From the category archives:

Books

Forsaken by James David Jordan

by 123pizza on November 1, 2008

It is time for the FIRST Blog Tour! On the FIRST day of every month we feature an author and his/her latest book’s FIRST chapter!

The feature author is:

and his book:

Forsaken
B&H Fiction (October 1, 2008)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

James David Jordan is a business litigation attorney with the prominent Texas law firm of Munsch Hardt Kopf & Harr, P.C. From 1998 through 2005, he served as the firm’s Chairman and CEO. The Dallas Business Journal has named him one of the most influential leaders in the Dallas/Fort Worth legal community and one of the top fifteen business defense attorneys in Dallas/Fort Worth. His peers have voted him one of the Best Lawyers in America in commercial litigation.

A minister’s son who grew up in the Mississippi River town of Alton, Illinois, Jim has a law degree and MBA from the University of Illinois, and a journalism degree from the University of Missouri. He lives with his wife and two teenage children in the Dallas suburbs.

Jim grew up playing sports and loves athletics of all kinds. But he especially loves baseball, the sport that is a little bit closer to God than all the others.

His first novel was Something that Lasts . Forsaken is his second novel.

Product Details:

List Price: $14.99
Paperback: 400 pages
Publisher: B&H Fiction (October 1, 2008)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0805447490
ISBN-13: 978-0805447491

AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:

Even in high school I didn’t mind sleeping on the ground. When your father is a retired Special Forces officer, you pick up things that most girls don’t learn. As the years passed I slept in lots of places a good girl shouldn’t sleep. It’s a part of my past I don’t brag about, like ugly wallpaper that won’t come unstuck. No matter how hard I scrape, it just hangs on in big, obscene blotches. I’m twenty-nine years old now, and I’ve done my best to paint over it. But it’s still there under the surface, making everything rougher, less presentable than it should be. Though I want more than anything to be smooth and fresh and clean.

Sometimes I wonder what will happen if the paint begins to fade. Will the wallpaper show? I thought so for a long time. But I have hope now that it won’t. Simon Mason helped me find that hope. That’s why it’s important for me to tell our story. There must be others who need hope, too. There must be others who are afraid that their ugly wallpaper might bleed through.

What does sleeping on the ground have to do with a world-famous preacher like Simon Mason? The story begins twelve years ago—eleven years before I met Simon. My dad and I packed our camping gear and went fishing. It was mid-May, and the trip was a present for my seventeenth birthday. Not exactly every high school girl’s dream, but my dad wasn’t like most dads. He taught me to camp and fish and, particularly, to shoot. He had trained me in self-defense since I was nine, the year Mom fell apart and left for good. With my long legs, long arms, and Dad’s athletic genes, I could handle myself even back then. I suppose I wasn’t like most other girls.

After what happened on that fishing trip, I know I wasn’t.

Fishing with my dad didn’t mean renting a cane pole and buying bait pellets out of a dispenser at some catfish tank near an RV park. It generally meant tramping miles across a field to a glassy pond on some war buddy’s ranch, or winding through dense woods, pitching a tent, and fly fishing an icy stream far from the nearest telephone. The trips were rough, but they were the bright times of my life—and his, too. They let him forget the things that haunted him and remember how to be happy.

This particular outing was to a ranch in the Texas Panhandle, owned by a former Defense Department bigwig. The ranch bordered one of the few sizeable lakes in a corner of Texas that is brown and rocky and dry. We loaded Dad’s new Chevy pickup with cheese puffs and soft drinks—healthy eat­ing wouldn’t begin until the first fish hit the skillet—and left Dallas just before noon with the bass boat in tow. The drive was long, but we had leather interior, plenty of tunes, and time to talk. Dad and I could always talk.

The heat rose early that year, and the temperature hung in the nineties. Two hours after we left Dallas, the brand-new air conditioner in the brand-new truck rattled and clicked and dropped dead. We drove the rest of the way with the windows down while the high Texas sun tried to burn a hole through the roof.

Around five-thirty we stopped to use the bathroom at a rundown gas station somewhere southeast of Amarillo. The station was nothing but a twisted gray shack dropped in the middle of a hundred square miles of blistering hard pan. It hadn’t rained for a month in that part of Texas, and the place was so baked that even the brittle weeds rolled over on their bellies, as if preparing a last-ditch effort to drag themselves to shade.

The restroom door was on the outside of the station, iso­lated from the rest of the building. There was no hope of cool­ing off until I finished my business and got around to the little store in the front, where a rusty air conditioner chugged in the window. When I walked into the bathroom, I had to cover my nose and mouth with my hand. A mound of rotting trash leaned like a grimy snow drift against a metal garbage can in the corner. Thick, black flies zipped and bounced from floor to wall and ceiling to floor, occasionally smacking my arms and legs as if I were a bumper in a buzzing pinball machine. It was the filthiest place I’d ever been.

Looking back, it was an apt spot to begin the filthiest night of my life.

I had just leaned over the rust-ringed sink to inspect my teeth in the sole remaining corner of a shattered mirror when someone pounded on the door.

“Just a minute!” I turned on the faucet. A soupy liquid dribbled out, followed by the steamy smell of rotten eggs. I turned off the faucet, pulled my sport bottle from the holster on my hip, and squirted water on my face and in my mouth. I wiped my face on the sleeve of my T-shirt.

My blue-jean cutoffs were short and tight, and I pried free a tube of lotion that was wedged into my front pocket. I raised one foot at a time to the edge of the toilet seat and did my best to brush the dust from my legs. Then I spread the lotion over them. The ride may have turned me into a dust ball, but I was determined at least to be a soft dust ball with a coconut scent. Before leaving I took one last look in my little corner of mir­ror. The hair was auburn, the dust was beige. I gave the hair a shake, sending tiny flecks floating through a slash of light that cut the room diagonally from a hole in the roof. Someone pounded on the door again. I turned away from the mirror.

“Okay, okay, I’m coming!”

When I pulled open the door and stepped into the light, I shaded my eyes and blinked to clear away the spots. All that I could think about was the little air conditioner in the front window and how great it would feel when I got inside. That’s probably why I was completely unprepared when a man’s hand reached from beside the door and clamped hard onto my wrist.

{ 0 comments }

Sunday Photo

by 123pizza on October 26, 2008

Checked this book out from the library today (Saturday) and am already two-thirds of the way done reading it. Excellent reading.

I’m making myself go to bed so that I can get some sleep and finish it tomorrow. I have found that if I get sleep then I am not so cranky the next day.

If I were to stay up to finish reading it then I wouldn’t be able to function tomorrow and that’s not good when you have three kiddos to take care of. Of course, hubby is home but he has his own book that he’s reading.

{ 3 comments }

Friday Findings

by 123pizza on October 17, 2008

Today’s findings will be a bit different. Instead of sharing links I’ve found on the internet, I’m going to share some authors I have enjoyed reading lately.

Ellen Hopkins - I’ve read Crank and am in the process of reading Impulse.

Elizabeth Berg - I’ve read Talk Before Sleep: A Novel and Dream When You’re Feeling Blue: A Novel.

Gregory Maguire - I’ve read Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West (Harper Fiction) and have started Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister: A Novel.

Scott Westerfeld - I’ve read Uglies (Boxed Set): Uglies, Pretties, Specials (Uglies) and have checked out Peeps but haven’t started it yet.

Stephanie Meyer - Technically, I haven’t read anything by her but am anticipating reading Twilight (The Twilight Saga, Book 1) as soon as it is my turn at the library. Right now there are quite a few people who are wanting to read it. I think I was second in line last time I checked. I have almost bought it several times but the fact that I had groceries to buy prevented me from purchasing it. Darn me for being all responsible.

.

{ 0 comments }

Crank by Ellen Hopkins is the best book I have read in quite some time. To say I loved it would be an understatement.

From the back cover:

Life was good
before I
met
the monster.

After,
life
was great,

At
least
for a little while.

Kristina is the perfect daughter: gifted high school junior, quiet, never any trouble. Then she meets the monster: crank. And what begins as a wild ride turns into a struggle for her mind, her soul–her life.

You follow Kristina’s journey completely in free verse. You have to understand something about me. I don’t like poetry. I haven’t ever understood what I’ve read. I am a “just give it to me straight” kind of gal. I don’t want to have to look for a deeper meaning, I want to read and understand.

So poetry and I have always had a love/hate relationship. I love the art and appreciate those who understand it and those who can write it. I hate it in the sense I’ve tried for years to see what others see in it. I don’t get it. Until now.

Now, I was blown away. Now, I am adding Crank to my list of best books. Now, I am telling everyone about this book and how great it is.

I didn’t expect to like this book. I picked it up at the library, flipped through it, saw that it looked like poetry and thought why not. (I will often check out a book of poetry and try to will myself to understand it. It hasn’t happened yet.) Not only did I check out Crank, but I also picked up Impulse which is also written in free verse.

Any guesses to what I’m going to go do next? Read Impulse!

What’s your favorite book that you’ve read recently?
.

{ 0 comments }

Goodbye Hollywood Nobody by Lisa Samson

by 123pizza on October 11, 2008

It is October 11th, and FIRST is doing a special tour to ‘Say Goodbye to Hollywood Nobody’.

Today’s feature author is:

and her book:

Goodbye Hollywood Nobody

NavPress Publishing Group (September 15, 2008)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Lisa Samson is the author of twenty books, including the Christy Award-winning Songbird. Apples of Gold was her first novel for teens

These days, she’s working on Quaker Summer, volunteering at Kentucky Refugee Ministries, raising children and trying to be supportive of a husband in seminary. (Trying . . . some days she’s downright awful. It’s a good thing he’s such a fabulous cook!) She can tell you one thing, it’s never dull around there.

Other Novels by Lisa:

Hollywood Nobody, Finding Hollywood Nobody, Romancing Hollywood Nobody, Straight Up, Club Sandwich, Songbird, Tiger Lillie, The Church Ladies, Women’s Intuition: A Novel, Songbird, The Living End

Visit her at her website.

Product Details

List Price: $12.99
Paperback: 192 pages
Publisher: NavPress Publishing Group (September 15, 2008)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1600062229
ISBN-13: 978-1600062223

AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:

Monday, July 11, 6:30 a.m.

I awaken to a tap on my shoulder and open my eye. My right eye. See, these days it could be one of four people: Charley, Dad, Grampie, or Grammie.

“’Morning, dear!”

Grammie.

Oh well, might as well go for broke. I open the other eye.

“Did you sleep well?”

I shake my head and reach for my cat glasses. “Nope. I kept dreaming about Charley in Scotland.” We sent her off with her new beau, the amazing Anthony Harris, two days ago. “I imagined a road full of sheep chasing her down.”

“That would be silly. They would have to know she hates lamb chops.” Grammie sits on my bed. Yes, my bed. In their fabulous house. In my own wonderful room, complete with reproductions of the Barcelona chair and a platform bed of gleaming sanded mahogany. I burrow further into my white down comforter. I sweat like a pig at night, but I don’t care. A real bed, a bona fide comforter, and four pillows. Feather pillows deep enough to sink the Titanic in.

She pats my shoulder, her bangled wrists emitting the music of wooden jewelry. “Up and at ’em, Scotty. Your dad wants to be on the road by seven thirty.”

“I need a shower.”

“Hop to it then.”

Several minutes later, I revel in the glories of a real shower. Not the crazy little stall we have in the TrailMama, which Dad gassed up last night for our trip to Maine. Our trip to find Babette, my mother. Is she dead or alive? That’s what we’re going to find out.

It’s complicated.

The warm water slides over me from the top of my head on down, and I’ve found the coolest shampoo. It smells like limeade. I kid you not. It’s the greatest stuff ever.

Over breakfast, Grampie sits down with us and goes over the map to make certain Dad knows the best route. My father sits patiently, nodding as words like turnpike, bypass, and scenic route roll like a convoy out of Grampie’s mouth.

Poor Grampie. Dad is just the best at navigation and knows everything about getting from point A to point B, but I think Grampie wants to be a part of it. He hinted at us all going in the Beaver Marquis, their Luxury-with-a-capital-L RV, but Dad pretended not to get it.

Later, Dad said to me, “It’s got to be just us, Scotty. I love my mother and father, but some things just aren’t complete-family affairs.”

“I know. I think you’re right. And if it’s bad . . .”

He nods. “I’d just as soon they not be there while we fall apart.”

Right.

So then, I hop up into our RV, affectionately known as the TrailMama, Dad’s black pickup already hitched behind. (Charley’s kitchen trailer is sitting on a lot in storage at a nearby RV dealership, and good riddance. I’m hoping Charley never needs to use that thing again.) “Want me to drive?”

He laughs.

Yep. I still don’t have my license.

Man. But it’s been such a great month or so at the beach. So, okay, I don’t tan much really, but I do have a nice peachy glow.

I’ll take it.

And Grampie grilled a lot, and Grammie helped me sew a couple of vintage-looking skirts, and I’ve learned the basics of my harp.

I jump into the passenger’s seat, buckle in, and look over at my dad. “You really ready for this?” My heart speeds up. This is the final leg of a very long journey, and what’s at the end of the path will determine the rest of our lives.

He looks into my eyes. “Are you?”

“I don’t know,” I whisper. “But we don’t really have a choice, do we?”

“I can go alone.”

I shake my head. “No, Dad. Whatever we do, whatever happens from here on out, we do it together.”

“Deal.”

{ 0 comments }

It’s Not About Me by Michelle Sutton

by 123pizza on October 2, 2008

This week, the

Christian Fiction Blog Alliance

is introducing

It’s Not About Me

Sheaf House Publishers (September 1, 2008)

by

Michelle Sutton

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Michelle Sutton has lived in Arizona and since 1991 and has two sons and a husband of 18 years. She began writing fiction in August 2003 when God inspired her to write a novel with realistic characters that would glorify Him. In 2004 she joined ACFW - American Christian Fiction Writers. In 2006 Michelle ran for Volunteer Officer on the ACFW Operating board and ACFW members elected her to serve a two year term. She sold her first manuscript Then Sings My Soul (now re-titled It’s Not About Me) to Sheaf House and her debut novel was released in Sept. 2008. The second book in the Second Glances series - It’s Not About Him - will be released the following fall (Sept. 2009).

Last, Michelle is Editor in Chief of the new Christian Fiction Online Magazine. The debut issue released in July 2008. The magazine is sponsored by the Christian Fiction Blog Alliance.

ABOUT THE BOOK

Annie has it all. She’s attractive, graduated with honors, was accepted at the college of her choice, has supportive parents, good friends, and a steady boyfriend who loves her. One night an unexpected visitor appears and Annie’s safe world is destroyed by a brutal attack. As she tries to pick up the pieces of her broken life, she is torn between two brothers, both of whom claim to love her. She is attracted to both, but which one does she love? How can she choose when her decision may cause a permanent rift between them? And more important, will she give her heart to the One who will sustain her even when human love fails.

“…the exquisitely written spiritual content shows the reader that redemption is available, no matter what the circumstances.”
- 4 Stars, Romantic Times!

Instead of dealing with timely issues like alcoholism, premarital sex and pornography in a preachy, oh-so-tired fashion, Michelle Sutton’s It’s Not About Me gets to the heart of the matter with a shocking dose of realism and poignant storytelling. From the first paragraph, Sutton weaves together a thoroughly entertaining story that’ll keep readers intrigued for the long haul as they get to know Annie, Dan, Tony and Susie—young adults that probably don’t look and sound all that different from themselves. Now that’s a seriously refreshing turn for Christian fiction.”
~Christa Ann Banister~, author of Around the World in 80 Dates, (NavPress 2007) and Blessed are the Meddlers (NavPress 2008)

It’s Not About Me is a wonderfully entertaining and deliciously suspenseful read that will keep you turning the pages. Sutton doesn’t back away from the drama and with all of the twists and turns, It’s Not About Me is hard to put down. I cannot wait for the sequel! Bravo!”
~Victoria Christopher Murray~, Essence best-selling author of multiple titles including The Ex Files and the upcoming YA series The Divine Divas

“Annie captured my heart on the first page and kept me enthralled to the very end. This edgy, yet surprisingly poignant story travels the inroads of intimate relationships – man to woman, brother to brother, parent to child, friend to friend. But especially satisfying is the author’s delicate handling of the relationship between a searching soul and the loving Savior who alone possesses the power to work all things out for the good. A terrific debut for Michelle Sutton. I can’t wait to read more from this talented author!”
~Virginia Smith~, author of Just As I Am and Sincerely, Mayla

“Michelle Sutton’s gritty writing style will very likely go straight to the hearts of teens, addressing what they deal with every day in what is all too often grim reality for our youth. Sutton is no doubt a refreshing and much needed voice in today’s YA fiction.”
~Tina Ann Forkner~, Author of Ruby Among Us
Waterbrook Press/Random House

If you would like to read the Prologue and first Chapter of It’s Not About Me, go HERE.

{ 1 comment }

Single Sashimi by Camy Tang

by 123pizza on October 1, 2008

It is time for the FIRST Blog Tour! On the FIRST day of every month we feature an author and his/her latest book’s FIRST chapter!

The feature author is:

and her book:

Single Sashimi
Zondervan (September 1, 2008)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:


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

Sushi for One? (Sushi Series, Book One) was her first novel. Her second, Only Uni (Sushi Series, Book Two) was published in March of this year. The next book in the series, Single Sashimi (Sushi Series, Book Three) came out in September 2008!

Visit her at her website.

List Price: $12.99
Paperback: 336 pages
Publisher: Zondervan (September 1, 2008)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0310274001
ISBN-13: 978-0310274001

AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:

Single Sashimi
By
Camy Tang

Chapter one

Venus Chau opened the door to her aunt’s house and almost fainted.

“What died?” She exhaled sharply, trying to get the foul air out of her body before it caused cancer or something.

Her cousin Jennifer Lim entered the foyer with the look of an oni goblin about to eat someone. “She’s stinking up my kitchen.”

“Who?” Venus hesitated on the threshold, breathing clean night air before she had to close the door.

“My mother, who else?”

The ire in Jenn’s voice made Venus busy herself with kicking off her heels amongst the other shoes in the tile foyer. Hoo-boy, she’d never seen quiet Jenn this irate before. Then again, since Aunty Yuki had given her daughter the rule of the kitchen when she’d started cooking in high school, Jenn rarely had to make way for another cook.

“What is she cooking? Beef intestines?”

Jenn flung her arms out. “Who knows? Something Trish is supposed to eat.”

“But we don’t have to eat it, right? Right?”

“I’ll never become pregnant if I have to eat stuff like that.” Jenn whirled and stomped toward the kitchen.

Venus turned right into the living room where her very pregnant cousin Trish lounged on the sofa next to her boyfriend, Spenser. “Hey, guys.” Her gaze paused on their twined hands. It continued to amaze her that Spenser would date a woman pregnant with another man’s child. Maybe Venus shouldn’t be so cynical about the men she met. Here was at least one good guy.

Trish’s arms shot into the air like a Raiders’ cheerleader, nearly clocking Spenser in the eye. “I’m officially on maternity leave!”

Venus paused to clap. “So how did you celebrate?”

“I babysat Matthew all day today.” She smiled dreamily at Spenser at the mention of his son.

Venus frowned and landed her hands on her hips. “In your condition?”

Trish waved a hand. “He’s not that bad. He stopped swallowing things weeks ago.”

“I’m finally not wasting money on all those emergency room visits,” Spenser said.

“Besides, I got a book about how to help toddlers expect a new baby.” Trish bounced lightly on the sofa cushion in her excitement.

“And?” It seemed kind of weird to Venus, since Trish and Spenser weren’t engaged or anything. Yet.

Trish chewed her lip. “I don’t know if he totally understands, but at least it’s a start.”

A sense of strangeness washed over Venus as she watched the two of them, the looks they exchanged that weren’t mushy or intimate, just . . . knowing. Like mind reading. It made her feel alienated from her cousin for the first time in her life, and she didn’t really like it.

She immediately damped down the feeling. How could she begrudge Trish such a wonderful relationship? Venus was so selfish. She disgusted herself.

She looked around the living room. “Where is — ”

“Venus!” The childish voice rang down the short hallway. She stepped back into the foyer to see Spenser’s son, Matthew, trotting down the carpet with hands reached out to her. He grabbed her at the knees, wrinkling her silk pants, but she didn’t mind. His shining face looking up at her — way up, since she was the tallest of the cousins — made her feel like she was the only reason he lived and breathed. “Psycho Bunny?” he pleaded.

She pretended to think about it. His hands shook her pants legs to make her decide faster.

“Okay.”

He darted into the living room and plopped in front of the television, grabbing at the game controllers. The kid had it down pat — in less than a minute, the music for the Psycho Bunny video game rolled into the room.

Venus sank to the floor next to him.

“Jenn is totally freaking out.” Trish’s eyes had popped to the size of siu mai dumplings.

“What brought all this on?” Venus picked up the other controller.

“Well, Aunty Yuki had a doctor’s appointment today — ”

“Is she doing okay?” She chose the Bunny Foo-Foo character for the game just starting.

“Clean bill of health. Cancer’s gone, as far as they can tell.”

“So that’s why she’s taken over Jenn’s domain?”

Trish rubbed her back and winced. “She took one look at me and decided I needed something to help the baby along.”

Jenn huffed into the living room. “She’s going to make me ruin the roast chicken!”

Venus ignored her screeching tone. “Sit down. You’re not going to make her hurry by hovering.” She and Matthew both jumped over the snake pit and landed in the hollow tree.

Jenn flung herself into an overstuffed chair and dumped her feet on the battered oak coffee table.

Venus turned to glance at the foyer. No Nikes. “Where’s Lex?”

“Late. Where else?” Jenn snapped.

“I thought Aiden was helping her be better about that.”

“He’s not a miracle worker.” Spenser massaged Trish’s back.

“I have to leave early.” Venus stretched her silk-clad feet out, wriggling her toes. Her new stilettos looked great but man, they hurt her arches.

“Then you might not eat at all.” Jenn crossed her arms over her chest.

Venus speared her with a glance like a stainless steel skewer. “Chill, okay Cujo?”

Jenn pouted and scrunched further down in the chair.

Venus ignored her and turned back to the game. Her inattention had let Matthew pick up the treasure chest. “I have to work on a project.”

“For work?”

“No, for me.” Only the Spiderweb, the achievement of her lifetime, a new tool that would propel her to the heights of video game development stardom. Which was why she’d kept it separate from her job-related things — she didn’t even use her company computer when she worked on it, only her personal laptop.

A new smell wafted into the room, this one rivaling the other in its stomach-roiling ability. Venus waved her hand in front of her face.

“Pffaugh! What is she cooking?”

Trish’s face had turned the color of green tea. “You’re lucky you don’t have to eat it. Whatever it is, it ain’t gonna stay down for long.”

“Just say you still have morning sickness.”

“In my ninth month?”

Venus shrugged.

The door slammed open. “Hey, guys — blech.”

Venus twisted around to see her cousin Lex doubled over, clenching her washboard stomach (Venus wished she could have one of those) and looking like she’d hurled up all the shoes littering the foyer floor.

Lex’s boyfriend Aiden grabbed her waist to prevent her from nosediving into the tile. “Lex, it’s not that bad.”

“The gym locker room smells better.” Lex used her toes to pull off her cross-trainers without bothering to untie them. “The men’s locker room.”

“It’s not me,” Jenn declared. “It’s Mom, ruining all my best pots.”

“What is she doing? Killing small animals on the stovetop?”

“Something for the baby.” Trish tried to smile, but it looked more like a wince.

“As long as we don’t have to eat it.” Lex dropped her slouchy purse on the floor and walked into the living room.

Aunty Yuki appeared behind her in the doorway, bearing a steaming bowl. “Here, Trish. Drink this.” The brilliant smile on her wide face eclipsed her tiny stature.

Venus smelled something pungent, like when she walked into a Chinese medicine shop with her dad. A bolus of air erupted from her mouth, and she coughed. “What is that?” She dropped the game controller.

“Pig’s brain soup.”

Trish’s smile hardened to plastic. Lex grabbed her mouth. Spenser — who was Chinese and therefore had been raised with the weird concoctions — sighed. Aiden looked at them all like they were funny-farm rejects.

Venus closed her eyes, tightened her mouth, and concentrated on not gagging. Good thing her stomach was empty.

Aunty Yuki’s mouth pursed. “What’s wrong? My mother-in-law made me eat pig’s brain soup when I was a couple weeks from delivering Jennifer.”

That’s what you ruined my pots with?” Jennifer steamed hotter than the bowl of soup.

Her mom caught the yakuza-about-to-hack-your-finger-off expression on Jenn’s face. Aunty Yuki paused, then backtracked to the kitchen. With the soup bowl, thankfully.

“Papa?” Matthew’s voice sounded faint.

Venus turned.

“Don’t feel good.” He clutched his poochy tummy.

“Oh, no.” Spenser grabbed his son and headed out of the living room.

Then the world exploded.

Just as they passed into the foyer, Matthew threw up onto the tiles.

Lex, with her weak stomach when it came to bodily fluids, took one look and turned pasty.

A burning smell and a few cries sounded from the kitchen.

Trish sat up straighter than a Buddha and clenched her rounded abdomen. “Oh!”

Spenser held his crying son as he urped up the rest of his afternoon snack. Lex clapped a hand to her mouth to prevent herself from following Matthew’s example. Jenn started for the kitchen, but then Matthew’s mess blocking the foyer stopped her. Trish groaned and curled in on herself, clutching her tummy.

Venus shot to her feet. She wasn’t acting Game Lead at her company for nothing.

“You.” She pointed to Jenn. “Get to the kitchen and send your mom in here for Trish.” Jenn leaped over Matthew’s puddle and darted away. “And bring paper towels for the mess!”

“You,” she flung at Spenser. “Take Matthew to the bathroom.”

He gestured to the brand new hallway carpet.

Oh no, Aunty Yuki would have a fit. But it couldn’t be helped. “If he makes a mess on the carpet, we’ll just clean it up later.”

He didn’t hesitate. He hustled down the hallway with Matthew in his arms.

Venus kicked the miniscule living room garbage basket closer to Lex. “Hang your head over that.” Not that it would hold more than spittle, but it was better than letting Lex upchuck all over the plush cream carpet. Why did Lex, tomboy and jock, have to go weak every time something gross happened?

“You.” Venus stabbed a manicured finger at Aiden. “Get your car, we’re taking Trish to the hospital.”

He didn’t jump at her command. “After one contraction?”

Trish moaned, and Venus had a vision of the baby flying out of her in the next minute. She pointed to the door again. “Just go!”

Aiden shrugged and slipped out the front door, muttering to himself.

“You.” She stood in front of Trish, who’d started Lamaze breathing through her pursed lips. “Uh . . .”

Trish peered up at her.

“Um . . . stop having contractions.”

Trish rolled her eyes, but didn’t speak through her pursed lips.

Venus ignored her and went to kneel over Matthew’s rather watery puddle, which had spread with amoeba fingers reaching down the lines of grout. Lex’s purse lay nearby, so she rooted in it for a tissue or something to start blotting up the mess.

Footsteps approaching. Before she could raise her head or shout a warning, Aunty Yuki hurried into the foyer. “What’s wron — !”

It was like a Three Stooges episode. Aunty Yuki barreled into Venus’s bent figure. She had leaned over Matthew’s mess to protect anyone from stepping in it, but it also made her an obstacle in the middle of the foyer.

“Ooomph!” The older woman’s feet — shod in cotton house slippers, luckily, and not shoes — jammed into Venus’s ribs. She couldn’t see much except a pair of slippers leaving the floor at the same time, and then a body landing on the living room carpet on the other side of her. Ouch.

“Are you okay?” Venus twisted to kneel in front of her, but she seemed slow to rise.

“Venus, here’re the paper towels — ”

Jenn’s voice in the foyer made Venus whirl on the balls of her feet and fling her hands up. “Watch out!”

Jenn stopped just in time. Her toes were only inches away from Matthew’s mess, her body leaning forward. Her arms whirled, still clutching the towels, like a cheerleader and her pom-poms.

“Jenn.” Spenser’s voice coming down the hallway toward the foyer. “Where are the — ”

“Stop!” Venus and Jenn shouted at the same time.

Spenser froze, his foot hovering above a finger of the puddle that had stretched toward the hallway. “Ah. Okay. Thanks.” He lowered his foot on the clean tile to the side.

Aiden opened the front door. “The car’s out front — ” The sight of them all left him speechless.

Trish had started to hyperventilate, her breath seething through her teeth. “Will somebody do something?!”

Aunty Yuki moaned from her crumpled position on the floor.

Smoke started pouring from the kitchen, along with the awful smell of burned . . . something that wasn’t normal food.

Venus snatched the paper towels from Jenn. “Kitchen!” Jenn fled before she’d finished speaking. “What do you need?” Venus barked at Spenser.

“Extra towels.”

“Guest bedroom closet, top shelf.”

He headed back down the hall. Venus turned to Aiden and swept a hand toward Aunty Yuki on the living room floor. “Take care of her, will you?”

“What about me?” Trish moaned through a clenched jaw.

“Stop having contractions!” Venus swiped up the mess on the tile before something worse happened, like someone stepped in it and slid. That would just be the crowning cherry to her evening. Even when she wasn’t at work, she was still working.

“Are you okay, Aunty?” She stood with the sodden paper towels.

Aiden had helped her to a seat next to Lex, who was ashen-faced and still leaning over the tiny trash can. Aside from a reddish spot on Aunty Yuki’s elbow, she seemed fine.

Jenn entered the living room, her hair wild and a distinctive burned smell sizzling from her clothes. “My imported French saucepan is completely blackened!” But she had enough sense not to glare at her parent as she probably wanted to. Aunty Yuki suddenly found
the wall hangings fascinating.

Venus started to turn toward the kitchen to throw away the paper towels she still held. “Well, we have to take Trish to the hospital — ”

“Actually . . .” Trish’s breathing had slowed. “I think it’s just a false alarm.”

Venus turned to look at her. “False alarm? Pregnant women have those?”

“It happened a couple days ago too.”

“What?” Venus almost slammed her fist into her hip, but remembered the dirty paper towels just in time. Good thing too, because she had on a Chanel suit.

Trish gave a long, slow sigh. “Yup, they’re gone. That was fast.” She smiled cheerfully.

Venus wanted to scream. This was out of her realm. At work, she was used to grabbing a crisis at the throat and wrestling it to submission. This was somewhere Trish was heading without her, and the thought both frightened and unnerved her. She shrugged it off. “Well . . . Aunty — ”

“I’m fine, Venus.” Aunty Yuki inspected her elbow. “Jennifer, get those Japanese Salonpas patches — ”

“Mom, they stink.” Jenn’s stress over her beautiful kitchen made her more belligerent than Venus had ever seen her before. Not that the camphor patches could smell any worse than the burned Chinese-old-wives’-pregnancy-food permeating the house.

At the sound of the word Salonpas, Lex pinched her lips together but didn’t say anything.

Aunty Yuki gave Jenn a limpid look. “The Salonpas gets rid of the pain.”

“I’ll get it.” Aiden headed down the hallway to get the adhesive patches.

“In the hall closet.” Jenn’s words slurred a bit through her tight jaw.

Distraction time. Venus tried to smile. “Aunty, if you’re okay, then let’s eat.”

Jenn’s eyes flared neon red. “Can’t.”

“Huh?”

Somebody turned off the oven.” Jenn frowned at her mother, who tactfully looked away. “Dinner won’t be for another hour.” She stalked back to the kitchen.

Even with the nasty smell, Venus’s stomach protested its empty state. “It’s already eight o’clock.”

“Suck it up!” Jenn yelled from the kitchen.

It was going to be a long night.

***

Venus needed a Reese’s peanut butter cup.

No, a Reese’s was bad. Sugar, fat, preservatives, all kinds of chemicals she couldn’t even pronounce.

Oooh, but it would taste so good . . .

No, she equated Reese’s cups with her fat days. She was no longer fat. She didn’t need a Reese’s.

But she sure wanted one after such a hectic evening with her cousins.

She trudged up the steps to her condo. Home. Too small to invite people over, and that was the way she liked it. Her haven, where she could relax and let go, no one to see her when she was vulnerable –

Her front door was ajar.

Her limbs froze mid-step, but her heart rat-tat-tatted in her chest like a machine gun. Someone. Had. Broken. Into. Her. Home.

Her hand started to shake. She clenched it to her hip, crushing the silk of her pants. What to do? He might still be there. Pepper spray. In her purse. She searched in her bag and finally found the tiny bottle. Her hand trembled so much, she’d be more likely to spritz herself than the intruder.

Were those sounds coming from inside? She reached out a hand, but couldn’t quite bring herself to push the door open further.

Stupid, call the police! She fumbled with the pepper spray so she could extract her cell phone. Dummy, don’t pop yourself in the eye with that stuff! She switched the spray to her other hand while her thumb dialed 9 - 1 - 1. Her handbag’s leather straps dug into her elbow.

Thump! That came from her living room! Footsteps. Get away from the door! She stumbled backwards, but remembering the stairs right behind her, she tried to stop herself from tumbling down. Her ankle tilted on her stilettos, and she fell sideways to lean against the wall. The footsteps approached her open door.

“9 - 1 - 1, what’s your emergency?”

She raised her hand with the bottle of pepper spray. “Someone’s — ”

The door swung open.

“Edgar!” The cell phone dropped with a clatter, but she kept a firm grip on the pepper spray, suddenly tempted to use it.

One of her junior programmers stood in her open doorway.

Copyright (c) 2008 by Camy Tang
Requests for information should be addressed to:
Zondervan, Grand Rapids, Michigan 49530

{ 1 comment }

When the Soul Mends by Cindy Woodsmall

by 123pizza on September 25, 2008

This week, the

Christian Fiction Blog Alliance

is introducing

When The Soul Mends

WaterBrook Press (September 16, 2008)

by

Cindy Woodsmall

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Cindy Woodsmall is a veteran homeschool mom. As her children progressed in age, her desire to write grew stronger. After working through reservations whether this desire was something she should pursue, she began her writing journey. Her husband was her staunchest supporter as she aimed for what seemed impossible.

Her first novel, When The Heart Cries, released in 2006 to much acclaim and became a Christian Book Association best seller. Cindy was a 2007 ECPA Christian Book Award finalist, along with Karen Kingsbury, Angela Hunt, and Charles Martin.

Her last book, When the Morning Comes, hit the New York Times best-sellers extended list and the Christian Book Association best-sellers list.

Cindy’s real-life connections with Amish Mennonite and Old Order Amish families enrich her novels with authenticity.

Cindy, her husband, their three sons and daughter-in-law reside in Georgia. Her husband is a registered land surveyor and a vice president at an engineering firm. Their oldest son has a bachelor’s degree in nuclear medicine and works at a local hospital. Their second son and his wife are both students at the University of Georgia. Their teen-aged son keeps the household energized with his love of music, books, and writing.

ABOUT THE BOOK

Returning to the home she fled in disgrace, will Hannah find healing for the wounds of the past?

After receiving a desperate and confusing call from her sister, Hannah Lapp reluctantly returns to the Old Order Amish community of her Pennsylvania childhood.

Having fled in disgrace more than two years earlier, she finally has settled into a satisfying role in the Englischer world. She also has found love and a new family with the wealthy Martin Palmer and the children she is helping him raise. But almost immediately after her arrival in Owl’s Perch, the disapproval of those who ostracized her, including her headstrong father, reopens old wounds.

As Hannah is thrown together with former fiancé Paul Waddell to work for her sister Sarah’s mental health, hidden truths surface about events during Hannah’s absence, and she faces an agonizing decision. Will she choose the Englischer world and the man who restored her hope, or will she heed the call to return to the Plain Life–and perhaps to her first love?

If you would like to read the first chapter of When The Soul Mends, go HERE

“A skillfully written story of forgiveness and redemption. Woodsmall’s authentic characters illustrate beautifully how wounded souls can indeed be mended.”
Susan Meissner, author of The Shape of Mercy

“Like the stitches on a well-loved quilt, love and faith hold together Cindy Woodsmall’s When the Soul Mends, the brilliantly written third story in the Sisters of the Quilt series. With deft plotting and characters that seem to jump off the page, this novel offers the timeless truth that forgiveness is the balm which heals all wounds and a blanket for the soul.”
Kathleen Y’Barbo, author of Beloved Castaway

“What a vibrant, strong, emotional story! When the Heart Cries will grip you and not let go, I promise. Highly recommended!”
Gayle Roper, author of Allah’s Fire and the Seaside Seasons series

“Reaching deep into the heart of the reader, Cindy Woodsmall pens a beautifully lyrical story in her debut novel When the Heart Cries.”
Tamera Alexander, bestselling author of Rekindled

{ 1 comment }

Book Review and Giveaway!

by 123pizza on September 24, 2008

I recently had the opportunity to read The S.O.S. for PMS: Practical Help and Relief for Moms by Mary Byers. Let me tell you that this book couldn’t have come at a better time. It came at the right time as far as I was concerned since I was suffering from PMS. This book has been eye-opening in that I didn’t realize that some of what I was feeling was PMS-related.

I have enjoyed the practical advice and am looking forward to implementing some of it next month. Well, not really enjoy the fact that I have PMS but that there are things that I can do to prevent from turning into witchy-woman and alienating my family.

About the Book:

The SOS for PMS:
Practical Help and Relief for Moms

In her latest book, Mary explores an often frustrating topic, the symptoms of PMS, and offers practical advice and encouragement for mothers. Readers will find comfort in the stories shared by other moms, realizing that they are not alone in their struggles with PMS.

With this book, you will find suggestions designed to inspire healthier lifestyles, relationships, and daily choices for all women.

Gather any group of moms together and the topic of frustrating PMS symptoms rises up in conversation along with the guilt and concern about its effects on family members.

Now Mary Byers, author of The Mother Load, offers mothers encouragement, help, and camaraderie as she shares:

  • women’s stories-the good, bad, and the hopeful
  • overlooked symptoms and how to manage them
  • foods and activities to avoid or indulge in
  • God’s first aid for stress, depression, and anxiety
  • a call for help-how husbands can come to the aid of their wives

This gathering of useful advice and shared experiences will comfort readers who have ever felt alone in their PMS plight and will inspire healthier lifestyles, relationships, and daily choices for all women.

To read an excerpt go here.

A Word from the Author:

“It’s my hope that this book will bring help, hope and healing to moms who suffer from PMS. It’s been a source of despair in my own life but things are looking up now that I’ve developed my own coping plan. Those I interviewed for this book shared intimately about their own battles and I believe their stories, along with that of Callie’s (the main character in the book) will convince other women that it is possible to change their current response to PMS and encourage them to start today.”

About Mary:

Mary Byers is a professional speaker and writer whose passion for transforming lives is evident in every project she takes on. In her first book with Harvest House Publishers, The Mother Load: How to Meet Your Own Needs While Caring for Your Family, Byers teaches women how to take care of themselves so that they can nurture a happy, healthy family. The mother of two lively children, she offers down-to-earth suggestions, spiritual truths, and real-life advice on how to juggle family responsibilities while creating a balanced life through supportive friendships, stress-relieving laughter, regular exercise, rejuvenating solitude, and an intimate relationship with the Lord. The founder of Word Works, Byers graduated from Indiana University with a Bachelor of Arts Degree in Telecommunications. She is also a Certified Association Executive. Byers and her husband, Stuart, reside in Illinois with their two children. To learn more about Mary visit her website at www.marybyers.com.

To win a copy of The S.O.S. for PMS: Practical Help and Relief for Moms be sure to leave a comment by Tuesday, September 30. I’ll randomly pick a winner at midnight Pacific Standard Timeand email the winner the next day. (U.S. resident addresses only.)

For another chance to win a copy of the book, Mary is giving away 4 copies of SOS for PMS. All you have to do is leave a comment on the blog tour post!

This giveaway is now closed.

{ 3 comments }

Faking Grace by Tamara Leigh

by 123pizza on September 23, 2008

This week, the

Christian Fiction Blog Alliance

is introducing

Faking Grace

Multnomah Books (August 19, 2008)

by

Tamara Leigh

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

After Tamara Leigh earned a Master’s Degree in Speech and Language Pathology, she and her husband decided to start a family, with plans for Tamara to continue in her career once she became a mother.

When the blessing of children proved elusive, Tamara became convicted to find a way to work out of her home in order to raise the children she and her husband longed to have. She turned to writing, at which she had only ever dreamed of being successful, and began attending church. Shortly thereafter, her agent called with news of Bantam Books’ offer of a four-book contract. That same day, Tamara’s pregnancy was confirmed. Within the next year, she gave up her speech pathology career, committed her life to Christ, her first child was born, and her first historical romance novel was released.

As Tamara continued to write for the secular market, publishing three more novels with HarperCollins and Dorchester, she infused her growing Christian beliefs into her writing. But it was not enough, and though her novels earned awards and were national bestsellers, she knew her stories were lacking. After struggling with the certainty that her writing was not honoring God as it should, she made the decision to write books that not only reveal Christianity to non-believers, but serve as an inspiration for those who have accepted Christ as their Savior. Her inspirational romances are peopled with characters in varying stages of Christian faith, from mature believers to new believers to non-believers on the threshold of awakening.

Tamara Leigh enjoys time with her family, volunteer work, faux painting, and reading. She lives near Nashville, Tennessee with her husband, David, and two sons, Skyler and Maxen.

Two of her latest books are Splitting Harriet and Perfecting Kate.

ABOUT THE BOOK

All she wants is a job. All she needs is religion. How hard can it be?

Maizy Grace Stewart dreams of a career as an investigative journalist, but her last job ended in disaster when her compassion cost her employer a juicy headline. A part-time gig at a Nashville newspaper might be her big break.

A second job at Steeple Side Christian Resources could help pay the bills, but Steeple Side only hires committed Christians. Maizy is sure she can fake it with her Five-Step Program to Authentic Christian Faith–a plan of action that includes changing her first name to Grace, buying Jesus-themed accessories, and learning “Christian Speak.” If only Jack Prentiss, Steeple Side’s managing editor and two-day-stubbled, blue-jean-wearing British hottie wasn’t determined to prove her a fraud.

When Maizy’s boss at the newspaper decides that she should investigate–and expose–any skeletons in Steeple Side’s closet, she must decide whether to deliver the dirt and secure her career or lean on her newfound faith, change the direction of her life, and pray that her Steeple Side colleagues–and Jack–will show her grace.

If you would like to read the first chapter of Faking Grace, go HERE

“Tamara Leigh takes her experienced romance hand and delights readers with Chick-Lit that sparkles and characters who come alive.” - Kristin Billerbeck, author of The Trophy Wives Club

“A delightful, charming book! Faking Grace has romance, truth, and a dollop of insanity, making Tamara Leigh a permanent addition to my list of favorite authors. Enjoy!”
- Ginger Garrett, author of In the Shadow of Lions and Beauty Secrets of the Bible

“Tamara Leigh does a fabulous job looking at the faults, the love, the hypocrisy, and the grace of Christians in a way that’s entertaining and fun. Maizy Grace is a crazy character I couldn’t help but like. I loved this book and highly recommend it!”
- Camy Tang, author of Sushi for One? and Only Uni

{ 0 comments }

UA-2632119-2