Thursday, January 17, 2013

Wednesday's Child

Welcome back, Clare! What a fabulous series this is! I just love romantic suspense and you certainly have a knack for it!

For anyone who isn't familiar with the Monday's Child series, it is based on the following rhyme.

Monday’s Child must hide for protection,
Tuesday’s Child tenders direction,
Wednesday’s Child grieves for his soul,
Thursday’s Child chases the whole,
Friday’s Child is a man obsessed,
Saturday’s Child might be possessed,
And Sunday’s Child on life’s seas is tossed,
Awaiting the Lifeboat that rescues the lost.

So first there was Monday's Child:

This was not the assignment Luke Nemec expected when he came to the UK—babysitting a beautiful widow. It wouldn’t be so bad if Sara wasn’t such a hostile witness. Despite her complaints and continued jibes, Luke finds himself falling for her.

Then came Tuesday's Child:

Deaf from the age of five, Adeline Munroe operates a hospital for injured dolls, but lately her quiet life is disturbed by violent, haunting visions. Perhaps it's just her unspoken fear--a serial killer has struck in Headley Cross. But Adeline soon realizes she's seeing each murder just before they happen and reluctantly contacts the police.

And now we have Wednesday's Child ...grieves for his soul...

Liam Page, school teacher and ex-missionary, is a man with a secret agenda. Revenge. But when he says it with flowers, and accidentally drenches a woman who just happens to be the school's landscape architect, he may have found a light in his darkness.

After an abusive relationship, Jacqui Dorne prefers work to men. It's safer. But Liam Page with his boyish charm and wounded soul, manages to change her preferences. Has God led her to Liam to help him heal?

When their growing relationship is marred by the reappearance of Jacqui's ex-boyfriend, they find themselves suddenly embroiled in a series of dangerous events which leads them to Africa and has them fighting for both love and life.


Liam Page placed his lunch order in the café and then glanced at the clock on the wall. Where had his lunch hour gone? Twenty minutes to eat this before he was due back. A sure fire way to guarantee heartburn if ever there was one. He should’ve stuck to ‘plan A’ and eaten lunch at work. Or at least gone home to pick up his lunch from where it still sat on the counter by the kettle where he’d left it. ‘Plan B’ would have worked if there wasn’t a ten-mile queue in the bakers. ‘Plan C’ failed as the supermarket was out of sandwiches, and he refused to pay almost four quid for a tiny salad. So, here he was, stuck with ‘Plan D’.

“Thank you.” Liam smiled at the assistant and paid for his food. He picked up the tray and glanced around the small café. There was only one free table. Wedged into a corner, almost like an afterthought, getting to it was a juggling act in itself. Maybe he was in the wrong profession. He should quit teaching and run away to join the circus. He set the tray down and squeezed himself into the space between the chair and table.

On second thoughts he should just skip lunch in future—or stick to the salad. He could do with losing a few pounds off his waistline if a “normal” person should fit in here. Liam allowed himself a wry smile as he looked down at the sausage, eggs and chips. He’d start the diet tomorrow. He wasn’t overweight, but perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to keep in shape a little more than he did. Not that he had anyone to nag him about his diet now. A home cooked meal consisted of something that came out of the freezer and into the microwave and eaten alone in front of the television. He covered the chips with vinegar and salt and added a dollop of ketchup before wolfing it down.

That, he decided a little too late, was definitely a bad idea. The first pangs of indigestion assailed him. He’d probably be cranky for the rest of the day. Would the kids notice? Probably not. They said he was cranky all the time, anyway. It did have its advantages…as silence fell whenever he walked down the corridor. However his reputation as one of the fairest members of staff stood him in good stead and the kids knew he had their backs whenever they needed help.

Liam picked up his tea and glanced at the woman at the next table, laptop and papers spread in front of her. His gaze settled on her for a proper look, taking in every aspect. She was a stunner. As a child he and his twin used to guess people’s occupations from the way they dressed, not that they’d often found out if they were right. With long, dark hair reaching half way down her back, and a smart green blouse tucked into a black plaid skirt, the woman looked like a lawyer. Years ago, he would have found the time to at least say hello, but that was before…

His eyes blurred for a moment as he saw Sally in his mind’s eye—her long hair flowing behind her as he pushed her on the swing, the echo of her laughter hanging on the breeze. He shook his head to clear the thought and ran his fingers over the plain gold band on his left hand. Those days were long gone.

Liam wiped his mouth on the serviette and stood. Wearing his lunch wasn’t part of the professional image he needed to project. A glance at his watch showed he had ten minutes to get back. Time, tide, and a class of thirty kids at Headley Cross Secondary School waited for no one. He could hardly chastise the kids about being late for class if he was guilty of the same offence himself, could he?

He began to edge out of the space which now seemed smaller than before, and bumped his hip on the table behind him.

“Hey, watch where you’re going.”

“Sorry.” Liam turned around, hitting the table again. He watched in horror as the table shifted, like a view in slow motion. The vase of flowers tipped over, sending water all over the laptop and papers.

“Oh no! That’s all I need.” The female voice, as soft and silky as he imagined, was tinged with dismay and anger.

His face flaming, Liam snatched a pile of napkins from her side. “I’m so sorry. Let me help.”

“I think you’ve done enough.” Irritation flashed in her hazel eyes as she glared at him. “Just leave it. I’ll do it.” She picked up the flowers and shoved them back into the vase.

Liam’s cheeks burned, matching the churning in his stomach as it rebelled against his lunch. Dumping the napkins on the table, he pulled a pen from his jacket and scrawled his number on one of them. “I’ll pay for any repairs your computer needs. My name’s Liam Page. This is my mobile number. The phone’s on all the time. If you get voice mail, just leave a message, Miss...?”

The woman flinched as she took it, her cool fingers sending waves of heat through him as they brushed his hand. “Miss Dorne. No doubt I’ll be in touch”—she glanced down—”Mr. Page.”

Liam took a deep breath, wanting to say more, but not sure what to say. His apology wasn’t enough, so what else was there? “I’m very sorry. If there’s anything I can do—”

Her cold voice cut him off. “I have your number.”

He took a deep breath and made a hasty exit, now later than ever. Glancing back, he could still see Miss Dorne sitting, staring at the mess he’d created. It looked like despair on her face, but he wasn’t sure. He hesitated. Should he go back in and help clean it up? He ought to but he’d made enough of a scene, and she’d been quite emphatic about wanting him to leave. She rubbed her face. Was she crying? Deciding in this case that discretion was the better part of valor, Liam turned away. He never had liked seeing a woman cry. There was something about a woman’s tears that rocked him to the core.

Part of him hoped she would call him about her computer. At least he’d speak to her again. She had captured his interest like no woman had since before he’d met Sally. But then maybe it’d be better if she didn’t call.

The repair bill would no doubt use a sizeable chunk of the money he had saved for his trip to Endarra in the summer. As well as the flights and hotel, he’d need travel money for cabs and other things.

The reason behind the trip was simple. He intended to hunt down the people responsible for the murder of his wife and see that justice was done.

Liam reached the school and punched in the code. The gates swung open. Since the Dunblane shootings, school security was tight. Not even parents could get into the building without permission or a prior appointment.

He dodged the children streaming across the car park and front quad and entered reception. Signing in, Liam smiled at the prefects carrying the registers to the form rooms and headed to the gents. He stood at the sink and splashed cold water on his face for a moment, his mind’s eye still seeing her at the table.

You’re an idiot. After ruining her laptop, you didn’t even get her number. Shaking his head, Liam dried off and pulled the tie from his pocket. He buttoned his shirt, and knotted the tie before heading into the corridor to find the classroom where his class of fourteen year olds should be lined up by the door, waiting for their English lesson. Hopefully poetry analysis would keep the image of the attractive Miss Dorne out of his mind.


What a great read! This story is full of twists and turns and several surprises. Ms. Revell's stories just keep getting better all the time. This is indeed turning into a wonderful series as she digs a little deeper each time, drawing us into the darker side of humanity and bringing us out into the light at the end. Well done! 

About the author:

Clare lives in a small town in England with her husband of 17 years and her three children. Writing from a early childhood and encouraged by her teachers, she graduated from rewriting fairy stories through fanfiction to using her own original characters and enjoys writing an eclectic mix of romance, crime fiction and children's stories. When she's not writing, reading, sewing or keeping house or doing the many piles of laundry her children manage to make, she's working part time in the breakfast club at one of the local schools.
She has been a Christian for more than half her life. She goes to Carey Baptist where she is one of three registrars.

Visit Clare at

Tuesday, January 1, 2013


May God bless you all!