and that was to take a trip to San Antonio to meet this femme flimflammer face-to-face. He didn’t know what excuse he’d cook up to put himself there, or how he’d squash her scam, but Micah knew this much: he intended to defend Dan for a change.

The Reluctant Detective by Martha Ockley

Faith Morgan Mysteries

Faith Morgan, former policewoman and newly ordained priest in the Church of England, is visiting the village of Little Worthy, Winchester, to look around the parish where she is about to start her ministry. But within an hour of her arrival to the sleepy village she witnesses the sudden shocking death of a fellow priest during a communion service.

One of the first police officers at the scene is Detective Inspector Ben Shorter, Faith's former boyfriend. They had been inseparable until Faith's sense of calling led her to question his drive for convictions, seemingly at any cost.

My Review:
This was a difficult book for me to read. Perhaps it is because the author resides in England and therefore uses terms that caused me to hesitate and translate. For instance, a "bonnet" is not an item worn on the head; rather, it is the trunk of a car. Although this authenticates the work, interruptions like this cause the plot to drag.

I found the characters flat, not at all fleshed out. I could not envision how Faith and Ben ever survived a long-term romance, as they are so dissimilar. I'm not familiar with the Church of England or its vicars, so it surprised me to read about Faith using profanity and drinking hard liquor.

Perhaps it's me. You may find it just the cup of tea for you. Read a chapter and decide for yourself.

Thank you to Bonnie at Christian Fiction Blog Alliance and Monarch Books for my copy.

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

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

Over the Edge by Brandilyn Collins

Torn from the front lines of medical debate and the author's own experience with Lyme Disease, Over the Edge is riveting fiction, full of twists and turns—and powerful truths about today's medical field.

Janessa McNeil’s husband, Dr. Brock McNeil, a researcher and professor at Stanford University's Department of Medicine, specializes in tick-borne diseases—especially Lyme. For years he has insisted that Chronic Lyme Disease doesn't exist. Even as patients across the country are getting sicker, the committee Brock chairs is about to announce its latest findings—which will further seal the door shut for Lyme treatment.

One embittered man sets out to prove Dr. McNeil wrong by giving him a close-up view of the very disease he denies. The man infects Janessa with Lyme, then states his demand: convince her husband to publicly reverse his stand on Lyme—or their young daughter will be next.

But Janessa's marriage is already rocky. She's so sick she can hardly move or think. And her husband denies she has Lyme at all.

Welcome to the Lyme wars, Janessa.

My Review:
If you like learning while reading a gripping suspense story, this book is for you! The characters are well-formed, the plot is a real page-turner, the mystery holds the reader in suspense throughout the novel until the stunning finish, and important lessons are taught.

Through the reading, I learned about a disease I had only before heard about: Lyme. Brandilyn Collins has lived with Lyme disease and knows it first hand. She proves herself an excellent teacher as well as top-notch author. She includes her extensive research, by incorporating it into this engrossing tale. Fittingly, May is Lyme Disease Month.

Folks, be sure to read this one!

Thank you to Bonnie at Christian Fiction Blog Alliance and B&H Books for my copy.

If you would like to read the prologue, click here.

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

Fade to Blue by Julie Carobini

An Otter Bay Novel

Suz Mitchell is the determined dreamer we should all be and won't allow her ex-husband Len's jail sentence to ruin their young son Jeremiah's life. An accomplished artist, she moves with her child across the country to California's central coast and lands a sweet job restoring priceless paintings at the historic Hearst Castle overlooking the ocean.

To her utter surprise, a serious old flame, Seth, is also now working at Hearst and jumbles the dreams inside Suz's heart. While sorting out the awkwardness of their past split and current spiritual differences, a repentant Len shows up eager to restore his family.

Suz must learn to let God be the true restorer of all that once seemed lost.

My Review:
Here is a contemporary Christian fiction about a talented artist struggling to make a new life for herself and her four-year-old son. Suz moves to California after her ex-husband cheats on her, goes to prison, and divorces her. She moves in with her bachelor brother, and regains her ability to enjoy life. As in all good stories, the plot thickens when the creepy ex gains his release and looks her up.

I learned a good bit about Hearst's castle and the business of restoring its valuable art.

However, I easily figured out the inevitable twist at the end of the story. Perhaps because the characters are rather expected; the good ones are totally without flaws. Nevertheless, the plot makes for a nice read.

Discussion questions are included.

Thank you to Bonnie at Christian Fiction Blog Alliance and B&H Books for my copy.

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

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

Betty White: If You Ask Me (And of Course You Won't)

My Review:
Who doesn't love Betty White? Why, I remember watching Life with Elizabeth and The Betty White Show in the 1950s--many years ago! I remember when she and Allen Ludden were together on his Password show. They later married in 1963.

She still prefers to be called Mrs. Ludden--her married name, and she offers the reader many other incites into her interesting life and career. The book is easy to read, with short chapters, and it's loaded with pictures.

The Lightkeeper’s Ball by Colleen Coble

A Mercy Falls Novel

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.

My Review:
Set in California, at the turn of the century, the reader gleans information about the various fears and opinions with the upcoming Halley's Comet, the future of airplanes, and the proper place for a woman.

There are some errors that make the reading bumpy. The protagonist, Olivia Stewart, decides to hide her identity and be known as Lady Devonworth. The framed photograph on Eleanor's dresser of Eleanor and her sister, Olivia, was taken just three months ago, yet no one in the household staff seems to recognize Lady Devonworth. How could this be? Another mistake happens in the cemetery, when Olivia states that she is unaware that Harrison's mother is alive; yet, the day before, she hears Harrison tell Katie that his mother came to watch him fly. Although these might be small items, they do cause this reader to stop, blink, and flip back pages to reason it out.

However, the suspicion of a murder and several attempts on Olivia's life succeed by causing a desire to read on and see what happens next.

Thank you to Audra Jennings at B&B Media Group for my copy.

If you would like to read a bit, click below.

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40: A Novel by Travis Thrasher

Nine months shy of his 40th birthday, freelance music producer Tyler Harrison has started to experience horrific hallucinations. At first, he thinks it's just the stress of his job, but the hallucinations continue until they culminate at the three-day concert in Chicago, Lollapalloza, which he is covering for work. There he is approached by an older man who tells him that he's going to die on his fortieth birthday.

The man claims to be an angel named Matthew, and even though he gives Tyler enough evidence to convince him he's telling the truth, he doesn't know what to do with the information.

Tyler's underlying doubt and confusion about Matthew's prediction turn to anger, both at God and those around him. As he begins to exhibit destructive behavior, he befriends Ellis, an internationally known DJ. Tyler is scared that he really is about to die. He's scared for his sanity. He's scared that if he does die, he's not going to Heaven. He also soon becomes scared of Ellis, who is wild and opens up a door of temptation to Tyler.

As Tyler begins falling in a downward spiral of fear and confusion, he reaches out to a pastor he met, Will, and tries to right his wrongs with some of the important people in his life in a desperate attempt to find peace before his 40th birthday.

My Review:
This is not your grandma's Christian fiction. The protagonist, Tyler Harrison, uses profanity and drinks to excess. In addition, he makes some foolish choices. The plot, set in Chicago and written in a disjointed fashion, demonstrates the confusion of Tyler, a thirty-nine year-old man who is told by an angel that he will die within the following year. He sets out to find out more about this prophecy. That's where confusion reigns.

There are many references to music and today's world that I did not understand. I think that a thirty-something person would get these references much better than I. I must admit, I found myself totally confused, but then, I am a grandma.

Note: contains profanity. Discussion questions included.

Thank you to Sarah Reck at Hachette Book Group for my copy.

Secrets of the Vine for Women by Darlene Marie Wilkinson

Breaking Through to Abundance

Darlene Marie Wilkinson, author of the New York Times bestseller The Prayer of Jabez for Women, explores Jesus' last teachings in John 15 and their special relevance for women.

This thought-provoking book is a valuable feminine approach to the message of her husband's national bestseller Secrets of the Vine. Each woman who understands these secrets to intimately abiding in Jesus will become stronger, more joyful, and more effective than ever-confident that God is actively intervening in her life for her greatest good and His highest glory.

In accordance with her husband’s book, she demonstrates how Jesus is the “vine” of life, discusses four levels of “fruit bearing” (doing the good work of God) and reveals three life-changing truths that will lead readers to new joy and effectiveness in His kingdom.

My Review:
This little book of only six chapters would make a good personal devotional. Because of the extensive Study Guide for each chapter, it could also serve as a source for a group Bible study.

A frame story, set in Tuscany, about a vinedresser instructing his daughter in the art of growing a bumper crop of grapes is the metaphor for this study of John 15. The reader quickly sees that she is the daughter, and God is represented by the father, the vinedresser.

Thank you to Cindy Brovsky at Random House for my copy.

Max On Life by Max Lucado

Answers and Inspiration for Today's Questions

We have questions. Child-like inquiries. And deep, heavy ones.

In more than twenty-five years of writing and ministry, Max Lucado has been the receiving line for thousands of such questions. The questions come in letters, e-mails, even on Dunkin Donuts napkins. In Max on Life he offers thoughtful answers to more than 150 of the most pressing questions on topics ranging from hope to hurt, from home to the hereafter.

Max writes about the role of prayer, the purpose of pain, and the reason for our ultimate hope. He responds to the day-to-day questions—parenting quandaries, financial challenges, difficult relationships—as well as to the profound: Is God really listening?

A special addendum includes Max’s advice on writing and publishing.

Including topical and scriptural indexes and filled with classic Lucado encouragement and insight, Max on Life will quickly become a favorite resource for pastors and ministry leaders as well as new and mature believers.

My Review:
Prolific Max Lucado has done it again! Each page contains an engaging question that the reader might have wondered, along with Lucado's succinct answer. He never wavers; he goes straight to the point, usually with anecdotes and biblical verses that clarify.

There are six major sections:
Help: God, Grace, and "Why am I here?"
Hurt: Conflict, Calamities, and "Why me?"
Help: Prayer, Scripture, and "Why church?"
Him/Her: Sex, Romance, and "Any chance of a second chance?"
Home: Diapers, Disagreements, and "Any hope for prodigals?"
Hereafter: Cemeteries, Heaven, Hell, and "Who goes where?"

This book could be used as a daily devotional or Bible study. However, I prefer reading it slowly, stopping to consider the truths. I highly recommend this book for personal use or as a terrific gift!

Thank you to Thomas Nelson and BookSneeze for my copy. If you'd like to investigate further, click below.

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A Cowboy's Touch by Denise Hunter

A Big Sky Romance

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?

Women of Faith fiction

My Review:
This contemporary romance proved to be an easy read. The plot moves along at a good pace. The characters are well fleshed out, and although the reader can guess who will end up together, the end still holds a small surprise.

One problem I have is with Abigail's walk with Christ. She admits that she hasn't been to church in a long while, or even thought much about the things of God; yet she quotes Bible verses. She doesn't even listen to the sermon when she attends with her aunt for the first time. Strange, I think.

I learned a bit about life on a Montana ranch, the celebrity of a cowboy rodeo star, some of the pressures a columnist faces, as well as the duties of a nanny. I call this novel a relaxing read.

Includes Reading Group Guide.

Thank you to FirstWildCard and Audra from The B&B Media Group for my copy.

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, exposing truth 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.”

Tea for Two by Trish Perry

Tea With Millicent Series #2

Counselor Tina Milano has been visiting Milly’s Tea Shop regularly for the past several months. She has many friends but no steady man in her life. Zack Cooper is a local farmer who provides Milly with fresh fruit and vegetables. As a single parent, Zack is doing his best to raise his teenage son and daughter on his own.

When the kids get in minor scrapes with the law, Milly gently encourages Zack and Tina to work together to draw the teens back before their rebellious natures land them in even hotter water. At first Tina sees the relationship in only a professional capacity, but soon her friends notice the luscious scent of romance in the air and decide to help things along.

Tea for Two is a faith-filled novel that explores the delight of second chances, warm friendship, and unexpected romantic encounters.

My Review:
Millicent's Tea Shop becomes the focal setting of this Christian fiction romance novel. It seems to do a thriving business, with the ever-friendly proprietor, Milly. Although I did not read the first novel in this series, I had no problem feeling right at home.

Characters are nicely fleshed out. Tina, a local counselor, presides over her weekly group, allowing everyone to share their issues. She's so adapt that Milly suggests Tina as a solution for Zack to help him guide his headstrong, motherless teens. The plot becomes complex when Zack's teens "catch" Tina and Zack together and quickly jump to the conclusion that they're a couple.

Tina's gentle advice is good for all readers; I wish we all could have a Tina on hand to talk over our problems. Chapter twelve where Anthony and Tina have a date should be must reading for every guy before he dates!

Discussion questions are included, along with five yummy sounding recipes. This would make a fun book club read!

Thank you to Bonnie at Christian Fiction Blog Alliance and Harvest House Publishers for my copy.

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

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

Giveaway! On Humingbird Wings by Lauraine Snelling

"But Mother is always dying," is Gillian Ormsby's sarcastic response when her younger, favored sister tells her that she has to go take care of their hypochondriac mother. Much against her will, since she and her mother never have gotten along, Gillian arrives in California to find the garden and yard dead, the blinds all drawn, and her mother indeed in bed--waiting to die. But when Gillian talks with the doctor, he assures her there's no medical reason behind her mother's state.

Now on a mission to restore her mother to health, Gillian insists Mother get out of bed, eat, exercise, and hopefully, choose to live. She also sets about reviving the garden to its former glory, enlisting the help of Adam, a handsome man who owns a family gardening business with his father. Gillian is delighted when a pair of hummingbirds appear, and her friendship with Adam grows.

Soon, Mother's health improves, and one day she announces she and her friend Enzio are going on a cruise. Before Gillian has time to turn around, her mother is gone, and she is left high and dry again, and wondering, what is she going to do with the rest of her own life?

My Review:
How nice to read a contemporary work. The protagonist, Gillian, is a successful New York businesswoman. She's climbed her way to the top of the corporate heap, but then, the bottom drops out of her world. Her sister, back home in California, calls for Gillian to come home because their mother is dying. During Gillian's weekend visit, she discovers that her company has been bought out, and she is out of a job! Gillian is left to figure out what she wants to do with the remainder of her life. Stay in California? Return to New York? Change careers?

The author realistically paints the mother/daughter portrait and stress of the two sisters. Each sister thinks that the other is the one that "mother loved best." Each time the sisters communicate, the tension can be cut with a knife. This sure sounds familiar to me!

However, a handsome neighbor sparks romance, causing Gillian's life to become even more complex.

I connected to Gillian as she organizes and thinks through her options. She analyses much the same as me. This is a good read, and comes with a Reading Group Guide.

Thank you to Sarah Reck at FaithWords for my copy.

If you would like to read a bit, click below:

If you would like to buy a copy, click here.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In addition to furnishing me my review copy, Sarah Reck at FaithWords is allowing me to host a book giveaway for two (2) copies of this book!

• The winners are restricted to the US and Canada. No PO Box mailing addresses, please.
• Leave your email address in code in your comment.
  
• I'll close the comments at 6 PM EST May 10th and pick the 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 the winners within three days, I will select another.
• 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

Wolves Among Us by Ginger Garrett

This richly imagined tale takes readers to a tiny German town in the time of “the burnings,” when pious and heretic alike became victims of witch-hunting zealots. When a double murder stirs up festering fears, the village priest sends for help. But the charismatic Inquisitor who answers the call brings a deadly mix of spiritual fervor and self-deceptive evil. Under his influence, village fear, guilt, and suspicion of women take a deadly turn. In the midst of this nightmare, a doubting priest and an unloved wife—a secret friend of the recently martyred William Tyndale—somehow manage to hear another Voice…and discover the power of love over fear.

Dinfoil, Germany, 1538. In a little town on the edge of the Black Forest, a double murder stirs up festering fears. A lonely woman despairs of pleasing her husband and wonders why other women shun her. An overworked sheriff struggles to hold the town—and himself—together. A priest begins to doubt the power of the words he shares daily with his flock. And the charismatic Inquisitor who arrives to help—with a filthy witch in a cage as an object lesson—brings his own mix of lofty ideals and treacherous evil. Under his influence, ordinary village fears and resentments take a deadly turn. Terror mounts. Dark deeds come to light. And men and women alike discover not only what they are capable of, but who they are…and what it means to grapple for grace.

My Review:
Shades of Salem Witch Trials! This historic novel so scared me, that I actually had to put it down and walk away. Of course, I did pick it back up and finish reading it. I am so very thankful that I live in the 21st Century and not the 16th.

I quickly connected to the protagonist, Mia, and her sickly child, Alma. What a heavy load of problems Mia bears. She's married to hard-to-please Bjorn, the stern sheriff and cares for his bedridden mother. Even the ladies of the small village shun her. This gives Mia a very lonely existence. I hurt for her. As the plot unfolds, I feared for her.

An extensive Author's Note section, along with Discussion Questions and Supernatural Housekeeping are all included at the end of the novel.

Thank you to Bonnie at Christian Fiction Blog Alliance and David C. Cook for my copy.

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

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

False Pretenses by Kathy Herman

Secrets of Roux River Bayou

Zoe Broussard loves the life she and her husband Pierce have built in her beloved Louisiana hometown—especially their popular brasserie Zoe B’s, to which folks drive all the way from Lafayette for lunch or dinner. It seems like heaven.

But it’s about to become hell. A series of anonymous notes is making her life a misery—because Zoe has a secret so terrible it could leave the business in shambles and tear her marriage apart. Can she find the courage to face her past?

The first in a new series from Kathy Herman, False Pretenses is a gripping suspense novel that leaves a lasting impression about honesty and accountability

My Review:
This book shouts "Louisiana!" It makes me feel as if I've visited Louisiana. I've experienced the talk, met some residents, and enjoyed the food. What a neat way to travel!

The protagonist, Zoe, is living a lie, and as happens with most lies, they catch up with her. Intertwined is a lynching, a mystery stalker, and the suspicion of a ghost!

A Discussion Guide is included, making this a good book club read.

Thank you to Bonnie at Christian Fiction Blog Alliance and David C. Cook for my copy.

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

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

Vicious Cycle by Terri Blackstock

An Intervention Novel

When fifteen-year-old Lance Covington finds an abandoned baby in the backseat of a car, he knows she's the newborn daughter of a meth addict he's been trying to help. But when police arrest him for kidnapping, Lance is thrust into a criminal world of baby trafficking and drug abuse. His mother, Barbara, looks for help from Kent Harlan-the man whom she secretly, reluctantly loves and who once helped rescue her daughter from a mess of her own.

Kent flies to her aid and begins the impossible work of getting Lance out of trouble, protecting a baby who has no home, and finding help for a teenage mother hiding behind her lies. In this latest novel of suspense and family loyalty, bestselling author Terri Blackstock offers a harrowing look at drug addiction, human trafficking, and the devastating choices that can change lives forever.

My Review:
Whew! I've just finished reading this terrific book, and now I can breathe! (I found that as I flipped the pages, I was actually holding my breath.) The author had me at the first sentence and kept my attention all the way through until the satisfying end.

Written in third person by each of the characters helps make this an easy-to-read thriller. Each character has a voice, and the reader is able to understand his/her thinking process. I feel as if I got inside the minds of meth addicts--not a good place. I certainly learned a good deal about the addiction.

I enjoyed watching the solutions to the various crimes, as well as the romance blooming. Some of the characters realistically struggle with the questions: "Why does God allow this?" and "Does He even know I exist?" Sound biblical answers are given.

Thank you to Bonnie at Christian Fiction Blog Alliance and Zondervan for my copy.

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

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

A Trail of Ink by Mel Starr

The Third Chronicle of Hugh de Singleton, Surgeon

Some valuable books have been stolen from Master John Wyclif, the well known scholar and Bible translator. He calls upon his friend and former pupil, Hugh de Singleton, to investigate. Hugh's investigation leads him to Oxford where he again encounters Kate, the only woman who has tempted him to leave bachelor life behind, but Kate has another serious suitor. As Hugh's pursuit of Kate becomes more successful, mysterious accidents begin to occur. Are these accidents tied to the missing books, or to his pursuit of Kate?

One of the stolen books turns up alongside the drowned body of a poor Oxford scholar. Another accident? Hugh certainly doesn't think so, but it will take all of his surgeon's skills to prove.

So begins another delightful and intriguing tale from the life of Hugh de Singleton, surgeon in the medieval village of Bampton. Masterfully researched by medieval scholar Mel Starr, the setting of the novel can be visited and recognized in modern-day England. Enjoy more of Hugh's dry wit, romantic interests, evolving faith, and dogged determination as he pursues his third case as bailiff of Bampton.

My Review:
I love, love, l❤ve this series! We immediately discover that none other than John Wyclif, friend of the protagonist, Hugh of Singleton, a surgeon and bailiff to Lord Gilbert Talbotx, has had all twenty-two of his books stolen!

The characters, written in depth, are based on some historical facts and are all quite believable. Written in the first person narrative of Hugh, a master sleuth, the dialogue is a delight. The author has researched medieval England extensively and creates a plausible plot.

There's romance for Hugh, some interesting surgeries, and even murder most foul. (Forgive me for stealing Shakespeare's words!) In addition, there's subtle humor. For instance, when describing Sir Roger, a man with bushy eyebrows, the author writes, "On a bright day Sir Roger carries with him his own shade" (200).

Master Hugh solves the puzzle like any good detective. He notes the clues and follows up on his hunches--all the while tending to his duties as the only available surgeon and pursuing the lovely Kate. I like reading about his day-to-day experiences. Quite interesting to me is learning about the practice of medicine and courting during this time.

I read the other two titles in the series: The Unquiet Bones, and The Corpse at St. Andrews Chapel, loved them both and looked forward to reading this third in the series. All are stand alone novels, and you'll have no problem catching on. However, if you've read the other two, you will enjoy picking up where the second novel ends with Hugh seeking to wed.

An glossary and a map of the area are included. All in all, this is a delightful book, and I recommend this to one and all! I look forward to the fourth in the series.

Thank you to FirstWildCard and Noelle Pedersen at Kregel for my copy.

And now, the first chapter:

I had never seen Master John Wyclif so afflicted. He was rarely found at such a loss when in disputation with other masters. He told me later, when I had returned them to him, that it was as onerous to plunder a bachelor scholar’s books as it would be to steal another man’s wife. I had, at the time, no way to assess the accuracy of that opinion, for I had no wife and few books.

But I had come to Oxford on that October day, Monday, the twentieth, in the year of our Lord 1365, to see what progress I might make to remedy my solitary estate. I left my horse at the stable behind the Stag and Hounds and went straightaway to Robert Caxton’s shop, where the stationer’s comely daughter, Kate, helped attract business from the bachelor scholars, masters, clerks, and lawyers who infest Oxford like fleas on a hound.

My pretended reason to visit Caxton’s shop was to purchase a gathering of parchment and a fresh pot of ink. I needed these to conclude my record of the deaths of Alan the beadle and of Henry atte Bridge. Alan’s corpse was found, three days before Good Friday, near to St Andrew’s Chapel, to the east of Bampton. And Henry, who it was who slew Alan, was found in a wood to the north of the town. As bailiff of Bampton Castle it was my business to sort out these murders, which I did, but not before I was attacked on the road returning from Witney and twice clubbed about the head in nocturnal churchyards. Had I known such assaults lay in my future, I might have rejected Lord Gilbert Talbot’s offer to serve as his bailiff at Bampton Castle and remained but Hugh the surgeon, of Oxford High Street.

Kate promised to prepare a fresh pot of ink, which I might have next day, and when she quit the shop to continue her duties in the workroom I spoke to her father. Robert Caxton surely knew the effect Kate had upon young men. He displayed no surprise when I asked leave to court his daughter.

I had feared raised eyebrows at best, and perhaps a refusal. I am but a surgeon and a bailiff. Surgeons own little prestige in Oxford, full of physicians as it is, and few honest men wish to see a daughter wed to a bailiff. There were surely sons of wealthy Oxford burghers, and young masters of the law, set on a path to wealth, who had eyes for the comely Kate. But Caxton nodded agreement when I requested his permission to pay court to his daughter. Perhaps my earlier service to mend his wounded back helped my suit.

I left the stationer’s shop with both joy and apprehension. The joy you will understand, or would had you seen Kate and spent time in her presence. I was apprehensive because next day I must begin a thing for which I had no training and in which I had little experience. While at Balliol College I was too much absorbed in my set books to concern myself with the proper way to impress a lass, and none of those volumes dealt with the subject. Certainly the study of logic avoided the topic. Since then my duties as surgeon and bailiff allowed small opportunity to practice discourse with a maiden. And there are few females of my age and station in Bampton.

I made my way from Caxton’s shop on Holywell Street to Catte Street and thence to the gate of Canterbury Hall, on Schidyard Street. As I walked I composed speeches in my mind with which I might impress Kate Caxton. I had forgotten most of these inventions by next day. This was just as well.

Master John Wyclif, former Master of Balliol College and my teacher there, was newly appointed Warden of Canterbury Hall. Several months earlier, frustrated at my inability to discover who had slain Alan the beadle and Henry atte Bridge, I had called upon Master John to lament my ignorance and seek his wisdom. He provided encouragement, and an empty chamber in the Hall where I might stay the night, safe from the snores and vermin at the Stag and Hounds.

When I left him those months earlier he enjoined me to call when I was next in Oxford and tell him of the resolution of these mysteries. At the time of his request I was not sure there ever would be a resolution to the business.

But there was, and so I sought Master John to tell him of it, and seek again his charity and an empty cell for the night. The porter recognized me, and sent me to Master John’s chamber. I expected to find him bent over a book, as was his usual posture when I called. But not so. He opened the door to my knock, recognized me, and blurted, “Master Hugh… they’ve stolen my books.”

The greeting startled me. I peered over the scholar’s shoulder as if I expected to see the miscreants and the plundered volumes. I saw Master John’s table, and a cupboard where his books were kept. Both were bare. He turned to follow my gaze.

“Gone,” he whispered. “All of them.”

“Who?” I asked stupidly. Had Master John known that, he would have set after the thieves and recovered the books. Or sent the sheriff to do so.

“I know not,” Wyclif replied. “I went to my supper three days past. When I returned the books were gone… even the volume I left open on my table.”

Master John is not a wealthy man. He has the living of Fillingham, and the prebend of Aust, but these provide a thin subsistence for an Oxford master of arts at work on a degree in theology. The loss of books accumulated in a life of study would be a blow to any scholar, rich or poor.

“The porter saw no stranger enter or leave the Hall while we supped,” Wyclif continued. “I went next day to the sheriff, but Sir John has other matters to mind.”

“Sir John?”

“Aye. Roger de Cottesford is replaced. The new high sheriff is Sir John Trillowe.”

“He offered no aid?”

“He sent a sergeant ’round to the stationers in the town, to see did any man come to them with books he offered to sell. Two I borrowed from Nicholas de Redyng. He will grieve to learn they are lost.”

“And the stationers… they have been offered no books?”

“None of mine missing. And Sir John has no interest, I think, in pursuing my loss further.”

The colleges have always wished to rule themselves, free of interference from the town and its government. No doubt the sheriff was minded to allow Canterbury Hall the freedom to apprehend its own thief, without his aid or interference.

“How many?”

“My books? Twenty… and the two borrowed.”

I performed some mental arithmetic. Master John read my thoughts.

“The books I borrowed from Master Nicholas… one was Bede’s Historia Ecclesiastica, worth near thirty shillings. One of mine was of paper, a cheap-set book, but the others were of parchment and well bound.”

“Your loss is great, then. Twenty pounds or more.”

“Aye,” Wyclif sighed. “Four were of my own devising. Some might say they were worth little. But the others… Aristotle, Grossteste, Boethius, all gone.”

Master John sighed again, and gazed about his chamber as if the stolen books were but misplaced, and with closer inspection of dark corners might yet be discovered.

“I am pleased to see you,” Master John continued. “I had thought to send for you.”

“For me?”

“Aye. I have hope that you will seek my stolen books and see them returned to me.”

“Me? Surely the sheriff…”

“Sir John is not interested in any crime for which the solution will not bring him a handsome fine. Rumor is he paid King Edward sixty pounds for the office. He will be about recouping his investment, not seeking stolen books.

“And you are skilled at solving mysteries,” Wyclif continued. “You found who ’twas in Lord Gilbert’s cesspit, and unless I mistake me, you know by now who killed your beadle and the fellow found slain in the forest. Well, do you not?”

“Aye. It was as I thought. Henry atte Bridge, found dead in the wood, slew Alan the beadle. Alan had followed him during the night as Henry took a haunch of venison poached from Lord Gilbert’s forest, to the curate at St Andrew’s Chapel.”

“Venison? To a priest?”

“Aye… a long story.”

“I have nothing but time, and no books with which to fill it. Tell me.”

So I told Master John of the scandal of the betrayed confessional of the priest at St Andrew’s Chapel. And of the blackmail he plotted with Henry atte Bridge – and Henry’s brother, Thomas – of those who confessed to poaching, adultery, and cheating at their business.

“I came to Oxford this day to buy more ink and parchment so I may write of these felonies while details remain fresh in my memory.”

“And what stationer receives your custom?”

“Robert Caxton. It was you who sent me first to Caxton’s shop. You knew I would find more there than books, ink, and parchment.”

“I did? Yes, I remember now telling you of the new stationer, come from Cambridge with his daughter… ah, that is your meaning. I am slow of wit these days. I think of nothing but my books.”

“You did not guess I might be interested in the stationer’s daughter?”

“Nay,” Wyclif grimaced. “I surprise myself for my lack of perception. You are a young man with two good eyes. The stationer’s daughter…”

“Kate,” I said.

“Aye, Kate is a winsome lass.”

“She is. And this day I have gained her father’s permission to seek her as my wife.”

Master John’s doleful expression brightened. The corners of his mouth and eyes lifted into a grin. “I congratulate you, Hugh.”

“Do not be too quick to do so. I must woo and win her, and I fear for my ability.”

“I have no competency in such matters. You are on your own. ’Tis your competency solving puzzles I seek.”

“But I am already employed.”

Master John’s countenance fell. “I had not considered that,” he admitted. “Lord Gilbert requires your service… and pays well for it, I imagine.”

“Aye. I am well able to afford a wife.”

“But could not the town spare you for a week or two, until my books are found? Surely a surgeon… never mind. You see how little I heed other men’s troubles when I meet my own.”

“All men think first of themselves. Why should you be different?” I asked.

“Why? Because my misplaced esteem tells me I must. Do you not wish the same, Hugh? To be unlike the commons? They scratch when and where they itch and belch when and where they will and the letters on a page are as foreign to them as Malta.”

“But… I remember a lecture…”

Wyclif grimaced.

“… when you spoke of all men being the same when standing before God. No gentlemen, no villeins, all sinners.”

“Hah; run through by my own pike. ’Tis true. I recite the same sermon each year, but though we be all sinners, and all equally in need of God’s grace, all sins are not, on earth, equal, as they may be in God’s eyes. Else all punishments would be the same, regardless of the crime.”

“And what would be a fitting penalty for one who stole twenty books?”

Wyclif scowled again. “Twenty-two,” he muttered. “My thoughts change daily,” he continued. “When I first discovered the offense I raged about the Hall threatening the thief with a noose.”

“And now?”

Master John smiled grimly. “I have thought much on that. Was the thief a poor man needing to keep his children from starvation, I might ask no penalty at all, so long as my books be returned. But if the miscreant be another scholar, with means to purchase his own books, I would see him fined heavily and driven from Oxford, and never permitted to study here again, or teach, be he a master.

“Both holy and secular wisdom,” Wyclif mused, “teach that we must not do to another what we find objectionable when done to us. No man should hold a place at Oxford who denies both God and Aristotle.”

“You think an Oxford man has done this?”

Wyclif chewed upon a fingernail, then spoke. “Who else would want my books, or know their worth?”

“That, it seems to me, is the crux of the matter,” I replied. “Some scholar wished to add to his library, or needed money, and saw your books as a way to raise funds.”

As it happened, there was a third reason a man might wish to rob Master John of his books, but that explanation for the theft did not occur to me until later.

“I am lost,” Wyclif sighed. “I am a master with no books, and I see no way to retrieve them.”

I felt guilty that, for all his aid given to me, I could offer no assistance to the scholar. I could but commiserate, cluck my tongue, and sit in his presence with a long face.

The autumn sun set behind the old Oxford Castle keep while we talked. Wyclif was about to speak again when a small bell sounded from across the courtyard.

“Supper,” he explained, and invited me to follow him to the refectory.

Scholars at Canterbury Hall are fed well, but simply. For this supper there were loaves of maslin – wheat and barley – cheese, a pease pottage flavored with bits of pork, and tankards of watered ale. I wondered at the pork, for some of the scholars were Benedictines. Students peered up from under lowered brows as we entered. They all knew of the theft, and, I considered later, suspected each other of complicity in the deed.

A watery autumn sun struggled to rise above the forest and water meadow east of Oxford when I awoke next morning. Wyclif bid me farewell with stooped shoulders and eyes dark from lack of sleep. I wished the scholar well, and expressed my prayer that his books be speedily recovered. Master John believes in prayer, but my promise to petition our Lord Christ on his behalf seemed to bring him small comfort. I think he would rather have my time and effort than my prayers. Or would have both. Prayers may be offered cheaply. They require small effort from men, and much from God. The Lord Christ has told us we may ask of Him what we will, but I suspect He would be pleased to see men set to their work, and call upon Him only when tasks be beyond them.

I thought on this as I walked through the awakening lanes of Oxford to Holywell Street and Robert Caxton’s shop. Was it really my duty to Lord Gilbert which prevented me from seeking Wyclif’s stolen books, or was I too slothful to do aught but pray for their return? I did not like the answer which came to me.

As I approached the stationer’s shop I saw a tall young man standing before it, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. The fellow was no scholar. He wore a deep red cotehardie, cut short to show a good leg. His chauces were parti-colored, grey and black, and his cap ended in a long yellow liripipe coiled stylishly about his head. The color of his cap surprised me. All who visit London know that the whores of that city are required by law to wear yellow caps so respectable maidens and wives be left unmolested on the street. He was shod in fine leather, and the pointed toes of his shoes curled up in ungainly fashion.

The fellow seemed impatient; while I watched he strode purposefully past Caxton’s shop, then reversed his steps and walked past in the opposite direction, toward my approach. I drew closer to the shop, so that at each turn I could see his face more clearly. His countenance and beard were dark, as were his eyes. The beard was neatly trimmed, and his eyes peered at my approach from above an impressive nose – although, unlike mine, his nose pointed straight out at the world, whereas mine turns to the dexter side. He seemed about my own age – twenty-five years or so. He was broad of shoulder and yet slender, but good living was beginning to produce a paunch.

I slowed my pace as I approached the shuttered shop. Caxton would open his business soon, and I assumed this dandy needed parchment, ink, or a book, although he did not seem the type to be much interested in words on a page.

I stood in the street, keeping the impatient coxcomb company, until Robert Caxton opened his shop door and pushed up his shutters to begin business for the day. The stationer looked from me to his other customer and I thought his eyes widened. I bowed to the other client and motioned him to precede me into the shop. He was there before me.

The morning sun was low in the southeast, and did not penetrate far into the shop. But dark as the place was, I could see that Kate was not within. He of the red cotehardie saw the same, and spoke before I could.

“Is Mistress Kate at leisure?” he asked.

Caxton glanced at me, then answered, “Near so. Preparing a pot of ink in the workroom. Be done shortly.”

“I’ll wait,” the fellow said with a smile. “’Tis a pleasant morning. And if Kate has no other concerns, I’d have her walk with me along the water meadow.”

He might as well have swatted me over my skull with a ridge pole. My jaw went slack and I fear both Caxton and this unknown suitor got a fine view of my tonsils.

Robert Caxton was not so discomfited that he forgot his manners. He introduced me to Sir Simon Trillowe. A knight. And of some relation to the new sheriff of Oxford, I guessed.

When he learned that I was but a surgeon and bailiff to Lord Gilbert Talbot, Sir Simon nodded briefly and turned away, his actions speaking what polite words could not: I was beneath his rank and unworthy of his consideration.

“We heard naught of you for many months, Master Hugh,” Caxton remarked.

This was true. I had neglected pursuit of Kate Caxton while about Lord Gilbert’s business in Bampton. And, to be true, I feared Kate might dismiss my suit should I press it. A man cannot be disappointed in love who does not seek it.

“No doubt a bailiff has much to occupy his time,” the stationer continued.

Sir Simon doubtless thought that I was but a customer, not that I was in competition with him for the fair Kate. He would learn that soon enough.

The door to Caxton’s workroom was open. Kate surely heard this exchange, which was a good thing. It gave her opportunity to compose herself. A moment later she entered the shop, carrying my pot of promised ink, and bestowed a tranquil smile upon both me and Sir Simon. I smiled in return, Trillowe did not. Perhaps he had guessed already that it was not ink I most wished to take from Caxton’s shop.

“Mistress Kate,” Sir Simon stepped toward her as she passed through the door. “’Tis a pleasant autumn morn… there will be few more before winter. Perhaps we might walk the path along the Cherwell… if your father can spare you for the morning.”

With these words Trillowe turned to the stationer. Caxton shrugged a reply.

“Good.” Sir Simon offered his arm and, with a brief smile and raised brows in my direction, Kate set the pot of ink on her father’s table and took Trillowe’s arm. They departed the shop wordlessly.

Caxton apparently thought some explanation in order. “You didn’t call through the summer. Kate thought you’d no interest. I told her last night you’d asked to pay court. But Sir Simon’s been by a dozen times since Lammas Day… others, too.”

“Others?”

“Aye. My Kate does draw lads to the shop. None has asked me might they pay court, though. But for you.”

“Not Sir Simon?”

“Nay. Second son of the sheriff, and a knight. He’ll not ask leave of one like me to do aught.”

“And Kate returns his interest?”

Caxton shrugged. “She’s walked out with him three times now. A knight, mind you. And son of the sheriff. Can’t blame a lass for that.”

“No,” I agreed.

“Can’t think how his father’d be pleased, though. A stationer’s daughter! A scandal in Oxford Castle when word gets out, as it surely has, by now,” Caxton mused.

“Aye. What lands his father may hold will pass to his brother. The sheriff will want Sir Simon seeking a wife with lands of her own.”

I hoped that was so. But if a second or third son acts to displease his father, it is difficult to correct him. How can a man disinherit a son who is due to receive little or nothing anyway? So if a son courting Kate Caxton displeased the sheriff of Oxford, such offense might escape retribution. This thought did not bring me joy.

Hearts Aglow by Tracie Peterson

Striking A Match, Book 2

The future should be bright for Deborah Vandermark, who is now pursuing her interest in medicine alongside Dr. Christopher Clayton, who is courting her.

But the lumber town is resistant to the idea of a woman physician, and she feels thwarted at every turn.

A more devastating blow occurs, however, when Christopher breaks off their relationship to return home to his troubled family. Despite her own love life going awry, Deborah is still intent to be a matchmaker for both her widowed mother and her brother, who has caught the eye of the spit-fire daughter of the local pastor.

What will Deborah do when faced with the truth about Christopher's family? Is there hope for the two of them...or will Jake Wyeth's attentions finally catch Deborah's eye instead?

My Review:
For those who love Christian history/romance, this book set in the 19th century is for you. I was grabbed with the first page and read straight through to the satisfying end. For those who like to cook, two tempting recipes are even included.

There are so many good parts to this tale. Prejudice is one topic covered. Most people feel a woman should stay at home, while our protagonist wants to study and practice medicine. Inability to tolerate anyone from a different race is another theme. One of my favorites parts is in chapter five when Pastor Shattuck draws an amazing connection from the biblical story of Joseph to black/white relations. That alone is worth the price of the book!

I love to learn, and the author injected some gems. For instance, I learned that "quinsy," is infected tonsils.

Thank you to Bonnie at Christian Fiction Blog Alliance and Bethany House for my copy.

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

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

In the Shadow of Evil by Robin Caroll

Just outside of Lake Charles, Louisiana, Detective Sergeant Maddox Bishop works in the Criminal Investigative Department, Homicide Division. When the dead body of a building inspector is found in a burnt "Homes of Hope" house, Maddox gets the case. The trail of evidence will lead him into exposing one of the biggest scams of modern day.

Layla Taylor is a contractor in Calcasieu parish, who loves God, her family, and what she does. When Detective Bishop's investigation leads him to her sister's drug-rehab retreat, every defense in her rises to the surface. To prove her sister's business isn't involved with anything illegal or immoral, she joins forces with the man who is against everything she believes in.

My Review:
Here's a good read: a mystery book with just the right touch of whodunit and romance. All loose ends are neatly tied up before the final chapter. Why, even a cold case is solved in a surprising twist!

Layla Taylor is a good role model for single Christian women. She's independent, hard worker, Christian, but when tempted to fall for a nonbeliever, she holds back. The tug on her heart strings while her world falls apart, makes for one compelling story.

Discussion questions are included.

Thank you to FirstWildCard and Julie Gwinn at BH Publishing Group for my copy.

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.”