Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Christian Readers '09 Challenge
Christian Readers 09
This challenge asks you to:
create a list of Christian books that you’d like to read…
titles can be fiction, nonfiction, or a mixture of both
read these between January 1st - April 30th, 2009
overlaps with other challenges ARE allowed
eBooks and Audiobooks ARE allowed.
Here is my tentative list of books:
Be Strong & Curvaceous - Shelley Adina
Grace for the Afflicted - Matthew Stanley
Scrapping Plans - Rebeca Seitz
Lost in Las Vegas - Melody Carlson
The Red Siren - M.L. Tyndall
The Valentine Edition - Robin Shope
It's All About Us - Shelley Adina
Lessons From San Quentin - Bill Dallas
John's Quest - Cecelia Dowdy
The Spring of Candy Apples - Debbie Viguie
I Do Again - Cheryl and Jeff Scruggs
Age Before Beauty - Virginia Smith
Fruit of My Lipstick - Shelley Adina
Kiss - Ted Dekker and Erin Healy
This Side of Heaven - Karen Kingsbury
The Stones - Eleanor Gustafson
Diamonds in the Shadow - Caroline B. Cooney
Scream - Mike Dellosso
Katt's in the Cradle - Ginger Kolbaba and Christy Scannell
Deadly Charm - Claudia Mair Burney
Yesterday's Embers - Deborah Raney
Rachel's Tears - Beth Nimmo and Darrell Scott
Fatal Illusions - Adam Blumer
So Not Happening - Jenny B. Jones
Murder, Mayhem and a Fine Man - Claudia Mair Burney
The Noticer - Andy Andrews
New York Debut - Melody Carlson
To join this challenge - please go to the Christian Readers post here.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Drinkwater by Eric Hopkins
From the cover: Drinkwater was originally an English word given to someone who abstains from drinking alcohol. As a family name it represents sobriety, dignity and self-control.
Nineteen-year old Amber Drinkwater knows that when life presents hardships, a responsible person meets them fairly, with a clear head and the willingness to work. Her plans to start a new life in Toronto with her brother Guy are interrupted when their uncle fails to meet them at the train station, but she resolves to abide until he turn up - and when it seems their caretaker is gone for good, she accepts it as an unexpected but timely call to independence and adult responsibility, inspite of her dearth of money or friends in the city.
The sprawling city of Toronto represents a shining opportunity for Amber to prove herself through an old code of grim endurance and bold resignation, but she will find her simple work ethic is no match for its modern towers, dark streets and disjointed neighbourhoods. Drinkwater is a provocative story that blurs the borders between teenage empowerment and helplessness, between experience and naivety, and between optimism and blind hope.
I am not sure that this is a good summation of this book - when I read this, I pictured a young girl, though facing what seems to be insurmountable odds, valiantly strives forward to success, however small. Maybe this was just the optimistic/romantic in me. This was not this book.
Amber and her brother, Guy(just a teenager), arrive in Toronto expecting their uncle Ian to meet their train - then they would begin their life there - Amber by transferring to the college in Toronto, and Guy by finishing high school. Never quite sure what happened to the parents, but the way things are phrased you get the idea that they have died. (So in all respect, maybe the point of this book was that these two were in shock over the death of their parents). The two kids never really do discuss their parents. What follows is about a week in the life of Amber as she proceeds to try to find them a place to stay, first until their uncle gets back - and when she realizes that isn't going to happen, a permanent place to stay. She also tries to get a job and get her brother enrolled in the local high school.
She bums lodging off of a tour guide (Carrie)she had meet the spring before, and when she wears out the welcome in her dorm, she stays with Carrie's boyfriend. She gets two jobs, one for which she never shows up for, and the other one at Tim Horton's (coffee shop) for which she is late, but does manage to work a few night shifts.
The book was somewhat disjointed - didn't really always follow where the characters were supposed to be. The kids do get separated and we learn very little about where or what happens to Guy after that. I didn't like the story and didn't like the ending - but it has stayed with me which I guess, in itself, says something. It does a good job of depicting how tough it is to get a start in life - especially as a young adult - if you do not have any sort of a plan or savings or just help in general. I am sure not everyone would feel the way that I do about this book. I want my reading to be all about what is good and right in the world so this always plays into my feelings. I would give this a 3/5 stars.
Publisher: Crackjaw Publishing http://www.crackjawpublishing.com/
Teaser Tuesday
The Christmas Edition by Robin Shope
It is time to play a Wild Card! Every now and then, a book that I have chosen to read is going to pop up as a FIRST Wild Card Tour. Get dealt into the game! (Just click the button!) Wild Card Tours feature an author and his/her book's FIRST chapter!
You never know when I might play a wild card on you!
and the book:
The Christmas Edition – first book in The Turtle Creek Edition series
The Wild Rose Press (November 21, 2008)
In Robin's words:
I am the Special Education Coordinator for Denton County Juvenile Justice Alternative Program. I work with at risk teens from fifth grade through high school. My husband and I have been married for thirty-one years and we have two grown children. The first two years of marriage, Rick and I traveled overseas as missionaries. Afterwards we served as pastors of a church in Illinois. Presently we live near Dallas, Texas. He is in business and I work for the school system. (My husband still makes yearly mission trips to India.)
To date, my literary works include approximately two hundred articles in magazines such as: Guideposts, Live, Lookout, Mennonite, Christian Reader, Decision, Breakthrough and Christianity Today. Other short stories appear in the books: A Match Made in Heaven, Stories from the Heart, The Evolving Woman, and the New York Times bestseller, In The Arms of Angels by Joan Wester-Anderson. Ann Spangler also used one of my stories in her book, Help! I Can’t Stop Laughing. Another two-dozen stories have been published in the Chicken Soup books. One story, Mom’s Last Laugh, was re-enacted for a PAX-TV program: It’s a Miracle. I co-authored a thriller, The Chase, for Revell. My second book, The Replacement, was released in June 2006. The Candidate was released July, 2007. I continue to publish short stories in magazines. Wildcard, a mystery, will be a spring 2009 release. The Christmas Edition releases Nov. 20. The Valentine Edition releases in January 2009.
Visit the author's website.
Product Details:
List Price: $ 11.99
Paperback: 236 pages
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press (November 21, 2008)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1601543301
ISBN-13: 978-1601543301
AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:
December 1
The usual winter blizzard blew into southern
Wisconsin.
Lucy Collins carefully maneuvered her car
through the snow that grew deeper with every gust
of wind. She parked directly in front of her family
owned business, The Turtle Creek Newspaper, just
as her brother, Mike, was making his second pass at
clearing away the snow from the drive with the
snow blower.
“Hey, Mike! Help me carry these inside, will
you?” Lucy called to him as she got out of her heated
car. A sharp wind sucked up her words and nearly
knocked her off balance.
Mike turned off the blower and cupped his hand
around his ear. “What did you say?” His breath
circled around his face in the frigid air.
“Help!” Lucy hollered. She popped the trunk and
pivoted her body in an exaggerated fashion-the way
models do when showcasing prizes on a game show.
She stepped to the other side and waved her hands,
palms up, along the food trays and her mother’s
crystal punch bowl set. Then she flashed her
younger brother her biggest smile.
Mike galloped up to the car just as another gust
of wind, hammered snow at them. “It’s freezing out
here! Even my nose hairs are frozen solid. You go on
in. I’ll get these as soon as I’m finished shoveling the
walk.”
“Thanks.” Lucy gave him a kiss on the cheek. To
keep her balance, she gingerly walked across the
crunchy ice crystals and into the warm building.
Once inside, she tugged off one boot and then the
other, dropping them under her desk. She hung her
coat and scarf on the back of her swivel chair as she
looked around at the decorations of wreaths and
holly. A sprig of mistletoe hung over the empty desk
at the back. That would surely go to waste. Music
played loudly from her dad’s old stereo inside his
office.
Christmas used to be her favorite holiday, but
after a disastrous end to her engagement, a couple of
years ago, this particular holiday now only served as
a dark reminder of broken promises. With prayer
and a loving family, Lucy was ready to start her life
again, which meant buying her own place right after
the first of the year. Working and living with the
same people was often stifling, especially when
they’re her parents.
Lucy’s mom was the cheerleader as well as the
gopher, making sure everyone had what they
needed, whereas Lucy’s father focused persistently
on getting the next edition out and on time.
Each year at Christmastime, however, Harold
Collins took off his publisher hat and donned
something completely different. The weeks wedged
between Thanksgiving and Christmas became about
assisting others. She loved it all and nothing could
ever take her away from this life.
The employees had finished packing up the last
of the boxes from the food drive which were now
stacked neatly, ready to be dropped off at area
shelters. Lucy wanted to acknowledge all the work
they’d done. “For a small cluster of people, we sure
accomplish a truckload of work, fast! These
donations will help many people down and out this
holiday season. Like all the other years we’ve
worked closely together and done a great job.”
Christmas was about unbridled joy but today, try as
she may, she still wasn’t feeling it. Maybe she could
fake it for everyone’s sake. Lucy lowered her head in
modesty and stated, “This is going to be a Christmas
of miracles.”
As if releasing faith into the air, everyone began
to punctuate her words with applause. Right on cue,
Harold Collins stepped out of his office wearing a hat
something like one of the elves might wear. He even
bobbed his head up and down to show off the cluster
of bells that dangled at the tip of the loopy crown.
Lucy couldn’t help but have her first laugh of the
day, along with the other employees.
“I know it’s still over a month until Christmas
but I thought you could use this now,” Harold said as
he produced a fan of festive red and green envelopes.
Squeals of delight resonated as they opened the
envelopes and saw the amount written on the checks
but none was as loud as Ulilla Langston. Lucy’s dad
had inherited her along with the paper when her
grandpa died. Ulilla was a beautiful, black woman
with hair swept close to her head in a French twist.
She carried weight around the place both literally
and figuratively.
“Harold and Margaret Collins,” she crowed, as
her hand fluttered to her chest. “No way can you
afford to give us this.”
“Nonsense!” Harold blustered, and politely
dismissed her words of protest with a wave. “It
should be three times this and you know it! You all
have worked effortlessly and clocked in many
overtime hours in order to get the newspaper out
each week. I am the one who is grateful. Merry
Christmas!”
The bell above the front door jingled as Mike
walked in balancing the punch bowl along with the
holiday trays. “Where do you want these, sis?”
“Let me help with that.” Lucy took the top two
trays. “Take the rest into the break room. I’ll follow
you in.”
Margaret touched the sleeve of Lucy’s cardigan.
“Have you finished our Christmas cards yet?”
“I started a month ago and finally finished them
last night. Not only did I hand write each one, but
the envelopes are addressed and stamped.”
“Which of the photographs did you decide on?”
“I thought I told you that all ready. Never mind,
there’s one in my desk I’ll show you.” Lucy set down
the trays. From the desk drawer, she took a single
envelope and handed it to her mother. “Here, I was
looking for something that would embody a perfect
form of truth when it comes to Christianity.”
Margaret stared at the card. A country church
was nestled into a hillside surrounded on all sides by
fresh snowfall. Above, the sky was brilliant blue.
Lucy looked over her mother’s shoulder. She
scrunched her face, second-guessing her
photographic choice. “Does it look okay?”
“It’s a whole lot more than okay. This is simply
breathtaking and looks professionally done. Lucy,
you should have put your logo somewhere on this
card so people would be aware that you are the one
who took this photograph of our church.” Margaret’s
eyes glistened.
“Not this time. I want people to focus on the
birth of our Savior and the hope He gives for our
lives. Mom, in the past year, I have become more
appreciative of the upbringing you and Dad gave
Mike and me and how you shared your faith which
has now become mine.” Lucy choked back her tears
and touched the silver cross she always wore at her
neckline.
“Those words are the best gift you could ever
give to me.” Margaret hugged her daughter. “I want
nothing more this season than to see you happy.”
Lucy hugged back tightly. “I’m working hard on
that.”
“Lucy!” Mike called from the break room. “I
thought you said you were following me in. I’m
making a mess of things trying to get the food set
up.”
“Ah, I better go rescue the food from Mike and
start the punch.” Lucy picked up the trays. “By the
way, it’s getting worse outside so could you suggest
to Dad that we better let everyone go home early.”
“I will, but right now, I want to lend you a
hand.”
Lucy and Mike uncovered the trays of fruit,
cheese, and crackers. Margaret took her home baked
pastries from the refrigerator and arranged them on
top of doilies set on antique dessert plates. Mike
dumped plastic forks from the box into a basket and
then tore open the plates while Lucy poured the
punch into the bowl and added scoops of sherbet. “I
think we’re ready.”
Once everyone had gathered in the break room,
Harold asked one and all to join hands. Together
they asked for the Lord’s blessing. Then they dug in;
plates were quickly filled with condiments, the
routine appetizers, rolled pieces of meat, decorated
sugar cookies, and cinnamon rolls. That was just for
starters. Margaret kept laying out more and more
food.
Lucy sat at the edge of her chair and sipped her
cup of punch. It was fun watching everyone enjoy
themselves. She closed her eyes and drank in their
laughter. This is what she needed, to be surrounded
by such love and acceptance.
The employees had all worked for her father for
years, so she not only knew their names but their
spouses and children. This is what she loved about
the business. It wasn’t work. It was family. At times
they even squabbled like it, too.
When there were only a few squares of
cantaloupe and crumbs of her mother’s cake left,
Lucy suggested, “Before we go home for the
weekend, let’s go around the room and name one gift
we want for Christmas. No limitations on the gift.
Miss Ulilla, would you like to start?”
The society column woman was clearly pleased
to go first. In her world, this was the correct order of
the universe and she didn’t even try to suppress her
smile. Instead she brushed crumbs from her bosom,
cleared her throat and stood to her feet. “Since Lucy
removed the limitations, what I really want for
Christmas are tickets for a Caribbean cruise under
my tree this year.”
“That’s sounds exciting. I feel pretty confident
you can talk Abe here into going along with you.”
Lucy gave the elderly custodian a wink. It was no
secret Abe had been after Ulilla for as long as she
could remember, but Ulilla always put him off.
Abe stepped right in without being asked, “The
gift I am wishing for is that I can buy those tickets
for Ulilla. One for her and one for me. Separate
cabins, of course.” He turned beet red.
After the laughter died down, Lucy went on to
ask her best friend, “What about you, Monica?”
“I’m hoping for money. Lots and lots of money.”
“Here I thought you’d ask for perfume. The
French kind,” Mike said. His lips curled into a
slow smile. For the first time, Lucy caught
something in the air between her best friend and her
brother and it wasn’t perfume. French or otherwise.
Harold set down his plastic plate with a hollow
thump. “The gift I want this year cannot be found
under my tree.”
“Harold.” Margaret touched his arm. “This isn’t
the time.”
“I think it is, Maggie. After being a family
owned business for the last fifty years, first with my
Papa and now on my own, it’s no secret I want to
keep that other newspaper from coming here. Living
in a small town like Turtle Creek, we can’t
withstand the extra competition. Heck, we can
barely make it as it is. We need to come up with
some ideas of how we’re going to generate more
sales, increase our advertisers and get more
subscribers.” He pulled off his elf hat and lowered
his eyes. His thumb rubbed a finger as he spoke “Or
this might just be the last time we stand together
like this for Christmas.” To everyone’s dismay,
Harold had spit out his worrying words. They spread
across the room.
Lucy frowned. Everything her dad said was the
truth. They all knew it.
“My turn!” Lucy picked up her father’s hat and
pulled it down over her ears. Everyone laughed. “My
Christmas gift is to hire a new editor who will knock
the socks off our readers with his fresh ideas and
perspective!”
“And how will you know this editor when he
comes through the front door?” Carol from
advertising asked.
“Because…” Lucy tapped her chin in thought.
“The man I have prayed for will write with heart.”
Unexpected tears gathered along the edges of her
eyes. The end of her nose tingled. “Anyone who can
move an audience with words is going to increase
circulation which will attract businesses to grab ad
space and make readers buy our paper.” She touched
her cross. I have my faith in you, Lord.
The front door jingled. Monica looked out into
the office. “Hey, guys, there’s an awesome looking
guy standing at the front counter. I believe Lucy’s
gift just arrived. Quick Lucy, say another prayer
while you have God’s attention.”
Lucy walked out of the break room with
shoulders squared, back straight. There he stood.
Tall, with sandy brown hair and wickedly wonderful
eyes. Cherry cheeks, too, thanks to the frosty
weather. His gray eyes were unsettling. He stood on
one foot and tapped one shoe against the other to
knock off the snow. Then he repeated the process
with the other shoe. Monica was right. He was a
looker.
“How may I help you?” Lucy folded her hands
together and placed them on the counter.
“I’m looking for Lucy Collins.” He stared her in
the eyes.
“You’ve found her.” Lucy heard laughter. She
turned around to see the doorway to the break room
was crowded with faces. All eyes were pinned on
them. Of course, she had to put on a good show for
them. Lucy turned back around and faced him.
Feeling cocky, she said, “I know why you’re here.”
“You do?” he seemed startled.
“Yes, you’re here about the ad I placed in this
week’s paper for an editor.”
His chin dropped and he was speechless for a
moment. “You’re…absolutely right. I did see it
advertised.” The man set his briefcase down and
popped it open. He started shuffling around the
inside of it. Papers rustled. Finally, he looked up
sheepishly. He had worried eyes. “I seem to have
forgotten my resume. Not a good way to start a job
interview. By the way, I’m Joe McNamara.”
Lucy shook his hand and then reached under
the counter for an application. She clamped it down
on a clipboard, slipped a pen underneath and
handed it to him. “I don’t need your resume but I do
need to know if you can write. When you’re done
filling this out, I want you to write an editorial for
me.” She slid a blank piece of paper toward him.
“On what subject?” he scratched the end of his
nose.
“You’re the editor so you get to decide.” She
slapped her hand down on the paper.
Joe nodded and then looked around for a place
to sit. He chose a chair from the waiting area. Lucy
watched him as he read the application and then
thoughtfully filled in the blanks. Every now and
then he looked up and caught her staring at him. He
smiled but she quickly looked away.
The Turtle Creek Newspaper employees began
to quickly leave. “Don’t stay too long, Lucy, or you’ll
be trapped in here for the weekend,” Abe warned her
on the way out. For the first time ever, Ulilla was on
his arm.
“I won’t be much longer. I am dreaming of a cozy
fire with hot chocolate.”
“That’s only one of the things I’m dreaming of!”
Ulilla gushed as she plunged through the doorway.
Shocked over Ulilla’s sudden change of heart, Lucy
couldn’t help but stare.
Finally Joe stood to his feet and handed the
clipboard back to her, the pen returned to the same
position as when she had handed it to him. Now it
was Joe’s turn to slide the paper across the counter
to her. Lucy looked at it. Maybe she missed
something. She flipped it over. Both sides were
blank. She looked at Joe quizzically.
“May I?” he asked nodding toward one of the
computers.
“Be my guest.” Lucy granted permission and
then caught her reflection in a window. She quickly
pulled off the Santa hat. Static electricity popped
around her head like a lightening rod. She knew she
was blushing and really hoped he wouldn’t notice.
Lucy watched as his long fingers flew across the
keyboard. Her keyboard. The tips of the fingers hit
the center of the keys with great accuracy. Tap-tap tap
the keys sank and rose again. She was close
enough to see the words without her glasses and
didn’t see any red squiggly lines. At least the fella
could spell.
“Psst!” Monica called from the break room.
Lucy turned around. “What?” she mouthed
silently.
With frantic movements, Monica motioned for
Lucy to come talk to her. When Lucy walked into the
room, everyone huddled around. “We need details.”
Lucy gave a deep sigh happy to oblige. “His
name is Joe McNamara. According to his
application, he’s from Chicago, so I guess he must be
relocating. He’s trying out for our paper by writing
an editorial for me.”
“Good idea,” Harold said while cramming the
last sugar cookie into his mouth.
“Why would he want to apply for a job with us?”
Mike asked suspiciously as he tied the top of a
plastic garbage bag closed.
“That’s easy to answer. We are the best
newspaper in the entire southern lakes region,”
Harold answered shooting bits of cookie from his
mouth like falling stars.
“Yea, right,” Mike panned as he tossed the bag
on top of the other bags.
“You have to start at a small paper and work
your way up to get into a big city paper,” Monica
explained as she slipped on her winter coat. Then
she winked at Mike. “He’s getting his start right
here with us.”
“Whoa, first I have to hire him, and once he
hears what the pay is, he may just hop back on the
Interstate.”
“Finished,” a male voice spoke.
Everyone turned to look. Joe stood just feet
away, holding his paper out.
Lucy hoped he hadn’t heard everything. She
snatched the paper from him and furrowed her brow.
“That was fast.”
“Not when you have something burning inside
that you feel passionately about.”
She held it between her fingers and read aloud.
by Joseph McNamara
What will I ever do without Cafe Books?
Ever since the announcement that the
independent bookseller was going out of business,
I've been a mess. The big chain stores serve a
purpose, sure, but they don't contain the atmosphere
and warmth that emulates from the owners of Cafe
Books. When I walk into their shop, it's like visiting
family. Mr. and Mrs. Myers always greet me and
everyone, with a genuine smile, and when are they
not armed with a recommendation for a new title
they know I'll enjoy? Just for me. They notice me. Me.
Cafe Books is where I first went whale hunting
with Melville and frog collecting with Steinbeck. How
can I forget all the murderous adventures I shared
with my good friend, Mike Hammer, or faced a scary,
yet Brave New World with Huxley? I’ve read more
than books on the leather sofa at Cafe Books. I've
made friends. Lived a million different lives. Cried
countless tears. And have laughed out loud so often,
and so hard, that my stomach still aches from the
memories alone.
How does one say good bye to such a place?
I started patronizing Café Books just off Kenzie
Avenue in Chicago about two years ago. And so when
the owners announced suddenly it would be going out
of business and closing its door yesterday, I made it a
point to stop by.
The room was busy with faithful shoppers who
felt this place was a stabilizing source in their
community. Lexie Jacobson, a 28-year-old hairstylist
scooped up discount novels and a couple of CDs. “I’m
sure going to miss this place,” she said with a shake
of her head. She was not alone with this feeling.
“It’s hard to find bookstores that are not part of a
national chain,” 35-year-old school teacher
Samantha Jones said with a sigh.
The sentiment was expressed again and again by
dozens of patrons.
In the never ending search for bigger and better,
give me the small and unique. Meet me at Café
Books. Help me say goodbye.
No one spoke. Lucy couldn’t take her eyes from
the page. The words evoked warmth and sentiment.
It was more than she had hoped for. He was it. This
was her Christmas gift.
It wasn’t the first sight of him that did it. It
wasn’t the endearing way he drummed his thigh
with the pen when he was nervously trying to figure
out what to write down on his application that
formed her opinion. Nor even his calm manner as he
slid his fingers across her keyboard that made the
difference. It was his words. These words. They were
simple and brilliant. Words that had taken the
breath from her soul. She looked up at him with new
eyes. He got her—yet how could that happen when
they only met minutes ago.
“Wow,” she gulped.
“Well, it was spontaneous.” Joe uneasily tugged
at his collar. “If I had more time, I could have done
much better.”
They smiled at each other as if there was more
to the words that hung in the air. Her mind was
wandering where it shouldn’t. “I need to clarify
something.”
“Clarify away, Ms. Collins.”
“Lucy.”
“Lucy,” he repeated in a sweet tone.
“Um, we can’t afford to pay you much. It’s
obvious you’re quite gifted so I’m not sure we’re what
you’re looking for in a newspaper.”
“The experience is what is valuable here.”
“How much notice do you need to give your old
place?” Harold stepped forward to ask. “The sooner
you can start the better.”
“Dad!” Lucy cut in as blood rushed to her face.
“Ah, my schedule is pretty well wide open, Sir. I
can start as soon as I’m needed, that is if I am hired.
I really don’t need much—a roof over my head
and...a new start.”
Lucy saw it in his eyes. He wasn’t kidding.
“You know, Harold, there is the small apartment
above our garage. Mr. McNamara could stay there
until he finds another place,” Margaret reminded
him.
“I’ll take it,” Joe was quick to accept.
A gust of wind whipped through the building
when Monica opened the door. “Better get a move
on, people. I just heard on the radio that the
Interstate is closed down. The town is pretty well
socked in. It’s time for us to lock up and head for our
homes. I love you all but no way do I want to be
stuck in here with you.”
Everyone went for their coats.
“I better take you home, so I know you made it
safely,” Mike told Monica.
“If you shovel my walk too, there might be a
reward in it for you,” Monica winked as she nudged
his side with her elbow.
“I love rewards.”
“Mike, don’t be long. There are Christmas boxes
in the attic I need for you to get down for me,”
Margaret said following her son out to the parking
lot. “We’re decorating the tree tonight and you can’t
miss it.” She shut the door behind them.
“Ah, is there something you want me to sign? A
contract or something?” Joe asked, quickly looking
from Harold to Lucy.
“I never thought about a contract,” Lucy said,
wondering if they had anything the resembled a
contract.
“We don’t do contracts here. A shake of my hand
is how I operate.” Harold slid his arm down through
his winter jacket and out the opening. “You better
come along with us. You’ll never get back to the city
tonight.”
With a simple handshake, Lucy Collins’ day took
a new direction.
My review: I loved this book - it was perfect to read this time of year also (obviously by the title!) Set in rural Wisconsin, this book talks about faith, hope in the future, following God's path for our lives - all in the midst of a love story with a twist. Lucy works at her family's newspaper in Turtle Creek, Wisconsin - a paper that she hopes someday to manage. In her search for a new editor, she hires Joe and basically it is love at first sight. However, Joe is not who he appears to be. Without spoiling it for new readers, I will tell you that I did not figure Joe out early on - it was not a cliched romance but one that will keep you turning the pages to find out what he is up to! 5/5 stars
Centuries Reading Challenge
Host: Becky of Becky's Book Reviews
Length: All of 2009 (finish at your own pace)
Required Books: 4 to 6
Your challenge--if you choose to accept it--is to read four (to six) books from four different centuries. (If you choose to read six books altogether, then you can double up on centuries if you like. You can always read more than six. But you're not obligated to in any way.)
Edited to add: I had intended the challenge books to be written in four different centuries. I think that might have been one of those clear-only-to-me things. That's still my intent, my goal. I hope people will take me up on that challenge. But since I wasn't clear, and since I'm a easy-going person, I'll allow those who want the challenge to be books set during four different centuries to play.
The centuries do not need to be consecutive (like the decades challenge).
Books can be fiction, nonfiction, poetry, short stories, essays, plays, etc. Books do not have to be a required length. (Though I ask that poetry and short stories be within a larger collection. For example, a book of short stories as opposed to one solitary short story.)
Overlaps with other challenges are fine.
Audio books are welcome. E-books are welcome as well.
Monday, December 8, 2008
Mailbox Monday
Blue Bayau
For a picture of Ebb Tide (the sister design to this one) and a chance to win a copy of the Ebb Tide pattern, click here.
Romance Reading Challenge
No list of books would be complete without reading some romances. So I had to add a romance reading challenge.
Read on for the rules:
1. Now, "Romance" isn't limited to steamy Harlequin novels. There is a huge selection of books in this category such as contemporary romance, historical romance, romantic suspense and paranormal romance to name a few. As long as the story has romantic love between the two main characters your selection will fit this challenge. The novels do not need to have a happy ending either, there can also be unrequited love. You can search through barnes and nobles Romance Section online for ideas.
2. Choose at least 5 novels read them between Jan 1st though Dec 31st 2009. You can change your choices at any time. Crossovers between other challenges are fine.
3. Read them at your own pace in 2009 then come here and post the link to your review(s).
4. Link your "RRC" choices here with any of these graphics:http://thebookworm07.blogspot.com/2008/11/romance-reading-challenge-2009.html
- - The Red Siren - M.L Tyndall
- - Scream for Me - Karen Rose
- - For the Love of Pete - Julia Harper
- - The Valentine Edition - Robin Shope
- - John's Quest - Cecelia Dowdy
- - Simple Wishes - Lisa Dale
- - Kiss - Ted Dekker and Erin Healy
- - Marked by Passion - Kate Perry
- - Deadly Charm - Claudia Mair Burney
- - Yesterday's Embers - Deborah Raney
- - Lady Anne and the Howl in the Dark - Donna Lea Simpson
- - An Offer You Can't Refuse - Jill Mansell
- - Wicked Lovely - Melissa Marr
- - Murder, Mayhem and a Fine Man - Claudia Mair Burney
- - Wild Highland Magic - Kendra Leigh Castle
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Decades '09 Challenge
1. Read a minimum of 9 books in 9 consecutive decades in ‘09.
2. Books published in the 2000’s do not count.
3. Titles may be cross-posted with any other challenge.
4. You may change your list at any time.
5. Peruse the eligible book lists and reviews from 2008 or 2007. Any book from that decade is eligible; it doesn’t have to be on the list to qualify. A good source to find out when books were published is wikipedia. For example if you follow this link, you will see how easy it is to search books by a particular decade. Another resource is fantasticfiction.co.uk.
- 1900 - Sister Carrie by Theodore Dreiser
- 1910 - Howard's End by E.M.Forester
- 1920 - Women in Love by D.H. Lawrence
- 1930 - As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner
- 1940 - The Heart is a Lonely Hunter by Carson McCullers
- 1950 - The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe - C.S. Lewis
- 1960 - Island of the Blue Dolphins - Scott O'Dell
- 1970 - This Perfect Day - Ira Levin
- 1980 - The Clan of the Cave Bear - Jean Auel
For complete rules and information, please go to 1 More Chapter here.
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Scott Westerfeld Mini Challenge
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Friday, December 5, 2008
Mystery in a Corner and Challenge Ornament
For the ornament - I picked colors that I really love and my finished piece is here:
I really enjoyed being able to be free with my color choices, and in a lot of ways with my design choices. It has given me more confidence as a stitcher that I could also design something myself!
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Daniel Defoe Mini Challenge
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Wednesday, December 3, 2008
John Steinbeck Mini Challenge
This challenge for this one is to read 2 books by John Steinbeck. (Can also substitute one movie for one book!) To join and see complete rules - please visit Becky's Book Reviews.
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Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Where are you?
I have just left Hailsham with a group of friends that I have grown up with - it is really the only home that I have every known. We have been sent to The Cottages to begin the next phase of our "life".
Where are you?
Teaser Tuesday
Eighteenth and Nineteenth Century Women Writers Reading Challenge
FOR THOSE LOOKING TO SHARE REVIEWS AND GIVE UPDATES ON CHALLENGE PROGRESS, PLEASE VISIT THE CHALLENGE'S BLOG PAGE ON 'GREAT LEADER OF OUR INSANITY.'
This reading challenge will be for all of 2009. Sign ups may begin early over at Becky's Book Reviews, but reading should not.
How many books? No fewer than four. No more than twelve. For example, you might want to read two books by authors from the eighteenth century (1700-1799) and two books by authors from the nineteenth century (1800-1899). Or you might want to read six books by authors from the 18th century, and six books by authors from the 19th century. You get the idea. Me being the *perfectionist* I am would stress the balance between the two. But I *know* that may be just me. So you may read in whatever proportion you like.
What books are allowed? If they're written by a woman who lived and wrote from 1700 to 1900, then they count. What books don't count...if an author was born during this time period, but didn't publish anything until the next century. Post-1900 books are NOT allowed. There is a small loophole here. If a book was written during these two centuries 1700-1900 and was not published until after the author's death...and that publication date just happened to be in the 1900s or 2000s...then that would count.
Here is a place where you can get ideas, but be careful, the list includes some authors who won't count. (See above.)
Celebration of Women Writers 1801-1900
Celebration of Women Writers 1701-1800
Timeframe...January 1rst 2009 to December 29th 2009
Overlaps with other challenges allowed.
Eighteenth Century Women Writers:
- - Love in Excess - Eliza Haywood (1720)
- - Evelina - Frances Burney (1778)
Nineteenth Century Women Writers:
- - Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen (1811)
- - Frankenstein - Mary Shelley (1818)
Monday, December 1, 2008
A to Z Challenge
The first one will be the A to Z Challenge. You can see all the options and sign up for the challenge by clicking the name. I am going to try for option C which is to read both titles starting with A through Z and Authors starting with A through Z. I think that for the authors I will use either first or last names - I am not going to specify. As for the list, I am going to leave it open and see how my books fit as I read them!
Titles
- A - Age Before Beauty - Virginia Smith
- B - Boneman's Daughter - Ted Dekker
- C
- D - Diamonds in the Shadow - Caroline B. Cooney
- E
- F - Fruit of My Lipstick, The - Shelley Adina
- G - Gatekeepers - Robert Liparulo
- H
- I - I Do Again - Cheryl and Jeff Scruggs
- J - John's Quest - Cecelia Dowdy
- K - Kiss - Ted Dekker and Erin Healy
- L - Lovely Bones, The - Alice Sebold
- M - Murder, Mayhem and a Fine Man - Claudia Mair Burney
- N - New York Debut - Melody Carlson
- O
- P
- Q
- R
- S - Scream for Me - Karen Rose
- T
- U
- V - Valentine Edition, The - Robin Shope
- W - Wicked Lovely - Melissa Marr
- X
- Y - Yesterday's Embers - Deborah Raney
- Z
Authors
- A - Adina, Shelley - Be Strong and Curvaceous
- B - Burney, Claudia Mair - Deadly Charm
- C - Cisneros, Sandra - The House on Mango Street
- D - Dale, Lisa - Simple Wishes
- E
- F
- G - Gustafson, Eleanor - The Stones
- H - Harper, Julia - For the Love of Pete
- I - Ione, Larissa - Pleasure Unbound
- J - Jones, Jenny B. - So Not Happening
- K - Kingsbury, Karen - This Side of Heaven
- L - Liparulo, Robert - Watcher in the Woods
- M - Mansell, Jill - An Offer You Can't Refuse
- N - Nimmo, Beth and Scott, Darrell - Rachel's Tears
- O - Oates, Joyce Carol - Black Water
- P - Perry, Kate - Marked by Passion
- Q
- R - Rowling, J.K. - Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince
- S - Sunee, Kim - Trail of Crumbs
- T - Tyndall, M.L. - The Red Siren
- U
- V - Viguie, Debbie - The Spring of Candy Apples
- W - White, Karen - The Lost Hours
- X
- Y
- Z
In the Shadow of Lions - Review
Saturday, November 29, 2008
In the Shadow of Lions - Ginger Garrett
It is time to play a Wild Card! Every now and then, a book that I have chosen to read is going to pop up as a FIRST Wild Card Tour. Get dealt into the game! (Just click the button!) Wild Card Tours feature an author and his/her book's FIRST chapter!
You never know when I might play a wild card on you!
and the book:
David C. Cook; 1st edition (September 2008)
Ginger Garrett is the critically acclaimed author of Chosen: The Lost Diaries of Queen Esther, which was recognized as one of the top five novels of 2006 by the ECPA, and Dark Hour. An expert in ancient women's history, Ginger creates novels and nonfiction resources that explore the lives of historical women.
On September 11, Ginger's non-fiction book, Beauty Secrets of the Bible, based on the historical research that began in her work on Chosen was released. The book explores the connections between beauty and spirituality, offering women both historical insights and scientific proofs that reveal powerful, natural beauty secrets.
A frequent radio guest on stations across the country, including NPR and Billy Graham's The Hour of Decision, Ginger is also a popular television guest. Her appearances include Harvest Television, Friends & Neighbors, and Babbie's House. Ginger frequently serves as a co-host on the inspirational cable program Deeper Living.
In 2007, Ginger was nominated for the Georgia Author of the Year Award for her novel Dark Hour. When she's not writing, you may spy Ginger hunting for vintage jewelry at thrift stores, running (slowly) in 5k and 10k races, or just trying to chase down one of her errant sheepdogs. A native Texan, she now resides in Georgia with her husband and three children.
Visit the author's website.
Product Details:
List Price: $ 13.99
Paperback: 311 pages
Publisher: David C. Cook; 1st edition (September 2008)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0781448875
ISBN-13: 978-0781448871
AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:
I admit I once lived by rumors of you;
now I have it all firsthand…
I’ll never again live
on crusts of hearsay, crumbs of rumor.
Job 42, The Message
CHAPTER ONE
Tomorrow, someone else will die in my bed.
Someone died in it last month, which is how it came to be called mine.
The infernal clock moved confidently towards 1 a.m., and I turned my head to look at the window. The window of this room is a miserly gesture from the contractors, producing more fog than visage. I watched the gold orbs—the lamps on the lawn of the hospice sputtering off and on in the darkness—that dotted the fogged glass.
That was the last moment I lived as an iver, one whose eyes are veiled.
One orb did not sputter but moved, gliding between the others, moving closer to the window, growing larger and brighter until the light consumed the entire view. I winced from the searing glare and tried to shield my eyes, but the IV line pulled taut. Wrestling with the line to get some slack, I saw the next movement out of the corner of my eye. I bit down hard on my tongue, my body jerking in reflex, and felt the warm blood run back to my throat.
Outside, a hand wiped the fog away from the glass, and I watched the water beads running down the inside of my window. There was no searing light, only this mammoth hand with deep creases in the palms wiping down the window until we both could see each other. A man’s face was against the glass, but no breath fogged his vision. He was a giant, grim man, with an earring in one ear and dark glasses, and he was staring in at me. Even through the morphine, fear snaked along my arms, biting into my stomach, constricting around my throat. I tried to scream, but I could only gulp air and heave little gasps. His expression did not change as he lifted his hands, curling them into fists. I flinched at the last moment, thinking him to be Death, expecting to receive the blow and die.
Then I grew suddenly warm, like the feeling you get stepping out from an old, dark city library into the busy street and a warm spring sun.
Death didn’t even hurt, I rejoiced. I could slip into it like I slipped onto that street, eyes down, my thoughts my own, and simply turn a corner and be gone. I lifted my fingers to beckon him. Yes, I thought. I saw the beautiful Rolex on my birdlike wrist, and saw that it had stopped. It is time.
When I looked back up, he was beside me, staring down, not speaking. I wasn’t dead. His frame was monstrously large, hitting what must be seven feet tall, with a width of muscle strapped across it that was inhuman. As he watched me, his chest didn’t move, and his nostrils didn’t flare, but heat and warm breath radiated from him. When he laid his hands across my eyes, I was too scared to move my head away. His palms covered most of my face, and a sharp buzzing drilled into every pore. He began to move his hands elsewhere, touching and bringing to life every splintered inch of my body. When he got to the cancer, with one swollen lymph node visible even through my stained blue gown, he rested his hands there until the swelling sighed and he swept it away with his hand.
“Wait!” I screamed.
I didn’t want to live. I hadn’t known that was going to be an option. I deserved to be damned. To return to my life was too much to ask of me. I was finished.
“You’ll still be dead by morning,” he reassured me. His voice was deep and clean, no tell-tale dialect or inflection. Taking off his glasses, I saw he had enormous gold eyes, with a black pinhole in the center that stayed round and cold. There was no white in them at all, and they were rimmed all the way around the outside with black. I stared at them, trying to remember where I had seen eyes like this. It was years ago, this much I remembered.
I had to shake myself back to the moment. Clearly, morphine was not setting well with me tonight. I wanted to die in peace. That’s what I paid these extravagant sums for. My hand moved to the nurses’ call button. Mariskka was just down the hall, waiting for her moment to steal my watch. I knew she’d come running.
He grabbed my hand and the shock seared like a hot iron. Crying out, I shook him off and clutched my hand between my breasts, doing my best to sit up with my atrophied stomach muscles and tangled IV.
He leaned in. “I have something for you.”
“What?”
He leaned in closer. “A second chance.”
Second chances were not my forte. As the most celebrated editor in New York City, I had made a killing. I loved the words that trembling writers slid across my desk, those little black flecks that could destroy their life’s dream or launch a career. I bled red ink over every page, slashing words, cutting lines. No one understood how beautiful they were to me, why I tormented the best writers, always pushing them to bring me more. The crueler I was to the best of them, the more they loved me, like flagellants worshipping me as the master of their order. Only at the end, lying here facing my own death, did I understand why. They embraced the pain, thinking it birthed something greater than themselves. I saw how pitifully wrong they were. There was only pain. This is why I was ready to die. When you finish the last chapter and close the book, there is nothing but pain. It would have been better never to have written. Words betrayed me. And for that, I betrayed the best writer of them all.
“Burn any manuscripts that arrive for me,” I had ordered my nurse, Marisska. “Tell them I’m already dead. Tell them anything.”
“I’ll let you write the truth,” the man whispered.
“I’m not a writer,” I replied. My fear tumbled down into the dark place of my secrets.
“No, you’re not,” he answered. “But you’ve coveted those bestsellers, didn’t you? You knew you could do better. This is your second chance.”
It caught my attention. “How?”
“I will dictate my story to you,” he said. “Then you’ll die.”
Taking dictation? My mouth fell open. “I’m in hell, aren’t I?”
He tilted his head. “Not yet.”
I pushed away from the pillows and grabbed him. Blisters sprang up on my palms and in between my fingers, but I gritted my teeth and spat out my words. “Who are you?”
“The first writer, the Scribe. My books lie open before the Throne and someday will be the only witness of your people and their time in this world. The stories are forgotten here and the Day draws close. I will tell you one of my stories. You will record it.”
“Why me?”
“I like your work.”
I started laughing, the first time I had laughed since I had been brought to this wing of the hospice, where the dying are readied for death, their papers ordered, and discreet pamphlets on “end of life options” left by quiet-soled salesmen. I laughed until I was winded. He rested his hand on my chest, and I caught my breath as he spoke.
“Let’s go find Marisska.”