Showing posts with label women's lit. Show all posts
Showing posts with label women's lit. Show all posts

Tuesday, September 29, 2009

Three Weddings and a Bar Mitzvah

It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!


You never know when I might play a wild card on you!




Today's Wild Card author is:


and the book:


Three Weddings & a Bar Mitvah


Summary

Newly engaged Lelani has returned from Maui to Bloomberg Place and is trying to book her wedding date. Unfortunately there are scheduling conflicts for that same weekend.

For starters, Megan and Marcus have a family wedding commitment. Anna and Edmond have promised to attend his younger stepbrother's Bar Mitzvah and, to everyone's surprise, Kendall has just accepted her "Maui Man's" proposal of marriage and also wants to be wed on that first weekend in June.

Wedding madness ensues at 86 Bloomberg Place, yet at the same time friendships are being forged that will last a lifetime.

David C. Cook (2009)


ABOUT THE AUTHOR:



Melody Carlson has published more than one hundred books for adults, children, and teens, with many on best-seller lists. Several books have been finalists for, and winners of, various writing awards, including the Gold Medallion and the RITA Award. She and her husband live in the Cascade Mountains in Oregon and have two grown sons.

Visit the author's website.

Three Weddings and a Bar Mitzvah, by Melody Carlson from David C. Cook on Vimeo.



Product Details:

List Price: $14.99
Format: Paperback
Number of Pages: 320
Vendor: David C. Cook (2009)
ISBN: 1589191080
ISBN-13: 9781589191082

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:


Megan Abernathy


“Okay, then, how does the second Saturday in June look?” Anna asked her housemates.


Megan frowned down at her date book spread open on the dining room table. She and Anna had been trying to nail a date for Lelani and Gil's wedding. Megan had already been the spoiler of the first weekend of June, but she'd already promised her mom that she'd go to a family reunion in Washington. Now it seemed she was about to mess things up again. “I'm sorry,” she said, “but I promised Marcus I'd go to his sister's wedding. It's been scheduled for almost a year now, and it's the second Saturday too. But maybe I can get out of it.”


Lelani just shook her head as she quietly rocked Emma in her arms, pacing back and forth between the living room and dining room. The baby was teething and fussy and overdue for her afternoon nap. Megan wasn't sure if Lelani's frustrated expression was a result of wedding planning or her baby's mood.


“Is it possible you could do both weddings in one day?” Anna asked Megan.


“That might work.” Megan picked up her datebook and followed Lelani into the living room, where she continued to rock Emma.


“Or we could look at the third weekend in June,” Anna called from the dining room.


“Shhh.” Megan held a forefinger over her lips to signal Anna that Emma was finally about to nod off. Megan waited and watched as Emma's eyes fluttered closed and Lelani gently eased the limp baby down into the playpen set up in a corner of the living room. Lelani pushed a dark lock of hair away from Emma's forehead, tucked a fuzzy pink blanket over her, then finally stood up straight and sighed.


“Looks like she's down for the count,” Megan whispered.


Lelani nodded. “Now, where were we with dates?”


“If you still want to go with the second Saturday,” Megan spoke quietly, “Anna just suggested that it might be possible for me to attend two weddings in one day.”


“That's a lot to ask of you,” Lelani said as they returned to the dining room, where Anna and Kendall were waiting expectantly with the calendar in the middle of the table and opened to June.


Megan shrugged as she pulled out a chair. “It's your wedding, Lelani. You should have it the way you want it. I just want to help.”


Anna pointed to the second Saturday. “Okay, this is the date in question. Is it doable or not?”


Lelani sat down and sighed. “I'm willing to schedule my wedding so that it's not a conflict with the other one. I mean, if it can even be done. Mostly I just wanted to wait until I finished spring term.”


“What time is Marcus's sister's wedding?” asked Anna.


“I'm not positive, but I think he said it was in the evening.” She reached for her phone.


“And you want a sunset wedding,” Kendall reminded Lelani.


“That's true.” Anna nodded.


“But I also want Megan to be there,” Lelani pointed out.


“That would be helpful, since she's your maid of honor,” said Anna.


Megan tried not to bristle at the tone of Anna's voice. She knew that Anna had been put a little out of sorts by Lelani's choice--especially considering that Anna was the sister of the groom--but to be fair, Megan was a lot closer to Lelani than Anna was. And at least they were all going to be in the wedding.


“Let me ask Marcus about the time,” Megan said as she pressed his speed-dial number and waited. “Hey, Marcus,” she said when he finally answered. “We're having a scheduling problem here. Do you know what time Hannah's wedding is going to be?”


“In the evening, I think,” Marcus said. “Do you need the exact time?”


“No, that's good enough.” Megan gave Lelani a disappointed look. “I'll talk to you later, okay?”


“You're not thinking of bailing on me, are you?” He sounded genuinely worried.


“No, but we're trying to pin down a time and date for Lelani.”


“It's just that I really want my family to meet you, Megan. I mean all of my family. And I want you to meet them too.”


“I know, and I plan to go with you.”


“Thanks. So, I'll see you around six thirty tonight?”


“That's right.” Megan told him good-bye, then turned to Lelani with a sigh. “I'm sorry,” she told her. “That wedding's at night too. Maybe I should blow off my family reunion so that you--”


“No.” Anna pointed to the calendar. “I just realized that the first Saturday in June is also my mother's birthday.”


“So?” Kendall shrugged. “What's wrong with that?”


Megan laughed. “Think about it, Kendall, how would you like to share your wedding anniversary with your mother-in-law's birthday?”


Kendall grinned. “Oh, yeah. Maybe not.”


“How about a Sunday wedding?” suggested Megan.


“Sunday?” Lelani's brow creased slightly as she weighed this.


“Sunday might make it easier to book the location,” Kendall said. “I mean, since most weddings are usually on Saturdays, and June is a pretty busy wedding month.”


“That's true,” agreed Megan.


“And you gotta admit that this is short notice for planning a wedding,” added Kendall. “Some people say you should start planning your wedding a whole year ahead of time.”


“Marcus's sister has been planning her wedding for more than a year,” Megan admitted. “Marcus says that Hannah is going to be a candidate for the Bridezillas show if she doesn't lighten up.”


They all laughed.


“Well, there's no way Gil and I are going to spend a year planning a wedding.” Lelani shook her head. “That's fine for some people, but we're more interested in our marriage than we are in our wedding.”


“I hear you.” Kendall laughed and patted her slightly rounded belly. She was in her fifth month of the pregnancy. They all knew that she and her Maui man, Killiki, were corresponding regularly, but despite Kendall's high hopes there'd been no proposal.


“I really don't see why it should take a year to plan a wedding,” Megan admitted. “I think that's just the wedding industry's way of lining their pockets.”


“So how much planning time do you have now anyway?” Kendall asked Lelani. “Like three months?”


“Not even.” Lelani flipped the calendar pages back. “It's barely two now.”


“Which is why we need to nail this date today,” Megan said. “Even though it's a small wedding--”


“And that remains to be seen,” Anna reminded her. “My mother's list keeps growing and growing and growing.”


“I still think it might be easier to just elope,” Lelani reminded them. “I told Gil that I wouldn't have a problem with that at all.”


“Yes, that would be brilliant.” Anna firmly shook her head. “You can just imagine how absolutely thrilled Mom would be about that little idea.”


Lelani smiled. “I actually thought she'd be relieved.”


“That might've been true a few months ago. But Mom's changing.” Anna poked Lelani in the arm. “In fact, I'm starting to feel jealous. I think she likes you better than me now.”


Lelani giggled. “In your dreams, Anna. Your mother just puts up with me so she can have access to Emma.”


They all laughed about that. Everyone knew that Mrs. Mendez was crazy about her soon-to-be granddaughter. Already she'd bought Emma all kinds of clothes and toys and seemed totally intent on spoiling the child rotten.


“Speaking of Emma”--Kendall shook her finger--“Mrs. Mendez is certain that she's supposed to have her on Monday. But I thought it was my day.”


“I'm not sure,” Lelani admitted. “But I'll call and find out.”


“And while you've got Granny on the line,” continued Kendall, “tell her that I do know how to change diapers properly. One more diaper lecture and I might just tape a Pamper over that big mouth of hers. Sheesh!”


They all laughed again. Since coming home from Maui, Kendall had been complaining about how Mrs. Mendez always seemed to find fault with Kendall's childcare abilities. In fact, Mrs. Mendez had spent the first week “teaching” Kendall the “proper” way to do almost everything.


To be fair, Megan didn't blame the older woman. Megan had been a little worried about Kendall too. But to everyone's surprise, Kendall turned out to be rather maternal. Whether it had to do with her own pregnancy or a hidden talent, Megan couldn't decide, but Kendall's skill had been a huge relief.


“Now, back to the wedding date,” said Lelani.


“Yes,” agreed Megan. “What about earlier on Saturday?”


“Oh, no,” Anna said. “I just remembered that I promised Edmond I'd go to his brother's bar mitzvah on that same day--I think it's in the morning.”


Lelani groaned.


“Edmond's brother?” Megan frowned. “I thought he was an only child. And since when is he Jewish?”


“Remember, his mom remarried,” Anna told her. “And Philip Goldstein, her new husband, is Jewish, and he has a son named Ben whose bar mitzvah is that Saturday.” She sighed. “I'm sorry, Lelani.”


“So Saturday morning is kaput,” Megan said.


“And Lelani wanted a sunset wedding anyway,” Anna repeated.


“So why can't you have a sunset wedding on Sunday?” Kendall suggested.


“That's an idea.” Megan turned back to Lelani. “What do you think?”


Lelani nodded. “I think that could work.”


“And here's another idea!” Anna exclaimed. “If the wedding was on Sunday night, you could probably have the reception in the restaurant afterward. I'm guessing it would be late by the time the wedding was over, and Sunday's not exactly a busy night.”


Lelani looked hopeful. “Do you think your parents would mind?”


“Mind? Are you kidding? That's what my mother lives for.”


“But we still don't have a place picked for the wedding,” Megan said.


“I have several outdoor locations in mind. I'll start checking on them tomorrow.”


“We'll have to pray that it doesn't rain.” Megan penned 'Lelani and Gil's Wedding' in her date book, then closed it.


“Should there be a backup plan?” asked Anna. “I'm sure my parents could have the wedding at their house.”


“Or here,” suggested Kendall. “You can use this house if you want.”


Anna frowned. “It's kind of small, don't you think?”


“I think it's sweet of Kendall to offer.” Lelani smiled at Kendall.


“I can imagine a bride coming down those stairs,” Kendall nodded toward the staircase. “I mean, if it was a small wedding.”


“I'll keep it in mind,” Lelani told her. “And your parents' house too.”


“It might be tricky getting a church reserved on a Sunday night,” Megan looked at the clock. “And speaking of that, I better get ready. Marcus is picking me up for the evening service in about fifteen minutes.” She turned back to Lelani. “Don't worry. I've got my to-do list and I'll start checking on some of this stuff tomorrow. My mom will want to help with the flowers.”


“And my aunt wants to make the cake,” Anna reminded them.


“Sounds like you're in good hands,” Kendall sad a bit wistfully. “I wonder how it would go if I was planning my wedding.”


“You'd be in good hands too,” Lelani assured her.


“Now, let's start going over that guest list,” Anna said as Megan stood up. “The sooner we get it finished, the less chance my mother will have of adding to it.” Megan was relieved that Anna had offered to handle the invitations. She could have them printed at the publishing company for a fraction of the price that a regular printer would charge, and hopefully she'd get them sent out in the next couple of weeks.


As Megan changed from her weekend sweats into something presentable, she wondered what would happen with Lelani's parents when it was time for the big event. Although her dad had promised to come and was already committed to paying Lelani's tuition to finish med school, Lelani's mom was still giving Lelani the cold shoulder. Make that the ice shoulder. For a woman who lived in the tropics, Mrs. Porter was about as chilly as they come. Still, Lelani had friends to lean on. Maybe that was better than family at times.


“Your prince is here,” Kendall called into Megan's room.


“Thanks.” Megan was looking for her other loafer and thinking it was time to organize her closet again. “Tell him I'm coming.”


When Megan came out, Marcus was in the dining room, chatting with her housemates like one of the family. He was teasing Anna for having her hair in curlers, then joking with Kendall about whether her Maui man had called her today.


“Not yet,” Kendall told him with a little frown. “But don't forget the time-zone thing. It's earlier there.”


“Speaking of time zones,” Lelani said to Marcus. “Did I hear you're actually thinking about going to Africa?”


Marcus grinned and nodded. “Yeah, Greg Mercer, this guy at our church, is trying to put together a mission trip to Zambia. I might go too.”


“Wow, that's a long ways away.” Kendall turned to Megan. “How do you feel about that?”


Megan shrugged as she pulled on her denim jacket. “I think it's cool.”


“Are you coming with us to church tonight, Kendall?” Marcus asked. “Greg is going to show a video about Zambia.”


“Sorry to miss that,” Kendall told him. “But Killiki is supposed to call.”


“Ready to roll?” Megan nodded up to the clock.


He grinned at her. “Yep.” But before they went out, he turned around. “That is, unless anyone else wants to come tonight.”


Lelani and Anna thanked him but said they had plans. Even so, Megan was glad he'd asked. It was nice when Kendall came with them occasionally. And Lelani had come once too. Really, it seemed that God was at work at 86 Bloomberg Place. Things had changed a lot since last fall.


“So are you nervous?” Marcus asked as he drove toward the city.


“Nervous?” Megan frowned. “About church?”


“No. The big interview.”


Megan slapped her forehead. “Wow, I temporarily forgot. We were so obsessed with Lelani's wedding today, trying to make lists, plan everything, and settle the date … I put the interview totally out of my mind.”


“Hopefully, it won't be out of your mind by Monday.”


“No, of course not.”


“So … are you nervous?”


Megan considered this. It would be her first interview for a teaching job. And it was a little unsettling. “The truth is, I don't think I have a chance at the job,” she admitted. “And, yes, I'm nervous. Thanks for reminding me.”


“Sorry. Why don't you think you'll get the job?”


“Because I don't have any actual teaching experience.” She wanted to add duh, but thought it sounded a little juvenile.


“Everyone has to start somewhere.”


“But starting in middle school, just a couple of months before the school year ends? Don't you think they'll want someone who knows what they're doing?”


“Unless they want someone who's enthusiastic and energetic and smart and creative and who likes kids and had lots of great new ideas and--”


“Wow, any chance you could do the interview in my place?”


“Cross-dress and pretend I'm you?”


She laughed. “Funny.”


“Just have confidence, Megan. Believe in yourself and make them believe too. You'd be great as a middle-school teacher.”


“What makes you so sure?”


“Because I remember middle school.”


“And?”


“And most of my teachers were old and dull and boring.”


“That's sad.”


“And I would've loved having someone like you for a teacher.”


“Really?”


He chuckled. “Yeah. If I was thirteen, I'd probably sit right in the front row and think about how hot you were, and then I'd start fantasizing about--”


“Marcus Barrett, you're pathetic.” Just the same, she laughed.


“What can I say? I'm just a normal, warm-blooded, American kid.”


“Give me a break!” She punched him in the arm.


“Is that your phone?” he asked as he was parking outside of the church.


“Oh, yeah, a good reminder to turn it off.” She pulled it out to see it was Kendall. Megan hoped nothing was wrong. “Hey, Kendall,” she said as Marcus set the parking brake. “What's up?”


“Guess what?” shrieked Kendall.


“I have no idea what, but it sounds like good news.” She stepped out of the car.


“Killiki just called.”


“That's nice.”


“And he asked me to marry him!”


Megan raised her eyebrows and looked at Marcus as he came around to meet her. “And you said yes?”


“Of course! Do you think I'm crazy?”


“No. Not at all. Congratulations, Kendall. I mean, I guess that's what you say.”


“So now we have two weddings to plan.”


Megan blinked. She walked with Marcus toward the church entry. “Oh, yeah, I guess we do.”


“And I'm getting married in June too!”


“That's great, Kendall. I'm really, really happy for you. And Killiki seems like a great guy.”


“He is! Anyway, we just looked at the calendar again. And we finally figured that I should just get married the same day as Lelani, only I'll get married in the morning. That way we'll all be able to go to both weddings.”


“Wow, the same day?”


“Otherwise, you'll be at your reunion or Marcus's sister's wedding. Or Anna will be at the bar mitzvah. Or Lelani and Gil will be on their honeymoon.”


“Oh, that's right.”


“And I want all of you there!”


“Yes, I suppose that makes sense.”


“It'll be busy, but fun.”


“Definitely.” Then Megan thanked Kendall for telling her, and they said good-bye. Megan closed her phone and just shook her head. “Wow.”


“Kendall's getting married?” asked Marcus as he held the church door open for her.


“Yes. Can you believe it?”


“Good for her.”


“And her wedding will be the same weekend as your sister's and the same day as Lelani's.”


Marcus held up three fingers and wore a perplexed expression. “Three weddings in one weekend? That's crazy.”


“Yep.” Megan nodded. “Three weddings and a bar mitzvah.”


“Huh?” Marcus looked confused, but they were in the sanctuary, and Megan knew she'd have to explain later.


©2009 Cook Communications Ministries. Three Weddings and a Bar Mitzvah by Melody Carlson. Used with permission. May not be further reproduced. All rights reserved.

Sunday, August 23, 2009

A Sample of THE BLUE ENCHANTRESS


Just to whet your appetites, here's the first chapter of MaryLu Tyndall's exciting novel The Blue Enchantress.





Chapter 1


St. Kitts, September 1718


“Gentlemen, what will ye offer for this rare treasure of a lady?” The

words crashed over Hope Westcott like bilge water. “Why, she’ll

make any of ye a fine wife, a cook, a housemaid”—the man gave a

lascivious chuckle—“whate’er ye desire.”


“How ’bout someone to warm me bed at night,” one man bellowed,

and a cacophony of chortles gurgled through the air.


Hope slammed her eyes shut against the mob of men who pressed

on three sides of the tall wooden platform, shoving one another to get a

better peek at her. Something crawled over her foot, and she pried her

eyes open, keeping her face lowered. A black spider skittered away. Red

scrapes and bruises marred her bare feet. When had she lost her satin

shoes—the gold braided ones she’d worn to impress Lord Falkland? She

couldn’t recall.


“What d’ye say? How much for this fine young lady?” The man

grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her head back. Pain, like a dozen

claws, pierced her skull. “She’s a handsome one, to be sure. And these

golden locks.” He attempted to slide his fingers through her matted

strands, but before becoming hopelessly entangled in them, he jerked

his hand free, wrenching out a clump of her hair. Hope winced. “Have

ye seen the likes of them?”


Ribald whistles and groans of agreement spewed over her.


“Two shillings,” one man yelled.


Hope dared to glance across the throng amassing before the auction

block. A wild sea of lustful eyes sprayed over her. A band of men dressed

in garments stained with dirt and sweat bunched toward the front,

yelling out bids. Behind them, other men in velvet waistcoats leaned

their heads together, no doubt to discuss the value of this recent offering,

while studying her as if she were a breeding mare. Slaves knelt in the

dirt along the outskirts of the mob, waiting for their masters. Beyond

them, a row of wooden buildings stretched in either direction. Brazen

women emerged from a tavern and draped themselves over the railings,

watching Hope’s predicament with interest. On the street, ladies in

modish gowns averted their eyes as they tugged the men on their arms

from the sordid scene.


Hope lowered her head. This can’t be happening. I’m dreaming. I am

still on the ship. Just a nightmare. Only a nightmare. Humiliation swept

over her with an ever-rising dread as the reality of her situation blasted

its way through her mind.


She swallowed hard and tried to drown out the grunts and salacious

insults tossed her way by the bartering rabble. Perhaps if she couldn’t

hear them, if she couldn’t see them, they would disappear and she would

wake up back home, safe in Charles Towne, safe in her bedchamber, safe

with her sisters, just like she was before she’d put her trust in a man who

betrayed her.


“Egad, man. Two shillings, is it? For this beauty?” The auctioneer

spit off to the side. The yellowish glob landed on Hope’s skirt. Her heart

felt as though it had liquefied into an equally offensive blob and oozed

down beside it.


How did I get here? In her terror, she could not remember. She raised

her gaze to the auctioneer. Cold eyes, hard like marbles, met hers, and a

sinister grin twisted his lips. He adjusted his tricorn to further shade his

chubby face from the burning sun.


“She looks too feeble for any real work,” another man yelled.


The sounds of the crowd dimmed. The men’s fists forged into the

air as if pushing through mud. Garbled laughter drained from their

yellow-toothed mouths like molasses. Hope’s heart beat slower, and she

wished for death.


The gentle lap of waves caressed her ears, their peaceful cadence

drawing her away. Tearing her gaze from the nightmarish spectacle, she

glanced over her shoulder, past the muscled henchmen who’d escorted

her here. Two docks jutted out into a small bay brimming with sparkling

turquoise water where several ships rocked back and forth as if shaking their heads at her in pity.

Salt and papaya and sun combined in a pleasant

aroma that lured her mind away from her present horror.


Her eyes locked upon the glimmering red and gold figurine of

Ares at the bow of Lord Falkland’s ship. She blinked back the burning

behind her eyes. When she’d boarded it nigh a week past—or was it two

weeks?—all her hopes and dreams had boarded with her. Somewhere

along the way, they had been cast into the depths of the sea. She only

wished she had joined them. Although the ship gleamed majestically in

the bay, all she had seen of it for weeks had been the four walls of a small

cabin below deck.


The roar of the crowd wrenched her mind back to the present and

turned her face forward.


“Five shillings.”


“ ’Tis robbery, and ye know it,” the auctioneer barked. “Where are

any of ye clods goin’ t’ find a real lady like this?”


A stream of perspiration raced down Hope’s back as if seeking

escape. But there was no escape. She was about to be sold as a slave, a

harlot to one of these cruel and prurient taskmasters. A fate worse than

death. A fate her sister had fought hard to keep her from. A fate Hope

had brought upon herself. Numbness crept over her even as her eyes

filled with tears. Oh God. This can’t be happening.


She gazed upward at the blue sky dusted with thick clouds, hoping

for some deliverance, some sign that God had not abandoned her.

The men continued to haggle, their voices booming louder and

louder, grating over her like the howls of demons.


Her head felt like it had detached from her body and was floating

up to join the clouds. Palm trees danced in the light breeze coming off

the bay. Their tall trunks and fronds formed an oscillating blur of green

and brown. The buildings, the mob, and the whole heinous scene joined

the growing mass and began twirling around Hope. Her legs turned to

jelly, and she toppled to the platform.


“Get up!” A sharp crack stung her cheek. Two hands like rough rope

clamped over her arms and dragged her to her feet. Pain lanced through

her right foot where a splinter had found a home. Holding a hand to her

stinging face, Hope sobbed.


The henchman released her with a grunt of disgust.


“I told ye she won’t last a week,” one burly man shouted.


“She ain’t good for nothing but to look at.”


Planting a strained grin upon his lips, the auctioneer swatted her

rear end. “Aye, but she’s much more stout than she appears, gentlemen.”


Horrified and no longer caring about the repercussions, Hope

slapped the man’s face. He raised his fist, and she cowered. The crowd

roared its mirth.


“One pound, then,” a tall man sporting a white wig called out. “I

could use me a pretty wench.” Withdrawing a handkerchief, he dabbed

at the perspiration on his forehead.


Wench. Slave. Hope shook her head, trying to force herself to accept

what her mind kept trying to deny. A sudden surge of courage, based

on naught but her instinct to survive, stiffened her spine. She thrust out

her chin and faced the auctioneer. “I beg your pardon, sir. There’s been a

mistake. I am no slave.”


“Indeed?” He cocked one brow and gave her a patronizing smirk.


Hope searched the horde for a sympathetic face—just one. “My

name is Miss Hope Westcott,” she shouted. “My father is Admiral

Henry Westcott. I live in Charles Towne with my two sisters.”


“And I’m King George,” a farmer howled, slapping his knee.


“My father will pay handsomely for my safe return.” Hope scanned

the leering faces. Not one. Not one look of sympathy or belief or

kindness. Fear crawled up her throat. She stomped her foot, sending

a shard of pain up her leg. “You must believe me,” she sobbed. “I don’t

belong here.”


Ignoring the laughter, Hope spotted a purple plume fluttering in

the breeze atop a gold-trimmed hat in the distance. “Arthur!” She darted

for the stairs but two hands grabbed her from behind and held her in

place. “Don’t leave me! Lord Falkland!” She struggled in her captor’s

grasp. His grip tightened, sending a throbbing ache across her back.

Swerving about, Lord Falkland tapped his cane into the dirt and

tipped the brim of his hat up, but the distance between them forbade

Hope a vision of his expression.


“Tell them who I am, Arthur. Please save me!”


He leaned toward the woman beside him and said something, then

coughed into his hand. What is he doing? The man who once professed

an undying love for Hope, the man who promised to marry her, to love

her forever, the man who bore the responsibility for her being here in

the first place. How could he stand there and do nothing while she met

such a hideous fate?


The elegant lady beside him turned her nose up at Hope, then,

threading her arm through Lord Falkland’s, she wheeled him around

and pulled him down the road.


Hope watched him leave, and with each step of his cordovan boots,

her heart and her very soul sank deeper into the wood of the auction

block beneath her feet.


Nothing made any sense. Had the world gone completely mad?


“Two pounds,” a corpulent man in the back roared.


A memory flashed through Hope’s mind as she gazed across the

band of men. A vision of African slaves, women and children, being

auctioned off in Charles Towne. How many times had she passed by,

ignoring them, uncaring, unconcerned by the proceedings?


Was this God’s way of repaying her for her selfishness, her lack of

charity?


“Five pounds.”


Disappointed curses rumbled among the men at the front, who had

obviously reached their limit of coin.


The auctioneer’s mouth spread wide, greed dripping from its corners.


“Five pounds, gentlemen. Do I hear six for this lovely lady?”


A blast of hot air rolled over Hope, stealing her breath. Human

sweat, fish, and horse manure filled her nose and saturated her skin.

The unforgiving sun beat a hot hammer atop her head until she felt she

would ignite into a burning torch at any moment. Indeed, she prayed

she would. Better to be reduced to a pile of ashes than endure what the

future held for her.


“Six pounds,” a short man with a round belly and stiff brown wig

yelled from the back of the mob in a tone that indicated he knew what

he was doing and had no intention of losing his prize. Decked in a

fine damask waistcoat, silk breeches, and a gold-chained pocket watch,

which he kept snapping open and shut, he exuded wealth and power.

Hope’s stomach twisted into a vicious knot, and she clutched her

throat to keep from heaving whatever shred of moisture remained in

her empty stomach.


The auctioneer gaped at her, obviously shocked she could command

such a price. Rumblings overtook the crowd as the short man pushed his

way through to claim his prize. The closer he came, the faster Hope’s

chest heaved and the lighter her head became. Blood pounded in her

ears, drowning out the groans of the mob. No, God. No.


“Do I hear seven?” the auctioneer bellowed. “She’s young and will

breed you some fine sons.”


“Just what I’ll be needing.” The man halted at the platform, glanced

over the crowd for any possible competitors, then took the stairs to

Hope’s right. He halted beside her too close for propriety’s sake and

assailed her with the stench of lard and tobacco. A long purple scar

crossed his bloated red face as his eyes grazed over her like a stallion on

a breeding mare. Hope shuddered and gasped for a breath of air. Her

palms broke out in a sweat, and she rubbed them on her already moist

gown.


The auctioneer threw a hand to his hip and gazed over the crowd.

The man squeezed her arms, and Hope snapped from his grasp

and took a step back, abhorred at his audacity. He chuckled. “Not much

muscle on her, but she’s got pluck.”


He belched, placed his watch back into the fob pocket of his

breeches, and removed a leather pouch from his belt. “Six pounds it is.”


The silver tip of a sword hung at his side. If Hope were quick about

it, perhaps she could grab it and, with some luck, fight her way out of

here. She clenched her teeth. Who was she trying to fool? Where was

her pirate sister when she needed her? Surely Faith would know exactly

what to do. Yet what did it matter? Hope would rather die trying to

escape than become this loathsome man’s slave.


As the man counted out the coins into the auctioneer’s greedy hands,

Hope reached for the sword.

Tuesday, July 29, 2008

SUSHI FOR ONE by Camy Tang, FIrst Chapter



It is time to play a Wild Card! It's time for an excerpt on the FIRST Wild Card Tour.



Today's Wild Card author is:




and her book:



Sushi for One? from Zondervan (September 1, 2007)



ABOUT THE AUTHOR:


Camy Tang is a member of FIRST and is a loud Asian chick who writes loud Asian chick-lit. She grew up in Hawaii, but now lives in San Jose, California, with her engineer husband and rambunctious poi-dog. In a previous life she was a biologist researcher, but these days she is surgically attached to her computer, writing full-time. In her spare time, she is a staff worker for her church youth group, and she leads one of the worship teams for Sunday service.

Sushi for One? (Sushi Series, Book One) was her first novel. Her second, Only Uni (Sushi Series, Book Two) is now available. The next book in the series, Single Sashimi (Sushi Series, Book Three) will be coming out in September 2008!


Visit the author's website.

Product Details:

List Price: $ 12.99
Paperback: 352 pages
Publisher: Zondervan (September 1, 2007)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0310273986
ISBN-13: 978-0310273981

Note: I read this book a couple of months ago and I found it very entertaining. I loved Camy's style, which is witty and intelligent. Her characters are quite believeable. The interaction of two cultures is a real dilemna for many who are second generation Asian or any other culture that has immigrated to the USA. Add to that the conflict of Christianity and the old traditions of a religion such as Shinto or Buddhism, and there is automatically potential for fireworks. I highly recommend this book, even for those who think they won't like chic lit.


AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:


Chapter One


Eat and leave. That’s all she had to do.

If Grandma didn’t kill her first for being late.

Lex Sakai raced through the open doorway to the Chinese restaurant and was immediately immersed in conversation, babies’ wails, clashing perfumes, and stale sesame oil. She tripped over the threshold and almost turned her ankle. Stupid pumps. Man, she hated wearing heels.

Her cousin Chester sat behind a small table next to the open doorway.

“Hey Chester.”

“Oooh, you’re late. Grandma isn’t going to be happy. Sign over here.” He gestured to the guestbook that was almost drowned in the pink lace glued to the edges.

“What do I do with this?” Lex dropped the Babies R Us box on the table.

Chester grabbed the box and flipped it behind him with the air of a man who’d been doing this for too long and wanted out from behind the frilly welcome table.

Lex understood how he felt. So many of their cousins were having babies, and there were several mixed Chinese-Japanese marriages in the family. Therefore, most cousins opted for these huge—not to mention tiring—traditional Chinese Red Egg and Ginger parties to “present” their newborns, even though the majority of the family was Japanese American.

Lex bent to scrawl her name in the guestbook. Her new sheath dress sliced into her abs, while the fabric strained across her back muscles. Trish had convinced her to buy the dress, and it actually gave her sporty silhouette some curves, but its fitted design prevented movement. She should’ve worn her old loosefitting dress instead. She finished signing the book and looked back to Chester. “How’s the food?” The only thing worthwhile about these noisy events. Lex would rather be at the beach.

“They haven’t even started serving.”

“Great. That’ll put Grandma in a good mood.”

Chester grimaced, then gestured toward the far corner where there was a scarlet-draped wall and a huge gold dragon wall-hanging. “Grandma’s over there.”

“Thanks.” Yeah, Chester knew the drill, same as Lex. She had to go over to say hello as soon as she got to the party— before Grandma saw her, anyway—or Grandma would be peeved and stick Lex on her “Ignore List” until after Christmas.

Lex turned, then stopped. Poor Chester. He looked completely forlorn—not to mention too bulky—behind that silly table. Of all her cousins, he always had a smile and a joke for her. “Do you want to go sit down? I can man the table for you for a while. As long as you don’t forget to bring me some food.” She winked at him.

Chester flashed his toothy grin, and the weary lines around his face expanded into his normal laugh lines. “I appreciate that, but don’t worry about me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. My sister’s going to bring me something—she’s got all the kids at her table, so she’ll have plenty for me. But thanks, Lex.”

“You’d do the same for me.”

Lex wiggled in between the round tables and inadvertently jammed her toe into the protruding metal leg of a chair. To accommodate the hefty size of Lex’s extended family, the restaurant had loaded the room with tables and chairs so it resembled a game of Tetris. Once bodies sat in the chairs, a chopstick could barely squeeze through. And while Lex prided herself on her athletic 18-percent body fat, she wasn’t a chopstick.

The Chinese waiters picked that exact moment to start serving the food.

Clad in black pants and white button-down shirts, they filed from behind the ornate screen covering the doorway to the kitchen, huge round platters held high above their heads. They slid through the crowded room like salmon—how the heck did they do that?—while it took all the effort Lex had to push her way through the five inches between an aunty and uncle’s
chairs. Like birds of prey, the waiters descended on her as if they knew she couldn’t escape.

Lex dodged one skinny waiter with plates of fatty pork and thumb-sized braised octopus. Another waiter almost gouged her eye out with his platter. She ducked and shoved at chairs, earning scathing glances from various uncles and aunties.

Finally, Lex exploded from the sea of tables into the open area by the dragon wall-hanging. She felt like she’d escaped from quicksand. Grandma stood and swayed in front of the horrifying golden dragon, holding her newest great-granddaughter, the star of the party. The baby’s face glowed as red as the fabric covering the wall. Probably scared of the dragon’s green buggy eyes only twelve inches away. Strange, Grandma seemed to be favoring her right hip.

“Hi, Grandma.”

“Lex! Hi sweetie. You’re a little late.”

Translation: You’d better have a good excuse.

Lex thought about lying, but aside from the fact that she couldn’t lie to save her life, Grandma’s eyes were keener than a sniper’s. “I’m sorry. I was playing grass volleyball and lost track of time.”

The carefully lined red lips curved down. “You play sports too much. How are you going to attract a man when you’re always sweating?”

Like she was now? Thank goodness for the fruity body spritz she had marinated herself in before she got out of her car.

“That’s a pretty dress, Lex. New, isn’t it?”

How did she do that? With as many grandchildren as she had, Grandma never failed to notice clothes, whereas Lex barely registered that she wasn’t naked. “Thanks. Trish picked it out.”

“It’s so much nicer than that ugly floppy thing you wore to your cousin’s wedding.”

Lex gritted her teeth. Respect your grandmother. Do not open your mouth about something like showing up in a polkadotted bikini.

“Actually, Lex, I’m glad you look so ladylike this time. I have a friend’s son I want you to meet—”

Oh, no. Not again. “Does he speak English?”

Grandma drew herself to her full height, which looked a little silly because Lex still towered over her. “Of course he does.”

“Employed?”

“Yes. Lex, your attitude—”

“Christian?”

“Now why should that make a difference?”

Lex widened innocent eyes. “Religious differences account for a lot of divorces.”

“I’m not asking you to marry him, just to meet him.”

Liar. “I appreciate how much you care about me, but I’ll find my own dates, thanks.” Lex smiled like she held a knife blade in her teeth. When Grandma got pushy like this, Lex had more backbone than the other cousins.

“I wouldn’t be so concerned, but you don’t date at all—”

Not going there. “Is this Chester’s niece?” Lex’s voice rose an octave as she tickled the baby’s Pillsbury-Doughboy stomach. The baby screamed on. “Hey there, cutie, you’re so big, betcha having fun, is Grandma showing you off, well, you just look pretty as a picture, are you enjoying your Red Egg and Ginger party? Okay, Grandma, I have to sit down. Bye.”

Before Grandma could say another word, Lex whisked away into the throng of milling relatives. Phase one, accomplished. Grandmother engaged. Retreat commencing before more nagging words like “dating” and “marriage” sullied the air.

Next to find her cousins—and best friends—Trish, Venus, and Jenn, who were saving a seat for her. She headed toward the back where all the other unmarried cousins sat as far away from Grandma as physically possible.

Their table was scrunched into the corner against towering stacks of unused chairs—like the restaurant could even hold more chairs. “Lex!” Trish flapped her raised hand so hard, Lex expected it to fly off at any moment. Next to her, Venus lounged, as gorgeous as always and looking bored, while Jennifer sat quietly on her other side, twirling a lock of her long straight hair. On either side of them …

“Hey, where’s my seat?”

Venus’s wide almond eyes sent a sincere apology. “We failed you, babe. We had a seat saved next to Jenn, but then . . .” She pointed to where the back of a portly aunty’s chair had rammed up against their table. “We had to remove the chair, and by then, the rest were filled.”

“Traitors. You should have shoved somebody under the table.”

Venus grinned evilly. “You’d fit under there, Lex.”

Trish whapped Venus in the arm. “Be nice.”

A few of the other cousins looked at them strangely, but they got that a lot. The four of them became close when they shared an apartment during college, but even more so when they all became Christian. No one else understood their flaws, foibles, and faith.

Lex had to find someplace to sit. At the very least, she wanted to snarf some overpriced, high calorie, high cholesterol food at this torturous party.

She scanned the sea of black heads, gray heads, dyed heads, small children’s heads with upside-down ricebowl haircuts, and teenager heads with highlighting and funky colors.

There. A table with an empty chair. Her cousin Bobby, his wife, his mother-in-law, and his brood. Six—count ’em, six— little people under the age of five.

Lex didn’t object to kids. She liked them. She enjoyed coaching her girls’ volleyball club team. But these were Bobby’s kids. The 911 operators knew them by name. The local cops drew straws on who would have to go to their house when they got a call.

However, it might not be so bad to sit with Bobby and family. Kids ate less than adults, meaning more food for Lex.

“Hi, Bobby. This seat taken?”

“No, go ahead and sit.” Bobby’s moon-face nodded toward the empty chair.

Lex smiled at his nervous wife, who wrestled with an infant making intermittent screeching noises. “Is that …” Oh great. Boxed yourself in now. Name a name, any name. “Uh … Kyle?”

The beleaguered mom’s smile darted in and out of her grimace as she tried to keep the flailing baby from squirming into a face-plant on the floor. “Yes, this is Kylie. Can you believe she’s so big?” One of her sons lifted a fork. “No, sweetheart, put the food down—!”

The deep-fried missile sailed across the table, trailing a tail of vegetables and sticky sauce. Lex had protected her face from volleyballs slammed at eighty miles an hour, but she’d never dodged multi-shots of food. She swatted away a flying net of lemony shredded lettuce, but a bullet of sauce-soaked fried chicken nailed her right in the chest.

Yuck. Well, good thing she could wash—oops, no, she hadn’t worn her normal cotton dress. This was the new silk one. The one with the price tag that made her gasp, but also made her look like she actually had a waist instead of a plank for a torso. The dress with the “dry-clean only” tag.

“Oh! I’m sorry, Lex. Bad boy. Look what you did.” Bobby’s wife leaned across the table with a napkin held out, still clutching her baby whose foot was dragging through the chow mein platter.

The little boy sitting next to Lex shouted in laughter. Which wouldn’t have been so bad if he hadn’t had a mouth full of chewed bok choy in garlic sauce.

Regurgitated cabbage rained on Lex’s chest, dampening the sunny lemon chicken. The child pointed at the pattern on her dress and squealed as if he had created a Vermeer. The other children laughed with him.

“Hey boys! That’s not nice.” Bobby glared at his sons, but otherwise didn’t stop shoveling salt-and-pepper shrimp into his mouth.

Lex scrubbed at the mess, but the slimy sauces refused to transfer from her dress onto the polyester napkin, instead clinging to the blue silk like mucus. Oh man, disgustamundo. Lex’s stomach gurgled. Why was every other part of her athlete’s body strong except for her stomach?

She needed to clean herself up. Lex wrestled herself out of the chair and bumped an older man sitting behind her. “Sorry.” The violent motion made the nausea swell, then recede. Don’t be silly. Stop being a wimp. But her already sensitive stomach had dropped the call with her head.

Breathe. In. Out. No, not through your nose. Don’t look at that boy’s drippy nose. Turn away from the drooling baby.

She needed fresh air in her face. She didn’t care how rude it was, she was leaving now.

“There you are, Lex.”

What in the world was Grandma doing at the far end of the restaurant? This was supposed to be a safe haven. Why would Grandma take a rare venture from the other side where the “more important” family members sat?

“My goodness, Lex! What happened to you?”

“I sat next to Bobby’s kids.”

Grandma’s powdered face scrunched into a grimace. “Here, let me go to the restroom with you.” The bright eyes strayed again to the mess on the front of her dress. She gasped.

Oh, no, what else? “What is it?” Lex asked.

“You never wear nice clothes. You always wear that hideous black thing.”

“We’ve already been over this—”

“I never noticed that you have no bosom. No wonder you can’t get a guy.”

Lex’s jaw felt like a loose hinge. The breath stuck in her chest until she forced a painful cough. “Grandma!

Out of the corner of her eye, Lex could see heads swivel. Grandma’s voice carried better than a soccer commentator at the World Cup.

Grandma bent closer to peer at Lex’s chest. Lex jumped backward, but the chair behind her wouldn’t let her move very far.

Grandma straightened with a frighteningly excited look on her face. “I know what I’ll do.”

God, now would be a good time for a waiter to brain her with a serving platter.

Grandmother gave a gleeful smile and clapped her hands. “Yes, it’s perfect. I’ll pay for breast implants for you!”

© Camy Tang
Used by permission of Zondervan

Tuesday, April 15, 2008

Award of Excellence to Molly Noble Bull!

The winners have just been announced for the Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence for 2008. This is an award given by the Southern Magic branch of Romance Writers of America. In the Inspirational category, the winner is . . .

Molly Noble Bull!! Her book Sanctuary was voted as tops in this category by librarians, booksellers and avid readers of romance. It is exciting to see one of the books I reviewed receiving recognition for a novel that clearly presents a Christian worldview and seeks to glorify our Lord. Congratulations, Molly!



A review of this book appears in my blogs from October 2007.

Photobucket

The entire list of winners of the Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence:

Historical-- My Lady's Treasure by Catherine Kean
Short Contemporary-- Blackmailed into Bed by Heidi Betts
Long Contemporary-- Riding the Thunder by Deborah MacGillivray
Paranormal-- Lady of Light and Shadows by C. L. Wilson
Inspirational-- Sanctuary by Molly Noble Bull
Contemporary Single Title-- Learning to Breathe by Karne White
Series Romantic Suspense (tie)-- The Perfect Stranger by Jenna Mills and
One Cool Lawman by Diane Pershing
Young Adult-- Prom Dates from Hell by Rosemary Clement-Moore
Novella-- Two For the Money by Leigh Wyndfield

Sunday, February 17, 2008

Listen to a Symphony of Secrets


Symphony of Secrets by Sharon Hinck
There are three consuming passions in Amy Johnson’s life: motherhood, music, and mystery. So consuming that she won’t let herself think about anything else, including romance. It seems that the one great romance of her life, with her daughter’s father back in her Julliard days, left her seriously wounded. Since that time when she had to forgo a possibly great musical career in order to be a single parent, Amy has channeled that irritating total focus of musicians to raising her daughter, Clara, and making a living as a music teacher.

As they novel begins, Clara has grown to be a sophomore in high school, and Amy panics at the signs of Clara’s growing independence. It has always been “you and me against the world,” but Clara is finding more and more connection to the rest of the world, leaving poor mom behind. And, gasp! That includes cheerleading! How could this musically talented child find any interest in such a thing? Amy is flabbergasted, but does her best to be supportive and feign an interest for Clara’s sake. Meanwhile, an unexpected opportunity arises for Amy, a chance to audition for the symphony orchestra. She can’t imagine that her luck could change, but it does. She actually gets the spot. Soon after she begins rehearsals, however, little snippets of conversations and odd events ignite the sleuth in her, to a point that her investigating might cost her this job. Is there really something sinister going on or a series of coincidences? And why is there such enmity between the conductor and the concertmaster?

In another thread, her good friend from Julliard days and duet buddy, Lena, is changing, much to Amy’s alarm. It seems Lena has found religion, and she is asking Amy to come to church with her. Worse yet, for Amy, who has no use for God, Clara keeps going back after the first visit. It is all just too much change for Amy. Her secure little, isolated world is coming apart. Now she has to deal with cheerleaders’ moms, Clara going on dates, God, flirts at the orchestra, a mysterious set of events at the performances, and the specter of her past.

This is basically a story about relationships. While there is some romance, it is secondary to the mother-daughter relationship, the gods/God relationships, and relationships in general. There is a mystery to be solved, but it is actually in the background. Sprinkled throughout are some suspenseful moments, quite a few uncomfortable and thought-provoking occasions, and many funny ones. The path leading to God isn’t forced or preachy, but it comes about as a part of a life-witness. The love of literature has a part in this path as Amy has established a tradition of bedtime reading with Clara. They take turns choosing the books After Clara started attending the youth group meetings, she brought home C. S. Lewis’ Mere Christianity. In spite of herself, Amy found passages digging deep into her soul, excellent passages that are quoted for the readers. I love this device, even if it is quite overt.

Another device I like is the method of chapter headings that keep the musical theme. Each chapter begins with a musical term--like glissando, fugue, impetuoso—followed by a definition that will pertain to the events of that chapter. Musical allusions are rampant, with similes and vocabulary galore, enough that I think it would help for the reader to be familiar with such terminology in order to get the full benefit of the novel. However, There is more than enough to enjoy without such knowledge.

At times the pace is a bit slow, but that is probably in keeping with the need to develop the characters and the past. It is all from Amy’s point of view, told in first person, giving us open access to her thoughts as well as the action and actual spoken word. There is no real violence, no mature themes, so while I would classify it as a book for adult women first and foremost, it should be quite handily read by most teenagers. Above all, it will be appreciated by the musically inclined.

Symphony of Secrets by Sharon Hinck
Bethany House Publishers, www.bethanyhouse.com
Feb. 2008
ISBN @ 978-0-7642-0282-7
Paperback. 212 pages.
Sharon's website, www.sharonhinck.com
Book available from many Christian bookstores, most bookstores, and online at Christianbook.com and www.amazon.com