Unlike many readers, I haven't had the opportunity to read a lot of Max Lucado's writing. However, I can say without reservation that the message he shares in his book, For These Tough Times, is both timely and powerful! Once again, God has sent a reminder of His promises for such a time as this! This small book contains a very large truth, and in plain words and vivid imagery Max Lucado clearly explains some of lif's most difficult questions!
Where is God? He's everywhere and in charge of everything, right? Remember that storm on the Sea of Galilee that scared the diciples so badly? (Mark Chapter 4) Listen to Max Lucado's concise summation: "The very storm that made the diciples panic made Him drowsy. What put fear in their eyes put Him to sleep. The boat was a boub to the followers and a cradle to Christ. How could He sleep through the storm? Simple - He was in charg of it." (p. 27) When believers understand how much God loves us and begin to keep our eyes firmly fixed on Him, we can have peace no matter what storms come our way!
And what about the question: "If God's in charge, why is there so much evil in the world?" Again, with simplicity and clarity generously doused with Scripture, Max Lucado explains one basic fact: "Satan has no pwer except that which God gives him." (p. 39) God uses Satan as a tool to accomplish His good purposes! Here are just a few things God uses him to accomplish: to refine the faithful (Paul, 2 Cor 12: 7-9), to awaken the sleeping - to draw people to Himself, and to teach the church! (Peter, 1 Corinthians 10:13)
This is one word picture that was a particular A-ha! moment for me: Lucado qotes Martin Luther as he speaks of Satan as a hoe in God's garden, "The hoe never cuts what the Gardener intends to save and never saves what the Gardener intends to weed." (p. 40)
I realize this review is getting too long, but let me tell you every word of Lucado's book is a gem! He Goes on to deal with revenge and its damage, with reverence and its rewards and with prayer and its power! Every word encourages and challenges the believer to lean fully on their Almighty Savior! I highly recommend this book! Go out today and purchas a copy for the New Year! Read it often! You will be so glad you did!
That You Cannot Imagine – Isabelle Renoir! I have never read such a passionately written novel!Wind Dancer is a book with characters that leap from the pages and reach into the deepest recesses of your heart and mind! Isabelle Renoir is such a wild and rugged worshipper before her God that my own faith longed to dance before the Lord in the moonlight!I held my breath with Samuel Holt as he crept through the forest stalking his prey! Truly, Jamie Carie has created a novel with such strong, vibrant characters that you will feel their every joy, their crushing pain, their glorious praise!
Set amid the rugged American frontier, Wind Dancer was my introduction to Jamie Carie’s work.I am still reeling from the pure satisfaction of this novel! She brought pre-Revolutionary War America and its vast frontiers to life vividly and completely. I was transported in every sense!Jamie took my heart and mind from the fierce patriotism of the new Americans to the wild savagery of the Shawnee with seamless ease!I still shudder to recall the attack in the frontier home and the running of the gauntlet!
The truest joy to me was this wonderful, vibrant true-faith of the characters – especially Hope and Isabelle – so gloriously and naturally interwoven throughout the story. Truly, God is I AM for all of us today just as He was in the hearts of those who forges our nation so many years ago!And the romance!! Dear Reader, there are scenes in this book that will leave you breathless! Wind Dancer encapsulates the best of everything a book should be!
Jamie Carie, Wind Dancer is a jewel in your crown!I will eagerly await your stories and highly recommend them as long as God gives you words to write!Wind Dancer reflects the deep love you have for the Giver of all stories, and reflects that love with wild abandon!Truly, this is a story not to be missed – to be savored and shared!
Wind Dancer will be available at your local retailer on January 1st, and can be ordered on CBD, Amazon and from B&H now. What a terrific way to begin a new year of reading!!
And please, visit Jamie Carie's website to learn more about her terrific novels!
The title is quirky, the author is insightful, and the information contained within the pages of Karen Scalf Linamen’s book, Only Nuns Change Habits Overnight, is thought-provoking, challenging and presented in a way that leaves you truly motivated! “Yes you can. That’s it. Nine letters but they really do sum up the message of virtually every one of my books and seminars,” says Linamen on page 119. I really should keep this book within reach at all times to keep me focused and motivated!
Once again, I’ve been pleasantly surprised and challenged by a non-fiction, self-help book written for those of us who have some habits in dire need of changing. Karenhas written a book that encourages each of us to change dissatisfaction over failure into a motivational tool that prods us into new areas of positive, dream-fulfilling change. She encourages us to realize what is possible, where are passions lie, and practical, scriptural ways to pursue those dreams and press them into life’s reality. Let me share a few nuggets of truth that might help you catch a glimpse of the direction this book wants to take the reader!
“Whether we realize it or not, you and I have habits that have created, perpetuated, or are currently driving aspects of our lives that we love…as well as other aspects we’d love to change.” (p. 54)
“Habits are the little anchors that keep us from straying very far from the lifestyle to which we’ve become accustomed, whether that lifestyle makes us happy or miserable.” (p. 54)
“Habits bear fruit, with some producing fruit that is bitter and worm riddled, while other habits produce fruit that is sweet and satisfying.” (p. 64)
And the best part about the entire scope of this practical, hope-giving book of encouragement? Karen Scalf Linamen boldly proclaims; “The truth is, God is the ultimate change agent,” (p. 125) She goes on to present the simplicity of the gospel in all of its life-changing power, and gives the Lord credit for seeing her through some of her own difficult life changes. This lady has it going on! She’s not perfect. She doesn’t claim to have all the answers. But Karen Scalf Linamen has a personal relationship with her Savior and a healthy dose of common sense and humor that provide hope for all of us to make positive, life-giving changes to habits that keep us from becoming all that God desires us to be in Him.
I really liked this book, and I am proud to recommend it to my blogging buddies and all avid readers! I am also happy to let you know I have a FREE copy to give away to anyone who will leave their name, contact information and a dream for change in the comments section of this post!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Karen Scalf Linamen is a popular speaker and the celebrated author of ten books for women, including Due to Rising Energy Costs the Light at the End of the Tunnel Has Been Turned Off and Just Hand Over the Chocolate and No One Will Get Hurt. She has been featured on more than one hundred radio programs, including FamilyLife Today. Publishers Weekly describes her as “funny, forthright and unforgettable.” Linamen lives with her family in Colorado Springs, Colorado. Visit her website at www.karenlinamen.com.
Excerpted from Pure Gold by Pam Davis, Authentic Publishing, 2008
God’s pure gold is his grace. Only this kind of gold can make us truly rich. Instead of us being wretched and afflicted, his grace enables us to endure troubles. Instead of us being pitiful, God’s grace supplies us with the power to perform. Instead of us being poor and empty in satisfaction, his grace gives us wealth of significance. Instead of us being blind, the Lord’s grace enables us to perceive eternal reality. And instead of us being naked, impoverished morally, and dishonoring of our purpose for existence, God’s grace allows us to be clothed in right standing with him and able to offer righteous acts that will revive and comfort our disoriented world. All this will happen as we buy gold from Jesus.
The word buy is interesting (Rev. 3:17–18). Isn’t God’s grace free? Should Jesus have said, “receive” instead of “buy”?
Jesus is specific and intentional, and he indeed does say, “Buy.” Why? Because when you buy instead of receive, your heart moves toward what you desire at a cost. In essence, Jesus was saying to these Christians who lived in a materially abundant society, “Don’t just desire to be rich in God’s grace; take action at a cost to yourself to receive grace.” Let’s examine what that looks like.
Physical and Spiritual Gold
Even though God’s grace is spiritual gold, we can understand it better by comparing it to physical gold. For example, we know from artifacts of ancient civilizations that physical gold has been treasured since the beginning of history.
Grace—spiritual gold—has also been treasured since the beginning of history. Philo, a first-century Jewish philosopher asserted,
The just man seeking to understand the nature of all existing things, makes this one most excellent discovery, that everything which exists, does so according to the grace of God, and that there is nothing ever given by, just as there is nothing possessed by, the things of creation. On which account also it is proper to acknowledge gratitude to the Creator alone. Accordingly, to those persons who seek to investigate what is the origin of creation, we may most correctly make answer, that it is the goodness and the grace of God, which he has bestowed on the human race; for all the things which are in the world, and the world itself, are the gift and benefaction and free grace of God.
Physical gold is also rare and beautiful. Even primitive people greatly desired this precious metal. However, they didn’t value gold for its beauty alone. They thought gold was divine—the sweat of the gods.5 When the ancient Egyptians discovered gold nuggets in riverbeds, they concluded that the gods had been working in Egypt and that the nuggets of gold provided evidence of the gods’ sweat. They also believed that this rare commodity held magical power to cure illness and give knowledge.
Grace, spiritual gold, is certainly rare and beautiful—so rare that we can only find it in one source: Jesus Christ. Grace is also mystical, because we can’t explain how grace given by Jesus Christ can cure illness, give knowledge, and impart life. The apostle Paul expressed it this way: “For if the many died by the trespass of the one man, how much more did God’s grace and the gift that came by the grace of the one man, Jesus Christ, overflow to the many! . . . For if, by the trespass of the one man, death reigned through that one man, how much more will those who receive God’s abundant provision of grace and of the gift of righteousness reign in life through the one man, Jesus Christ”
(Romans 5:15, 17).
Further, grace is truly divine. We could say that God’s grace is the spiritual sweat of his diligent work. Jesus said, “My Father has worked [even] until now, [He has never ceased working; He is still working] and I, too, must be at [divine] work” (John 5:17 amp).
I like this summary of God’s grace: inexhaustible, unmerited benefits that give us joy, pleasure, goodwill, thanksgiving, and the essential benefit—spiritual life.
You know, one of the most wonderful and rewarding gifts I've received from blogging book reviews is the gift of relationship. I not only enjoy other bloggers and book reviewers, but I get an opportunity to get to know the authors as well. Many authors maintain their own blogs and websites, and they share their own lives with their readers.
Mike Delloso has been a particular blessing to me since I read his debut novel The Hunted. Not long before his book released, he was diagnosed with colon cancer, and he has shared this journey with his readers on his blog. His posts have been such a sweet testimony of God's faithfulness! In Mike's last newsletter, he included a short story entitled The Final Chapter that reflects his recent struggles with cancer. It is a wonderfully written piece that will cause you to pause and consider what is really true and good in life - especially in the face of difficulty.
I would encourage everyone to take time to visit Mike's website and blog. Get to know him. Pray for him. Visit the websites and blogs of any of your favorite authors and encourage them in their writing journey. Enjoy the short stories along the way while you wait for their next novel to be released. Enjoy the relationship with fellow Christians as we all share this journey of life - worshipping and serving our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.
Mike will release his second novel, Scream, soon! I can't wait!!
Demon possession is a topic that appears once in a while in fiction. It is a topic that many find uncomfortable and unbelievable. Nancy Wentz has written a story that makes this topic very believable, but still quite uncomfortable! Cursebreaker tells the story of the Fratellia family and the generations - the centuries - of demon possession that has cursed their bloodline.God has sent a prophet to break that curse, and the battle that ensues is nothing short of horrific.
Cursebreaker is a story that requires some degree of suspended disbelief. Although spiritual warfare is not fictional, the concept provides a great launching pad of ideas from which unsettling fictional stories begin. Nancy’s story is set in the 1930’s where prohibition, g-men and mafia wars were realistic forces in society. She layers this reality with a supernatural curse, and in so doing creates a suspenseful, nerve-wracking story that the reader cannot put down!
The mafia wars and intricate inner workings of the mafia family are portrayed in all of their violent, gory details. The Fratellia family represents the ultimate depravity on every level of human existence.The only viable spiritual force that stands against their demonic power is a young man ripped from the grip of a poverty-stricken, abusive father and given the supernatural gift of prophecy. This young man suffers unbelievable physical challenges throughout the course of the story, and often times your heart just aches with a desire to comfort and protect the child.
I’d like to tell you that the ending of this story wraps things up for both the child in the story and the reader’s emotions, but it just isn’t possible. Your heart and mind are left raw - knowing that the battle still rages. And even though you know that God has already won the war, the battles that must be fought along the way will not be pretty.
I’m a huge fan of suspense fiction. I’ve read some really good stories that deal with spiritual warfare. Cursebreaker is really good. It was like a very high-powered, action-packed movie playing out in your mind. It left me unsettled. I was reminded that as Christians, the warfare is real and we need to keep our focus on Christ and Christ alone. Without Him, we are utterly lost. This is strong reading folks! It stays with you. I look forward to the next book. No doubt Nancy Wentz has more to say about this cast of characters! Please go here to read more about this book!
A Note From the Author:
I asked Nancy to tell us a bit about the concept behind this powerful story. Here is her response:
I started writing this story many years ago after my mother told me about my grandfather's abusive childhood at the hands of his father. It moved me so much that I felt I had to write about it. Some of the things that Luke experiences are based on fact. The main reason I placed it in the 1930s is because I'm a history nut, and because that era offers so many opportunities for great ideas, what with Prohibition, gangsters, the depression. It's modern enough that people can still relate to it, yet far enough back in time that it holds a romantic mystique. I also like Film Noir and tried to place the ambiance of that genre into the setting.
Cursebreaker is book one of a trilogy called The Order of the Scrolls. I'm feverishly working on the second book right now, which I can tell you will take place during World War II.
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!
She obtained her Bachelor of Arts degree in Creative Writing from UC Davis. While at Davis she met her husband, Scott, at auditions for a play. It was love at first sight.
Debbie and Scott now live on the island of Kauai. When Debbie is not writing and Scott has time off they love to indulge their passion for theme parks.
List Price: $ 9.99
Reading level: Young Adult
Paperback: 208 pages
Publisher: Zondervan (October 1, 2008)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0310717523
ISBN-13: 978-0310717522
MY REVIEW:
Candace Thompson gets the coolest jobs! But, hey! If there was such a place as The Zone, I’d be all over it myself! A theme park full of rides, shows and good food that changes its appearance based on the holiday calendar – what more could a teen girl want? Well, maybe a good boyfriend and best girlfriend or two would ice the cake, wouldn’t it?
Candy has a very full life! It’s Christmas time at The Zone, and she is going to be one of Santa’s elves! Her new boyfriend is still zoning too, and her best friends complete the holiday gang. Right off the bat, adventure “strikes” and Candy faces new challenges in her new job! As the story progresses, Candy learns that giving to others makes every aspect of her life richer and more meaningful with each day that passes. From handing out candy canes and gifts, to leading a Bible Study to reaching out to a friend who is grieving….Candy’s holiday experience at The Zone is a very rewarding and unforgettable experience!
The more I read, the more I enjoy the cast of characters in this Sweet Seasons series! And I LOVE The Zone concept! But I said that already, didn’t I? Well, it won’t be long until Spring arrives and I can enjoy The Spring of Candy Apples! In the mean time, please, pick up the first three books in this fabulous series and share them with the young adult readers in your life! Debbie Viguie is a very talented writer, and The Winter of Candy Canes is an especially sweet read! See you in The Zone!
AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:
Candace Thompson was once again eye-to-eye with Lloyd Peterson, hiring manager for The Zone theme park. This time, though, she felt far more confident. She had already spent her summer working as a cotton candy vendor, and she had worked one of the mazes for the annual Halloween event. She had even saved the park from saboteurs.
Now she was back, and this time she was interviewing for a job working the Christmas events at the park. Surely after everything she had done for the Scare event, she had nothing to worry about. She tucked a strand of red hair back behind her ear as she gazed intently at the man across from her.
“So you want to work Holly Daze?” he asked.
She nodded. Christmas at The Zone was a big deal, and the park began its official celebrations the day after Thanksgiving.
“You keep hiring on for short bursts of time and then leaving. Do you have some sort of problem committing to things?” he asked, staring hard at her.
She was stunned, but answered, “I don’t have any problem with commitment. I signed on to do specific things, and the jobs ended. That’s not my fault. I didn’t quit.”
“So, you plan on making a habit of this?” he demanded. “Are you going to show up here again in a -couple of months expecting me to give you some kind of job for spring break?”
“No, I — ”
“I know your type,” he said, standing up abruptly. “You’re just a party girl. No commitments . . . no cares . . . just grab some quick cash and get out. You think you can handle Holly Daze? Well, you can’t! You’re weak and a quitter. You’re going to bail on me as soon as your school vacation starts, and then what? Well, let me tell you, missy. You aren’t wanted here. So just pack your bags and get out!”
By the end of his tirade, he was shouting, eyes bulging behind his glasses and tie swinging wildly as he shook his finger under her nose. Candace recoiled, sure that he had finally flipped out. I’m going to end up as a headline: Girl Murdered by Stressed-Out Recruiter, she thought wildly. Well, I’m not going down without a fight! She jumped to her feet and put some distance between her and the wildly wagging finger.
“You need to calm down!” she said, projecting her voice like her drama teacher had taught her. Her voice seemed to boom in the tiny office. “Pull yourself together. You’re a representative of this theme park, and there is no call to insult me. Furthermore, I’m not a quitter. I’ll work for the entire Christmas season. Then the next time I come in here, I’ll expect you to treat me with some respect. Do you even realize what I’ve done for this park so far? Seriously. Take a chill pill.”
She stopped speaking when she realized that he had gone completely quiet. She held her breath, wondering when the next explosion was going to come. Instead, he sat down abruptly and waved her back to her chair.
“Very good. You passed the test,” he said, picking up a pen.
“What test?” she asked, edging her way back into the chair.
“The ultimate test. You’re going to be one of Santa’s elves.”
“Doesn’t Santa, you know, have his own elves?” she asked, still not sure that he was completely in charge of his senses.
“Of course Santa has his own elves. However, when he’s here at The Zone we supply him with courtesy elves so that they can continue making toys at the North Pole,” Mr. Peterson told her.
“So, I’m going to be a courtesy elf?” she asked.
He nodded and handed her a single sheet of paper. “Sign this.”
She took it. “What? Just one thing to sign?” She had expected another huge stack of forms that would leave her hand cramped for hours afterward.
He nodded curtly. “You’re now in our system as a regular seasonal employee. All of your other paperwork transfers.”
“Regular seasonal” sounded like some kind of contradiction to her, but she was still not entirely convinced his outburst had been a test. She scanned it, signed her name, and then handed it back to him.
“Good. Report to wardrobe on Saturday for your costume fitting,” he said.
“Okay, thank you,” she said, standing up and backing toward the door.
“Welcome back, Candy,” he said, smiling faintly.
“Thanks,” she said, before bolting out the door.
As soon as she was outside the building, she whipped out her cell phone and called her friend Josh, a fellow employee of The Zone.
“Well?” he asked when he picked up.
“I think Mr. Peterson has seriously lost it,” she said. “He totally flipped out on me.”
Josh laughed. “Let me guess. You’re going to be an elf.”
“So he was serious? That was some whacked-out test?”
“Yeah. Elves are considered a class-one stress position, and it can get pretty intense.”
“How hard can it be to be an elf?” she asked.
She was rewarded by a burst of laughter on the other end.
“Josh, what is it you’re not telling me?”
He just kept laughing.
“Okay, seriously. You were the one who convinced me to work Holly Daze. I think it’s only fair you tell me whatever it is I need to know.”
“Sorry!” he gasped. She wasn’t sure if he was apologizing or refusing to tell her.
A girl bounced around the corner and slammed into Candace.
“Josh, I’ll call you later,” she said, hanging up.
“Sorry,” Becca apologized.
Becca was one of Candace’s other friends from the park, one who had some sort of bizarre allergy to sugar that made her uncontrollably hyper. Candace looked suspiciously at Becca. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes were glistening, and she was hopping from one foot to the other.
“You didn’t have sugar, did you?” Candace asked, fear ripping through her.
“No! Promise,” Becca said.
“Then what gives?”
“Roger made me laugh really hard,” Becca explained.
Roger had a crush on Becca and had wanted to ask her out since Halloween. It hadn’t happened yet.
“Oh,” was all Candace could think to say.
“So, are you working Holly Daze?” Becca asked.
“Yeah. I’m going to be an elf.”
Suddenly, Becca went completely still, and the smile left her face. “I’m sorry,” she said.
“Why?” Candace asked.
Becca just shook her head. “I’ve gotta get back to the Muffin Mansion. I’ll catch you later.”
She hurried off, and Candace watched her go. Okay, now I know there’s something -people aren’t telling me.
She debated about following Becca and forcing her to spill, but instead she headed for the parking lot where her best friend Tamara was waiting. She walked through the Exploration Zone, one of the several themed areas in the park.
The Zone theme park was created and owned by John
Hanson, a former professional quarterback who believed in healthy competition at work and play. His theme park had several areas, or zones, where -people could compete with each other and themselves at just about anything. Almost everyone who worked at The Zone was called a referee. The exceptions were the costumed characters called mascots. Most of them, including Candace’s boyfriend, Kurt, were to be found in the History Zone. -People visiting the park were called players, and the areas of the park they could reach were called on field. Only refs could go off field.
Candace cut through an off field area to get to the referee parking lot. She waved at a few other -people she recognized from her time spent working there. Finally, she slid into her friend’s waiting car.
“So are you going to be the Christmas queen?” Tamara asked.
“What am I, Lucy VanPelt? There’s no Christmas queen in Charlie Brown’s Christmas play, and there’s no Christmas queen in The Zone,” Candace said.
Tamara fake pouted. “Are you sure? I think I’d make a beautiful Christmas queen.”
Candace laughed. Tamara was gorgeous, rich, and fun. Her whole family practically redefined the word wealthy, and, with her dark hair and olive skin, Tamara was usually the prettiest girl in any room. She didn’t let it go to her head, though. Anybody who knew Tamara would vote for her as Christmas queen.
“Although I think you would, they’re only hiring elves.”
“You’re going to be an elf?” Tamara smirked.
“Hey, it beats being a food cart vendor,” Candace said.
“But you’re so good at it. Cotton candy, candy corn . . . you can sell it all.”
“Thanks, I think. So, what are we doing tonight? Kurt’s going to swing by at six to pick us up.” Just mentioning her boyfriend’s name was enough to make Candace smile. She closed her eyes for just a minute and pictured him as she had first seen him — wearing a Lone Ranger costume. With his charm and piercing blue eyes, she had fallen for him right away.
“You told him my house, right?” Tamara said, interrupting her thoughts.
“Yeah. So, who’s this guy you’re taking?”
Tamara sighed. “Mark.”
“Uh-huh. And?”
“Remember my cousin Tina?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, she broke up with him over the summer, and he’s been all shattered since then. He won’t date other girls; he just mopes over her.”
“Attractive,” Candace said sarcastically.
“Tell me about it. Well, Tina asked me if I could help him get his confidence back and get over her or something.”
“A pity date? Are you kidding me? You want Kurt and I to double date with you on a pity date?”
“You don’t think I’m about to go by myself, do you? No way. That’s the best-friend creed. When you’re happy, I’m happy. When I’m miserable, you have to be too.”
“Great,” Candace said, rolling her eyes. “So, where are we going?”
“That’s the problem. I was thinking dinner, but then we’d have to talk, and frankly, I don’t want to hear him go on about Tina. Then I thought we could see a movie.”
“You wouldn’t have to talk to him,” Candace confirmed.
“Yeah, but what if — ”
“He tries to grab a hand or put his arm around you.”
“Exactly, and I don’t think me giving him a black eye was what Tina had in mind.”
“I guess that also rules out any kind of concert possibilities?” Candace asked wistfully.
“Yup. Sorry.”
“So, what did you come up with?”
“I was thinking . . . theme park?”
“No way. Kurt doesn’t like to spend his downtime there.”
“I thought he took you to that romantic dinner there over the summer.”
“It was the nicest restaurant he knew, and he got an employee discount.”
“Charming,” Tamara said.
“Plus, ever since we got trapped in there overnight, he’s been even more adamant about avoiding it when he’s off work.”
“I can’t believe you two get to be the stuff of urban legend, and you don’t even appreciate it.”
Candace sighed. It was true that she and Kurt had spent one of the most miserable nights of their relationship trapped inside the theme park. Urban legend, though, had since transformed the story so that they were supposedly chased through the park by a psycho killer. It was still embarrassing to have -people point at her and say that she was the one. Around Halloween she had given up trying to correct -people. They were going to believe what they wanted.
“Earth to Candace. Helloooo?”
“Sorry. So, what does that leave us with? Shopping?”
“No need to torture both our dates,” Tamara said.
“Then what?”
“I don’t — miniature golf!” Tamara suddenly shrieked, so loudly that Candace jumped and slammed her head into the roof of the car.
“Tam! Don’t scare me like that.”
“Sorry. Miniature golf. What do you think? Built-in talking points, lots of movement, and zero grabby potential.”
“I like it. I’ll have to borrow one of your jackets though.”
“At least you’ll have an actual excuse this time,” Tamara teased.
A few minutes later they were at Tamara’s house and upstairs raiding her wardrobe. As Tamara considered and discarded a fifth outfit, Candace threw up her hands.
“Maybe if you’d tell me what you’re looking for, I could help.”
“I’m looking for something, you know, nunlike.”
Candace stared at her friend for a moment before she burst out laughing. She fell to the floor, clutching her stomach as tears streamed down her face. Tamara crossed her arms and tapped her foot, and Candace just laughed harder.
“I don’t know why you think that’s so funny. You know I don’t go past kissing.”
“Tam, nuns can’t even do that. And if you’re looking for something that will completely hide your body, then you’re going to have to go to the mall instead of the closet. You don’t own anything that doesn’t say ‘look at me.’ I’m sorry, but it’s true.”
“Really? Maybe we should go to your house. Think I could find what I’m looking for in your closet?”
“Not since I started dating and mom made me throw out all my old camp T-shirts,” Candace said with a grin.
“Then hello, you’ve got no call to laugh.”
Candace stood up, stomach still aching from laughing so hard. “Tam, I’m not criticizing. I’m just telling you, you’re not going to find what you’re looking for.”
Tam reached into the closet. “Oh, yeah, what about this?” she asked, producing jeans and a black turtleneck.
“If you’re going for the secret agent look, it’s a good choice.”
Tamara threw the jeans at her, and Candace ducked.
“I could wear some black pants with this. Would that be too funereal?
“For a pity date? Go for it.”
Candace opted to borrow Tamara’s discarded jeans instead of wearing the skirt she had brought with her. They turned out to be slightly tighter on her than they were on Tam, and she had to admit when she paired them with her red scoop-neck top that she looked really good.
When Kurt arrived a few minutes later, he whistled when he saw her.
“Keep the jeans,” Tamara whispered to her. “Obviously, they work for you.”
Kurt then looked at Tamara and frowned slightly. “Did you just come from a funeral?”
“No, but thank you for thinking so,” Tamara said with a smirk.
“I don’t — ”
Candace put her finger over his lips. “Don’t ask,” she advised him.
He smiled and kissed her finger, which made her giggle.
The doorbell rang again, and Candace turned, eager to see the infamous Mark.
Tamara opened the door, and Candace sucked in her breath. Mark was gorgeous. He had auburn hair, piercing green eyes, and model-perfect features. He was almost as tall as Kurt, and he was stunning in khaki Dockers and a green Polo shirt.
“Hi,” he said, smiling.
Tamara glanced at her and rolled her eyes.
“Hi, Mark.”
Kurt drove, and Candace was quick to slide into the front seat with him, leaving Tamara and Mark to the back. She shook her head. Mark was not her idea of a pity date in any sense of the word. Maybe Tamara would come around if she actually talked to him.
They made it to the miniature golf course and were soon on the green. Candace got a hole in one on the first time up to putt, and Kurt gave her a huge reward kiss.
When they moved on to the next hole, Tamara whispered in her ear, “Thanks a lot. This is supposed to be a no grabby zone. Now Mark will be getting ideas.”
“Tam, you really need to relax a little.”
They made it through the course in record time, and Kurt gave Candace another kiss for winning by one stroke. After turning in their clubs, the guys headed inside to order pizza while Candace and Tamara went to the restroom.
“This date is the worst,” Tamara groaned once they were alone.
“What’s wrong with you? He’s gorgeous.”
“Really? I guess I just can’t see past the Tina mope.”
“What mope? He hasn’t even mentioned her, and he’s done nothing but smile all night. You should totally take him to Winter Formal.”
“No way. This is a one-date-only kind of thing. I’m not taking him to Winter Formal.”
“Fine. Suit yourself. I’m just telling you that if it weren’t for Kurt, I’d be taking him to Winter Formal.”
Tamara laughed.
“As if. There’s no way you’d ask a guy out.”
“I don’t know. You might be surprised.”
“It’s a moot point anyway. I’ll find someone to take.”
“You could always take Josh,” Candace suggested.
“You’re not setting me up with Josh, so just forget it.”
“Fine.”
“Find out for me, though, if Santa needs a Mrs. Claus,” Tamara said.
“You’re going to find some way to be the Christmas queen, aren’t you?” Candace asked.
I'm going to state my honest opinion about this book - I didn't particularly like it, and I certainly didn't understand the point of this story. I could reach far into my imagination and my literary background and surmise that the author thinks that what is seen by others is the "insatiable hunger to seek out other people - an uncontrollable need to feed the Dark Vibration." And what is beneath this very unnatural desire is the unseen - "they watched while other people suffered." Society's bizarre fascination with reality shows is reflected in this book...secretly watching others and doing - nothing.
Basically, you live the entire 383 pages of this story in the mind of a man who has no memory, who doesn't know who he is and who lives his life secretly spying on people. Lucas has a brilliant mind stuffed with bizarre information. He meets a whole group of people just like him - people who sneak around spying on others. This group is the Creep Club, and they thrive on watching people harm each other. Lucas, the main character, is sort of freaked out by the Creep Club because all he does is spy on people in public places and create imaginary histories for them. These other folks like to secretly film other people hurting each other. Kind of sick.
As the story unfolds you are introduced to a host of people and the weirdness deepens. Lucas tries to warn these Creep Club victims...only to be wrongly accused of the crime himself by one guy and then be thanked and helped by another. There are some so-called government agents - "Dark Suits" that are trying to bust up the Creep Club. There are the "Dark Years" that Lucas is haunted by and that really distracts him the more the story unfolds. One group chases the other until the reader is totally bamboozled.
This book has a lot of tedious detailed descriptions loosely tying together a lot of disconnected story lines that never come together to form anything meaningful. Unless you are a criminal clairvoyant with a deep longing to work for a secret government agency, you're going to reach the end of this too long story and not have a clue what you just read. At least that was my experience. I could use my own imagination and paste some symbolism to all of this, but it would be a waste of time. I'm going to move on to other things. You can make up your own mind about this one. Check it out here.
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!
Linore Rose Burkard lives with her husband, five children, and ninety-year-old grandmother in southeastern Ohio. She homeschooled her children for ten years. Raised in New York, she graduated magna cum laude from the City University of New York (Queens College) with a Bachelor of Arts in English literature. Ms. Burkard wrote Before the Season Ends because she could not find a book like it anywhere. "There are Christian books that approach this genre," she says, "but they fall short of being a genuine Regency. I finally gave up looking and wrote the book myself." She has begun four other works of fiction in the category.
List Price: $ 12.99
Paperback: 348 pages
Publisher: Harvest House Publishers (December 1, 2008)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0736925511
ISBN-13: 978-0736925518
MY REVIEW:
England, 1813 – what an amazing time to live and love if you were a person of financial means! But what if you are the second daughter of a man of only mediocre means and your sister is not yet wed?What if your only suitor is old enough to be your father and there is no hope of ever being properly introduced to society?
Ah...but that is where we find our dear Ariana Forsythe! And at the very moment she has announced her intentions of accepting betrothal to a man more than twenty years her senior, an offer comes from wealthy Aunt Bentley to introduce Ariana’s sister as a debutante in London! Talk about salting a wound! But Ariana’s parents are wise, and even though it’s not proper to introduce the second daughter first, they determine to send Ariana to London instead of her sister! Realizing that Aunt Bentley will probably have a fit of vapors over this social faux pas only makes the trip more exciting for the reader!
I must admit, the fashion, the social calls, the parties…the gossip…ooooh! It just about wore me out to think about it all! But I was so enchanted with Ariana’s spirited personality, her crusty old Aunt and the lucious Mr. Mornay, that I was literally swept away! Linore Burkard made 19th century London and its eccentric upper class come alive in a most enchanting way! Time just slipped away while reading this one!
I loved the fact that Ariana was true to herself and her faith throughout the story, and I loved how she trusted God to complete the work He’d begun in her life and the hearts of those around her.I loved the way Ariana seemed to just reach out to people with her open, guileless behavior and the fact that she wasn’t afraid to stand up for herself and those she cares about. And the tension that was maintained between Ariana and Mr. Mornay was absolutely delicious!!
There is much to enjoy in Before the Season Ends! The plot builds at a believable pace, and the cause and effect of each development in the plot is built upon realistic responses to the whims of London socialites!Toward the end, the pace gets pretty frantic and the twists and turns that take place as secrets come to light will keep you on the edge of your seat! This entire romantic adventure has drawn me in and left me wanting more! I do hope to see more of dear Ariana and her gallant Mr. Mornay!
Linore Burkard, you are truly writing from your heart, and your love for Christ shines brightly throughout your story! Thank you for writing such a charming and exciting tale! I eagerly look forward to reading more of your work!Now readers, what are you waiting for? Go out and purchase your own copy….Before the Season Ends!
AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:
Chesterton, Hertfordshire
England
1813
Something would have to be done about Ariana.
All winter Miss Ariana Forsythe, aged nineteen, had been going about the house sighing.
“Mr. Hathaway is my lot in life!”
She spoke as though the prospect of that life was a great burden to bear, but one which she had properly reconciled herself to. When her declarations met with exasperation or reproach from her family—for no one else was convinced Mr. Hathaway, the rector, was her lot—she usually responded in a perplexed manner. Hadn't they understood for an age that her calling was to wed a man of the cloth? Was there another man of God, other than their rector, available to her? No. It only stood to reason, therefore, that Mr. Hathaway was her lot in life. Their cold reception to the thought of the marriage was unfathomable.
When she was seventeen, (a perfectly respectable marrying age) she had romantic hopes about a young and brilliant assistant to the rector, one Mr. Stresham. It was shortly after meeting him, in fact, that she had formed the opinion the Almighty was calling her to marry a man of God. Mr. Stresham even had the approval of her parents. But the man took a situation in another parish without asking Ariana to accompany him as his wife. She was disappointed, but not one to give up easily, continued to speak of “the calling,” waiting in hope for another Mr. Stresham of sorts. But no man came. And now she had reached the conclusion that Mr. Hathaway--Mr. Hathaway, the rector, (approaching the age of sixty!) would have to do.
Her parents, Charles and Julia Forsythe, were sitting in their comfortably furnished morning room, Julia with a cup of tea before her, and Charles with his newspaper. A steady warmth was emanating from the hearth.
“What shall we do about Ariana?” Mrs. Forsythe, being an observant mama, had been growing in her conviction that the situation called for some action.
“What do you suggest, my dear?” Her husband reluctantly folded his paper; he knew his wife wanted a discussion of the matter and that he would get precious little reading done until she had got it.
She held up a folded piece of foolscap: the annual letter from Agatha Bentley, Charles’s sister, asking for Alberta, the eldest Forsythe daughter, for the season in London. It had arrived the day before.
Aunt Bentley was a childless wealthy widow and a hopeless socialite. For the past three years she had written annually to tell her brother and his wife why they ought to let her sponsor their eldest daughter for a London season. She owned a house in Mayfair (could anything be more respectable than that?) and knew a great deal of the big-wigs in society. She had, in fact, that most important of commodities which the Forsythes completely lacked: connexions. And as Charles’s family were her only living relatives, she was prepared--even anxious--to serve as chaperon for her niece.
Much to the lady's frustration, Julia and Charles had annually extinguished her hopes, replying to her letters graciously but with the inevitable, “We cannot countenance a separation from our child at this time,” and so on. Charles was unflinching on this point, never doubting his girls would reap a greater benefit by remaining beneath his own roof. They knew full well, moreover, that Aunt Agatha could not hope, with all her money and connexions to find as suitable a husband for their offspring as was possible right in Chesterton.
Why not? For the profound reason that Aunt Bentley had no religion whatsoever.
And yet, due to the distressing state of affairs with Ariana, Julia wished to consider her latest offer. With the letter waving in her hand she said, “I think we ought to oblige your sister this year. She must be lonely, poor thing, and besides removing Ariana from the parish, a visit to the city could prove beneficial for her education.”
Ariana’s father silently considered the matter. His eldest daughter Alberta was as good as wed, having recently accepted an offer of marriage--to no one’s surprise--from John Norledge. Ariana, his second eldest, had been irksome in regard to the rector, but to pack her off to London? Surely the situation was not so dire as to warrant such a move.
“I think there is nothing else for it,” Mrs. Forsythe said emphatically. “Ariana is determined about Mr. Hathaway and, even though we can forbid her to speak to the man, she will pine and sigh and like as not drive me to distraction!”
Taking a pipe out of his waistcoat pocket (though he never smoked), Mr. Forsythe absently rubbed the polished wood in his fingers.
“I recall other fanciful notions of our daughter’s,” he said finally, “and they slipped away in time. Recall, if you will, when she was above certain her destiny was to be a missionary--to America. That desire faded. She fancies this, she fancies that; soon she will fancy another thing entirely, and we shan’t hear another word about the ‘wonderful rector’ again.”
Mrs. Forsythe’s countenance, still attractive in her forties, became fretful.
“I grant that she has had strong…affections before. But this time, my dear, it is a complicated affection for in this case it is the heart of the ah, affected, which we must consider. It has ideas of its own.”
“Of its own?”
Mrs. Forsythe looked about the room to be certain no one else had entered. The servants were so practiced at coming and going quietly, their presence might not be marked. But no, there was only the two of them. She lowered her voice anyway.
“The rector! I do not think he intends to lose her! What could delight him more than a young, healthy wife who might fill his table with offspring?”
Mr. Forsythe shook his head.”Our rector is not the man to think only of himself; he must agree with us on the obvious unsuitability of the match.”
The rector was Thaddeus Admonicus Hathaway, of the Church in the Village Square. Mr. Hathaway was a good man. His sermons were grounded in sound religion, which meant they were based on orthodox Christian teaching. He was clever, and a popular dinner guest of the gentry, including the Forsythes. If these had not been true of him, Mr. Forsythe might have been as concerned as his wife. Knowing Mr. Hathaway, however, Charles Forsythe did not think a drastic action such as sending his daughter to the bustling metropolis of London, was necessary.
Mrs. Forsythe chose not to argue with her spouse. She would simply commit the matter to prayer. If the Almighty decided that Ariana must be removed to Agatha’s house, then He would make it clear to her husband. In her years of marriage she had discovered that God was the Great Communicator, and she had no right to try and usurp that power. Her part was to pray, sincerely and earnestly.
Mr. Forsythe gave his judgment: “I fear that rather than exerting a godly influence upon her aunt, Ariana would be drawn astray by the ungodliness of London society.”
“Do you doubt her so much, Charles? This infatuation with Mr. Hathaway merely results from her youth, her admiration for his superior learning, and especially,” she said, leaning forward and giving him a meaningful look, “for lack of a young man who has your approval! Have you not frowned upon every male who has approached her in the past? Why, Mr. Hathaway is the first whom you have failed to frighten off and only because he is our rector! 'Tis little wonder a young girl takes a fanciful notion into her head!”
When he made no answer, she added, while adjusting the frilly morning cap on her head, “Mr. Hathaway causes me concern!”
Mr. Forsythe’s countenance was sober. “’Tis my sister who warrants the concern. She will wish to make a match for our daughter--and she will not be content with just any mister I assure you. In addition to which, a girl as pretty as our daughter will undoubtedly attract attention of the wrong sort.”
Julia was flustered for a second, but countered, “Agatha is no threat to our child. We shall say we are sending Ariana to see the sights, take in the museums and so forth. Surely there is no harm in that. A dinner party here or there should not be of concern. And Ariana is too intelligent to allow herself to be foisted upon an unsuitable man for a fortune or title.”
Too intelligent? He thought of the aging minister that no one had had to “foist” her upon. Aloud he merely said, “I shall speak with her tonight. She shall be brought to reason, depend upon it. There will be no need to pack her off to London.”
It's the 21st, time for the Teen FIRST blog tour! This is the very last Teen FIRST tour as Teen FIRST has merged with FIRST Wild Card Tours. If you wish to learn more about FIRST Wild Card, please go HERE.
Mike Hamel is a seasoned storyteller who has honed his skill over theyears by telling tall tales to his four children. He is the author of several non-fiction books and numerous magazine articles.
Mike and his wife, Susan, live in Colorado Springs, CO. Their four children are now grown and their two grand children will soon be old enough for stories of their own.
From His Blog's About Me:
I am a professional writer with sixteen books to my credit, including a trilogy of titles dealing with faith and business: The Entrepreneur’s Creed (Broadman, 2001), Executive Influence (NavPress, 2003), and Giving Back (NavPress, 2003). I also edited Serving Two Masters: Reflections on God and Profit, by Bill Pollard (Collins, 2006).
My most enjoyable project to date has been an eight-volume juvenile fiction series called Matterhorn the Brave. It’s based on variegated yarns I used to spin for my four children. They are now grown and my two grandchildren will soon be old enough for stories of their own. I live in Colorado Springs, Colorado with my bride of 34 years, Susan.
As you read this blog, remember that I’m a professional. Don’t try this level of writing at home. You might suffer a dangling participle or accidentally split an infinitive and the grammarians will be all over you like shoe salesmen on a centipede.
BTW – I have been diagnosed with Diffuse Large B-Cell Lymphoma, an aggressive but treatable form of cancer.
Mike's Blog, Cells Behaving Badly, is an online diary about Wrestling with Lymphoma Cancer.
To order a signed edition of any of the 6 Matterhorn the Brave books, please visit the Matterhorn the Brave Website!
Aaron the Baron hit the ground like a paratrooper, bending his knees, keeping his balance.
Matterhorn landed like a 210-pound sack of dirt.
His stomach arrived a few seconds later.
He straightened his six-foot-four frame into a sitting position. In the noonday sun he saw they were near the edge of a sloping meadow. The velvet grass was dotted with purple and yellow flowers. Azaleas bloomed in rainbows around the green expanse. The black-faced sheep mowing the far end of the field paid no attention to the new arrivals.
“Are you okay?” the Baron asked. He looked as if he’d just stepped out of a Marines’ recruiting poster. “We’ll have to work on your landing technique.”
“How about warning me when we’re going somewhere,” Matterhorn grumbled.
The Baron helped him up and checked his pack to make sure nothing was damaged. He scanned the landscape in all directions from beneath the brim of his red corduroy baseball cap. “It makes no difference which way we go,” he said at last. “The horses will find us.”
“What horses?”
“The horses that will take us to the one we came to see,” the Baron answered.
“Are you always this vague or do you just not know what you’re doing?”
“I don’t know much, but I suspect this is somebody’s field. We don’t want to be caught trespassing. Let’s go.”
They left the meadow, walking single file through the tall azaleas up a narrow valley. Thorny bushes with loud yellow blossoms crowded the trail next to a clear brook. Pushing one of the prickly plants away, Matterhorn asked, “Do you know what these are?”
“Gorse, of course,” the Baron said without turning.
“Never heard of it.”
“Then I guess you haven’t been to Ireland before.”
“Ireland,” Matterhorn repeated. “My great-grandfather came from Ireland.”
“Your great-grandfather won’t be born for centuries yet.”
Matterhorn stepped over a tangle of exposed roots and said, “What do you mean?”
“I mean we’re in medieval Ireland, not modern Ireland.”
“How can that be!” Matterhorn cried, stopping in his tracks. “How can I be alive before my great-grandfather?”
The Baron shrugged. “That’s one of the paradoxes of time travel. No one’s been able to figure them all out. You’re welcome to try, but while you’re at it, keep a lookout for the horses.”
Matterhorn soon gave up on paradoxes and became absorbed in the paradise around him. The colors were so alive they hurt his eyes. He wished for a pair of sunglasses. Above the garish gorse he saw broom bushes and pine trees growing to the ridge where spectacular golden oaks crowned the slopes. Birdsongs whistled from their massive branches into the warm air. Small animals whispered in the underbrush while larger game watched the strangers from a distance.
The country flattened out and, at times, they glimpsed stone houses over the tops of hedgerows. They steered clear of these and any other signs of civilization. In a few hours, they reached the spring that fed the brook they had been following. They stopped to rest and wash up.
That’s where the horses found them.
There were five strikingly handsome animals. The leader of the pack was from ancient and noble stock. He stood a proud seventeen hands high—five-foot-eight-inches—at the shoulders. He had a classic Roman face with a white star on his wide forehead that matched the white socks on his forelegs. His straight back, sturdy body, and broad hindquarters suggested both power and speed. A rich coppery mane and tail complemented his sleek, chestnut coat.
The Baron held out an apple to the magnificent animal, but the horse showed no interest in the fruit or the man. Neither did the second horse. The third, a dappled stallion, took the apple and let the Baron pet his nose.
“These horses are free,” the Baron said as he stroked the stallion’s neck. “They choose their riders, which is as it should be. Grab an apple and find your mount.”
While Matterhorn searched for some fruit, the leader sauntered over and tried to stick his big nose into Matterhorn’s pack. When Matterhorn produced an apple, the horse pushed it aside and kept sniffing.
Did he want carrots, Matterhorn wondered? How about the peanut butter sandwich? Not until he produced a pocket-size Snickers bar did the horse whinny and nod his approval.
The Baron chuckled as Matterhorn peeled the bar and watched it disappear in a loud slurp. “That one’s got a sweet tooth,” he said.
The three other horses wandered off while the Baron and Matterhorn figured out how to secure their packs to the two that remained. “I take it we’re riding without saddles or bridles,” Matterhorn said. This made him nervous, as he had been on horseback only once before.
“Bridles aren’t necessary,” Aaron the Baron explained. “Just hold on to his mane and stay centered.” He boosted Matterhorn onto his mount. “The horses have been sent for us. They’ll make sure we get where we need to go.”
As they set off, Matterhorn grabbed two handfuls of long mane from the crest of the horse’s neck. He relaxed when he realized the horse was carrying him as carefully as if a carton of eggs was balanced on his back. Sitting upright, he patted the animal’s neck. “Hey, Baron; check out this birthmark.” He rubbed a dark knot of tufted hair on the chestnut’s right shoulder. “It looks like a piece of broccoli. I’m going to call him Broc.”
“Call him what you want,” the Baron said, “but you can’t name him. The Maker gives the animals their names. A name is like a label; it tells you what’s on the inside. Only the Maker knows that.”
Much later, and miles farther into the gentle hills, they made camp in a lea near a tangle of beech trees. “You get some wood,” Aaron the Baron said, “while I make a fire pit.” He loosened a piece of hollow tubing from the side of his pack and gave it a sharp twirl. Two flanges unrolled outward and clicked into place to form the blade of a short spade. Next, he pulled off the top section and stuck it back on at a ninety-degree angle to make a handle.
Matterhorn whistled. “Cool!”
“Cool is what we’ll be if you don’t get going.”
Matterhorn hurried into the forest. He was thankful to be alone for the first time since becoming an adult, something that happened in an instant earlier that day. Seizing a branch, he did a dozen chin-ups; then dropped and did fifty push-ups and a hundred sit-ups.
Afterward he rested against a tree trunk and encircled his right thigh with both hands. His fingertips didn’t touch. Reaching farther down, he squeezed a rock-hard calf muscle.
All this bulk was new to him, yet it didn’t feel strange. This was his body, grown up and fully developed. Flesh of his flesh; bone of his bone. Even hair of his hair, he thought, as he combed his fingers through the thick red ponytail.
He took the Sword hilt from his hip. The diamond blade extended and caught the late afternoon sun in a dazzling flash. This mysterious weapon was the reason he was looking for firewood in an Irish forest instead of sitting in the library at David R. Sanford Middle School.
Unlike many readers, I haven't had the opportunity to read a lot of Max Lucado's writing. However, I can say without reservation that the message he shares in his book, For These Tough Times, is both timely and powerful! Once again, God has sent a reminder of His promises for such a time as this! This small book contains a very large truth, and in plain words and vivid imagery Max Lucado clearly explains some of lif's most difficult questions!
