Where I share my love of books with reviews, features, giveaways and memes. Family and needlepoint are thrown in from time to time.
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query amanda flower. Sort by date Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query amanda flower. Sort by date Show all posts

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Maid of Murder by Amanda Flower (Book Reviews)

Title: Maid of Murder (An India Hayes Mystery)
Author: Amanda Flower
Publisher: Five Star

Synopsis (from back cover): India Hayes is a lot of things. . . starving artist who pays the rent as a college librarian, daughter of liberal activists, sister of an emotional mathematician, tenant of a landlady who has kissed the Blarney Stone one too many times, and a bridesmaid six times over. But she's about to step into the most challenging role of her life: amateur sleuth.

Childhood friend and now knockout beauty, Olivia Blocken is back in town to wed her bodybuilder fiance with India a reluctant attendant. . . not just because the bridesmaid's dress is a hideous mess, but because she's betraying her brother. Mark still carries a torch for the bride who once broke his heart and sent his life into a tailspin.

When Olivia turns up dead in the Martin College fountain and the evidence points to Mark, India must unmask the real culprit while juggling a furious and grieving Mother of the Bride, an annoyingly beautiful Maid of Honor, a set of hippie-generation parents, the police detective who once dated her sister and is showing a marked liking for her, and a provost itching to fire someone, anyone -- maybe even a smart-mouthed librarian.

India's investigation leads her on a journey through childhood memories that she'd much rather have left in the schoolyard, but to avoid becoming the next victim, it is a path she must follow.

Maid of Murder is a fast-paced, laugh-out-loud mystery set in an amusing world of academia. Readers will fall in love with India Hayes' fierce loyalty and wit.

My thoughts:  I thought this debut novel was a lot of fun.  I love that the amateur sleuth is a librarian.  I worked in a library in high school and would love to be a librarian.  There is just something trustworthy and loyal about someone who loves books.  Anyway - India's family,  inspite of all their eccentricities, really care for each other and and India really goes all out to prove that Mark is innocent. But don't think just because it is a cozy mystery that you will figure it out quickly.  It kept me guessing. I look forward to reading more India Hayes mysteries!

About the author: Author Amanda Flower, a native of Akron Ohio, started her writing career in elementary school when she read a story she wrote to her sixth grade class and had the class in stitches with her description of being stuck on the top of a Ferris wheel. She knew at that moment she’d found her calling of making people laugh with her words. Like her main character India Hayes, Amanda is an academic librarian for a small college near Cleveland. When she is not at the library or writing her next mystery, she is an avid traveler who has been to seventeen countries, forty-eight U.S. states, and counting. Maid of Murder is her debut novel and the first in a series featuring amateur sleuth India Hayes. Amanda is also currently seeking a publisher for her middle-grade children’s mystery, The Mystery of the First Andora. She lives and writes near Akron.

You can find Amanda at her website, Amanda Flower, or on Facebook.

~I received a complimentary copy of this book in exchange for my review.~

Publisher/Publication Date: Five Star, June 16, 2010
ISBN: 978-1-59414-864-4
282 pages

Sunday, March 17, 2013

Book Review: A Plain Scandal by Amanda Flower

Title: A Plain Scandal
Author: Amanda Flower
Publisher: B&H Publishing Group

About the Book: The people of Appleseed Creek in the heart of Ohio's Amish Country are under attack. Soon after the dust has settled on a buggy accident that turned out to be murder, an unknown assailant begins cutting off the long hair of Amish women and the beards of Amish men.

New to the area, computer specialist Chloe Humphrey may not share their customs, but she is certainly alarmed over these crimes against the Amish and worries how such events will impact her growing number of friends who are more connected to that way of life.

In this small community, when Chloe discovers the body of an Amish businessman who was stabbed in the back and whose beard was cut off, she knows that finding the murderer and restoring peace to Appleseed Creek is as much her responsibility as anyone else's.

My thoughts: This is book 2 in the Appleseed Creek Mystery Series but it reads well as a stand alone.  They give you some information from the first book, so if you don't like spoilers, I would recommend that you read them in order. 

Chloe is very likable as a young woman trying to find her place in the community.  Being new, she has made a few friends, many of them Amish, or Amish who have left the Church.  Actually, her roommate Becky is one of the "formerly" Amish as is Becky's brother Timothy.  Chloe is sweet on Timothy and suspects he feels the same way, but the differences in their backgrounds has left Chloe wondering how, or even if, to pursue him. 

The three of them had been in the center of the buggy accident from the summer before and they once again find themselves in the center of the mystery surrounding who is cutting the Amishs' hair and beards.  Curt and Brock, the two who had been sent to prison for the accident have been released and they are back to harrassing Chloe.  So far they haven't crossed any lines, but Chloe wonders if they are involved in the recent crimes.  

When she doesn't think her life can get any more messed up, she finds that the house she and Becky are renting has a new landlord.  He is intent on restoring it to it's original style and doesn't seem to care that it might disrupt Chloe and Becky's lives. 

I liked the chemistry between Timothy and Chloe and look forward to seeing how that develops in future books. 

~I received a complimentary ecopy of this book from B&H Publishing via Net Galley in exchange for my unbiased review.~

About the author: Amanda Flower is an academic librarian for a small college in Ohio and grew up visiting the state's Amish Country with her family. An avid traveler, she has taken trips to Slovakia, Ireland, Israel, and Great Britain. Her 2010 debut, Maid of Murder, received an Agatha Award nomination for Best First Novel.

Previous books reviewed by Amanda Flowers - Maid of Murder.

Purchase Links


A Plain Scandal
Publisher/Publication Date: B&H Publishing, Feb 2013
ISBN: 9781433676987
336 pages

Sunday, April 4, 2010

In My Mailbox/Mailbox Monday (April 4 and 5)

Mailbox Monday is hosted at The Printed Page . Please visit Kristi and Marcia  and take a look at what packages everybody else got this week!


Numbers
by Rachel Ward

Since the day her mother died, Jem has known about the numbers.

Numbers that pop into her head when she looks into someone's eyes. They're dates, the numbers. Dates predicting with brute accuracy each person's death.

Burdened by such grim knowledge, Jem avoids relationships. Until she meets Spider, another outsider, and takes a chance. Maybe they can find happiness together, if only in the brief time that remains before his expiration date.

But on a trip to London, Jem foresees a chilling chain of events:
The city's a target.
The clock's running out.
The countdown is on to a blowup!


Maid of Murder
(An India Hayes Mystery)
by Amanda Flower
(review request from the author)

India Hayes is a lot of things. . .starving artist who pays the rent as a college librarian, daughter of liberal activists, sister of an emotional mathematician, tenant of a landlady who has kissed the Blarney Stone one too many times, and a bridesmaid six times over. But she's about to step into the most challenging role of her life: amateur sleuth.

Childhood friend and now knockout beauty, Olivia Blocken is back in town to wed her bodybuilder fiance with India a reluctant attendant. . . not just because the bridesmaid's dress is a hideous mess, but because she's betraying her brother. Mark still carries a torch for the bride who once broke his heart and sent his life into a tailspin.

When Olivia turns up dead in the Martin College fountain and the evidence points to Mark, India must unmask the real culprit while juggling a furious and grieving Mother of the Bride, an annoyingly beautiful Maid of Honor, a set of hippie-generation parents, the police detective who once dated her sister and is showing a marked liking for her, and a provost itching to fire someone, anyone -- maybe even a smart-mouthed librarian.

India's investigation leads her on a journey through childhood memories that she'd much rather have left in the schoolyard, but to avoid becoming the next victim, it is a path she must follow.

Maid of Murder is a fast-paced, laugh-out-loud mystery set in an amusing world of academia. Readers will fall in love with India Hayes' fierce loyalty and wit.




Keeper
by Kathi Appelt
(reviewing for Simon & Schuster Kid's Division)

Blue moon, magic moon. . . good for wishing.

To ten-year-old Keeper, this moon is her chance to fix all that has gone wrong. . . and so much has gone wrong.

But she knows who can make things right again: Meggie Marie, her mermaid mother who swam away when Keeper was just three. A blue moon calls the mermaids to gather at the sandbar, and that's exactly where Keeper is headed -- in a small boat, in the middle of the night, with ony her dog, BD (Best Dog), and a seagull named Captain. When the riptide pulls at the boat, tugging her away from the shore and deep into the rough waters of the Gulf of Mexico, panic sets in and the fairy tales that lured her out there go tumbling into the waves. Maybe the blue moon isn't magic and maybe the sandbar won't sparkle with mermaids, and maybe -- oh, no. . ."Maybe" is just too difficult to bear.


The Marrowbone Marble Company
by M. Glenn  Taylor
(received for review from ECCO via Shelf Awareness)

Moving from the hills of West Virginia to the islands of the Pacific and back, a sweeping novel of love and war, power and oppression, faith and deception, from the author of The Ballad of Trenchmouth Taggart, a finalist for the 2009 National Book Critic's Circle Award.

1941. Orphan Loyal Ledford works the swing shift tending the furnace at the Mann Glass factory in Huntington, West Virginia. He courts Rachel, the boss's daughter, a company nurse with spike straight posture and coal black hair. But when Pearl Harbor is attacked, Ledford, like so many young men of his time, sets his life on a new course. . .

Upon his return from service in the war, Ledford starts a family with Rachel, but he chafes under the authority at Mann Glass. he is a lost man, disconnected from the present and haunted by his violent past, until he meets his cousins, the Bonecutter brothers. Their land, the mysterious, elemental Marrowbone Cut, calls to Ledford, and it is there, with help from an unlikely bunch, that the Marrowbone Marble Company is slowly forged. Over the next two decades, the factory town becomes a vanguard of the civil rights movement and the war on poverty, a home for those intent on change. Such a home inevitably invites trouble, and Ledford must fight for his family.

Returning to the West Virginia territory of his critically acclaimed Ballad of Trenchmouth Taggart, M. Glenn Taylor recounts the transformative journey of a man and his community. Told in clean and powerful prose in the tradition of Cormac McCarthy and John Irving, The Marrowbone Marble Company takes a harrowing look at the issues of race and class throughout the tumultuous 1950s and '60s. It is a story of struggle and loss, righteousness and redemption, and it can only be found in the hills of Marrowbone, in the deft storytelling of M. Glenn Taylor.



Alexandra, Gone
by Anna McPartlin
(reviewing for Simon & Schuster Gallery Books)

Letting go for good. . .

Once, Jane Moore and Alexandra Walsh were inseparable, sharing secrets and stolen candy, plotting their futures together. But when Jane became pregnant at seventeen, they drifted slowly apart. Jane has spent the years since raising her son, now seventeen himself, on her own, running a gallery, managing her sister's art career, and looking after their volatile mother -- all the while trying not to resent the limited choices life has give her.

Then a quirk of fate and a faulty elevator bring Jane into contact with Tom, Alexandra's husband, who has some shocking news. Alexandra disappeared from a south Dublin suburb months ago, and Tom has been searching fruitlessly for her. Jane offers to help, as do the elevator's other passengers -- Jane's brilliant but self-absorbed sister, Elle, and Leslie Sheehan, a reclusive web designer who's ready to step back into the world again. And as Jane quickly realizes, Tom isn't the only one among them who's looking for something. . .or traveling toward unexpected revelations about love, life, and what it means to let go, in every sense.

In this insightful and irresistible novel, by turns profound, poignant and laugh-out-loud funny, acclaimed Irish writer Anna McPartlin tells a story of friendship and love, of the families we are born into and the ones we create for ourselves, and of the hope and strength that remain when we find the courage to leave the past behind at last.



Necessary Heartbreak
by Michael J. Sullivan
(reviewing for Simon & Schuster Gallery Books)

An extraordinary journey back in time shows a struggling single dad that the faith he's lost is still alive -- and stronger than ever. . .

Michael Stewart has weathered his share of hardships: a troubled childhood, the loss of his mother, even the degradation of living on the city streets. Now he's raising his teenaged daughter, Elizabeth, on his own and doing the best he can at work and at home. But he's turned his back on his faith -- that is, until the morning Michael and Elizabeth volunteer for a food pantry at their local church.  While storing boxes in the basement, they step through a mysterious door. . . and find themselves in first-century Jerusalem during the tumultuous last week of Jesus Christ's life. It is a dangerous and violent place, where doing what your heart tells you is right can get you imprisoned -- or worse -- and they are thankful to take refuge with a kind widow. But when they come face-to-face with Judas Iscariot and the condemned Christ himself, Michael realizes that before they can escape Jerusalem, he must experience history's most necessary and shattering heartbreak -- and that pain and loss must happen if Michael is to be set free: to live, love, and reclaim the blessings he has in the present day.


Three Wishes
by Carey Goldberg, Beth Jones, and Pamela Ferdinand
(reviewing for Hachette Books)

The true story of best friends who find that the moment they stop waiting for fairy-tale endings, their "happily ever afters" begin.

Carey, Beth, and Pam, all successful journalists, have good luck in friends, but terrible luck in relationships. Which makes it more difficult to get what they truly desire: children. And time is running out.

After years of chasing headlines from Manhattan to Moscow, Carey returns home and is the first to abandon the traditional path to motherhood. She decides to go it alone, finds the perfect anonymous donor, and buys eight vials of his sperm. Maybe it's newfound confidence from taking control of her destiny. Maybe it's sheer coincidence. But on the day the vials arrive, she meets a man online. They fall in love. And she gets pregnant the old-fashioned way.

Carey passes the vials, like a talisman to Beth, who has recovered from a wrenching divorce, a predatory lawyer, and poor choices made by unscrupulous financiers. But before she can use the vials, Beth meets a man on an ice-climbing trip. She too falls in love.  And gets pregnant. So she gives the vials to Pam, an eternal romantic. Pam will never stop searching for the love of her life, but she's ready to be a single mother. Then the magic strikes again. Her wish is fulfilled at an observatory under the stars.

Is it lucky sperm? Kismet? Or shared hope, determination, and resilience that pave the way to these happy endings?  Despite soured relationships and crushing losses, three women become three families, reveling in the shared joys of love, friendship, and never giving up.


 



Code Blue
(Prescription for Trouble Series)
by Richard L. Mabry, MD
(For a First Wild Card Tour)

Who wants Dr. Cathy Sewell dead?

For Dr. Cathy Sewell, Code Blue means more than just the cardiac emergencies she faces -- it's the state of her life when the return to her hometown doesn't bring the peace she so desperately needs.

The town doctors resent the fact that she's not only a newcomer but also a woman, and the devastating results from one of her prescriptions may mean the end of her practice.

As two men compete for affection, an enemy wants her out of town -- or possibly even dead.

What great books did you get this week?

Sunday, August 15, 2010

It's Monday! What are you reading? (Aug 16, 2010)



What are you reading on Mondays is hosted by Sheila at One Person's Journey - You can hook up with the Mr. Linky there with your own post - but be sure and let me know what you are reading too!

Well, due to a migraine I missed last weeks It's Monday post.  It threw a curve ball into my entire week and don't feel like I got much reading done at all!  Definitely am behind on some reviews!  (Though I did manage to get some new giveaways up!)  I am way behind on my reading and hope to catch up with that soon also!


Currently Reading:
Maid of Murder by Amanda Flower - Cozy mystery that is good so far.
The Hanging Tree by Bryan Gruley - haven't read any in this for awhile, but hope to get back to it soon!
I Love this Bar by Carolyn Brown - missing book that my mom found in her suitcase!
The Little Giant of Aberdeen County by Tiffany Baker - Good book, but it is going to be shelved for awhile until I get caught up.
Roseflower Creek by Jackie Lee Miles - promising start - Hope to get back to it soon!
Lowcountry Summer by Dorothea Benton Frank - I am going to put this one away for awhile as it just isn't jiving with me right now.

Bathroom Book:
Holly's Inbox: Scandal in the City by Holly Denham - another book written entirely in emails. Very funny!

Audio Book:
The Scarecrow by Michael Connelly - Figure I am not going to have time for any audio books again until school starts!

New this week:
Solitary by Travis Thrasher
Hell, Yeah by Carolyn Brown
Seduced by a Wolf by Terry Spear
Amish Proverbs by Suzanne Woods

Books Reviewed Last (2) Week:

Waiting to Be Reviewed:
101 Things I Learned in Fashion School by Matthew Frederick and Alfredo Cabrero
Heart of My Heart by Kristin Armstrong
Meet Me in Dreamland: A Lu-Chu and Lena Book by Steven McKinney, Valerie McKinney
Forget You by Jennifer Echols
Final Touch by Brandilyn Collins and Amberly Collins - Thought I had reviewed this! But discovered I started the post and never finished it!
Masked by Lou Anders


Ready - Set - Read!

Thursday, March 26, 2009

First Wild Card Tour: Deadly Charm

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!


Go here for my review of this book!


Today's Wild Card author is:







and the book:




Deadly Charm (Amanda Bell Brown Mystery Series, Book 3)

Howard Books (March 24, 2009)




ABOUT THE AUTHOR:








Claudia Mair Burney is the author of numerous novels and the popular Ragamuffin Diva blog. She lives with her husband and their seven children in Michigan.



Visit the author's website and blog.



Product Details:



List Price: $13.99

Paperback: 400 pages

Publisher: Howard Books (March 24, 2009)

Language: English

ISBN-10: 1416551956

ISBN-13: 978-1416551959



AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:






Rocky showed up at my apartment door with an offer that, in his words, I “no coulda refuse.” Or maybe those were Marlon Brando’s words. I couldn’t be sure. My blond, dreadlocked former pastor slash ex-boyfriend locked me into a stare with those big, brown puppy eyes. He’d puffed out his jowls to utter the Godfather’s most famous line, while grazing his cheek with the back of his fingers—an excruciatingly amiss imitation. I’ve seen newborn babies’ smiles more intimidating.



“You look more like a hamster than a mobster, Rock.”



“Hamsters are cool.”



“But less compelling, you must admit.”



Rocky grinned and wagged his finger at me, “Never underestimate the power of a furry little creature.” He twitched his nose and started making hamster noises.



“Amen!” I said.



I thought of my vicious, former pet sugar glider, Amos. Although he’d become my friend and hero, I had to give him away to another nocturnal creature—otherwise, I’d never sleep again. My husband’s best friend, Souldier, had taken the murderous marsupial. Now Amos happily shreds his drapes.



“Come on in, my not-so-furry friend,” I told Rocky, mostly so he would stop making weird rodent sounds.



I moved aside so he could enter my little slice of paradise: shabby chic meets Africa is what Jazz, my husband called it. Rocky loved my funky, eclectically furnished place, too. He just didn’t describe it as aptly as Jazz did.



Who was I kidding? Rocky didn’t do anything as aptly as Jazz did. I had lost them both six weeks ago, and now here was Rocky, surprising me by showing up at my door like unexpected grace.



“Welcome back, Rocky,” I said. I know how lame I sounded, but I wanted him to know I was glad he’d come no matter what the reason.



He muttered a shy, “Thanks.”



We stood in my foyer exchanging reticent glances until I got bold enough to take a long look at him. I’d missed him so. He wore a typical Rockyesque uniform underneath his white down jacket—khaki pants and a long-sleeved Batman T-shirt. A cupid earring dangled in his right ear. Every year about this time he wore it to remind me to come to the Saint Valentine’s Day feast.



Without thinking I blurted out. “I see you and Cupid are still advertising our—” I bit my tongue. There’d be no “our” Saint Valentine’s Day feast this year for prodigal Bell. “Sorry,” I muttered.



“No problem,” he rushed to say, and then an awful silence descended on us like a cold, grey fog.



When I was still a member of his church, aptly named the Rock House, I never missed the event. Rocky would tell stories of the historical Saint Valentine; we’d eat candy conversation hearts, listen to live music, and share abundant amounts of food and laughter. It was Rocky’s way of making sure the lonely hearts wouldn’t spend the evening alone. There with my church family, not only did I get heaps of love, I could give out some from my meager supply.



That and we always had a chocolate fountain.



What was I going to do now?



I tried not to think about the sting of Rocky kicking me out of his church. I didn’t want to think about anything that had happened six weeks ago. Still, I figured whatever brought him to my door had an olive branch attached to it, and whatever he asked, short of sin, I’d be willing to do to reconcile with him.



Rocky hung up his jacket, kicked out of his Birkenstocks, and headed over to my rose-colored velvet sofa and sat. I followed, plopping down beside him.



“So, what’s the offer, Godfather?”



He stared at me. “Did you gain weight?”



Because I know it’s rude to kill your loved ones, I let that one slide and gave him a polite smile, but I did grab a mudcloth throw pillow and cover my expanding waistline.



“So, what’s the offer, Rocky?”



He gushed in a most un-Godfatherly like way. “I want you to go to a meeting with me. It’s only going to be the way-coolest event you’ve been to in forever.”



I cuddled the pillow and eyed him cautiously. He didn’t mean the Valentine’s Day feast. I braced myself. Rocky’s idea of way cool could get scary. “Can you be a little more specific?”



He didn’t answer. Just reached out and touched my hand, rubbing his thumb across my knuckles. “I really missed you.”



Oh, man. That small gesture—him touching the hand nobody held anymore—that tiny movement had the effect of a pebble in a pond, creating ripples of unexpected sadness that circled out of my soul. Lord, have mercy. I didn’t fling myself at him, begging like a rhythm-and-blues singer for him to keep loving me, to not give up on me, but something in me wished I could.



I didn’t want to marry Rocky, or even date him. He had never been the love of my life. In that moment I simply wanted to banish the nearly incarnate loneliness that had been dogging my heels as a solemn, maddening companion, shuffling me through all those days with no best-friend Rocky.



And with no husband Jazz.



I gazed up at him with my own version of puppy eyes. “I missed you too, Rocky.”



We let a bit of silence sit between us on the sofa like a third and very quiet presence. Our heads hung low. Apparently we both still smarted over our mutual pain of separation.



Minutes passed, our hands still clasped together, but Rocky’s merciful presence soothed my dry soul patches like olive oil.



Thank God. Thank God for every kind soul I don’t deserve in my life who loves me anyway.



“Rocky.” I made my voice as soft and small as a baby’s blankie.



He turned to me, his face as open and vulnerable as that blankie’s little owner.



I squeezed his hand. “I’m so sorry I hurt you.”



Those puppy eyes shone with the compassion I knew like the backs of my freckled hands.



“I’m sorry for the things I did, too, babe. For the things I said that night.”



“Don’t call me babe.”



He chuckled. “Some things never change.” Again, those gentle peepers bore into me. “Why didn’t you tell me you married Jazz?”



“At the time I didn’t seem too clear on it myself. Things happened pretty fast, and the next thing I knew, I was a wife.” I paused, the weight of that statement shifting just a bit since Rocky had shown up to help bear my burden. “He’s mad at me.”



“Duh-uh. You were kissing your blond boy toy.” He nudged me with his tattooed arm. “What’s going on with the two of you now?”



“I’ve seen corpses on Carly’s autopsy tables more involved than our marriage.”



I wondered if I’d ever get over what I’d lost with Jazz.



“I can only imagine what his parents think of me. I guess they’d say I’m the nightmare that took his ex Kate’s place.”



He regarded me with the care and concern I’ve seen him lavish on the fortunate souls he counseled as a pastor. Rocky may be only twenty-seven years old, but he’d been a pastor for two years. Two good years. He didn’t have the life experience an older pastor would, but God had given him an extraordinary shepherd’s heart.



“You’re not a nightmare,” he said. “You jumped into a marriage with no spiritual or emotional preparation.”



Like I, the clinician, needed him to tell me that.



I sighed. “Yet another psychologist heal thyself thing.” I looked away from him, guilt gnawing at me. “Maybe Jazz and I just aren’t meant to be, Rocky.”



“Have you talked to him?”



I shrugged. “Just once. He came over for a few minutes on Christmas Eve. I let him know I wanted him in a way I knew he’d understand. And then I waited. He never came back.”



“Why didn’t you go to him?”



“The same reason I didn’t come to you. I wanted to give him some space to feel whatever he felt and then to decide on his own.”



“But, maybe he’s not like me, babe.”



“Ya, think? And don’t call me babe.”



“Maybe he needs you to help him decide. Like, some extra reassurance or something.”



“That’s crazy, Rock.”



“It’s not so crazy, babe.”



I took back every nice thing I’d just thought about him. What did he know? Yes, he pastors a church of more than two-hundred members. He did missions work. He had a shepherd’s heart. He took pastoral counseling classes in seminary, but, honestly! His voice sounded just like Patrick’s on Sponge Bob.



Rocky glared at me. “Babe. . . .”



“Don’t call me babe.”



“Babe! You gotta go to him.”



“But he yells. Sometimes he cusses like a fish wife.”



“What’s a fish wife?”



“I don’t know, but my great-grandmother used to say that and it stuck with me. Maybe only females cuss like fish wives. Maybe he cusses like the fish.” Now I sounded like Patrick!



“Fish don’t cuss.”



“Okay, I know I should have reassured him.”



He sighed. Looked at me with those eyes. Squeezed my hand. “Will you ever let anyone love you?”



“People love me, Rocky. My sister. My secretary. Sasha.”



“I have doubts about Sasha.”



I thought about that and chuckled with him. “You may be right. My mother has done a few things that make me wonder. Now I’m really depressed.”



“I want to see you happy.”



“I want to see you happy, too. Speaking of which, how are you and Elisa?”



He grinned, reddened, looked away.



“What? Did you marry her in six weeks? My goodness!” For the first time, I didn’t feel jealous that someone was interested in Rocky. Well, not much.



“No. I’m not married. I’m . . . .”



“You’re what?”



“She’s really special, but it hasn’t been that long since she left creepy cult dude. I’m not sure I should be involved.”



“How involved are you?”



“I’m involved, babe.”



“You’re in love?”



He wouldn’t say anything, but his goofy grin spoke for him.



“Rocky?”



He nudged me, “Cut it out, babe.”



So, Rocky was really in love. Wow. I always knew it would happen, but I didn’t realize I’d still have the teensiest bit of pain knowing he’d moved on from me for good. I could see a flower of astonishing beauty blossoming between them when I saw them together, even though it nearly killed me at the moment. But God knows Rocky deserved the biggest, juiciest love he could find. He needed to look beyond the non-existent us. And he still calls me babe.



“Just take it slow, Rock. Trust me. The cost of moving too fast is astronomical, even if you are in love.”



I could tell he didn’t feel comfortable talking to me about Elisa. I decided to let their love blossom without my tending, pruning, or pulling up weeds. I got back to the business at hand. “Are you ever going to tell me what your offer is?” I eased into the lush upholstery of my sofa.



Rocky’s face lit up. Honestly, if that guy had a tail to go with those puppy eyes, it’d be thumping my sofa with joy.



“It’s gonna be awesome, ba— I mean, Bell.”



Apparently our little chat about Elisa made him correct himself.



“You think everything is awesome, Rocky.”



“I don’t think everything is awesome.”



“You said my Love Bug is awesome. You said Switchfoot’s new CD is awesome. You said my new zillions braids are awesome, and you said the ice-cream at Cold Stone Creamery is awesome.” Okay, the ice-cream at Cold Stone happened to be awesome for real. Lately I’d craved it like the blind crave sight.



“But, babe . . . ”



There he goes again. Honestly! A holy war couldn’t make that man stop calling me babe.



He went on. “Those things are awesome.”



“God is awesome, Rock. Awesome meaning the subject inspires awe, as in reverence, respect, dread.”



“You reverence your tricked-out VW Beetle,” he said, “And I respect Switchfoot, especially Jon Foreman, and your way-cool, African-goddess hair inspired me to get dreads.”



I stared at him. Comments like these coming from Rocky tended to render me temporarily speechless.



He filled the silence with his proposal. “I want you to go see Ezekiel Thunder with me.”



My eyes widened. Electroshock therapy wouldn’t have given me such a jolt. “Ezekiel Thunder?” I screeched. I jerked up from my slouch. I’d heard the un-right reverend wanted to hit the comeback trail, taking his miracle crusade with him.



Rocky gave me a wicked grin and settled himself smugly into the soft folds of my sofa. He knew I’d left Thunder’s particular brand of Pentecostal fire many years ago and had no desire to go back.



Rocky bobble-head nodded, as if his physical movement would affect a change in my attitude.



“Stop all that nodding!”



“I’m just trying to encourage you.”



I did not feel encouraged.



“It’ll be fun,” he said, blasting me with the full puppy-eyes arsenal. Oh, those eyes. Powerful! Mesmerizing! Like a basket full of cocker spaniel puppies wearing red ribbons. I could feel myself weakening.



“Rocky, that meeting will torture me. It will torture you!”



“No, it won’t. Ezekiel is my friend.”



“Your friend?”



“He led me to Christ.”



“Ezekiel Thunder led you to Christ?”



“I told you I came to Christ at a Bible camp.”



“Yes? And?”



“It was a Sons of Thunder Bible camp. I’m a Thunder Kid!” He beamed with what I hoped wasn’t pride.



“You never told me that!”



Honestly! You think you know somebody! He was my ex-boyfriend for goodness’ sake. We’d talked about marriage. I couldn’t believe I had no idea he was close friends with the infamous Ezekiel Thunder!



“You can be kinda judgmental about guys like Ezekiel.” He went on. “I didn’t mean to upset you or trigger bad memories of your tongues-talking days.”



“Then don’t ask me to go see him.”



“He’s a different man. He and his family want to buy a house in Ann Arbor. He’s living at the Rock House house until one comes through for him. ”



“God forbid!”



“He needs support. People to show up and cheer him on.”



“Cheer him on? We should stop him!” Had Rocky forgotten that Ezekiel Thunder had fallen as hard as many of his televangelist contemporaries in the eighties—and for a tawdry little tryst with a young intern? May it never be!



“How hard would it be for you to sit there and listen? Maybe say a few prayers for him.”



“God bless you as you do that for him.”



“I was there for you, supporting Great Lakes Seminary when they were struggling and going to lose their building. I did it because of how much you love Mason May.”



“Rocky! That’s not even comparable. Mason is a fine theologian training good men and women for powerful, effective ministries. He’s not a snake-oil peddler.”



“It’s not snake oil. It’s miracle prosperity oil.”



I stared at him. He’d stunned me to silence once again. I waited for Rocky to fill the silence with testimonies about the healing properties of miracle prosperity oil. Thankfully, he refrained. But he didn’t look like he’d let me off the hook.



I tried to reason with him. “You shouldn’t ask me to do this. You’re Emergent, Rocky, not a dyed-in-the-wool charismatic.”



“You don’t like post-modern, post-denominational, Emergent folks either.”



“I like them more than Ezekiel Thunders.”



“What’s that thing you say about the Emergent Church?”



“This is not about the Emergent Church. I’d go to an Emergent meeting with you anytime. You name the place: Mars Hill, Ann Arbor Vineyard. How ‘bout Frontline Church? ”



He didn’t budge. “Come on, babe. He’s like a dad to me.”



“A dad?”



“You always say Mason is like a dad to you.”



“But Mason has a PhD. He doesn’t sell ‘miracle prosperity oil’.”



“Ezekiel doesn’t sell it, either. He gives it away for a love offering.”



“A considerable love offering, if I remember! It’s plain olive oil he’s pushing to gullible babes in the faith who don’t know any better. How can I support his money-lusting schemes?”



“Ummm. By going with me?” Hope burgeoned in his voice as if I hadn’t just accused his mentor of being a hustler.



“Did you hear what I said, Rock? Ezekiel Thunder is everything I walked away from.”



“You walked away from a lot more than that, babe. And you’ve been known to hang out with people with worse theology than his. People way more dangerous.”



He had a point.



“Rocky . . . .” I didn’t want to go. Please, God, don’t make me go.



“He’s changed, babe. Give him a chance. For me.”



The eyes again, and a smile with an invisible tail wag.



I grumbled.



He grinned.



I gave him a dramatic sigh. “What time are we leaving?”



“If you’re not busy, and you’re not, we can leave in a few hours. I’ll pick you up at six.”



“How do you know I don’t have plans?”



“Because you have antisocial tendencies.”



“Don’t hold back, Rock. What do you really think about me?”



“Don’t worry,” he said, ignoring my insolence. “You’re gonna fall in love with Ezekiel.”



I rolled my eyes. “Not likely.”



He put his face right in front of mine until we were eye to eye. “You are feeling veeeeeery tired. You’re getting sleepy. You’re going to enjoy yourself at the crusade.”



“No fair,” I said, “Those eyes of yours are potent hypnotizers.”



“You are going to love Ezekiel Thunder.”



“I am going to love Ezekiel Thunder.”



Rocky got out of my face. “You’ve gotta admit, babe. This will be safer than sleuthing.”



No, it won’t, a disembodied voice--also known as the still, small voice of God--informed me.



I tried to ignore it. Maybe this Spirit prompting was speaking figuratively.



Couldn’t ignore it.



What, Lord, am I some kind of trouble magnet?



Don’t answer that, God.



I started rationalizing immediately to take the edge off what I truly hoped was not a prophetic warning. Maybe I could fall in love with the guy and respect him. Maybe he could even heal the egg-sized growth on my lower abdomen that scared me to death each time I ran my index finger across it. Maybe I could even find the keys to unlock the little room inside my heart where all the Ezekiel Thunders I’ve ever known were locked. I’d stored them there to keep me safe from the particular brand of harm only they could inflict.



I could feel my defenses shoot up as if a rocket propelled them.



Fall in love with Ezekiel Thunder?



I wished.



I shouldn’t have wished. My great-grandmother and namesake Amanda Bell Brown use to say, “Be careful what you wish for, baby. You just might get it.”



She ain’t never lied.


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