tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6298703066502381622024-02-19T10:20:52.927-05:00Donna B SnowLet's find a good Christian story together...Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger258125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-629870306650238162.post-89143710737327033452014-12-17T22:06:00.000-05:002014-12-17T22:06:45.307-05:00A Splash of Christmas - Mary Manners<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Hey Mary, so nice to have you back! I get that warm fuzzy feeling as soon as I know a story is yours, just knowing I'm gonna love it and you're going to tug on my heart strings. I can't wait! So thanks for the peek!<br />
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When Faith O' Fallon’s best friend ropes her into attending a popular reality show audition, the last thing she expects to find at the studio is the love of her life.<br />
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Ben Ward resents his family for coercing him into holding auditions to snag a date for the holiday episode of their reality show, Poolside Oasis. But when a studio mishap accidentally matches him with the lovely, rambunctious Faith O'Fallon, he finds that sometimes family knows best. <br />
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This holiday season is filled with the perfect blend of heartwarming surprises splashed with a dose of sweet romance.<br />
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<i>Faith was in her first year as the recreation director here at the children’s home, and she’d quickly come to love every one of the kids, aged five to seventeen, with whom she crossed paths on a daily basis. They’d grown to be the family she’d never belonged to and had always longed for. Having spent the better part of her childhood at Mountain Light herself, she knew good and well the importance of even the smallest gestures of kindness. Now, she refused to let the kids down when it came to hosting the Christmas party they eagerly looked forward to all year…even if it killed her.<br /><br />And it might…heatstroke was an option, or she simply might just melt to death. The tune “Frosty the Snowman” suddenly danced through Faith’s head and a stab of sadness pierced her heart as she imagined Frosty slowly dissolving into a shadowy puddle.<br /><br />Faith forced the image from her mind and pushed through to the happy ending when Frosty returned with hearty singing, gleeful dancing and hopes for what might come the following year.<br /><br />Yes, that’s what she needed to make it through to the other side of the Christmas party…a strong dose of hope.<br /><br />Faith brushed a wavy wisp of long, cinnamon hair that had escaped its ponytail from her eyes. She wished for the umpteenth time that her hair was more controllable—a wave that fanned sleek and stylish much like the manes that models in the latest fashion magazines possessed instead of the mass of unruly curls that refused to cooperate whenever the humidity rose above forty percent.<br /><br />Faith gave up the fight. She tugged the elastic band from the tail, releasing her hair to spring free over her shoulders and tumble down to the middle of her back. She raked her fingers through the curls as she drew another deep breath, inhaling the scent of lilacs that bloomed outside the office window. The sweet and slightly musky scent wasn’t exactly the key to nudging her into the Christmas spirit either.<br /><br />OK…enough.<br /><br />She spun in the rolling chair and grabbed a small box filled with trinkets that sat atop the file cabinet. A quick turn back toward the desk, and she dumped the contents onto the blotter. Out spilled a half-burned jar candle she’d found at the bottom of her junk drawer at home. Next, a Bing Crosby CD, and a vintage ceramic light-up snowman with a snowflake belly that had once belonged to her great-grandmother followed suit.<br /><br />Faith removed the CD from its case and inserted the disc into the player atop the file cabinet. Soon, the soft strains of Bing Crosby’s rich and throaty caramel voice filled the office with dreams of a white Christmas. The candle, once lit, sent aromatic whispers of pine drifting. Finally, the snowman found his place front and center atop Faith’s desk. The jolly, bright glow from his belly added the final touch of Christmas warmth.<br /><br />I can do this…<br /><br />Faith closed her eyes and breathed deeply, sending a quick but heartfelt prayer to the heavens above.<br /><br />Lord, please help me find the funding to have a Christmas celebration for the kids. It will mean so much to them and they’re counting on me. They need me…and I need them.<br /><br />The staccato click of heels signaled someone’s approach. A shadow crossed the doorway, momentarily blocking muted rays of sunlight that spilled into the hall from double-paned glass entrance doors across the way. “Faith, get a move on…we’re running late and we have to go—now.”<br /><br />Faith’s head snapped up to find Avery Daniels, her best friend since the fifth grade, poised with one hip pressed against the door jamb. Avery worked a piece of gum between her jaws, snapping it smartly as was often her habit.<br /><br />“Oh, hi, Ave.” Faith sighed and raked a hand through hair that refused to cooperate. “Is it noon already?”<br /><br />“Five past—no, ten now.” Avery’s brow furrowed as she tapped the screen of the cellphone clutched in one fist. “And I’m parked in a tow-away zone. I’ve texted you at least half-a-dozen times. Don’t you check your messages?”<br /><br />“Not when I’m neck-deep into work.” Faith tossed the crumpled sticky note onto the blotter as her belly did a convoluted little dance. She hated to let Avery down, but duty called. She snatched a curl that obscured her vision and twisted it around her index finger as she spoke. “Look, um…I really should stick around here and work through lunch instead of heading to that audition with you. There’s so much on my plate right now.”<br /><br />“Oh no you don’t.” Avery waggled a finger capped by a scarlet-tipped nail. “We’ve had this gig set for a month now and you promised, Faith. You can’t back out on me this late in the game. I can’t do this alone.” She slipped one hand into the pocket of crisp, white jeans coupled with a V-necked black T-shirt that accentuated every ample curve. “Besides, there’s ten thousand dollars on the line.”<br /><br />“Ten thousand?” Faith grabbed a pen and tapped it along the desktop. “I thought it was five.”<br /><br />“I thought the same until I read the small print in the audition instructions.” Avery stepped through the doorway and her perfume did battle with the pine-scented candle and a glimmer of lilac that wisped through the window. “If I’m selected to co-star alongside Ben Ward in today’s first round of auditions—which I thoroughly plan to be—I’ll be awarded a cool ten-grand for my efforts. It’s a win-win situation, since Ben is a hearty slice of heaven in steel-toed boots. It’s no secret that he carries the bulk of the ratings for the Poolside Oasis show virtually singlehandedly. And the thought of filming a show with him…of sharing a romantic date with him—”<br /><br />“It’s not a date, Avery—and there’s absolutely nothing romantic about this circus he and the producers are bent on staging. What’s being offered is simply the opportunity to sit beside Ben Ward in a trumped-up, made-for-TV episode at the poolside of one of his backyard creations.”<br /><br />“Is that so?” Avery’s gaze darkened to storm status as she plucked the gum from her mouth and wrapped it in a tissue before tossing it into the trash can. “Well, aren’t you a dark cloud raining on my parade today?”<br /><br />“I’m simply attempting to keep it real. This audition nonsense that’s stuck in your craw is nothing more than a far-reaching ploy to increase the show’s ratings.”<br /><br />“Well, I can certainly help with that.” Avery flashed the smile that drew men to her like a magnet draws coins. She knew the power of her self-confidence coupled with a personality more effervescent than soda-pop. “Besides, a girl can dream, can’t she?”<br /><br />“I suppose so, but this girl”—Faith crooked her index finger and poked herself in the chest, wishing that she might, for once, live as care-free and fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants as Avery managed to do on a daily basis—“plans to keep both her feet planted firmly on the ground.”<br /><br />“All work and no play can make a girl grumpy.” Avery slipped her cellphone back into the purse slung over one shoulder. “You, my friend, are living proof.”<br /><br />“I’m sorry.” Faith reached for a list of potential donors for the party. Time was wasting and she had so much to do. Surely, Avery would understand. “But I have this Christmas party to plan. The kids—”<br /><br />“I know…they’re counting on you.” Avery crossed the room and propped one hip on the corner of the desk. “Everyone is always counting on you, Faith, because you are steady as the thrum of April showers.”<br /><br />“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”<br /><br />“It’s not a bad thing, but sometimes you have to let loose…let go. The work will still be here, waiting on you when you return.”<br /><br />“That’s exactly my point.”<br /><br />“Stubborn…analytical…” Avery shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest. “Sheesh…you’re nearly impossible to bargain with, but I’ll give it one more shot. I’ll tell you what…you come and support me at this audition, and I’ll help you the rest of the afternoon—and tomorrow, too, since it’s my day off from the restaurant—to plan this holiday shindig for the kids. Plus, if I win Ben Ward over to my side, you can pencil me into your donor’s list with a cool thousand dollars—that’s a ten percent tithe by my estimation…the going rate, right?”<br /><br />“That’s right. But—”<br /><br />“Nope…” Avery held up a hand traffic cop style as she shook her head. “No but’s to be had here, Faith. Just tell me…how does my compromise sound?”<br /><br />“It sounds doable.” Faith dropped the pen onto the blotter and smoothed her hands down the front of her skirt as she stood. Her feet wailed in pain as she found her balance, but she ignored the pinched cries of her polished toes. “But I’m not getting within ten feet of Ben Ward—or any of his brothers.”<br /><br />“You can’t hold a grudge forever, Faith.”<br /><br />“Watch me.” Faith nodded fiercely. “Ben promised to be the keynote speaker at our Mountain Light Spring Kickoff fundraiser this past March and then backed out just as tickets were going on sale. We—I mean, I—was left holding the bag because I couldn’t find a replacement on such short notice. I’d only been employed here a few months, and I was placed on probation when the dinner tanked and funding took an anemic nosedive. As a matter of fact, I’m still on probation, and it’s a miracle I didn’t lose my job. I’m not fond of sitting in the hot seat because someone else dropped the ball and, let me tell you, this seat is growing hotter by the moment.”<br /><br />Avery pinched a strand of spiky black hair between two fingers. Her lips, outlined in a shade of red that might be used to perform a transfusion, pursed into a round little oh. On anyone else, the combination of colors might seem gaudy. But somehow, Avery managed to make the look work. She’d always been the bold one of the pair, outgoing and adventurous and oftentimes outspoken to a fault while Faith tended to be more selective with the thoughts she shared…more cautious and reserved. Through the years, their opposite personalities proved to forge a bond that, despite their differences, mirrored the strength of titanium. “I’m sure there was a good reason for the last-minute bailout, Faith. Give the guy a break.”<br /><br />“Even if there is, by some stretch of the imagination, a valid reason, Ben Ward didn’t bother to share it with me. Obviously, the fame and wealth of his family’s wildly successful business has gone straight to his head…completely bypassing that steel-clad heart of his.” Faith leaned in to blow out the flickering candle. Even the cheerful scent of pine failed to chase away the chill that had suddenly swept into her heart. “I’ll attend today’s audition with you as I promised, Ave, and I truly hope you earn the chance to share an episode in his family’s crazy quest to find a ready-made companion”—Faith emphasized with air quotes—“for Ben Ward. But allow me to make one thing perfectly clear—I will never, ever forgive that heartless, uncompassionate, excuse for a man for letting me—as well as the kids who live here at Mountain Light Children’s Home—down.”</i><br />
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This is just so sweet! I literally felt butterflies in my stomach when Ben and Faith were together. What a wonderful, heartwarming story this is!</div>
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Buy links:</div>
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<a href="http://pelicanbookgroup.com/ec/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=37_46&products_id=625">http://pelicanbookgroup.com/ec/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=37_46&products_id=625</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Splash-Christmas-Holiday-Extravaganza-ebook/dp/B00Q2773LO/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1417487168&sr=1-1&keywords=a+splash+of+christmas">http://www.amazon.com/Splash-Christmas-Holiday-Extravaganza-ebook/dp/B00Q2773LO/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1417487168&sr=1-1&keywords=a+splash+of+christmas</a></div>
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About the author:</div>
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Mary Manners is an award-winning romance writer who lives in the beautiful foothills of East Tennessee with her husband Tim and the cherished cats they've rescued from local animal shelters...Lucky and Gus. Mary’s debut novel, Mended Heart, was nominated Best Inspirational Romance and was finalist for the Bookseller’s Best Award and her follow-up, Tender Mercies, was awarded an outstanding 4 ½ star rating from The Romantic Times Book Reviews and was also a finalist for the Inspirational Readers Choice Award. Buried Treasures, her third novel, was named Book of the Year by The Wordsmith Journal. Light the Fire took top honors for the Inspirational Readers Choice Award while Wisdom Tree garnered National Excellence in Romance Fiction. Mary was named Author of the Year by Book and Trailer Showcase. She writes romances of all lengths, from short stories to novels—something for everyone. Learn more about Mary Manners at her website: www.MaryMannersRomance.com.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-629870306650238162.post-54115075709197858092014-12-11T22:00:00.000-05:002014-12-17T22:05:12.220-05:00Plundered Christmas - Susan Lyttek<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>Plundered Christmas?</i><br />
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Compelled to spend Christmas on a private island with her father's future bride and her family, Jeanine learns that Margo Banet is descended from a pirate queen. <br />
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Relatives and friends all have their reasons for attending the festivities--including the legendary treasure. But when Margo's nephew winds up dead and a violent storm cuts them off from the mainland, Jeanine has to wonder if they will solve the mystery before someone else dies trying.<br />
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<i>I love Christmas. I adore Christmas. I start getting ready for the next Christmas right after the last one finishes. I am one of the first people you will find at the day after Christmas sales stocking up for next year. Christmas is my absolute favorite day of the year, and I wish I could make it last for a week at least.<br /><br />Nevertheless, I didn’t love this one. And I couldn’t wait to escape it.<br /><br />In the first place, it didn’t feel much like Christmas. Christmas, to me, meant Dad’s house with the fire roaring, a tree twinkling, and so many lights that the electric company writes him thank-you letters when he pays his bill in January. Or it meant the quieter Christmas at Mom and Dad Talbott’s with carols playing softly in the background, the persistent aroma of her secret gingerbread recipe, and a tree cut fresh from their back forty.<br /><br />It did not mean eighty degrees, pirate legends, and a dead body. No. It definitely did not mean any of those things.<br /><br />I’m getting way ahead of myself. But I do that. It’s a sign that maybe, just maybe, I’ve had too much coffee.<br /><br />Nah. James, my sweetheart of an Army captain, says I love it too much, but honestly, I can’t believe that the words “too much coffee” could ever apply to me, Jeanine Adorabelle Talbott.<br /><br />Too much mystery? Definitely.<br /><br />Since James and I moved to Gentle Springs last year, mystery has plagued us. First, it was that treasure hunter killed in the cemetery next door. Then, when Justin, Josie, and I went up north for a field trip with our homeschool co-op, our tour guide became a victim of manslaughter. Now here.<br /><br />That kind of track record is great for books and movies, but not for me. Speaking of track records, this is now three for three that soccer had something to do with our involvement. Maybe I should encourage Justin to find another sport. He is getting awfully good at tae kwon do. But that wouldn’t be fair to the Hornets. He is the best eleven-year-old goalie in the entire county.<br /><br />I’m going to take a deep breath and start at the beginning...<br /><br />This Christmas actually began back in June. In honor of Justin’s eleventh birthday, my dad invited Justin to accompany him and his bowling buddies to Virginia Beach for three days. James and I encouraged Justin to go because he was down in the dumps and needed a boost. His soccer team had only come in second place.<br /><br />We were rejoicing about second place. They had played well and beaten some tough teams to achieve it, but since he’d come in first with his team in Georgia the year prior, he expected more of the same.<br /><br />“The Hornets are way better than my last team, Mom. It doesn’t make sense that we came in second. We should have won.” Justin grumbled.<br /><br />“Older players, sweetie, and a different league. You guys did great. Maybe next year you’ll get the first place you want. It was close between you and the Wolverines.”<br /><br />“Maybe or maybe we’ll get third. The Knights were really good, too.”<br /><br />How do you convince an almost-eleven-year-old that life is good after he tastes defeat? We didn’t know. That’s why we sent him to the beach with grandpa.<br /><br />It seemed to work. He came back full of tales about the miniature clear crabs he dug out of the sand, and the little crab shack restaurant that Hank, Dad’s oldest friend and league partner, knew of with the best and freshest food. “You ought to have seen the pile of shells we made!”<br /><br />In all the rave reviews about the vacation, there was one thing Justin didn’t like. His grandpa came home from the trip with a girlfriend.<br /><br />“And it was all my fault, too! If I hadn’t been dribbling up and down the beach while they snoozed, we never would have met her.” Again, he grumbled.<br /><br />Turns out, the gentle breeze off the ocean and the warm early summer sun had knocked out the bowling buddies. Dad insisted he was awake and reading, but I know his time window between reading a page and snoring can be extraordinarily short in the right circumstances. Justin, tired of just sitting in the sun, picked up his soccer ball and headed down the beach. The rule was that he had to be able to see “the guys” at all times.<br /><br />Keeping one eye on his chaperones distracted my dribbling goalie. The ball hit too far back on the side of his foot and careened wildly—right into the side of a woman’s head.<br /><br />Justin said she had on clothes too fancy for the beach and had walked right out of one of the poshier hotel complexes. It didn’t take her long to find the sheepish looking culprit. She picked up the offending ball, marched over to Justin and demanded to see his parents.<br /><br />“I’m here with my grandfather,” Justin admitted, pointing to the line of reclined beach chairs.<br /><br />She marched over to Dad, where she laid into him for neglecting his grandson and causing her bodily harm. Evidently, she used a lot of legalese. Dad, after nearly thirty years as a practicing lawyer understood every word. In addition, he dished it right back, telling her he could pull her in for unlawful possession of a soccer ball and some other such nonsense. Justin said he didn’t pay attention to much of it. He kept noticing how much, in her face, the woman looked like Grandma.<br /><br />That detail obviously didn’t escape my father, because after Dad asked Justin to apologize he asked the woman out to dinner.<br /><br />She accepted.</i><br />
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<a href="http://pelicanbookgroup.com/ec/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=68_64&products_id=630">http://pelicanbookgroup.com/ec/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=68_64&products_id=630</a></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-629870306650238162.post-9801340922719437562014-12-10T19:20:00.000-05:002014-12-17T22:05:26.295-05:00Deep Freeze Christmas - Marian Merritt<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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You guessed it, another Christmas story...'tis the season after all!<br />
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Today we have Marian Merritt here with <i>Deep Freeze Christmas.</i> Sounds great! I just love a merry chase!<br />
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Louisiana Chef Leona Buquet agrees to cook at a Colorado mountain lodge during the Christmas holiday. When she meets the son of a movie producer, she is taken by his striking good looks and warm personality. Trouble is, with glamorous actresses clamoring for his attention, why would he even notice Leona?<br />
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Cameron Fleming struggles with being in a career he hates in order to please his famous father. When he meets Leona, he feels a connection to her and wants an opportunity to get to know her. That is hard to do while dodging starlets…and the woman he wants is avoiding him.<br />
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Can love sizzle, along with the Cajun dishes, in subzero temperatures?<br />
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<i>"Ready to cook some good Cajun food for some wealthy people?" Chef Julian's thick Cajun accent sailed through the thin air while he tried to catch his breath.<br /><br />"I'm always ready to cook good Cajun food." Leona gasped for air as well. They weren't accustomed to the thin air at these high elevations. After all, in New Orleans, they lived below sea level. She hefted her bag onto her shoulder and entered the lodge.<br /><br />The commanding entryway loomed above with massive log beams and a large chandelier of intertwined elk horns.<br /><br />"Julian, I see you made it." A silver-haired man greeted them. Julian's friend, she suspected. His blue eyes sparkled in the natural light streaming through the twenty-foot wall of windows.<br /><br />"CG." Julian extended his hand. "It's good to see you again." He turned toward Leona. "This is my Sous Chef, Leona Buquet."<br /><br />"It's nice to meet you Miss? Mrs? Buquet."<br /><br />"Miss."<br /><br />"Miss Buquet. CG Fleming." He extended his hand for Leona to shake. "Welcome to my mountain home." He pointed down a long corridor. "The kitchen is down here." He guided them down the hallway where watercolor paintings of elk, deer, rainbow trout, and bear covered the walls.<br /><br />The gourmet kitchen sported the finest stainless steel appliances and more than adequate counter space. Granite countertops covered a small bar with leather stools circling the opposite side. "Wow, it will be a joy to work in this kitchen," Leona said.<br /><br />Julian looked around and snickered. "It'll do."<br /><br />"I see you haven't changed much. Mr. Grinch." CG smiled.<br /><br />Julian grinned. "Wouldn't want to disappoint." He plopped the bag holding their kitchen gear onto the counter. "Is our food shipment here?"<br /><br />"Yes, it's been placed in the freezer room and the fresher items will be delivered later today. If you follow me, I'll show you to your rooms."<br /><br />"Is Carletta here?" Julian asked.<br /><br />"No she can't come this year." CG's smile faded and a flash of sorrow crossed his eyes. "Her best friend from college is ill, so she's flown to be by her side for Christmas." He turned to Leona. "Carletta is my wife and the person who has kept me on the straight and narrow for almost forty years."<br /><br />"Yeah, his better half." Julian stared at CG. "Everyt'ing OK between you two?"<br /><br />CG nodded. "Yes, never better."<br /><br />"Well, give her my love and tell her I'm sorry I missed her."<br /><br />CG led them out of the kitchen and to the massive stairs in the living room. They climbed to the second floor. Each step was a large log cut in half. Once upstairs, wide pine planks covered the floor of the expansive hallway that ran along the west side of the house in both the north and south wings. They stopped at the end of the North hallway. He opened the door on the east side. "Miss Buquet, this is your room. Julian you're across the way. I'll let you freshen up. If you need anything, I'll be downstairs. The housekeeper, Mrs. McCaffrey, can also help you. She'll be here later today."<br /><br />Leona entered her room and placed her suitcase on the holder next to the log post bed. The multicolored quilt of burgundy, green, blue, and cream-colored squares covering the bed matched the curtains, and a hanging miniature version adorned the wall above the bed.<br /><br />She peered out the window. The view took her breath. The snow-covered peak towered above the lodge with deep green Douglas fir dotting its base. Several pines grew near her window, their branches reaching out toward the lodge. The pristine snow covered the ground and sparkled in the midday sun. A river, frozen on the sides, flowed along the curves and over large boulders.<br /><br />She took in the sight and then jotted a few notes in her journal. When she described CG on her pages, there was something about him—something familiar. She'd have to ask Julian how he knew him. Once she’d freshened up and changed, she met Julian down in the kitchen.<br /><br />"How many are we feeding?" she asked.<br /><br />Julian reviewed the guest list and counted off the names. "It looks like five guests, CG, his son, Cameron, and the housekeeper, Mrs. McCaffery. So with us two, that's ten mouths to feed every day. Three meals. You up for it?"<br /><br />"Am I up for it? Really, Chef? This is a dream job chefs live for."<br /><br />He grinned. "Oh yeah, over a week of isolation, cold weather, cookin' in the Rocky Mountains for a bunch of spoiled rich people. Dat's a dream, all right."<br /><br />"C'mon, Chef, tell me how you really feel." Leona began unpacking their gear and placing the items where they would find them for dinner tonight. "Why'd you take this job if you don't want to do this?"<br /><br />"Because I've known CG for over twenty years, and he's been a good friend. I couldn't say no when he asked." His tone softened. Chef Julian opened the glass doors and began rearranging the items in the refrigerator. "Besides he's not a spoiled brat rich dude, and he's paying us a boatload of money. I can get that new ice cream maker we talked about and a few other things for the restaurant. And you, my dear, will be a few thousand closer to getting your own restaurant."</i><br />
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Buy links:</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-629870306650238162.post-58942219236161456972014-12-08T22:00:00.000-05:002014-12-17T22:05:41.740-05:00Christmas in the Rink - Dora Hiers<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Well, here's another little Christmas story - this one all about second chances and you know how much I like second chance romances! Thanks for sharing such a sweet story with us, Dora!</div>
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“Washed up Olympic hopeful looking for part time mechanic's job.”<br />
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Not quite the glamorous life Conner Weddington envisioned during those countless hours of high school skating practices; but after his mother’s untimely death on Christmas Day, Conner joined the Army and left everything behind, including the father who despised his dreams, and his beautiful skate partner, Chaney Mitchum. <br />
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Chaney Mitchum understands why Conner left, but he stole her Olympic aspirations along with her heart. She's never matched that graceful rhythm with another partner, so with her dreams squelched and an adorable niece who requires her attention, Chaney fills her days with diapers and students, not pleasure skating or romance. <br />
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Now that Conner's back in town, will he reclaim the joy he once felt about Christmas and faith? Can Chaney and Conner rediscover their poetic elegance on the ice? </div>
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<i>Conner Weddington navigated the tow truck through the chaos that littered Highway 15, the only major road running north and south through Evergreen Peak, Colorado. Cars tipped, hood first, into the ditches on both sides of the road, and some were just plain stuck where they stopped, unable to go any further because of the slick ice and blinding snowfall.<br /><br />Idiots.<br /><br />Didn’t they know that ice was best enjoyed in the rink, and not on the highway? What was so all-fired important that these people had to be out on the roads and not safely ensconced in warm houses?<br /><br />And now he had to be out in it. Working.<br /><br />Maybe he was the stupid one. Digging thoughtless clods out of a killer snowstorm wasn’t exactly how he’d pictured his first day on the job. Not that he ever imagined he’d be back in Evergreen Peak. Or camping out in his father’s house while he sifted through fifty years’ worth of…junk.<br /><br />Conner snorted and then ground his teeth while his boot hovered just above the brake. The truck cruised along on its own speed. With the heat blasting his face, he scanned the vehicles for the dark blue compact the auto club had called him to rescue. It wasn’t easy to make out colors through the wet, heavy snowflakes that reduced his visibility not much farther than the truck’s massive hood, virtually blinding him. He leaned forward, studying the car off to the right.<br /><br />There. That had to be her.<br /><br />He assessed the situation before maneuvering the big truck onto the side of the road, babied it to a stop, and stomped out. “Not too smart driving in this mess,” he muttered, the fierce wind stealing his words as soon as they escaped his mouth, but he didn’t care.<br /><br />“You’re right. I’m so sorry, but I couldn’t leave work until my last student was picked up. And now I’m afraid I won’t be able to pick up my niece from daycare.” Worry came through loud and clear in her voice.<br /><br />He hadn’t seen her get out of the car, but he didn’t regret his words. He glanced at the tiny slip of a woman. The top of her head probably didn’t reach his chest. With arms hugging her chest and teeth clacking together, the heavy jacket apparently did little to prevent the arctic wind from chilling her bones. His gaze landed briefly on her face. She reminded him of…<br /><br />The frigid air he sucked in burned all the way to his lungs. Chaney Mitchum? No. That couldn’t be her. God, You wouldn’t do that to me, would You?<br /><br />His gaze devoured the hair that cascaded over her shoulders in waves below the cherry red beret, before moving on to her eyes. Long lashes lifted from pink cheeks to reveal wide jade jewels. The oddly familiar puffiness rimmed the bottom lashes.<br /><br />His jaw dropped, and his stomach plunged to his steel-toed boots. It had to be her. And he sure wasn’t thrilled about Chaney seeing him like this. He’d only planned to light in this town long enough to pack up his stuff and take care of business before heading back out, leaving a “For Sale” sign in his dad’s yard.<br /><br />Ironic that his old partner would be practically the first person he’d run into. Not that Evergreen Peak was that big. He’d just hoped to…what? Blend in with the tourists? He gave his head a little shake. He should have known better.<br /><br />So Chaney Mitchum was a teacher now, and an aunt. He tucked that knowledge away and rubbed greasy, grimy hands down his cargo pants, turning his back on her to hoist the shovel out of the bed. Digging out her car was the best option. He didn’t relish the idea of rubbing shoulders with her all the way into town. She’d ask too many questions. Questions he wasn’t ready to answer.<br /><br />“You’re going to shovel it out? Not tow it?” she asked, as if she doubted his decision.<br /><br />Well, she wouldn’t be the first.<br /><br />“We’ll give it a try. Might work.” He firmed his jaw and got busy shoveling around the back end, farthest away from her. Maybe she wouldn’t recognize him. He wasn’t the guy she’d known back in high school, and definitely not wearing the same glamorous uniform.<br /><br />Boots crunched through the snow, coming to a stop behind him.<br /><br />He should have known. He huffed, but not from effort.<br /><br />“Thank you for coming out in this.”<br /><br />He didn’t turn around, just kept heaving snow out from around the car and tossing it towards the ditch.<br /><br />“Yeah. No problem.” If it had been anybody else, it would have been. But Chaney? Definitely not. He owed her at least this much. So much more, truthfully, but—<br /><br />With the shovel in midair, he twisted his head over a shoulder and stole another look. She hadn’t changed. She was still as breathtakingly beautiful as ever. He finished digging out the worst of it and turned back around, extending a palm to collect the key.<br /><br />“I must have only been driving ten miles an hour. I tried so careful not to get stuck.” Chaney’s teeth were still chattering as she pressed the key in his palm. This time, she glanced full on at his face. Her brows arched, and then narrowed, her head tilting to the side just a bit, studying him.<br /><br />He gulped, flicking his head towards the disabled car. “No worries. It doesn’t look too bad. I think we’ll have you out of here…” his voice faded at her gasp.<br /><br />Her jaw dropped, her gloved hand fluttered to hover in front of her mouth, and shock registered in her green eyes.<br /><br />So stunning, they’d always brought to mind a grassy meadow in spring.<br /><br />“Conner?” Her voice came out barely above a whisper, and if it hadn’t been for the wind switching directions, he’d never have heard it. “Conner Weddington?”</i><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-629870306650238162.post-21729702859524725202014-12-04T22:00:00.000-05:002014-12-17T22:05:55.942-05:00Christmas Eva - Clare Revell<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Don't you just love Christmas romances? Well, I've got a great lineup for you, so stop by daily. You don't want to miss anything!</div>
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I'll start out with <i>Christmas Eva</i> by Clare Revell, one of my favorite inspirational romantic suspense writers.</div>
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A voice in the light woke her from a coma. But can the man pull her from the darkness of her life?<br />
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Eva Anderson is trying to rebuild her life after a devastating accident. The first voice she hears when she awakes is actor Harry “Matthew” Lyell—A man she could love. But left in a wheelchair, she’s withdrawn into herself.<br />
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Harry Lyell often wonders about the woman he met at the theatre door and then again, when she woke from a coma. Trusting in his faith in God, he knows there must be something special in Eva. <br />
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As Christmas approaches, Eva and Harry's lives are drawn together in a way neither imagines. Can Harry help Eva find the Christmas miracle she needs or will a simple article destroy any future they might have?<br />
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Hmmm sounds like a tear jerker to me! I love a story with a lot of heart!</div>
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Here's a peek:</div>
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<i>Eva’s heart skipped a beat.<br /><br />Matthew Lyell opened his umbrella and held it over Hannah Daystrom. He seemed at ease with the actress as he put his arm around her waist. He glanced up and headed towards Eva and Sue, that trademark smile lighting his eyes. “Hello. You girls look soaked.”<br /><br />“Not too bad,” Sue said. “We loved the show, Mr. Lyell. Could we have your autograph, please?”<br /><br />“Of course.” He took her program. “And your name is?”<br /><br />“Sue.”<br /><br />He signed it with a flourish and handed it to Ms. Daystrom to sign. Then he fixed his intense gaze on Eva. “Hi, there.”<br /><br />Eva thought she was going to burst, and struggled to get words past the lump in her throat. “H-Hello.”<br /><br />His smile grew. “I’m not going to bite.” He gently took the program from her hands. “Did you like the show?”<br /><br />She nodded. “It was amazing. I actually felt every emotion possible, and you really made the part of Cedric come alive. Thank you.”<br /><br />He seemed taken aback, as if he wasn’t used to being thanked. “You’re welcome. What’s your name?”<br /><br />“Eva, but not with an A at the beginning. It’s spelled E-v-a.”<br /><br />“Pretty name for a pretty girl,” Mr. Lyell smiled. He signed the program and passed it to his co-star. “Have you got a camera?”<br /><br />“I only have the one on my phone.” Eva looked at him.<br /><br />He smiled. “Would you like a photo?”<br /><br />“I’d love one.” She fumbled in her bag and withdrew her phone. She pulled up the camera app on the fourth attempt, her trembling fingers not wanting to co-operate.<br /><br />“Allow me.” Mr. Lyell took the phone. “Same as mine.” He stood between the two girls and took selfies of them together and then took one with each of them alone.<br /><br />Eva didn’t even breathe as he slid his arm around her. She was sure she’d be smiling like a maniac.<br /><br />“Have you got far to go?” he asked, handing back her phone.<br /><br />“Wokingham.”<br /><br />“Not too far. Have a safe trip back.” He put his arm around the actress again and headed over to his waiting car.<br /><br />Sue nudged Eva. “See—even he thinks you’re pretty.”<br /><br />“He probably says that to all the girls.” Eva slid the program and phone into her bag. “We should go, or we’ll miss the last train home. I don’t want to have to ring Dad and ask him to pick us up from here.”<br /><br />Sue nodded and together they ran the short distance to the tube entrance. The gates were locked.<br /><br />“Now what?” Eva sighed.<br /><br />“The main entrance is in the next street.” Sue set off at a run towards the road.<br /><br />Eva followed, slogging through the deluge. Why had she worn such impractical shoes? Low heels—or no heels at all—would have been much better.<br /><br />It was still raining back in Headley Cross as they waited for the lights to change, before crossing to the taxi rank.<br /><br />Sue dragged her across the road. Then, a bright light approaching too fast blinded Eva.<br /><br />A screech of brakes hung in the air; a car horn blared.<br /><br />A thud.<br /><br />Was she flying?<br /><br />Darkness folded around her, cutting off a brief instance of pain.</i><br />
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Buy Links:</div>
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<a href="http://pelicanbookgroup.com/ec/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=68_41&products_id=633">http://pelicanbookgroup.com/ec/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=68_41&products_id=633</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Christmas-Eva-Holiday-Extravaganza-ebook/dp/B00Q33DLL8/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1417228517&sr=8-1&keywords=christmas+eva+clare+revell">http://www.amazon.com/Christmas-Eva-Holiday-Extravaganza-ebook/dp/B00Q33DLL8/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1417228517&sr=8-1&keywords=christmas+eva+clare+revell</a></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-629870306650238162.post-62782195056109736562014-12-02T21:49:00.000-05:002014-12-17T22:06:17.394-05:00Creighton's Hideaway - LoRee Peery<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt6LJkOiClsgnRJh6ZqaiwirwEOmkZYqei3gbA9QjwO-l0mx52fqzSSPl3XMNcHSV9Qjx6jM6b9PgX4qHmW1NUNmAzDFyJPN4O7NITrgUMDth6GNiCzzzJSlCVgSA7Wq_eLBRHZRtOSbI/s1600/Creightons+Hideaway.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt6LJkOiClsgnRJh6ZqaiwirwEOmkZYqei3gbA9QjwO-l0mx52fqzSSPl3XMNcHSV9Qjx6jM6b9PgX4qHmW1NUNmAzDFyJPN4O7NITrgUMDth6GNiCzzzJSlCVgSA7Wq_eLBRHZRtOSbI/s1600/Creightons+Hideaway.png" height="320" width="223" /></a></div>
Welcome back, LoRee! I'm so glad to see<br />
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Needing to finish her thesis in order to keep her job working with youth in a residential treatment center, Shana Arnold sequesters herself on Creighton Rice’s Nebraska ranch. She expects the secluded hideaway to provide a peaceful environment. What she doesn't expect is to become the victim of identity theft and a crazed home invader.<br />
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Creighton Rice has been content to live alone with his God—until he meets Shana. He's drawn to her, but must fight the attraction. Getting close makes him face a lifetime's accumulation of scars. Plus, Shana doesn’t share his faith. But when Shana's life is threatened, Creighton must protect her—even if it means letting her in.<br />
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Will Shana discover that even when a woman loses everything, she can regain courage and strength through faith in God, and can Creighton allow God to heal scars and open the door to a lifetime with Shana?<br />
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<i>Creighton found it hard to pull his gaze from Shana, trying to remember everything Rita had mentioned about her. The freckles were a surprise. Her large, blue-green eyes were stunning.</i><br />
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<i>“Creigh,” his sister’s voice drew his attention as he headed her way. “I said, Shana will need a day or two to acclimate. She’s a terrific program manager, usually so in charge of what’s going on that nothing shakes her. But this ultimatum to get her degree came like a jolt out of the blue.”</i><br />
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<i>“I thought she’d been working on her degree since she started as the director.”</i><br />
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<i>Rita cradled the small roundness of her abdomen. “True. But she had planned on another semester to pull it all together. Upper management decided it was a good chance for her to use some vacation time and get that paper finished now to secure her job before it goes to someone hungrier.”</i><br />
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<i>Creighton pulled Rita close and enveloped her in a hug.</i><br />
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<i>Rita mouthed against his chest, “I think peace and quiet will do her a world of good.”</i><br />
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<i>“If you say so, little sister.” Creighton pulled the end of Rita’s long braid in a gesture that went back to their childhood. “The timing is perfect since most of the cabins are empty. End of summer, before hunting season.”</i><br />
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<i>He slanted a look across the hood of the SUV.</i><br />
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<i>Shana’s thoughts must be far away. Was she as lost as she appeared to be? She looked small, but he sensed her strength was cloaked in vulnerability.</i><br />
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<i>“You’ve been away too long, kid,” Creighton said to Rita. “Next time I see you, I won’t be able to get my arms around you!”</i><br />
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<i>Rita punched his upper arm as they stepped apart. “Then I’ll expect you to hug the baby, Bro.”</i><br />
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<i>He gave her focused attention. “You’re doing OK? You and the baby and Ray?”</i><br />
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<i>“Couldn’t be better. The Lord blesses us every day. How about you?”</i><br />
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<i>“Have to agree and say He blesses me beyond words. Don’t know where I’d be if He hadn’t brought me back to the ranch.”</i><br />
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<i>“I thought of you when Shana said she was pressured by our boss, and we were so close following our sessions at Hope Circle, we just had to come see you.” Rita glanced at Shana and lowered her voice. “Can you check on her for me? When she starts working on a project, she often forgets to eat.”</i><br />
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<i>Shana shot them a wistful smile and spoke to her feet, “You’ve done enough talking about me. I’m right here.”</i><br />
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<i>“Right as usual, boss,” Rita quipped. “Guess it’s time to get back on the road. Ray’s probably had enough of his mom, so I’d better head down to Norfolk.”</i><br />
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<i>Shana left her side of the vehicle to face them, leaning against the fender.</i><br />
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<i>“Wish you could stay, Sis. Will you spend the night there, or go back to Lincoln?” Creighton reached in and grabbed all of Shana’s bags.</i><br />
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<i>“This round belly needs its own bed, so we’ll eat a bite and head on south. I promise, after the baby comes, we won’t be such strangers to this wonderful ranch.”</i><br />
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<i>When the women shared a warm embrace, he surmised that feminine tears threatened to surface. That’s all I need around here, a bawling woman. He watched them draw apart, avoiding eye contact.</i><br />
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<i>“I suppose the next time I see you, you’ll be waddling like a duck,” Shana’s obvious attempt to lighten the moment came out rather flat.</i><br />
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<i>“In two weeks? Dream on. You do your writing but don’t get so carried away you neglect taking in the ambiance of this land. That tiny cabin will drive you nuts in a couple of days! There’s not enough inside to sort and rearrange. So go out and enjoy nature. That’s an order.” Rita laughed.</i><br />
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<i>“Tease all you want. I have plenty of interviews to tie together. In all seriousness, Rita, thank you for everything. Going to O’Neill with me, and bringing me here.” Shana waved an arm in front of her, indicating the expanse.</i><br />
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<i>He could get used to the soft cadence of her voice. Keeping his eyes on Shana, Creighton longed to discover if those short dark curls were as soft to the touch as they looked. He guessed they were natural and he suspected she was a shampoo-and-go kind of gal, not one to fuss over her appearance.</i><br />
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<i>And she didn’t have to. He found her stunning.</i><br />
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<i>“Nonsense,” Rita sputtered, and turned from another quick hug. “I profited as well as you, sitting in on those group counseling sessions. For now, you’ll love it up here and it’ll do Creighton good to have you around. I’ve wanted you two to meet for a long time.”</i><br />
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<i>“Well, little sis, your wish has been granted.” Creighton tugged Rita’s braid again while holding the door open. His expression went serious when he swung it shut. “Drive safe, you’re carrying my nephew, you know.”</i><br />
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<i>“Or niece.” Rita waggled her fingers and put her vehicle in gear. “Bye, you two.”</i><br />
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<i>Shana shoved her hands deep into her pockets. It seemed to Creighton that she shrank into herself. He studied her as much as the SUV turning onto the blacktop.</i><br />
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<i>What had he gotten himself into this time? Big brother always there to help his little sister. He took one last look towards the road and caught a flash of sunlight as it glinted off Rita’s windshield.</i><br />
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Buy links:<br />
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<a href="http://pelicanbookgroup.com/ec/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=37_46&products_id=591">http://pelicanbookgroup.com/ec/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=37_46&products_id=591</a></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-629870306650238162.post-15991803195101162002014-10-29T21:36:00.001-04:002014-10-29T21:43:19.022-04:00Submerged - Dani Pettrey<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYLHb2BEfovK1HMJjNEU4o9zBRakdoIP3DSyfJ49rApm9-AdDrp9rNRlcjrnkWIXCUPMvZAOAGGdV5D_9IhOGuSd3ENNCx35edpqfFFIM-BPt4HqKQzlN9IgCj_xYn-WzulkQrgtqJEYg/s1600/Submerged+Final+Book+Cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYLHb2BEfovK1HMJjNEU4o9zBRakdoIP3DSyfJ49rApm9-AdDrp9rNRlcjrnkWIXCUPMvZAOAGGdV5D_9IhOGuSd3ENNCx35edpqfFFIM-BPt4HqKQzlN9IgCj_xYn-WzulkQrgtqJEYg/s320/Submerged+Final+Book+Cover.jpg" height="320" width="206" /></a></div>
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Getting tired of all my favorite authors who keep cranking out good stories? Well, here's a new one for you! Dani Pettrey. I stumbled across her story and loved what I read (well okay, the cover caught my eye first - nice job!) but then the back cover hooked me. And since Dee Henderson recommended it, I had to check it out!<br />
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So tell me Dani, a<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">re you a diver? or have you dived in any way before?</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><span style="color: blue;">I took scuba diving lessons, but found I didn't enjoy the sensation of breathing through a mask so I much prefer snorkeling :) </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><span style="color: blue;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14.166666030883789px;">I often wonder if I would feel the same way. Although I didn't like snorkeling because I was afraid I would suck up water! So many people I know who love swimming have not liked scuba. Perhaps you're a little claustrophobic? </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14.166666030883789px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><span style="color: blue;">I'm not sure if it has something to do with feeling claustrophobic with me. I think it's more you can't come straight up when you want to with scuba diving, but you can snorkeling :)) I like to know I can reach the top at any time I want to. </span></span></div>
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Well, no matter, you've done a marvellous job taking us down there with you. It certainly felt like you went plenty deep!<br />
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Blurb: <br />
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A sabotaged plane. Two dead deep-water divers. One single clue.<br />
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Bailey Craig vowed never to set foot in Yancey, Alaska, again. She has a past, and a reputation--and Yancey's a town that doesn't forget. She's returned only to bury a loved one killed in the plane crash, but then dark evidence emerges and Bailey's own expertise becomes invaluable for the case.<br />
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Cole McKenna can face dangerous rescue dives. He can face the fear a murderer may be threatening his town. But facing the reality of Bailey's reappearance is a tougher challenge. She broke his heart... but doesn't seem to be the same girl who left Yancey ten years ago. And he's not the same guy she left behind.<br />
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Racing against the clock and a rising body count, Bailey and Cole must move beyond the hurts of their pasts to work together until the truth of what is hidden in the depths finally surfaces.<br />
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<b>WOW! Certainly makes me want to find out more! Come on, dive in!</b></div>
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Excerpt:<br />
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<i><b>Never wager unless you control the stakes.</b><br /><br />And she’d thought she held such a strong hand.<br /><br />Agnes Grey forced her head against the rattling seat back, clenched the armrests with such force her nails broke. Perspiration soaked her brow, seeping into her eyes, but she refused to cry. She was too old to cry.<br /><br />The plane was going down into the water within sight of her home. Home—warm, safe, dry. She’d never see it again.<br /><br /> Her friend Henry Reid strained to look back, his white knuckles bulging on the wheel as he fought to regain control of the spiraling Cessna, but the fiery plane seemed bent on destruction. Panic flashed through his eyes. “Tighten your belts. Put your head between your knees.”<br /><br />His concern was sweet, but it wouldn’t change the outcome. Their fate was set.<br /><br /> They were going down—hard and fast. The other passengers’ terrified expressions said they knew it too. <b>Innocents, every one</b>, Agnes thought, fury on their behalf trumping her own fear. She was the only one on board who knew this catastrophe was no mechanical failure. It was <b>him</b>. She knew it as surely as she knew she’d seen her last sunset.<br /><br />A bitter cry tore from her cracked lips. Any semblance of control on her part had been an illusion.<br /><br />She’d played her hand, and he’d just called her on it.<br /><br />If she hadn’t been so stinking stubborn, if she’d kept her mouth shut and given him what he wanted . . But Momma hadn’t raised her like that. She’d done the right thing. She only wished she hadn’t brought the others down with her.<br /><br />Managing to crane her neck left, she took in the sight of the loving couple’s hands clasped tight, crying as they whispered frantic words to each other.<br /><br />Agnes’s stomach lurched. She’d brought them on this journey, doomed them to a watery tomb.<br /><br />At least now he’d be satisfied. She’d be gone. They’d be gone. No one was left to . . .<br /><br />Acid burned up her throat.<br /><br /><b>Bailey</b>.</i><br />
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Buy link: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Submerged-Alaskan-Courage-Dani-Pettrey/dp/0764209825">http://www.amazon.com/Submerged-Alaskan-Courage-Dani-Pettrey/dp/0764209825</a><br />
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Review:<br />
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Wow! Have you ever started a story, intending just to read a couple pages...then you can't put it down. You take it with you everywhere you go and read at every chance you get, even if it's a page or two. Well, that's what you can expect from this one. <i>Submerged </i>grabs hold of you from page one. Be ready to dive in, just don't forget to come up for air! Enjoy!<br />
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About the author:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZg3xOMSGFeF_RL27I_6ixf8qzJEW7gY4ofydAnOdiR4Tr4AbIHA0I72eTYpDrcXxnEYnLGiW4t7qdSgtldOSni-y3ujOQJAaygUuVmSYGbINb6IAeEG9UHRkU71mvZskVRw9o7BaXewA/s1600/Dani_Photoshoot22010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZg3xOMSGFeF_RL27I_6ixf8qzJEW7gY4ofydAnOdiR4Tr4AbIHA0I72eTYpDrcXxnEYnLGiW4t7qdSgtldOSni-y3ujOQJAaygUuVmSYGbINb6IAeEG9UHRkU71mvZskVRw9o7BaXewA/s200/Dani_Photoshoot22010.jpg" height="134" width="200" /></a></div>
Dani Pettrey is a wife, homeschooling mom, and author. She feels blessed to write inspirational romantic suspense because it incorporates so many things she loves--the thrill of adventure, nailbiting suspense, the deepening of her characters' faith, and plenty of romance. She and her husband reside in Maryland with their two teenage daughters. Visit her website at www.danipettrey.com.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-629870306650238162.post-2887561292767746272014-10-13T13:47:00.001-04:002014-10-13T13:47:13.427-04:00The Watchman - VB Tennery<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibqOyIHb7TJFeT-CeqgTru3YkLwxMkNjZdYaRxy6uwIdvyxh_untg4ZFu8NNAP49c_4fRF_VvtGlruvxfNRRklbWuUHM1CSty1RAmFYu-XhN1RPk2RdSNlgVhXIhs3sc-4ipuIWXkX5Lw/s1600/TheWatchman_h11538_680%5B1%5D-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibqOyIHb7TJFeT-CeqgTru3YkLwxMkNjZdYaRxy6uwIdvyxh_untg4ZFu8NNAP49c_4fRF_VvtGlruvxfNRRklbWuUHM1CSty1RAmFYu-XhN1RPk2RdSNlgVhXIhs3sc-4ipuIWXkX5Lw/s1600/TheWatchman_h11538_680%5B1%5D-1.JPG" height="320" width="195" /></a></div>
Welcome back, Virginia! My goodness, you're getting to be a regular here! Some people might think I'm hooked on romantic suspense...they'd be right! Just wish I could write the stuff! LOL<br />
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But once again, this book had me hooked from the first page. Who can resist a story of abuse with a chance of a happy ending? First of all, there is no excuse, no pardon for abuse to a woman or child, and secondly my heart goes out to all who seek shelter from such abuse. May God's hand guide and protect them!<br />
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To some, this might just be a story, to me, this is a cry to the Creator to protect the innocents of this world!<br />
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So here's a peek:<br />
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<b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14pt;">When Detective Noah Adams meets the abused son of a powerful judge, he knows he must intervene, and fast. The violence is escalating, and even Noah’s special gifts may not prevent the unthinkable from happening. <wbr></wbr><br /><br />Relentlessly pursuing two cases, Noah receives a chilling message: Cody’s deranged father has taken his son and it’s up to Noah to follow the judge’s twisted trail to find the boy before it’s too late.<br /><br />Corrupt city officials, a missing socialite, an attempted murder, and a rescue in the middle of a blizzard entangle Noah in the most complicated case of his career. A case that will mean his ultimate redemption or will take him back into the dark history that haunts him.</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px;">Excerpt: </span></div>
<i>Hebron, Wyoming</i><br />
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<i><br />What if you knew you could learn the deepest, darkest secrets of anyone you touched, but it would cost you emotionally? What if from your earliest childhood you could disappear in thirty-minute intervals and while invisible you could move through solid objects with impunity? What if these anomalies came as natural as breathing—clothing and anything in pockets or hand disappeared—an unknown field that surrounded you erasing everything inside?</i></div>
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<i><br />What would you do with such powers?</i></div>
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<i><br />I’d settled that question long ago, but this afternoon, as I focused on the scene outside my car window, it occurred to me perhaps I needed to rethink my mission. I’d covered domestic abuse cases during my five years with the Hebron Police Department, and I’d put away a lot of bad people. Different scenario here. I was no longer a cop.</i></div>
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<i><br />Ahead, a small boy stepped from a school bus into the upscale Crown Heights neighborhood. Dead leaves and powered snow swirled around his high-end sneakers as he shuffled along the sidewalk.<br />My foot hovered over the gas pedal. The image disturbed me, and I almost drove away. His small shoulders slumped forward, and I was hooked. I had to know.</i></div>
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<i><br />He stopped and turned around as if he might go back to the bus stop. He reversed and faced me again.</i></div>
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<i>Confused? Lost?</i></div>
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<i><br />Cute kid, maybe six years old. The designer logo on his backpack bounced with each step. Blonde locks pressed against his brow under a blue baseball cap, reminding me of another little boy—minus the designer gear.</i></div>
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<i><br />Decision made, I swung the SUV to the curb, snatched the cell phone from its holder, and texted my friend.</i></div>
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<i><br />Got 2 bow out of dinner talk 2 u later.</i></div>
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<i><br />I left the car and stepped to the sidewalk. With a glance both ways, I moved into the boy’s path. Slow and easy. Not too close, not too fast. I didn’t want to frighten him.</i></div>
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<i><br />With my friendliest smile, I took a step closer. “Hey, son, can you tell me where to find Oak Street?”<br />He gazed up at me and shook his head. Eyes dull, as if he’d lived life and found it wanting.</i></div>
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<i><br />I patted his shoulder. “Thanks, anyway.”</i></div>
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<i><br />He winced and jerked away as if I’d slapped him. I’d </i><i>suspected abuse, but his pain caught me by surprise. In an instant his life opened up, film clips at the speed of light. Visuals of physical pain, overwhelming fear, helplessness, and a silent scream for help. Emotions too heavy for a child to carry streamed through my consciousness. With proof of abuse came certainty. The violence at home was escalating.</i></div>
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<i> Something frightening rose within me―rage against the defenselessness of children and those who caused them pain. Abuse cases drew and repelled me at the same time, reviving memories I’d long ago buried.</i></div>
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<i><br />I inhaled a resolute breath. When had I ever walked away from a troubled child? I couldn’t save the world—just the small corner God gave me. A common man, given uncommon gifts—a watchman on the wall.</i><br />
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Review:<br />
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What a phenomenal story! I love Virginia's writing! Pardon the exclamation points, but it's true. Her stories are wonderful. This is the fourth one I've read and they're all great.</div>
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The Watchman grabbed me, literally, from page one! Abuse a child? No way! And especially from someone he should be able to trust? Plus abuse the child's mother for trying to protect him? Not on my watch! We all need that Watchman, someone to watch over us when those who have power are not what they should be.<br />
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This story is written with a gentle, but firm hand, true to the seriousness of the topic, but not overwhelming in the horrible details - but certainly enough to bring out the protector in anyone's heart. The dialogue is sometimes witty and entertaining, and the characters all reach out to touch your heart.<br />
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Wonderful story! Really, DO NOT MISS THIS ONE!!!</div>
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Purchase Links:</div>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/goog_2099781164"><br /></a>
<a href="http://pelicanbookgroup.com/ec/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=37_47&products_id=599">http://pelicanbookgroup.com/ec/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=37_47&products_id=599</a></div>
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<b style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14pt;"><u><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00NK7AD8E">http://www.amazon.com/dp/<wbr></wbr>B00NK7AD8E</a></u></span></b><br />
<b style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></b>
<b style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14pt;">About the author:</span></b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5S6Pb_bz4uFlxQhBPNl9WgMiU8xR129LXpegRe0U4bdytYzQM0joLRrY9LIaaZyf28LpyaXi3-VlY0Kq-56jYJTrVtZIC70J0BCxC4ccPoCCmxdWEqSNFjkRlayCk4AQCdaV2k1uJucM/s1600/VB+Tennery.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5S6Pb_bz4uFlxQhBPNl9WgMiU8xR129LXpegRe0U4bdytYzQM0joLRrY9LIaaZyf28LpyaXi3-VlY0Kq-56jYJTrVtZIC70J0BCxC4ccPoCCmxdWEqSNFjkRlayCk4AQCdaV2k1uJucM/s1600/VB+Tennery.jpg" height="200" width="160" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">Author V. B. Tenery lives with her family in East Texas. Her passion is writing books with shinning characters and settings with plots so exciting readers come away feeling delighted with the experience. Not content to stay in one genre, her novels range from contemporary suspense and supernatural suspense, to an upcoming historical suspense set in WWII England. When not writing she enjoys reading, hiking, and tube-floating down rivers in the Hill Country </span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">God's child trying to make Him proud.</span><b style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></b>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-629870306650238162.post-63274815488012029922014-09-26T07:00:00.000-04:002014-09-26T07:00:08.017-04:00Echoes of Edinburgh - JoAnn Durgin<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://pelicanbookgroup.com/ec/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=37_46&products_id=596" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSfLm9zTfMzW7j_OtO3SWbF5mNN0A5cYDRF6JPAz43cTP3TZXku0cm_9Gjdxd5Deduc3muheNGNiwaN9JkJuOQyb7DYzOaKEfNDi1yJoPjzVwuf9hZJQfzHZfXgBr2hTOLC3FICtZNkRs/s1600/Echoes+of+Edinburgh+Cover.jpg" /></a></div>
Hello JoAnn! It's been a little while since you visited with me, so welcome back to my corner niche of the web - and thank you for introducing me to Edinburgh! Luckily my passport is up to date and I could visit Scotland with you (I wish)! That is one country I have wanted to visit for a long time, and I hopefully will be able to see it for myself next year (along with Ireland which has always been at the top of my wish list). But in the mean time, I got to soak in a little of the ambiance thanks to you!<br />
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I was truly impressed with this story, not wanting to put it down unless I really had to. (It's not often I can say that these days with the overflow of available reading material!)<br />
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Anyway, I'm very pleased to be able to share such a wonderful story with my readers!<br />
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Back Cover:<br />
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<strong style="text-align: justify;">To honor her dying father’s wish, Chicago
stockbroker Shelby Harmon promises to hand deliver an envelope addressed to
“Robert Nichols, Personal & Confidential.” Her quest to find Robert leads
her to a most unlikely place—the Castlehill Gardens outside Scotland’s
Edinburgh Castle. Who is this fiercely private man and what is his connection
to Harmony Lane, her family’s horse farm in Lexington, Kentucky?</strong><br />
<strong style="text-align: justify;"><br /></strong>
<strong style="text-align: justify;"> Harrison Reed
cautions Shelby against dredging up hurtful memories for his close friend,
Robert. As they explore the city together, Shelby and Harrison find themselves
increasingly drawn to one another. When the contents of the mysterious envelope
are revealed, the answer gives her hope for the future of Harmony Lane. Is the
time spent in Edinburgh with Harrison destined to be nothing more than a
beautiful memory? Did Shelby lose her heart in Edinburgh...or find her way home
again?</strong><br />
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<span style="text-align: justify;">Doesn't that sound great? Trust me, your heart will be drawn into this story from the start! Here, take a peek!</span><br />
<span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span>
<span style="text-align: justify;">Excerpt:</span><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The tour guide said she’d find the man she sought somewhere
on the grounds, most likely in the Castlehill Gardens. After rounding a bend
behind a row of hedges, she stopped short. Hunched between multi-colored rose
bushes, a middle-aged gardener was engaged in a tug-of-war with pesky weeds.
Intent on his work, he grunted with the effort. Thankful he hadn’t yet spied
her, she stepped off the walkway, frowning as her new ballet flats sank into
the earth.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">When she glimpsed his profile, Shelby’s breath hitched. The
strong resemblance to the man in the faded photograph she’d found among her
father’s possessions was undeniable, the only difference being the added
refinement of a quarter century. His dark hair was peppered with silver and cut
military short and his faded jeans were tucked into combat boots. The rolled
sleeves of his denim work shirt revealed arms tanned a deep brown—an anomaly
among the perennially fair-skinned Scottish natives.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">He straightened to his full height and released a shallow
groan. Sliding his hands down to his hips, he raised his face to the warmth of
the emerging sun. As though sensing her scrutiny, he turned, his features a
study in curiosity as he spied her.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Please stay on the walkway, lass.” After tugging a soiled
work glove from one hand, he pointed to the path. His slight brogue—husky as if
thick with the ever-present mist—was tinged with an unmistakable Kentucky
accent, an unexpected solace so far from home. He took a few slow steps toward
her, favoring his right leg. As he approached, Shelby caught a glimpse of
deep-set, piercing blue eyes that held a guarded wariness.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Not wanting to irritate him further, she stepped back on the
walkway. “I’m sorry to interrupt your work, sir, but I’m looking for Robert
Nichols from Lexington, Kentucky.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“You’ve found him.” Standing a few feet away, he tilted his
head and narrowed his eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Shelby smiled, hoping to put them both more at ease. “I’m
Shelby Harmon, Katie and Tom Harmon’s daughter.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">No immediate response was forthcoming although something
akin to recognition flickered in his gaze.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“My Aunt Lily told me you worked at Harmony Lane with my mom
when you were teenagers. I believe you knew her as Katie McCormick?” Her
professional instincts taking over, Shelby extended her hand.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Robert’s stoic expression relaxed and, for a fleeting
moment, reminded Shelby of her father. Gruff around the edges but softening at
the mention of her mother. “Aye, I should have known. You have your mama’s same
honey blonde hair and bonnie blue eyes.” He removed his remaining work glove
and enfolded her hand in his warm grasp. A quick glance revealed the hands of a
working man with small, rough calluses. His nails were clean and neatly trimmed,
and he wore no wedding band.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“It’s been a long time since I’ve planted my feet on
Kentucky bluegrass,” Robert said. “Left a big part of myself there. Kind of
hard to shake it out of a man, not that I’d ever want to.” His lips curled as
he released her hand. “Tommy was sweet on your mama from the time we were old
enough to saddle up and ride.” He smoothed a hand over his short hair and
glanced into the distance before returning his gaze to hers. “Seems fitting she
ended up marrying the boss’s son and living at Harmony Lane. The way I see it,
Katie belonged there all along. Born to the manor.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Shelby had expected to hear more about her father, not her
mother. What was Robert’s connection to her parents, enough to bring her across
the world on a personal mission? For a half second, she considered pulling the
envelope from her purse and handing it over. The promise to her father would be
fulfilled, and she could return home to Chicago and her usual routine. No
strings attached. End of story. “Mr. Nichols, I have something I need to—”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Pops?”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">They both turned. A tall, lean man with tousled blond waves
rounded the corner. He was rugged with high cheekbones, healthy sun-kissed
skin, a square, chiseled jaw with a shadow of stubble, and a well-formed
mouth—the latter not something she normally noticed. She estimated him to be in
his late twenties to early thirties. With a black T-shirt stretched across
broad shoulders, faded jeans and scuffed leather boots, he appeared an
incongruous cross between a muscled surfer and an urban cowboy. Most
definitely, this was a man she’d never expect to see standing in a garden
outside a castle.</span></i></div>
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Review:<div>
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<div>
What a wonderful story! Shelby is so sweet, following her heart, wanting to fulfill her father's last wish that she deliver an envelope to a complete stranger in a foreign country. But she finds much more than she could ever imagine when she started out on this adventure. Her father's dear friend shows her around the countryside, introducing her to his best friend who becomes dear to her also. This story is full of heart. Don't miss it!</div>
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<br />Buy Links:<div>
<a href="http://pelicanbookgroup.com/ec/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=37_46&products_id=596">http://pelicanbookgroup.com/ec/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=37_46&products_id=596</a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Echoes-Edinburgh-Passport-Romance-Durgin-ebook/dp/B00MRCCTVW/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1410050721&sr=1-1&keywords=echoes+of+edinburgh">http://www.amazon.com/Echoes-Edinburgh-Passport-Romance-Durgin-ebook/dp/B00MRCCTVW/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1410050721&sr=1-1&keywords=echoes+of+edinburgh</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.christianbook.com/echoes-of-edinburgh-novella-ebook/joann-durgin/9781611163957/pd/67977EB?product_redirect=1&Ntt=67977EB&item_code=&Ntk=keywords&event=ESRCP">http://www.christianbook.com/echoes-of-edinburgh-novella-ebook/joann-durgin/9781611163957/pd/67977EB?product_redirect=1&Ntt=67977EB&item_code=&Ntk=keywords&event=ESRCP</a><br /><br /><br /><br /> <div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLZRoZvqCcWTW30fKtPf29hYJM7P9NV90jix5IiB58ksb3oi_lOZI2-aVgee_wuW-A9lLOLunZQebsko78UqJDftkmgXHXS7mHLsoYeMMME82TwVonEHgAuZWKoId8sfhJzspWK8gzsq8/s1600/JoAnn+Author+Photo+(Princess%2BCruise).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLZRoZvqCcWTW30fKtPf29hYJM7P9NV90jix5IiB58ksb3oi_lOZI2-aVgee_wuW-A9lLOLunZQebsko78UqJDftkmgXHXS7mHLsoYeMMME82TwVonEHgAuZWKoId8sfhJzspWK8gzsq8/s1600/JoAnn+Author+Photo+(Princess%2BCruise).jpg" height="200" width="132" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Ubuntu, Arial, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-weight: 600; line-height: 20px;">JoAnn Durgin is the author of five full-length novels, including The Lewis Legacy Series and Catching Serenity. Her novellas for Pelican Book Group include Meet Me Under the Mistletoe (2012), its sequel Starlight, Star Bright (2013), and a soon-to-be released Passport to Romance novella entitled Echoes of Edinburgh. After living from coast to coast across the U.S., JoAnn and her family now reside in her native Southern Indiana. A member of the American Christian Fiction Writers and the Louisville (KY) Christian Writers, nothing thrills JoAnn more than sharing the love and grace of Jesus Christ with her readers. www.joanndurgin.com</span><strong><span style="font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><o:p></o:p></span></strong></div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-629870306650238162.post-76958730367146813472014-09-08T07:00:00.000-04:002014-09-08T07:00:09.368-04:00Unexpected Wedding - Carla Rossi<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7cggF4SjtM4AKfieEosOzK7snC__V9wdUidJHYpVsQaQ9PEzYCWpDDMO_ivqKk7ZJujKEjl0xjy9FQhyphenhyphenh9jD4adMXWXHtzpnwhyQwtGg9Ex1p0Lo0TRWYUSyWhUu-1ngP9HSSl4eTzXw/s1600/Unexpected+Wedding+-+Cover.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7cggF4SjtM4AKfieEosOzK7snC__V9wdUidJHYpVsQaQ9PEzYCWpDDMO_ivqKk7ZJujKEjl0xjy9FQhyphenhyphenh9jD4adMXWXHtzpnwhyQwtGg9Ex1p0Lo0TRWYUSyWhUu-1ngP9HSSl4eTzXw/s1600/Unexpected+Wedding+-+Cover.png" height="320" width="223" /></a></div>
Hi Carla. I'm so sorry I've lagged a bit. I noticed you have a new story out and I had to go grab a copy. I love it! I hope you don't mind if I share what it's about. It's a great story! So here's a peek at <a href="http://pelicanbookgroup.com/ec/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=68_31_42&products_id=543">Unexpected Wedding.</a><br />
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Back Cover:<br />
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Rocky Lionakis has been a wheelchair user since a f<span id="goog_970682331"></span><span id="goog_970682332"></span><a href="https://www.blogger.com/"></a>all in college. He plays bass guitar in Cornerstone Fellowship’s worship band and shares his testimony every week with the campers at Towering Pines summer church camp. At peace with his chair, he has settled into a boring but successful career in technology - until stunning camp counselor, Gia Rinaldi, enters his life and turns it upside down. <br />
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Lifelong preacher’s kid and occasional wild child, Giavanna Rinaldi, has always learned things the hard way. With a trail of bad choices in her wake, she has finally grown up and found her niche as a student of Christian child psychology. She returns to Camp Towering Pines where she’s worked since high school, but unsettling dreams and an unexplained illness lead her to a harrowing discovery.<br />
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Will Rocky and Gia’s budding romance survive her trauma? And is their bold decision an answer from God, or a serious step outside of His perfect will?</div>
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<div>
Excerpt:</div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><i> Rocky Lionakis didn’t know what hit him. Last he remembered, he’d tucked his Bible beside him in his wheelchair and turned to leave the platform. Now he was flat on his back on the wooden ramp, gazing at the blue east Texas sky through a canopy of tall pines. It would have been a beautiful summer afternoon sight if he’d meant to be looking at it. </i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>He lifted his head and then decided it felt better to stay down. Voices grew softer, and bubbly chatter faded as camp staff herded the junior and senior high audience for his last talk away from the outdoor stage and down the path toward the dining hall. </i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>Somewhere the wheel of his chair spun with a rhythmic swish and put him in mind of an old bicycle he had as a child. It slowed, and he closed his eyes. Normally a tumble from his chair ended with a quick recovery. Propelled by sheer embarrassment, he could usually steady the lightweight titanium contraption and be upright in seconds. This time his scattered thoughts and developing headache told him he’d fallen harder than he realized. For all he knew, his chair had<br />landed in another zip code because it sure wasn’t beside him on the ramp. </i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>He felt for his Bible and discovered it under his left hip. Everything was quiet except for the coo of a mourning dove somewhere high above him and the scrape of a squirrel’s feet as it scampered up a tree. </i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>As he started to relax, all pain dissipated. Maybe the fall had killed him... </i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>The scent of something earthy and sweet reached his nose. He sniffed the air. Heaven smelled like strawberries. </i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>He opened his eyes and looked up into a warm chocolate-brown gaze. An angel stood over him. Strands of long dark hair slid off her shoulders and hung almost to his face as she bent over him. </i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>She smiled and knelt beside him. “Fall off your horse there, cowboy?”</i></div>
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<i><br /> He blinked. If this was Heaven, God had sent him one sassy angel to welcome him home. Nice.</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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Review: </div>
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<div>
I loved this story! The strength of the characters and the way they are so real about their circumstances is beautiful! This story really makes you feel like you're right there on the sidelines cheering them on. Honestly I just wanted to reach in and hug them sometimes! Great story, Carla!</div>
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Buy link:</div>
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<br /></div>
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http://pelicanbookgroup.com/ec/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=37_46&products_id=543</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
http://www.amazon.com/Unexpected-Wedding-Carla-Rossi-ebook/dp/B00J9YQ9ZS/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1396704857&sr=8-1&keywords=unexpected+wedding+carla+rossi</div>
<!-- Blogger automated replacement: "https://images-blogger-opensocial.googleusercontent.com/gadgets/proxy?url=http%3A%2F%2F1.bp.blogspot.com%2F-1dJJf4NWQz4%2FU0AFJtk7LPI%2FAAAAAAAAAdo%2FTYgBj35C1xw%2Fs1600%2FUnexpected%2BWedding%2B-%2BCover.png&container=blogger&gadget=a&rewriteMime=image%2F*" with "https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7cggF4SjtM4AKfieEosOzK7snC__V9wdUidJHYpVsQaQ9PEzYCWpDDMO_ivqKk7ZJujKEjl0xjy9FQhyphenhyphenh9jD4adMXWXHtzpnwhyQwtGg9Ex1p0Lo0TRWYUSyWhUu-1ngP9HSSl4eTzXw/s1600/Unexpected+Wedding+-+Cover.png" -->Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-629870306650238162.post-63678754002947214832014-09-02T21:47:00.000-04:002014-09-02T21:47:00.592-04:00A Piece of Heaven & Precious Embrace<br />
Wouldn't you just love to find a cozy little restaurant where you could enjoy a good dinner, good company, and good music? I mean good Christian music. A place where you wouldn't have to worry about anything, not even what the kids might hear if you brought them along. Well, this is the place. This is my dream. Come on in and visit <i>A Piece of Heaven. </i>I promise you'll enjoy it!<br />
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<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhikjYQMd09YzqDkptD41oE4NMuYgHwFlVMxEjOsiWM_BYrXwIQMFRBtZ7eXqDCtbZOTpsTZ36UguzkSx9VqVAq0DHaW5qprM7LM_GtD56Lco6h8U6Jc9-Kxi7DZBwsSooXxO5wgEnZxA/s1600/APieceOfHeaven_w5175_120.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhikjYQMd09YzqDkptD41oE4NMuYgHwFlVMxEjOsiWM_BYrXwIQMFRBtZ7eXqDCtbZOTpsTZ36UguzkSx9VqVAq0DHaW5qprM7LM_GtD56Lco6h8U6Jc9-Kxi7DZBwsSooXxO5wgEnZxA/s1600/APieceOfHeaven_w5175_120.jpg" height="200" width="121" /></a><i>A Piece of Heaven</i><br />
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First we have Trina's story...<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Trina Wembly
dreamt of owning a Christian coffee house for years –a Godly place where people
could enjoy a good meal, and entertainment that wasn’t offensive. <i>A Piece of
Heaven </i>is that dream.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
Jared Larou, the construction foreman who helps design and build the
coffee house, is a wounded soul with a soft heart. </div>
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Once the coffee house opens, Trina and her partner, Laura, work day and
night. From coffee in the morning, to gourmet dinners in the evenings, it’s a
heavy load. Plus Trina performs most nights as the entertainer at the coffee
house.</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
After working together and building her dream, Trina longs to be more than just friends with Jared, she just hopes
that’s what God wants for her too.</div>
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Here's a peek:<br />
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<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Trina was on the raised platform in the corner.</span></i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Jared glanced around.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Most of the tables were occupied. Must
have been a good night, so far. Hopefully they’d had some downtime earlier in
the day.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">His gaze was drawn back to Trina as she
plucked on her guitar. Seated on a stool, legs crossed, her green skirt covered
all but her ankles. Long brown hair coiled in a thick braid was draped over one
shoulder.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">He’d love to run his fingers through it
and see how soft it was as he unbraided the length. He sighed. He’d love to
just sit with her and hold her hand, hold her as they talked about life.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">She was so vibrant, so alive. Her eyes
glowed with an inner fire as they roamed from one listener to another around
the room. Her foot swung gently with the rhythm of the tune while the other
rested on the bottom rung of the stool. Her fingers caressed the mahogany
instrument in her lap, plucking out a warm, deep sound. Then she started to
sing.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Words from what used to be one of his
favorite hymns poured over him. Jared swallowed hard.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Trina glanced from person to person,
seeming to connect with each one—until she looked up.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Jared was stunned. He couldn’t move his
lips to form a smile. His heart was being shredded. Their gazes locked as the
words of the song continued to tumble from her mouth, words that sent a crack
along the walls protecting his heart, blocking out the God he had loved and
trusted.</span></i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<o:p>Links:</o:p></div>
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<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
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<o:p><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Piece-Heaven-Donna-B-Snow-ebook/dp/B00D39OSWG/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1409708090&sr=1-1&keywords=a+piece+of+heaven+donna+b+snow">http://www.amazon.com/Piece-Heaven-Donna-B-Snow-ebook/dp/B00D39OSWG/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1409708090&sr=1-1&keywords=a+piece+of+heaven+donna+b+snow</a></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<a href="http://www.pelicanbookgroup.com/ec/a-piece-of-heaven" style="background-color: white; color: #33aaff; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20.7900009155273px;">http://www.pelicanbookgroup.com/ec/a-piece-of-heaven</a><br />
<br />
...and now there's Laura's story...<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyXlBGtn6p9Bkvu4tl27VqNSj5Jxemei-1PMFYsCIpr-R2UwJ6ZywRJUJCmH4AXtWhrYFw2D6fJEBfFn5smSqAtuOa4xjYRS_vUZlmrqvDmU64P1btAO3BJHwD_hMKWFSPwk4akJAE5Kg/s1600/PreciousEmbrace_w11647_120.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyXlBGtn6p9Bkvu4tl27VqNSj5Jxemei-1PMFYsCIpr-R2UwJ6ZywRJUJCmH4AXtWhrYFw2D6fJEBfFn5smSqAtuOa4xjYRS_vUZlmrqvDmU64P1btAO3BJHwD_hMKWFSPwk4akJAE5Kg/s1600/PreciousEmbrace_w11647_120.jpg" height="200" width="133" /></a><i>Precious Embrace</i><br />
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyXlBGtn6p9Bkvu4tl27VqNSj5Jxemei-1PMFYsCIpr-R2UwJ6ZywRJUJCmH4AXtWhrYFw2D6fJEBfFn5smSqAtuOa4xjYRS_vUZlmrqvDmU64P1btAO3BJHwD_hMKWFSPwk4akJAE5Kg/s1600/PreciousEmbrace_w11647_120.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a>Laura Senton has found peace and happiness, knowing she’s right where she belongs, running her own kitchen at A Piece of Heaven, a Christian coffee house in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Pingree</st1:city>, <st1:state w:st="on">MD.</st1:state></st1:place> Being partners with her dear friend, Trina, she has carved out a niche and counts her blessings daily for being able to do something she loves doing. When the sins of her past are brought to mind by the appearance of Sean Laylor, her teenage crush, Laura tries to hide from Sean, as well as her own feelings.</div>
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At first not recognizing Laura because she changed so much, Sean is at a loss as to why she tries to avoid him. He has no idea of what Laura went through years ago, or how she felt toward him, but he still feels a share of the guilt for her past once he learns some of the choices she made.</div>
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Both covet the memories of their time together, but sins of the past can be a tough hurdle to get over.</div>
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Excerpt:</div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Orders trickled to a stop
over the next half hour.</span></i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Wow. So much for a quick
and easy clean up. Laura wanted nothing more than to put her feet up on </span></i><i><span style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">a chair and relax. She
pulled her apron off, hung it onthe back of the door, and stepped out into the restaurant.</span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Trina wasn’t playing—must
be on her last break.</span></i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Laura grabbed a mug and
stepped over to the latte machine. She looked over the crowd.Lise was just
clearing off a small table by the wall.</span></i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">The seat was Laura’s
favorite. Maybe because she Jared had proposed to Trina there. Or maybe
because it had a good view of the stage but was out of the way.</span></i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">"Excuse me. Could I
get a cup of coffee? The other waitresses look pretty busy."</span></i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">"Sure, I’ll..."
She lifted her gaze past the broad chest and shoulders to a neatly trimmed
beard andstartling blue eyes. Eyes she would know anywhere.</span></i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">She swallowed hard.
"Sean?" Her first crush.</span></i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">"Sorry, do I know
you?"</span></i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">No, he wouldn’t know the
blonde, curly hair, or the body that was half the size it used to be. She
shook her head. </span></i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">"Sorry, I thought you
were someone else. I’ll get your waitress for you. What table are
you—"</span></i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">He touched her arm.
"You look vaguely familiar. Are you sure we don’t know each
other?"</span></i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Of course, he had no idea.
But she knew him. Sean Laylor, high school quarterback, team captain
senior year...why would he remember the fat girl with glasses and
long, stringy hair who tutored him to get his English grade up so he could
stay on the team and get into college?</span></i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">She snapped back to the
present. "Let me get your waitress for you."</span></i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Buy Links:</div>
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<i><a href="http://pelicanbookgroup.com/ec/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=68_31_45&products_id=573">http://pelicanbookgroup.com/ec/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=68_31_45&products_id=573</a></i></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Precious-Embrace-Donna-B-Snow-ebook/dp/B00L4NTCOC/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1403311755&sr=8-1&keywords=precious+embrace+donna+b+snow">http://www.amazon.com/Precious-Embrace-Donna-B-Snow-ebook/dp/B00L4NTCOC/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1403311755&sr=8-1&keywords=precious+embrace+donna+b+snow</a><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTy1eB-hH4gLxRMHOZMvY7fxIrF5eaBBfpBoZOQl0n1Gag7MGFmxNPBFJrXIYFe122AI4WGkt_MRyewxobxSlXNAJgPkmL_d8zInzO3oWujRZRlweR5mKK2k3Q5svtLDk-U28gS8Bf5Cg/s1600/author+pic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTy1eB-hH4gLxRMHOZMvY7fxIrF5eaBBfpBoZOQl0n1Gag7MGFmxNPBFJrXIYFe122AI4WGkt_MRyewxobxSlXNAJgPkmL_d8zInzO3oWujRZRlweR5mKK2k3Q5svtLDk-U28gS8Bf5Cg/s1600/author+pic.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">I was
born and raised in <st1:place w:st="on">New England</st1:place> and although
I've seen much of the country, this is the area I will always call home. I
love the change of seasons and the beauty each one brings. There is no place
quite like it.</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">I've been married over 20 years and we have one teenage daughter
who is currently attending college. </span></b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">I am an active member in my church, a member of the worship band,
and I write not just stories, but music as well. Maybe one day you’ll
hear some of them!</span></b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-629870306650238162.post-43428881960449126302014-08-02T23:07:00.000-04:002014-08-02T23:07:00.875-04:00Day 7 with Pam Thibodeaux - Choices<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieyhGlNrRFjc2REIX5t8IVxRE9JJ1jy97a77vagk8OytBqfn47oWNJUmoRIzT2ipmlc0q8RWLR0syfJvpD1sZniEbsL4pg8zWGORzWM8m8kbPRWmRQls25GWYhcaYu_SDJj9INbNYY0fA/s1600/Choices.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieyhGlNrRFjc2REIX5t8IVxRE9JJ1jy97a77vagk8OytBqfn47oWNJUmoRIzT2ipmlc0q8RWLR0syfJvpD1sZniEbsL4pg8zWGORzWM8m8kbPRWmRQls25GWYhcaYu_SDJj9INbNYY0fA/s1600/Choices.jpg" /></a></div>
I thought this title was rather appropriate for the last day of having Pam on my blog. I had a choice to make - which book to feature, which story did I enjoy most of the ones left to choose from.<br />
<br />
Well, obviously, as you can see, I chose <i>Choices.</i> You see, we all have choices to make in our lives, some small, some big, but even the smallest choice we make can redirect our path in life - sometimes for the better, sometimes not. That's where God comes in. He will guide us in our choices if we choose to follow Him, he will redirect our path to draw us closer to Him if we stray, and although He won't make our choices for us, He will certainly help us know the best choices we can make, what His will is for us. So I pray you choose well in all you do and keep God in the forefront of every choice you make!<br />
<br />
I hope you've enjoyed this week with Pam. if you'd like to see more about her work, all of her links are below.<br />
<br />
I hope you enjoy this peek of <i>Choices</i>, a story after my own heart and my dream of a career in music<i>.</i><br />
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<b>Blurb: </b>Best-selling
novelist and songwriter, Camie Rogers has penned numerous accounts of the
secret love she holds in her heart. Country-Music Superstar Kip Allen has
changed from the shy, humble boy, to the epitome of “star.” Can the two
rediscover each other after one night of his Home is where the Heart is Tour?<b><o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<b>Excerpt: </b></div>
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<i>Too soon, the concert was over,
and security officers rushed her backstage. Waiting in the shadows apart from
the throng of frenzied fans vying for autographs and pictures, she watched with
concern as Kip raked his fingers through his hair. He heaved a tired sigh,
insisted on no more autographs, and then headed for his dressing room.</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<span lang="X-NONE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><i>Camie
stepped forward, "Just one more autograph?" Kip turned at her soft
request. His eyes lit with recognition, and he gave her an unreserved smile.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span lang="X-NONE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<i>"Camie!" He enfolded her in a big hug. "What are you doing
back here?"</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>A flush warmed her skin at the velvety-roughness of his voice. "I
won the prize package from the radio station. You know: Front row seat,
backstage pass, autographed C.D., etcetera, etcetera, etcetera." Her heart
raced at his nearness, her body trembled in his strong embrace. Feeling way too
comfortable in his arms, she disentangled herself and took a step back. </i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i> He grinned. "Great. You look
good."</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>Her heart skipped a beat. "So do you." Electricity sizzled
between them. </i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>Always had. </i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>Even in high school. </i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>Theirs had been a subtle romance, underscored by sensual currents that
hummed whenever their eyes met or they ventured into a conversation, both too
shy to take the relationship further.</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>"What ever happened to us?"
She wondered aloud, finding it difficult to speak past her heart
hammering in her throat. "I still get all tongue-tied when you're
near." He smiled, that lazy, heart-stopping grin that drove females from
age five to fifty into a frenzy. </i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i> "You do?" he queried,
pulling her closer once more.</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>The husky softness of his voice sent delicious shivers down her spine,
and she choked on a yes.</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>"Me too." He stroked her cheek. </i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>Her senses swirled at the tender touch. She placed her hand over his and
gazed into his sea-green eyes. Whether a moment, an eternity, or the simple
span of a heartbeat passed, she wasn’t sure, but she relished the encounter. He
dropped his hand from her face and broke eye contact. </i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>"I don't know what happened. I wanted to roam, you wanted a home."
He chuckled at the corny rhyme.
"Sounds like the makings of a hit."</i></div>
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<b>Purchase Links:<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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Pelican Book
Group <a href="http://pelink.us/13N5j5g">http://pelink.us/13N5j5g</a></div>
<br />
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Kindle <a href="http://amzn.to/15Iyny0">http://amzn.to/15Iyny0</a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoTlxR_2WjCCks141eo1ZyJOCuY_2yw5zRuIddzyfvVILXT0FxAsIJMiZwbFuxU6aw-_eLAVP_V6w_rgpI4IHF9dcr5RPt8HJUBdBgMKxZksQ8mLDS2B5jNfGjAwp3mIWH9hDHfA-nkS4/s1600/Author+Pic+-+Pam+T..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoTlxR_2WjCCks141eo1ZyJOCuY_2yw5zRuIddzyfvVILXT0FxAsIJMiZwbFuxU6aw-_eLAVP_V6w_rgpI4IHF9dcr5RPt8HJUBdBgMKxZksQ8mLDS2B5jNfGjAwp3mIWH9hDHfA-nkS4/s1600/Author+Pic+-+Pam+T..jpg" /></a></div>
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<b>Author bio:</b> Award-winning author,
Pamela S. Thibodeaux is the Co-Founder and a lifetime member of Bayou Writers
Group in Lake Charles, Louisiana. Multi-published in romantic fiction as well
as creative non-fiction, her writing has been tagged as, <i>“Inspirational with
an Edge!”</i> ™ and reviewed as <i>“steamier
and grittier than the typical Christian novel <b>without</b> decreasing the message.”</i> </div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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For more about the author and all of her stories:</div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>Links:<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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Website
address: <a href="http://www.pamelathibodeaux.com/">http://www.pamelathibodeaux.com</a> </div>
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Blog: <a href="http://pamswildroseblog.blogspot.com/">http://pamswildroseblog.blogspot.com</a>
</div>
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Face Book: <a href="http://facebook.com/pamelasthibodeaux">http://facebook.com/pamelasthibodeaux</a></div>
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</div>
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Twitter: <a href="http://twitter.com/psthib">http://twitter.com/psthib</a> @psthib</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-629870306650238162.post-53286838670028714432014-08-01T23:30:00.000-04:002014-08-01T23:30:00.388-04:00Day 6 with Pam Thibodeaux - In His SightWow, Pam, I can't believe we've actually talked to each other every day for SIX DAYS IN A ROW!!!! Man it's been a long time since that happened! I suspect that writers who meet at their beginnings are likely to hold a special place in each other's hearts forever. And I must admit, Pam is like a long, lost sister to me. Isn't it amazing the connection you feel with certain people from the first time you meet?<br />
<br />
Ok, yesterday was my favorite "Pam story", but this one is my second favorite...just a novella, but packed with emotion! Today I'm spotlighting <i>In His Sight</i>. Love this story! If you only have a little time, this one's for you!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9O2zrr5PnlrYQ5FlI7s4RHwlMAQWR8yIH0TGMTdS8d4SqVy3RlZIJZ19Q21N3qKNweeq34skHLoyHfQ8-_HzvdVr7f53fVhFUtscF1EIhwpvX0wvpnr4ItbQUWqRreKvu_fNTvzq3CSg/s1600/In+His+Sight+Cover.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9O2zrr5PnlrYQ5FlI7s4RHwlMAQWR8yIH0TGMTdS8d4SqVy3RlZIJZ19Q21N3qKNweeq34skHLoyHfQ8-_HzvdVr7f53fVhFUtscF1EIhwpvX0wvpnr4ItbQUWqRreKvu_fNTvzq3CSg/s1600/In+His+Sight+Cover.png" /></a><b>Blurb: </b>Grade school teacher Carson
Alexander has a gift—a gift that has driven a wedge between him and his family.
Worse, it’s put him at odds with God. Feeling alone and misunderstood, Carson
views God’s gift of prophecy as the worst kind of curse…that is until he meets
Lorelei Conner, landscape artist extraordinaire, and perhaps the one person who
may need Carson and his gift more than anyone ever has. <br />
<br />
Lorelei Connor is a mother on the run. Her abusive ex-husband has followed her
all over the country trying to steal their daughter. Distrusting of men and
needing to keep on the move, she’s surprised by her desire to remain close to
Carson Alexander. Through her fear and hesitation, she must learn to rely on
God to guide her—not an easy task when He’s prompting her to trust a man.<br />
<br />
Can their relationship withstand the tragedy lurking on the horizon?</div>
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<br /></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
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<b>Excerpt:</b> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Carson
Alexander walked through his classroom and tugged desks into a semi circle
around the dry eraser board. One thing he loved about teaching sixth-grade
English at <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Stars</st1:placename> <st1:placename w:st="on">Crossing</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Middle School</st1:placetype></st1:place>
was that the classes were so small. With no more than fifteen students at a
time he could work closely with each one and give them the attention they
needed and deserved. Another thing he appreciated was the lack of standard or
strict curriculum. As long as the children passed the exams set forth by the
Department of Education, he could teach as he pleased. </i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>So far, his kids excelled, maintaining some of the highest
scores in the entire school. Pride filled his soul and caused his heart to
swell, chest to puff out. </i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Pride cometh before
the fall. </i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>The Voice echoed in his mind, ricocheted through his soul.
He shrugged off the warning, walked to his desk and picked up the name tags for
each incoming student. He thumbed through the stack, pondered each one and
wondered about the child attached to the name….Jenny & Jerry Smith – twins
or un-related? One name struck him hard, sent unnamed emotion curling through
his system – Laurel Connor. </i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>He hadn’t heard the name Laurel in years and then, used only
as a surname or when referring to the small town in Mississippi from whence he
came. He moved to Stars Crossing, <st1:state w:st="on">Tennessee</st1:state>
five years ago for two reasons. One, the teaching position and two, the town
though smaller, reminded him of home. </i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Memories crashed through the floodgates he’d built around
his heart…..the huge two-story house and two-hundred acre farm where he grew
up. His seven siblings, parents who adored him – their eldest son, and the pain
of losing everything he held near and dear to his heart. </i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Tears threatened. His vision blurred, hands began to shake. <st1:city w:st="on">Carson</st1:city> swallowed the lump
in his throat, put the stack down, and shoved his hands into the front pockets
of his slacks. Adrenaline pumped through him, caused his pulse to skitter and
jump. Saliva pooled in his mouth. By sheer force he willed his emotions under
control. The bell rang and he turned to greet the children who rushed into the
room. He watched as one-by-one they filed in and took a seat. </i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Purchase Links:<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Kindle <a href="http://amzn.to/13fXu88">http://amzn.to/13fXu88</a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Pelican Book
Group <a href="http://pelink.us/18aucLC"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">http://pelink.us/18aucLC</span></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4Cb7R_zWSjxg8vKbdQsanlQPPzcstbiwqli8aNsWoJKiuFsQXXaPfEYuDXWoOOfqoiUU-wXsYr7NVu91xtjVbcjzo3eQgXvpy-42xZjlcNsu8e5umMPIrmoWL6bwtzbaDxoQ5y3gIf5c/s1600/Author+Pic+-+Pam+T..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4Cb7R_zWSjxg8vKbdQsanlQPPzcstbiwqli8aNsWoJKiuFsQXXaPfEYuDXWoOOfqoiUU-wXsYr7NVu91xtjVbcjzo3eQgXvpy-42xZjlcNsu8e5umMPIrmoWL6bwtzbaDxoQ5y3gIf5c/s1600/Author+Pic+-+Pam+T..jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Author bio:</b> Award-winning author,
Pamela S. Thibodeaux is the Co-Founder and a lifetime member of Bayou Writers
Group in Lake Charles, Louisiana. Multi-published in romantic fiction as well
as creative non-fiction, her writing has been tagged as, <i>“Inspirational with
an Edge!”</i> ™ and reviewed as <i>“steamier
and grittier than the typical Christian novel <b>without</b> decreasing the message.”</i> </div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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Where to reach the author:</div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>Links:<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Website
address: <a href="http://www.pamelathibodeaux.com/">http://www.pamelathibodeaux.com</a> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Blog: <a href="http://pamswildroseblog.blogspot.com/">http://pamswildroseblog.blogspot.com</a>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Face Book: <a href="http://facebook.com/pamelasthibodeaux">http://facebook.com/pamelasthibodeaux</a></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Twitter: <a href="http://twitter.com/psthib">http://twitter.com/psthib</a> @psthib</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-629870306650238162.post-5164789341946727222014-07-31T23:00:00.000-04:002014-07-31T23:00:03.819-04:00Day 5 with Pam Thibodeaux - Cathy's Angel<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Welcome back for Day 5 with Pam Thibodeaux. Wow, Pam, I hadn't realized just how many stories you really have! What an eye opener as I pick and choose what to spotlight next!</div>
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<br /></div>
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Well, today I chose Cathy's Angel. This is such a sweet story!</div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbelCWG6IZBVALrMoBdNwJ6DOE-5iOYIaBJM-9k08dvYaDnyTYHkKMle116SO7NeI2j6_l2q4nCccmL5wVReGAXX28kZ2NmXwdYWZUYiH8MC7gWMTZRbUW8wA2rd8nVe2c_iGHNm3JQdU/s1600/Cathy's+Angel+cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbelCWG6IZBVALrMoBdNwJ6DOE-5iOYIaBJM-9k08dvYaDnyTYHkKMle116SO7NeI2j6_l2q4nCccmL5wVReGAXX28kZ2NmXwdYWZUYiH8MC7gWMTZRbUW8wA2rd8nVe2c_iGHNm3JQdU/s1600/Cathy's+Angel+cover.jpg" /></a><b>Blurb: </b>Single mom Cathy Johnson is
tired of running her life alone…what she needs is a well-trained angel to help
out. Jared Savoy gave up the dream of having a family when he discovered he is
sterile. Can a confirmed bachelor and the mother of four find love amid normal
daily chaos?<b><o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>Excerpt: </b></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>Cathy ignored the shivers of
delight that curled up her spine at the sound of his velvety-rough voice and
glared at him for the second time that day. Nice voice, dumb question. Unless
he was blind, he could see the tears on her face. She swiped at them. "No,
I'm not all right. I twisted my ankle and it’s all your fault." She dropped
the blame squarely at his feet.</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>He halted his movements. "Me? What'd I do? I don't even know you, Lady."</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<i>"You interrupted my quiet time."</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>"Well excuse me for living and breathing." He glared down at
her. The gold flames of fury sparking his dark eyes demanded that she not
interrupt his tirade. Still, she jerked up her chin a notch, and narrowed her
gaze, but bit her tongue. </i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<i>"I happen to be new to this neighborhood and haven't </i><i style="text-indent: 0.5in;">run across any
signs informing me to 'stay out of Ms…' what's your name?"</i></div>
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<i style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<i>"Cathy."</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>"Ms. Cathy's quiet time." </i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<i>To Jared’s surprise and consternation, she burst into tears.</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>"I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I'm usually not so rude."</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>"Of course you’re not," he soothed. "PMS I’m sure,"
he remarked, patting her shoulder and feeling even more awkward. Women were
never his strong point. They were too emotional, and his analytical mind couldn’t
cope.</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>"I don't have time for PMS," she wailed, confirming his
opinion. "My oldest child is right now fixing breakfast for the other
three, and I've got to get home."</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>Okay Lord, he thought with a sigh, you leave me no choice but to play the
Good Samaritan. Reaching down, he swung her up in his arms. She stiffened.</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>"Easy now, I'm not going to hurt you," he chided. "Where
do you live?"</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<i>“Two blocks down, first house on the right," she muttered. Unable to
resist the comfort his broad shoulder offered, Cathy buried her head in it and
sobbed. "I try to be strong, to take care of everything and
everyone," she mumbled. “And I’m so tired of doing it all.”</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<i>"No one can do it all."</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<i>"I have no choice!" </i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<i>She was hysterical, he decided, and he was at a complete loss as to what
to do about it. "Okay, okay," he soothed. "Take it easy. You won't
have to do it all today."</i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Purchase Links:<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Kindle <a href="http://amzn.to/11IpGCV">http://amzn.to/11IpGCV</a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Pelican Book
Group <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><a href="http://pelink.us/15avEtm">http://pelink.us/15avEtm</a></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxREQmShpvonxM9PN6Zh94wZV6z4TR3zqLhjPEo7fHrksyy5_cvI57sJ-ICRKfJ4j02LAbMzWHYbokvVXwIRO1hd-Jwji2GLMBVN_S236AjvtUnKrwDDjiKVi-PIus3hZHiykjMaesbUo/s1600/Author+Pic+-+Pam+T..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxREQmShpvonxM9PN6Zh94wZV6z4TR3zqLhjPEo7fHrksyy5_cvI57sJ-ICRKfJ4j02LAbMzWHYbokvVXwIRO1hd-Jwji2GLMBVN_S236AjvtUnKrwDDjiKVi-PIus3hZHiykjMaesbUo/s1600/Author+Pic+-+Pam+T..jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Author bio:</b> Award-winning author,
Pamela S. Thibodeaux is the Co-Founder and a lifetime member of Bayou Writers
Group in Lake Charles, Louisiana. Multi-published in romantic fiction as well
as creative non-fiction, her writing has been tagged as, <i>“Inspirational with
an Edge!”</i> ™ and reviewed as <i>“steamier
and grittier than the typical Christian novel <b>without</b> decreasing the message.”</i> </div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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For more about Pam:</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Links:<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Website
address: <a href="http://www.pamelathibodeaux.com/">http://www.pamelathibodeaux.com</a> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Blog: <a href="http://pamswildroseblog.blogspot.com/">http://pamswildroseblog.blogspot.com</a>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Face Book: <a href="http://facebook.com/pamelasthibodeaux">http://facebook.com/pamelasthibodeaux</a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Twitter: <a href="http://twitter.com/psthib">http://twitter.com/psthib</a> @psthib</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-629870306650238162.post-26774728952814311792014-07-30T23:00:00.000-04:002014-07-30T23:00:03.038-04:00Pam Thibodeaux - Day 4 - The Visionary<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Well, happy Wednesday Pam! I'm really enjoying revisiting your stories!</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
You see, Pam and I go back to my very beginnings as a writer (not really so many years ago). I would have to say she is one of the most influential, helpful writers I know. And I do know quite a few! As a matter of fact we were critique partners for a while, so I had glimpses into many of these stories before they were ever published. </div>
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<br /></div>
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This next story has been one of my favorites from the start, although it took her a while to get it published. Needless to say, I was thrilled when she told me it was being released. So, take a look and let me know what you think.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Today's preview is <i>The Visionary. </i>And this story is the perfect example of why her writing is tagged as <i>Inspiration with an edge!</i> Not your usual inspirational story...exceptional, I love it!</div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0f6IbCkNfQ7nrnwYr4QWxbGoz-26G48-ZI_5JnHMQ-sZr6p_3Z8bHho_yWJ6DYMaZWCZI2hkJyy08Gdg8Pz6OM3ANZvo0F7XIwUwKMw1MY1x1huquiCmz9lEqogFAIwLJDYMQGau-gf4/s1600/The+Visionary+Cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0f6IbCkNfQ7nrnwYr4QWxbGoz-26G48-ZI_5JnHMQ-sZr6p_3Z8bHho_yWJ6DYMaZWCZI2hkJyy08Gdg8Pz6OM3ANZvo0F7XIwUwKMw1MY1x1huquiCmz9lEqogFAIwLJDYMQGau-gf4/s1600/The+Visionary+Cover.jpg" /></a></div>
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<b>Blurb: </b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">A visionary is someone who sees into the future Taylor
Forrestier sees into the past but only as it pertains to her work. Hailed by
her peers as <b><i>“a visionary with an instinct for beauty and an eye for the
unique”</i></b> Taylor is undoubtedly a brilliant architect and gifted
designer. But she and twin brother Trevor, share more than a successful
business. The two share a childhood wrought with lies and deceit and the kind
of abuse that’s disturbingly prevalent in today’s society. Can the love of God and the awesome healing
power of His grace and mercy free the twins from their past and open their
hearts to the good plan and the future He has for their lives?</span><b><o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Excerpt: </b></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>“Thank you for taking such good care of me.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<i>“I’m not through yet,” he mumbled,
then slid off the couch and swung her up in his arms.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<i>Fear snuck in, darkening her eyes.
She stiffened and opened her mouth to protest. He brushed his lips over hers
and silenced her objections.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>“I just want to hold you,” he
whispered and laid his forehead against hers. “That’s all. I promise,” he
added, unable to camouflage the need in his voice.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>***<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>He’d offered her another step to
relinquish her fear and trust him. Triumph lit his expressive eyes when she
wrapped her arm around his neck, smiled, and whispered, “Okay,” then snuggled
her face against his shoulder and let him carry her to the bedroom.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>With exquisite tenderness, he laid
her on the bed, crawled up beside her, and took her in his arms. Taylor felt
the strength of his need in the heat and tensed against the hardness of his
body. He eased his grip and propped up on one elbow beside her. His eyes
pleaded for grace when he stroked the hair off her face and said in a soft,
husky voice, “Please don’t be afraid of me; please trust me. I will never force
or even persuade you to give more than you’re ready to.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>They gazed at each other for a long,
tender moment. She cupped his cheek in her hand, brushed her thumb over his
mouth, then curled her fingers in his hair and urged his head down to fasten
her lips to his. A low moan escaped his throat, yet he held himself taut.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>Taylor ran her hand over his
shoulder and back in a soft caress then wrapped her arms around his waist.
“Hold me, Alex, I trust you.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>The emotions reflected in his tone
caressed her heart when he thanked her in that beautiful velvety-rough voice.
He rolled onto his back, pulled the covers over her, and held her while she
slept.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>Purchase Links:<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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Amazon
Print: <a href="http://amzn.to/1fZ0bV3"><b>http://amzn.to/1fZ0bV3</b></a></div>
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Kindle <a href="http://amzn.to/1fZ0bV3"><b>http://amzn.to/1fZ0bV3</b></a><b><u><span style="color: #3b4752; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;"><o:p></o:p></span></u></b></div>
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Print @Create
Space:<b><u><span style="color: #3b4752;"> </span></u></b><a href="http://bit.ly/1lNvyWD"><b>http://bit.ly/1lNvyWD</b></a><b><u><span style="color: #3b4752; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;"> </span></u></b> <span style="font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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B&N
Print:<b><u><span style="color: #3b4752; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;"> </span></u></b><a href="http://bit.ly/1h9Yhlw"><b>http://bit.ly/1h9Yhlw</b></a></div>
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Nook <a href="http://bit.ly/1h9Yhlw"><b>http://bit.ly/1h9Yhlw</b></a></div>
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Smashwords <a href="http://bit.ly/167J9So">http://bit.ly/167J9So</a></div>
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</div>
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Deeper
Shopping <a href="http://bit.ly/19lw1Kc"><b>http://bit.ly/19lw1Kc</b></a><b>
</b><span style="color: #3b4752; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"> </span></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbx4Jqn3ISAKM1QWC_cbd236RJbzvR0vxWzK1A71Xs0-VJ9_tkkJ31So2zqOJNTRaP7V6xRD1ay6jnizPkzEj3_LjynWwGjZIkcfQ-w7w-sGdQ-1bpkr8XvGrPAs3-rOi9UiRpkJVnM2k/s1600/Author+Pic+-+Pam+T..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbx4Jqn3ISAKM1QWC_cbd236RJbzvR0vxWzK1A71Xs0-VJ9_tkkJ31So2zqOJNTRaP7V6xRD1ay6jnizPkzEj3_LjynWwGjZIkcfQ-w7w-sGdQ-1bpkr8XvGrPAs3-rOi9UiRpkJVnM2k/s1600/Author+Pic+-+Pam+T..jpg" /></a><b>Author bio:</b> Award-winning author,
Pamela S. Thibodeaux is the Co-Founder and a lifetime member of Bayou Writers
Group in Lake Charles, Louisiana. Multi-published in romantic fiction as well
as creative non-fiction, her writing has been tagged as, <i>“Inspirational with
an Edge!”</i> ™ and reviewed as <i>“steamier
and grittier than the typical Christian novel <b>without</b> decreasing the message.”</i> </div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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For more about the author:</div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>Links:<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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Website
address: <a href="http://www.pamelathibodeaux.com/">http://www.pamelathibodeaux.com</a> </div>
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Blog: <a href="http://pamswildroseblog.blogspot.com/">http://pamswildroseblog.blogspot.com</a>
</div>
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Face Book: <a href="http://facebook.com/pamelasthibodeaux">http://facebook.com/pamelasthibodeaux</a></div>
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</div>
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Twitter: <a href="http://twitter.com/psthib">http://twitter.com/psthib</a> @psthib</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-629870306650238162.post-15653156324379993842014-07-29T23:04:00.000-04:002014-07-29T23:04:00.190-04:00Day 3 with Pam Thibodeaux - Lori's Redemption<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYLmMtdmBhuOL09t8kh75LL9DaOTrCrlRA3wKXw4hervE2kwR8qrJw9Crb3DCbszNIkosGYg2ckJ1Qoa4_XRidt2XM2_5lOnS1NWo4JzsdaFcsbKeAj6KpguudlfbkkpN59Hs6mY29q8Q/s1600/Lori's+Redemption.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYLmMtdmBhuOL09t8kh75LL9DaOTrCrlRA3wKXw4hervE2kwR8qrJw9Crb3DCbszNIkosGYg2ckJ1Qoa4_XRidt2XM2_5lOnS1NWo4JzsdaFcsbKeAj6KpguudlfbkkpN59Hs6mY29q8Q/s1600/Lori's+Redemption.jpg" /></a>Welcome back, Pam! Well, I see that after the four stories in the Tempered Series you weren't quite done with them. I get that. It's like leaving your family behind when you move on to a new batch of characters, but I must admit that this one was actually my favorite of the bunch, so I'm glad you didn't just move on!</div>
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Here's a peek at Lori's Redemption. I think we can all see a little of ourselves in these characters - some fallen heroes, fallen angels, or just those seeking but not knowing what! This one is all heart. From the peak to the pit - definitely a tough road to travel!</div>
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<b>Blurb: </b><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Lori Strickland (introduced in <i>Tempered Fire</i>) has always been known as her father's "wild
child" with no desire to change until she meets
ex-bull-rider-turned-preacher Rafe Judson. Her attempts to change her wanton
ways come to naught until she realizes redemption only comes with true
repentance. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>Excerpt:</b></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
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<i>Lori
headed toward Recluse, Wyoming after another round of rodeos where the cash and
prizes vaulted her to the next level of achievement. She hadn’t thought of Rafe
in months. Hadn’t allowed herself to think of him, and wouldn’t indulge in
useless fantasies now. </i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
<br />
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<i>She’d
made peace with the fact she was nothing more than a bad seed and there was no
way around it. Oh she tried to be good. She stayed out of the bars for weeks on
end, attended the prayer services before or after each rodeo when available,
even visited with a group of supposedly devout believers who traveled a
state-wide circuit within the national itinerary, but nothing seemed to help or
make an impact on her life. Nor had she found the support she’d hoped, only
judgment and criticism. Answers to her questions only incited debates until she
was scorned for her doubt and unbelief or shunned completely. Maverick was
right when he said there was no in between and since she couldn’t succeed at
being good, Lori figured she’d be bad. </i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i>Just
as she had all of her life. </i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>More
than once she thought about calling Stanley or Amber or even Lexie for counsel,
but was too ashamed to admit the total mess her life was in. She even
considered quitting. Just give up and go home. But she was too close to making
pro status, too close to the culmination of the dream that began in her heart
nearly four years ago. </i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i>A
dream she once thought came as a directive from God.</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i>Now,
she knew better.</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>God
didn’t give success to losers; the devil lured them into it then left them to
their own devices no matter how hard they tried to be good. Besides, even at
her best, there was no way she’d ever
be good enough for a preacher.</i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>Purchase Links:<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Kindle <a href="http://amzn.to/195l5Ay">http://amzn.to/195l5Ay</a><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Nook <a href="http://bit.ly/16bn7Jn">http://bit.ly/16bn7Jn</a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Smashwords <a href="http://bit.ly/1a1Mm6q">http://bit.ly/1a1Mm6q</a></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Deeper
Shopping <a href="http://bit.ly/14Hm4Cs"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">http://bit.ly/14Hm4Cs</span></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMpc8K0SoxDPXlGXz8m3D_lSUXFW1mA_SKlAzyksLlvTeB19hFRXUqn_yUdcB1AQSvkS87hyphenhyphenpEGiRVNMa8E90VG4uuekFWDMD_kqK1TfMTSSRL2rSzKEU2EwLo94YaI1tGfPyqQ6U8Zak/s1600/Author+Pic+-+Pam+T..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMpc8K0SoxDPXlGXz8m3D_lSUXFW1mA_SKlAzyksLlvTeB19hFRXUqn_yUdcB1AQSvkS87hyphenhyphenpEGiRVNMa8E90VG4uuekFWDMD_kqK1TfMTSSRL2rSzKEU2EwLo94YaI1tGfPyqQ6U8Zak/s1600/Author+Pic+-+Pam+T..jpg" /></a><b><br /></b></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
<b>Author bio:</b> Award-winning author,
Pamela S. Thibodeaux is the Co-Founder and a lifetime member of Bayou Writers
Group in Lake Charles, Louisiana. Multi-published in romantic fiction as well
as creative non-fiction, her writing has been tagged as, <i>“Inspirational with
an Edge!”</i> ™ and reviewed as <i>“steamier
and grittier than the typical Christian novel <b>without</b> decreasing the message.”</i> Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-629870306650238162.post-80757592223822186202014-07-28T17:00:00.000-04:002014-07-28T22:40:56.532-04:00Pam Thibodeaux - Day 2 - Tempered Series<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Welcome back to my week with Pam! Today we're going to check out the Tempered Series. I loved this series. She has a great touch with her heroes. They're not perfect, but they're definitely the kind of men you can count on when you really need them! And guess what...they're all cowboys!</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiihtcZHa7IkBLXw-9y2nfhYaGD8f3IDOUl_EVjL-S1Ztt3AsKYOo05HIyEKzLaDfGEOcCQ3zBvl9RYV5XLba3N5av7Ag7s8r0JiYkR5FtE957J1V8j0pnFG5zp79LpBmHt8EsVRG5txyg/s1600/Tempered+Hearts+cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiihtcZHa7IkBLXw-9y2nfhYaGD8f3IDOUl_EVjL-S1Ztt3AsKYOo05HIyEKzLaDfGEOcCQ3zBvl9RYV5XLba3N5av7Ag7s8r0JiYkR5FtE957J1V8j0pnFG5zp79LpBmHt8EsVRG5txyg/s1600/Tempered+Hearts+cover.jpg" height="200" width="128" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>Tempered Hearts</i> (book 1 in Tempered series)</div>
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<b>Blurb:</b> Rancher Craig Harris and
veterinarian Tamera Collins clash from the moment they meet. Innocence is pitted against arrogance as
tempers rise and passions ignite to form a love as pure as the finest gold,
fresh from the crucible and as strong as steel.
Thrown together amid tragedy and unsated passion, Tamera and Craig share
a strong attraction that neither accepts as the first stages of love. Torn between desire and dislike, they must
make peace with their pasts and God in order to open up to the love blossoming
between them. It is a love that nothing
can destroy when they come to understand that <b>only when hearts are tempered,
minds are opened and wills are softened can man discern the will of God for his
life.<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<b>Excerpt:</b><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>T</i><i>amera awoke in a mild state of panic and
confusion. Glancing around, she realized where she was and who was beside her.
A blush warmed her cheeks as she struggled to sit up. She released the filly
and fumbled with the front of her gown.</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>“I couldn’t sleep.” she explained, glancing into the steel
gray eyes. His gaze, soft and warm like liquid metal, made her blush harder as
he brushed strands of hay out of her hair with a gentleness that seemed out of
character.</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Craig knew he was treading on dangerous ground, that people
were expecting them, but couldn’t seem to get past the moment at hand. “I guess
a kiss is out of the question,” he queried, his voice tender, gaze unwavering.</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Emotions, raw and unfamiliar, shivered through her. Tamera
attempted to scoot away from him, emitted a shaky little laugh and tried to
quench the feelings escalating to frightening proportions. “A kiss? Why would
you want a kiss? I didn’t think you even liked me.” </i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>Craig wound his hand in her thick hair, stopping her
movements. “Like has nothing to do with desire,” he moaned and crushed her to
him as his mouth covered hers in a thorough kiss. “Absolutely nothing,” he
assured as she clung to his shirt and trembled in his arms.</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<b>Purchase Links:</b><b><span style="color: #3b4752; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;"> </span><o:p></o:p></b></div>
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Kindle<b> </b><b><a href="http://amzn.to/13V6uyI">http://amzn.to/13V6uyI</a></b><b> <o:p></o:p></b></div>
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Nook<b> </b><b><a href="http://bit.ly/19C6Q5q">http://bit.ly/19C6Q5q</a></b></div>
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Smashwords: <a href="http://bit.ly/16sLHL9">http://bit.ly/16sLHL9</a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhejP8imdoOFsVhuoyYd_Z97p60K_q5soO-LSogEwIHKp71i5HpIBNyAGAi-NavaZBVuaX-ma2O3bKwzO43GNJN5SOuAaNlOgojRDRMVwTo8_FiHVpws6KfmSYHd9DYh3bh17qclFUaa9I/s1600/(2)Tempered+Dreams+cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhejP8imdoOFsVhuoyYd_Z97p60K_q5soO-LSogEwIHKp71i5HpIBNyAGAi-NavaZBVuaX-ma2O3bKwzO43GNJN5SOuAaNlOgojRDRMVwTo8_FiHVpws6KfmSYHd9DYh3bh17qclFUaa9I/s1600/(2)Tempered+Dreams+cover.jpg" height="200" width="134" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>Tempered Dreams</i> (book 2 in Tempered series)</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>Blurb: </b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Dr. Scott Hensley (introduced in Tempered Hearts) has built
a wall around his heart since the death of his wife and parents. Katrina Simmons is recovering from scars
inflicted on her as a battered wife. Can
dreams be renewed and faith strengthened?
Can they find joy and peace in God’s love and in love for one
another? </span><b><o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Excerpt: </b></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><i>“Spend the day with me,” he urged. “We’ll go to my
place. I’ll take a short nap after which we’ll do whatever your little heart
desires.” <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><i>“Anything?” she teased.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><i>Her voice was as
enticing as silk and just as alluring. Her excitement set fire to his blood.
“Anything.” he assured in a thick voice. <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><i>His smoldering
gaze, as tender as a caress and just as potent, lowered to her lips, lingered,
then raked over her in a hungry gesture before returning to capture hers in a
heated embrace. Trina felt as though he was touching her in the most intimate
of ways. Her cheeks grew hot, her breath lodged in her throat. Desire washed
over her in angry waves. She swallowed hard and tucked trembling hands in her
lap, desperately trying to form a coherent sentence. “Please, Scott, don’t look
at me like that.” <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><i>He could
actually feel her trembling response across the table. His voice lowered
another notch. “Like what?”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><i>Trina shook her
head. “Like you’re starving to death and could eat me up. Didn’t you have
enough food?”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><i>Pushing his
plate away, Scott stood and held his hand out to her. Trina placed a trembling
one in his firm grip. Pulling her gently to her feet, Scott raised it to his mouth,
brushing his lips across her knuckles. “Food is not what I’m hungry for,” he
informed her in a husky whisper.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><i>Trina waited as
he paid for their meal then followed him to the parking lot as gracefully as
possible on legs that wobbled. He paused and in a silent gesture, signaled for
her to give him her car keys. His fingers brushed sensuously over her wrist and
palm, grasping hers gently when she placed them in his hand. <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyTextIndent">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><i>Locking his heated gaze with hers, Scott raised
their clasped hands to his lips, this time lingering over the kiss. He nibbled
on her knuckles, teasing the back of her hand with his mouth, then, in one
swift movement, turned his attention to the sensitive flesh of her palm and
wrist, relieving her of her keys and her senses.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><i>Trina felt the
caress to the very core of her being. She moaned, leaning against his hard
frame when he pulled her closer. His heat enveloped her until she burned with
him, for him. And his lips had never even touched hers.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Purchase Links:<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Kindle <a href="http://amzn.to/151vRiH"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">http://amzn.to/151vRiH</span></a></div>
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Nook <a href="http://bit.ly/1b1jrNu">http://bit.ly/1b1jrNu</a></div>
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Smashwords <a href="http://bit.ly/173ypSN">http://bit.ly/173ypSN</a></div>
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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirVTUczwujsJ-DeQW5cs3fvncTdDQd-dVUwJUvVAoHbOM94ir2sIp2Cd8ebM_oG-I2_M1K6f5d7o8SFpD4v3Bw2qs2VB22Er0PXM6YwwVMP8l20ZZ1PNiFXsSZnlaxey_GTgVsbb-qfrg/s1600/(3)+Tempered+Fire.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirVTUczwujsJ-DeQW5cs3fvncTdDQd-dVUwJUvVAoHbOM94ir2sIp2Cd8ebM_oG-I2_M1K6f5d7o8SFpD4v3Bw2qs2VB22Er0PXM6YwwVMP8l20ZZ1PNiFXsSZnlaxey_GTgVsbb-qfrg/s1600/(3)+Tempered+Fire.jpg" height="200" width="130" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>Tempered Fire</i> (book 3 in Tempered series)</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>Blurb: </b>Amber Harris is a good girl on
the brink of womanhood. Stanley Morrison is a young man at the start of his
life. For each other, they have always felt the fireworks that two people in
love should feel. But the questions about his past, his pride, and Amber's
father might be the end of what could be a strong relationship. As the two try
to protect their budding romance, some unlikely but powerful forces conspire to
keep them apart. Will they survive the wishes of everyone around them with
their relationship intact?<b><o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Excerpt: </b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><i>Emotion burst to life within
her and swarmed through Amber until it overflowed, warm and wet down her
cheeks.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><i>Stan
tasted her tears and groaned. Loosening his hold he broke the kiss, burying his
face against her shoulder. “God,” he mumbled, lifting his head to meet her
gaze. “I’m sorry.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><i>She
looked at him wide-eyed and trembling. Anger, desire, and wonder warred in her
eyes. She rolled them in an exaggerated gesture. “Now, he apologizes,” she
muttered then leveled her gaze on him. <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><i>“Why
haven’t you kissed me like that before?”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><i>His
breath heaved while he struggled for control. “Didn’t think it was proper,
still don’t.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><i>“So
that’s what you meant by all lips and teeth and tongue?” she asked, her voice
quivering with awe.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><i>He
stepped back, touching her cheek with his uninjured hand. “Yes.” His voice was
raw, eyes fierce. “But not with anger, never with anger. I’m sorry.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><i>Grabbing
his hand, she pressed a kiss into it. “Show me,” she urged her eyes soft and
warm. “Kiss me again, Stanley.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><i>“No,
Amber.” But she was pressing against him, her arms sliding around his neck.
Senses dulled by fatigue, resistance clouded by pain, control ravished and
weakened by desire, Stanley succumbed with a groan. Hauling her gently but
firmly against him, he buried his lips on hers, this time with devastating
tenderness.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><i>His
mouth embraced hers tasting, teasing, savoring her lips as though he were a
starving man biting into his first meal in weeks. His teeth nipped at her lip,
tugging a moan from deep within her. Amber clung to him weakly as they slid to
the floor.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Purchase Links:<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Kindle <a href="http://amzn.to/18Zptxm"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">http://amzn.to/18Zptxm</span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Nook <a href="http://bit.ly/13HR0xX"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">http://bit.ly/13HR0xX</span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Smashwords <a href="http://bit.ly/1h4vmLr"><b>http://bit.ly/1h4vmLr</b></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRFgGcFccHDbIJXt1TdZ6k_t5D67eeS1sB5VRdoUZpnY9Da_wg6mDpgEN5mJ1kXq4jAyOHpMrdfHnjBVRfhK9SHhlinGqYckCGBFZf__Yjc-bna5lohn4ViXvldmsv_s4ouWFsyCsZeKo/s1600/%25284%2529Tempered+Joy+cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRFgGcFccHDbIJXt1TdZ6k_t5D67eeS1sB5VRdoUZpnY9Da_wg6mDpgEN5mJ1kXq4jAyOHpMrdfHnjBVRfhK9SHhlinGqYckCGBFZf__Yjc-bna5lohn4ViXvldmsv_s4ouWFsyCsZeKo/s1600/%25284%2529Tempered+Joy+cover.jpg" height="200" width="131" /></a><i>Tempered Joy</i> (book 4 in Tempered series)</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Blurb: </b>All around rodeo cowboy and heir
to the Rockin’ H Ranch, Ace Harris is determined not to fall in love. He’s only loved one woman in his life, his
mother, and no one can even come close to filling her boots. Lexie Morgan
thinks rodeo cowboys have rocks for brains and a death wish for a soul. A broken childhood and the death of her
father and best friend leave her doubting and questioning God (despite her
years of religious upbringing) and afraid of love. Can two young people who
clash from the onset learn to trust in the healing power of God and find love
and happiness amidst tragedy and grief? <b><o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Excerpt:</b><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><i>Her eyes
narrowed when he took a step closer. “Ace,” she warned and wielded the brush
like a lethal weapon.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i>Raising
his hands where she could see them, he watched her try to brush some semblance
of order to the thick mass of unruly auburn hair. The simple chore made him
want to sink both fists in the silken locks and gave him a whole new insight to
the word erotic.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i>Her
cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparkled vivid green and spewed wrath. She glared
at him as though the tangled tresses were his fault alone. Her chest quivered
with each breath she took. He took another step closer and could feel her
tremble. Locking his gaze with hers in the mirror, he reached around her and
picked up a bandanna off the dresser. He ran it through his fingers in what
could have been a caress then slid the cloth beneath her hair and left it
trailing over her shoulders.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i>With
hands that shook, Lexie pulled the ends together and tied her hair back into a
ponytail. Those bright gray eyes had gone soft and warm, like liquid metal.
Mouth dry as dust, she swallowed hard.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Purchase Links:<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Kindle <a href="http://amzn.to/16YUEXj"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">http://amzn.to/16YUEXj</span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Nook <a href="http://bit.ly/11zMuVx"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">http://bit.ly/11zMuVx</span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Georgia; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">Smashwords <b><a href="http://bit.ly/14KH0bX">http://bit.ly/14KH0bX</a></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Georgia; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Georgia; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Georgia; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXKLNa7NEx6hbueUlpLrVc69uq11dqHw5j8uJAYFepB1DQ-DiwNs_d_jlw9ZQVcmeyt7ZKcX4PMaKJSDTLyIRoEphmT3EDx9Mea0MJYirJBEPSSEBIiMQberLMLMva-PScJi6pZKFBKZ4/s1600/Author+Pic+-+Pam+T..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXKLNa7NEx6hbueUlpLrVc69uq11dqHw5j8uJAYFepB1DQ-DiwNs_d_jlw9ZQVcmeyt7ZKcX4PMaKJSDTLyIRoEphmT3EDx9Mea0MJYirJBEPSSEBIiMQberLMLMva-PScJi6pZKFBKZ4/s1600/Author+Pic+-+Pam+T..jpg" /></a><b>Author bio:</b> Award-winning author,
Pamela S. Thibodeaux is the Co-Founder and a lifetime member of Bayou Writers
Group in Lake Charles, Louisiana. Multi-published in romantic fiction as well
as creative non-fiction, her writing has been tagged as, <i>“Inspirational with
an Edge!”</i> ™ and reviewed as <i>“steamier
and grittier than the typical Christian novel <b>without</b> decreasing the message.”</i> </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-629870306650238162.post-18760080330858856152014-07-27T15:49:00.003-04:002014-07-27T16:52:51.325-04:00Pam Thibodeaux - Sunday - Love Is a Rose<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
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Well, I have a special treat for you this week. My dear friend, Pam Thibodeaux, has stopped by to chat and share some of her wonderful stories. So come by daily! I'm going to feature a different story or series each day. So stop by and make sure you haven't missed any of them! I know I found one that I didn't know about! </div>
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Here on Day 1 of our visit I invite you to feed your spirit on the words Pam shares in <i>Love is a Rose. </i>This is a devotional that draws on a subject close to my heart, music and how God uses it. The really neat part of this devotional is that Pam leads us to take a broader look at how God speaks to us. Let's take a look:</div>
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<b>Blurb: </b><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Music is the magical entry into the spirit world; the
golden gate into the Kingdom of God. But we mustn’t be of the mindset that God
only uses Christian music to reach out and touch our mind, heart and spirit.
God uses <i>any</i> and <b><i>every</i></b> means available to speak to His
children. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Our job is to be open and
receptive.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">In this devotional, Pamela S
Thibodeaux shares how God opened her spirit to a deeper understanding of the
abundance of His grace and mercy through the words of the song, <i>The Rose</i> sung by Country & Western
artist Conway Twitty.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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I love this song, and I can hear it running through my head as I read the words of her devotion. I must admit, I have never thought of this song in these terms, but it certainly is a true deep aching need we have to connect with our creator.<br />
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<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Pamela offers <i>Seeds to Ponder</i> and a prayer as she
parallels the love of God and the Christian life to each verse of the song. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b>Excerpt:</b><b><i><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Some say love, it is a hunger, an endless aching
need...<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><i>How very true! The Bible speaks of a longing of our soul to
be in communion with the Lord. Psalm 42 says, "As the hind longs for
running water, so my soul longs for thee, oh God..."<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><i>Endless, aching need; we all
feel it––the need to be loved, to be worthy; the ache to know God more
intimately and to glorify Him.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><i> <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><i>Many describe this aspect of
their walk with God as an ache or a hunger which is forever present. Sometimes
it is more prevalent than others but always there….The need to be close to Him,
to know His will, to feel His presence, to be made worthy and whole by His Holy
Spirit.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><i> <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><i>Just when we feel we’ve
gotten closer to Him still, the ache smarts again––deeper, more desperate than
the last time. A longing that cannot be described––one that can only be
satisfied by the Holy Spirit leading you closer and deeper into the Sacred
Heart of Jesus.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><i>Every one of us can relate
to the insatiable hunger we’ve experienced in our lives. Many times we seek
after and pursue more…bigger and better <b>things</b> (money, houses, cars, jobs)
thinking those will satisfy, not realizing the hunger in our soul is one only
God can satisfy. As I look back over my life, I recall a time when I got
wrapped up in the things of the world, and yet, I’ve always been a seeker of peace
above all things. Oh, that we would teach our children that more is not better
and the more things you have, the more time you’ll spend taking care of them
and the less time you’ll have to pursue what really matters in life—people and
relationships!<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><i>The accumulation of things
will never satisfy the soul like an intimate relationship with the Creator and
His creation. Get rid of the “stuff” in your life and see how much peace there
is in simplicity.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Seeds to ponder: </span></b><i><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">In Matthew 5: 6, Jesus said,
“Blessed are those who <b>hunger</b> and <b>thirst</b>
for <b>righteousness</b>, for they shall be filled.” How many times do
we fill the hunger in our hearts with things of the world instead of filling it
with things of the Spirit?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<b><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Prayer:<i> </i></span></b><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><i>Dear God, help me to
recognize true, spiritual hunger and turn to You instead of giving in to the
lusts of my flesh and the lure of the world by engaging in unholy attitudes and
actions.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<b>Purchase Links:<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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Print @
Amazon <b><span style="color: #3b4752; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;"> <a href="http://amzn.to/1gHr9A3">http://amzn.to/1gHr9A3</a></span></b></div>
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Kindle <a href="http://amzn.to/186dblN"><b>http://amzn.to/186dblN</b></a><b><span style="color: #3b4752; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;"> <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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Print @ B&N <a href="http://bit.ly/1dIShux"><b>http://bit.ly/1dIShux</b></a></div>
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Nook <a href="http://bit.ly/1cbEEZc"><b>http://bit.ly/1cbEEZc</b></a><b><span style="color: #3b4752; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;"> </span></b></div>
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Smashwords <a href="http://bit.ly/16vCHl4"><b>http://bit.ly/16vCHl4</b></a><b><span style="color: #3b4752; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;"> </span></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4L8BHWAxT7y0s2zgswooC55mhlhSCbx_6aShkw-ipEgsx8eCCnMAtdKU32Dx_zbr3Jewn7Wc_BSZOPQlS6K8RaEkKoHPei75kTue0Js1TerkyP1ZOFfaEuzFjnVxtXfsMP8KB9geMy78/s1600/Author+Pic+-+Pam+T..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4L8BHWAxT7y0s2zgswooC55mhlhSCbx_6aShkw-ipEgsx8eCCnMAtdKU32Dx_zbr3Jewn7Wc_BSZOPQlS6K8RaEkKoHPei75kTue0Js1TerkyP1ZOFfaEuzFjnVxtXfsMP8KB9geMy78/s1600/Author+Pic+-+Pam+T..jpg" /></a><b><br /></b></div>
<b>Author bio:</b> Award-winning author,
Pamela S. Thibodeaux is the Co-Founder and a lifetime member of Bayou Writers
Group in Lake Charles, Louisiana. Multi-published in romantic fiction as well
as creative non-fiction, her writing has been tagged as, <i>“Inspirational with
an Edge!”</i> ™ and reviewed as <i>“steamier
and grittier than the typical Christian novel <b>without</b> decreasing the message.”</i> <br />
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I hope you enjoyed today's glimpse into Pam's heart. See you tomorrow!</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-629870306650238162.post-51918855500938613502014-07-04T11:55:00.002-04:002014-07-04T11:55:36.548-04:00Happy 4th!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTgVebcWE24OZzXHrjyTE3ZAQHCfDaaPENCBi-ROeYaNzfQhRp4ExfOX3DmsDZDEJq88PbS1B8GrND_uskXF3-OMpyRIIWK_mpOyL3L1PPn2FM5ihde2UEj0jrNJIOYCRTW_3_grOHe4k/s1600/2014+Fireworks+pic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTgVebcWE24OZzXHrjyTE3ZAQHCfDaaPENCBi-ROeYaNzfQhRp4ExfOX3DmsDZDEJq88PbS1B8GrND_uskXF3-OMpyRIIWK_mpOyL3L1PPn2FM5ihde2UEj0jrNJIOYCRTW_3_grOHe4k/s1600/2014+Fireworks+pic.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Happy Independence</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Day!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">May your 4th be blessed with time spent with family and friends as we enjoy the freedom bought for us by those who have served over the years, preserving that freedom.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I pray God will continue to bless the USA and the freedom we hold so dear.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-629870306650238162.post-26379273120661953062014-06-20T20:59:00.001-04:002014-06-21T17:14:15.627-04:00Precious Embrace - Donna B. Snow<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDqa1y9Ij2x8HkfO4OkPKO7SUroqQQhd5qsZyv7CZnky-KQEWj2t93K3Th9e1WKcPzFwKSIdMoyk_FgVMEXOAEf5c1g-QZVahnCtgSBQ_ohcHpR6d-cez7mZ7T6GwkIaVqGwpSzizvMr4/s1600/PreciousEmbrace_w11647_300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDqa1y9Ij2x8HkfO4OkPKO7SUroqQQhd5qsZyv7CZnky-KQEWj2t93K3Th9e1WKcPzFwKSIdMoyk_FgVMEXOAEf5c1g-QZVahnCtgSBQ_ohcHpR6d-cez7mZ7T6GwkIaVqGwpSzizvMr4/s1600/PreciousEmbrace_w11647_300.jpg" /></a></div>
Welcome!<br />
<br />
Would you believe that I forgot today was release day for <i>Precious Embrace</i>, the sequel to <i>A Piece of Heaven.</i> Would you like to stop back in at <a href="http://pelicanbookgroup.com/ec/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=68_31_45&products_id=448">A Piece of Heaven</a> , the Christian coffee house where it all began? Where Trina performs a mix of Christian songs nightly, guaranteed to soothe the weary soul from the weight of the world? And Laura creates meals to satisfy the deepest hunger with her own creative dishes?<br />
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Step inside and find out what's so special about this coffee house.<br />
<br />
Back Cover Blurb:<br />
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Laura Senton has found peace and happiness, knowing she’s
right where she belongs, running her own kitchen at A Piece of Heaven, a
Christian coffee house in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Pingree</st1:city>,
<st1:state w:st="on">MD.</st1:state></st1:place> Being partners with her dear
friend, Trina, she has carved out a niche and counts her blessings daily for
being able to do something she loves doing. When the sins of her past are
brought to mind by the appearance of Sean Laylor, her teenage crush, Laura
tries to hide from Sean, as well as her own feelings. </div>
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At first not recognizing Laura because she changed so much,
Sean is at a loss as to why she tries to avoid him. He has no idea of what
Laura went through years ago, or how she felt toward him, but he still feels a
share of the guilt for her past once he learns some of the choices she made. </div>
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Both covet the memories of their time together, but sins of
the past can be a tough hurdle to get over.</div>
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Excerpt:</div>
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<span style="font-family: Palatino Linotype, serif;"><i>Orders trickled to a stop over the next half hour.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Palatino Linotype, serif;"><i>Wow. So much for a quick and easy clean up. </i></span><i style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif;">Laura wanted nothing more than to put her feet up on</i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Palatino Linotype, serif;"><i>a chair and relax. She pulled her apron off, hung it on</i></span><i style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif;">the back of the door, and stepped out into the</i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Palatino Linotype, serif;"><i>restaurant.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Palatino Linotype, serif;"><i>Trina wasn’t playing—must be on her last break.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Palatino Linotype, serif;"><i>Laura grabbed a mug and stepped over to the latte </i></span><i style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif;">machine. She looked over the crowd.</i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Palatino Linotype, serif;"><i>Lise was just clearing off a small table by the wall.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Palatino Linotype, serif;"><i>The seat was Laura’s favorite. Maybe because she </i></span><i style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif;">Jared had proposed to Trina there. Or maybe because it </i><i style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif;">had a good view of the stage but was out of the way.</i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Palatino Linotype, serif;"><i>"Excuse me. Could I get a cup of coffee? The other </i></span><i style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif;">waitresses look pretty busy."</i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Palatino Linotype, serif;"><i>"Sure, I’ll..." She lifted her gaze past the broad </i></span><i style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif;">chest and shoulders to a neatly trimmed beard and</i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Palatino Linotype, serif;"><i>startling blue eyes. Eyes she would know anywhere.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Palatino Linotype, serif;"><i>She swallowed hard. "Sean?" Her first crush.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Palatino Linotype, serif;"><i>"Sorry, do I know you?"</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Palatino Linotype, serif;"><i>No, he wouldn’t know the blonde, curly hair, or </i></span><i style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif;">the body that was half the size it used to be. She shook </i><i style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif;">her head. </i></div>
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<i style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif;">"Sorry, I thought you were someone else. I’ll </i><i style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif;">get your waitress for you. What table are you—"</i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Palatino Linotype, serif;"><i>He touched her arm. "You look vaguely familiar. </i></span><i style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif;">Are you sure we don’t know each other?"</i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Palatino Linotype, serif;"><i>Of course, he had no idea. But she knew him. Sean </i></span><i style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif;">Laylor, high school quarterback, team captain senior </i><i style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif;">year...why would he remember the fat girl with glasses </i><i style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif;">and long, stringy hair who tutored him to get his </i><i style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif;">English grade up so he could stay on the team and get </i><i style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif;">into college?</i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Palatino Linotype, serif;"><i>She snapped back to the present. "Let me get your waitress for you."</i></span></div>
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Buy Links:</div>
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It's only $1.50 till Monday 6/23/14 at Pelican Books:</div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Precious-Embrace-Donna-B-Snow-ebook/dp/B00L4NTCOC/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1403311755&sr=8-1&keywords=precious+embrace+donna+b+snow">http://www.amazon.com/Precious-Embrace-Donna-B-Snow-ebook/dp/B00L4NTCOC/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1403311755&sr=8-1&keywords=precious+embrace+donna+b+snow</a></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-629870306650238162.post-90622835911413125202014-06-04T21:51:00.001-04:002014-06-04T21:51:12.961-04:00Dead Ringer - V.B. Tenery<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://pelicanbookgroup.com/ec/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=37_47&products_id=561" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG4LdKBb3GuHx5ZKfrF365NyQzslCzitgw9u3FG33zn8yio1_wcg4ALkP7Jskix0MHtbAq5d48Hacu79aCFdKmrBas_0Ous_jkp7T9Vio-AYDnknC1M-VyJ-Gnb-YIN18mZffHgG6MIs0/s1600/Dead+Ringer+cover.jpg" /></a></div>
I have got to tell you, I LOVED THIS STORY!!!<br />
V.B. Tenery is one author I will be watching for!<br />
<br />
Take a look!<br />
<br />
Back Cover:<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />Mercy Lawrence is terrified. Bermuda airport facial recognition software has identified her as missing runway star, Traci Wallace. Despite Mercy’s protests, Traci’s husband, ex-CIA agent Thomas Wallace, is convinced Mercy is the mother of his ill six-year-old son. With only his son’s welfare in mind, he abducts Mercy and takes her to a private island to care for the boy.<br /><br />But Mercy soon discovers there are men much more dangerous than a father desperate to save his son. Her doppelganger has made deadly enemies–a relentless team of killers who now want her dead.<br /><br />When Thomas is lured into a covert mission to rescue a CIA asset and uncover a government mole, Mercy is left isolated and alone–and Thomas finds himself stranded on foreign soil with a compromised mission and a wounded agent.<br /><br />Fighting against a rogue nation’s timetable for launching a nuclear strike, he has to escape Saudi Arabia alive and rescue Mercy and his son before assassins finish the job they started.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Want a little more? Here's a peek at the beginnings...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Hamilton, Bermuda</i></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">
<div>
<i>Friday, May 5</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>Mercy Lawrence wouldn’t have noticed the large man standing by the silver Mercedes except for the way he was dressed. Unlike the tourists on the sidewalk, he wore a light gray business suit and tie. Sunglasses hid the upper portion of his face, and the grim set of his mouth detracted from his otherwise handsome appearance. He stood beside the car’s open back door, arms crossed as if waiting for someone.</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>Not wanting to stare, she tore her gaze away. In jeans, T-shirt, and sandals, she blended easily into the vacationers along the boulevard. She’d spent the last five months in this wonderful country, recuperating from a head injury. Most of her memory remained intact after the accident, but dark recesses still refused to reveal their mystery.</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>But tomorrow, like a good soldier, she would return to Houston and report to her new job at Sabine Oil, the fulfillment of a goal she’d worked towards for the past six years.</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>The city’s main drag ran four lanes wide with a palm-tree-lined median, the sea on one side, shops and hotels on the other. A soft wind filled the air with the scent of sea kelp and brine, mixed with a light floral fragrance from the purple bougainvilleas hanging onthe walls along the walkway. Seagulls swept low over the water, looking out past the rolling surf for lunch.</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>She shook her hair loose from the confines of its ponytail clip and turned her face to the balmy sunshine—mainlining vitamin D. Her path took her within four feet of the parked car.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>The man moved onto the sidewalk and grabbed her arm.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>"Having fun, are we?" He spoke with a slight Scottish burr, the strange question more an accusation than a greeting.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>She tried to jerk her arm away. "Let go</i></span><i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> of my arm."</i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>His grip tightened. "I’ll just bet you’ve been living it up." His voice was harsh, his jaw tight.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>No one intervened. Casual observers would think she knew him.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>One hand locked on her arm, he shoved her into the backseat, slid in beside her, and slammed the door. His movements were so quick, so smooth, she had no time to struggle, no time to scream or put up a fight.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>She swallowed the lump in her throat choking off oxygen. Women disappeared all too often on foreign soil, never seen or heard from again. "Who are you? What do you think you’re doing? Let me out. Now!"</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>He ignored her protests and leaned forward in the seat. "Airport, Fergus."</i></span></div>
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Review: This story grabbed me from the start and wouldn't let go! What a great story! Every free moment I had, my nose was in this story. I couldn't put it down unless I had to. From Mercy's abduction to her exoneration, this is a story with so many unexpected twists and turns it will keep you hanging on right to the end! And come meet the characters...from Thomas, the misguided, but loving father, to Fergus, the inflexible, stubborn scottsman, to Daniel, the sweetest, bravest little boy you'll ever meet Don't miss this one! It's a treasure!</div>
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How's that for a nibble??? And that's just the start! Here's where you can get a copy:</div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="http://pelicanbookgroup.com/ec/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=37_47&products_id=561">http://pelicanbookgroup.com/ec/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=37_47&products_id=561</a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Dead-Ringer-V-B-Tenery-ebook/dp/B00K7S0PVY/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1401498068&sr=1-1&keywords=dead+ringer+v.b.+tenery">http://www.amazon.com/Dead-Ringer-V-B-Tenery-ebook/dp/B00K7S0PVY/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1401498068&sr=1-1&keywords=dead+ringer+v.b.+tenery</a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/reviews/Dead-Ringer%2FVB-Tenery/1119416667?ean=9781611163513">http://www.barnesandnoble.com/reviews/Dead-Ringer%2FVB-Tenery/1119416667?ean=9781611163513</a></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-629870306650238162.post-36365168745970392422014-05-24T20:49:00.001-04:002014-05-24T20:49:30.819-04:00True North - Susan Diane Johnson<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://pelicanbookgroup.com/ec/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=68_31_42&products_id=523" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZmqrt-2uEoXjmWYQ9yDmHkrBSej-h4xMp2h7V9WOnBtMzrnAFRtHR19FbES6SV2tZAejnhZWEQuDKQCK0WdiMHzyVZ5Q47fHAl_QKfjLhmrZgtP2lz5UNL1ZItbSDP1bb6Q8Wyek0AlQ/s1600/True+North+Cover.png" height="320" width="223" /></a></div>
Welcome Susan! Thanks for joining me here! I loved your story and I know others will too so I wanted to share a little about it!<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">You certainly showed that you're not afraid to delve into tough subject matter! What drew you to write on two such sad topics?</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div style="background-color: white;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> Well, this book was inspired by my son and his desire to see the whales in their own habitat. I didn't intend to set out to write a book about a set of parents who'd lost their child. But as I fiddled around with different scenes, and created my characters, something just wasn't working. And then I did that thing "they" often challenge us writers with - asking this question: What is the worst thing that can happen to your characters?</span></div>
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<span style="color: blue; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: blue; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Sadly, the worst thing I could do to these characters was a heartbreaking thing that had to come at the beginning. </span></div>
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<span style="color: blue; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And Lisa and Joe didn't work as a man and woman new to each other. They had to be connected. That connection was Cody, the little boy who loved whales. Lisa and Joe only worked for me as a couple trying to find their way back to each other.</span></div>
<br />And I'm so glad they did! That's why I love romance stories! There is an endless possibility of happy endings for those who are willing to try. And Christians should certainly be setting that example!<br /><br />This story brings smiles as well as tears and will definitely inspire anyone who has drifted in their relationship and needs to find their way back! <span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><br /></span></span>
Back Cover Blurb:<br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Several months after a tragic accident that claimed their son, Lisa and Joe Kendall's marriage has fallen apart. Lisa prays every day for Joe to come back home so they can grieve their loss together. Feeling guilt over the death of their son, Joe has decided that the best thing for Lisa is for him to be out of her life. His marriage isn't the only thing suffering, and Joe is forced into taking time off so he can find "closure". Unsure where to spend two weeks, Joe decides to go on the </span><span style="color: black;">Alaskan cruise </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">they were supposed to take with their son. The last person he expects to see once the ship is well away from Seattle is Lisa, who hopes two weeks alone with Joe will help save their marriage. Little does she know that Joe has decided to file for divorce when they return home.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Excerpt:</span></div>
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />Lord, Joe’s missing so much. Help him, please. Help him slow down and enjoy his son before it’s too late. Cody will be grown and gone before he realizes it.<br /><br />"I love you, too. See you tonight." Cody flipped the phone closed and handed it to Lisa, his eyes downcast. "Mr. Lee is making him work late. He won’t be at the game."</span></i><div>
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div>
His effort to rein in his emotions was a valiant one, <i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
and Lisa’s heart went out to him. Hot anger tore </div>
</span></i><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
through her. Her jaw tightened, and she fought to keep </div>
</span></i><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
from clenching her teeth. Lucky for Joe, Cody had </div>
</span></i><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
already hung up.</div>
</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
<br /></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
"Mom, please don’t be mad at Dad. He has to </div>
</span></i></div>
</span></i><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
work hard so he can pay for my birthday trip to Alaska </div>
</span></i><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
next year. So we can go see the whales, remember?"</div>
</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
<br /></div>
</span></i></div>
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Lisa nodded, still trying to control her anger at Joe.</div>
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<br /></div>
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"Please say you won’t be mad. Please? He’s the <i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
best dad in the world."</div>
</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
<br /></div>
</span></i></div>
<div>
How like Cody to forgive so easily. Why couldn’t <i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
she do the same? Because it happened way too often, </div>
</span></i><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
and she didn’t like seeing her son repeatedly </div>
</span></i><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
disappointed.</div>
</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
<br /></div>
</span></i></div>
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"I’ll try, buddy. Come on. Let’s go. We can’t have <i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
you sitting on the bench."</div>
</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
<br /></div>
</span></i></div>
<div>
"Hey, Mom, you’re not paying attention," Cody <i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
complained a few minutes later as they headed down </div>
</span></i><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
the winding road that made up Whidbey Island’s </div>
</span></i><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
highway. "I thought you wanted to sing the ‘Cartoon </div>
</span></i><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
Song.’"</div>
</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
<br /></div>
</span></i></div>
<div>
"I do, honey. I’m sorry. I’m just—" Lisa shook her <i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
head. This situation was unfair to Cody. She shouldn’t </div>
</span></i><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
let her anger at Joe spoil his last baseball game. She </div>
</span></i><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
glanced briefly at her son then quickly back at the road. </div>
</span></i><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
He looked concerned, and she wanted to draw him</div>
</span></i></div>
<div>
into a hug but reached over and ruffled the top of his <i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
head instead.</div>
</span></i></div>
<div>
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
<br /></div>
</span></i></div>
<div>
"I’m just disappointed, honey. I wanted your dad <i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
to be there for your last game."</div>
</span></i></div>
<div>
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
<br /></div>
</span></i></div>
<div>
"I know, Mom. But it’s Mr. Lee’s fault, not his. <i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
And he said he’ll show up if he can."</div>
</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
<br /></div>
</span></i></div>
<div>
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
Yeah, right. Mike Lee would keep Joe until way </div>
</span></i><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
after Cody’s bedtime if history was any indication. Joe </div>
</span></i><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
worked so hard for the man, not only had he missed all </div>
</span></i><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
of Cody’s games, family dinners, and picnics in the </div>
</span></i><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
park, he hadn’t even been to church in months. Her</div>
</span></i></div>
<div>
anger sparked again, this time at Mike Lee.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But Cody shouldn’t feel the obligation to play <i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
peacemaker between her, Joe, and Joe’s boss. Not </div>
</span></i><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
wanting to upset her son, she kept her opinion to </div>
</span></i><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
herself. Lisa hit the gas a little harder than she should </div>
</span></i><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
have as she pulled into the left-turn lane. Thankfully, </div>
</span></i><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
the green arrow lit up just then, and she didn’t need to </div>
</span></i><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
hit the brake.</div>
</span></i></div>
<div>
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
<br /></div>
</span></i></div>
<div>
As she rounded into her turn, two things <i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
happened. </div>
</span></i><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
Cody burst into his mashed up version of the '</div>
</span></i><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
Cartoon Song.' </div>
</span></i><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
And Lisa realized with instant horror, the </div>
</span></i><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
oncoming car failed to stop at the intersection.</div>
</span></i></div>
<div>
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
<br /></div>
</span></i></div>
<div>
With a mother’s instinct, she threw her arm in <i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
front of Cody only to have it thrown against the </div>
</span></i><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
dashboard when the other vehicle made impact with </div>
</span></i><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
hers a split second later. The pain meant nothing to </div>
</span></i><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
her, however, as she struggled against gravity to shield </div>
</span></i><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="display: inline !important;">
her son. She had to protect him, had to keep him safe.</div>
</span></i></div>
<br /></span></i><div>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Review</span><span style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">:</span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The tragedy of losing a child is heartbreaking enough, but having your marriage disintegrate because of that loss is enough to destroy anyone. </span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Grief is different for each of us, but I think we all want to believe we can lean on those closest to us in our time of need.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Lisa struggles to stand on her own when Joe deserts her after they lose their son. She wants nothing more than to have Joe come back home so they can grieve together for their loss, support each other. But he won't even take her calls.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> Joe can't forgive himself for his son's death, blames himself for not being there. He turns his back on God and is convinced that divorcing Lisa would be the best thing for her.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This story is so very moving. It shows how weak we are when we try to stand on our own, but how much stronger we can be when we lean on God. Sometimes we just have to be willing to open our eyes to see His message to us in His creation around us.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This story will be a blessing for anyone who reads it!</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">Buy links:</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://pelicanbookgroup.com/ec/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=31_42&products_id=523">http://pelicanbookgroup.com/ec/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=31_42&products_id=523</a></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/True-North-Susan-Diane-Johnson-ebook/dp/B00I0K1006/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1394928822&sr=1-1&keywords=true+north+susan+diane+johnson">http://www.amazon.com/True-North-Susan-Diane-Johnson-ebook/dp/B00I0K1006/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1394928822&sr=1-1&keywords=true+north+susan+diane+johnson</a></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/true-north-susan-diane-johnson/1118072234?ean=9781611163117">http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/true-north-susan-diane-johnson/1118072234?ean=9781611163117</a></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://www.christianbook.com/Christian/Books/product?item_no=50908EB&item_code=WW&netp_id=1222458&event=ESRCG&view=details">http://www.christianbook.com/Christian/Books/product?item_no=50908EB&item_code=WW&netp_id=1222458&event=ESRCG&view=details</a></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">About the <a href="http://www.susandianejohnson.com/">author</a>: </span></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"></span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizd5nWuVQe9T8EXvozOikUk6Ugi_moG0iz-wwB4PkEMERtBkwgXxhYP-zA7ou3hlyW2zdaG25XTuK7LSCHb4o0FNQpIWLEGCi9vp28niuwm3ju8GnsYKt-cUmw1ZuUkBroC1zvFtuVZhs/s1600/SusanDianeJohnsonauthor+pic.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizd5nWuVQe9T8EXvozOikUk6Ugi_moG0iz-wwB4PkEMERtBkwgXxhYP-zA7ou3hlyW2zdaG25XTuK7LSCHb4o0FNQpIWLEGCi9vp28niuwm3ju8GnsYKt-cUmw1ZuUkBroC1zvFtuVZhs/s1600/SusanDianeJohnsonauthor+pic.JPG" /></a>I live on an island in Northwest Washington. During the day I work at my local hospital as a cancer registrar. During the evenings and on weekends, I write novels that I hope will bring joy and uplift the hearts of readers. You can find me on<a href="http://www.inkwellinspirations.com/"> Inkwell Inspirations</a>, a daily Christian Women's blog where I am a regular contributor. You can also find me on my personal blog, <a href="http://suzieswritingplace.blogspot.com/">Suzie's Writing Place</a> where I share my faith, my writing, and my love for books. I'm also onFacebook and Pinterest where I can explore my love of beautiful historical clothing, the South of France, beaches, and certain television shows.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">
</span></div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-629870306650238162.post-68537035341984264332014-04-20T05:28:00.000-04:002014-04-20T15:53:31.474-04:00Happy Easter!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPSCIKygoFh_bGm2IhkU8nivaLdfwHhQcJ_dHsmPbM2ctHkK7Opcsw8FNQydcBlnrfCFU47-4WN-LVFUjUZ0iKro6qLmq02LOW3u0GuP5bLYAIxyuiHBv0D0MzcWfWozW8tDd6cgWp50o/s1600/up+from+the+grave.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPSCIKygoFh_bGm2IhkU8nivaLdfwHhQcJ_dHsmPbM2ctHkK7Opcsw8FNQydcBlnrfCFU47-4WN-LVFUjUZ0iKro6qLmq02LOW3u0GuP5bLYAIxyuiHBv0D0MzcWfWozW8tDd6cgWp50o/s1600/up+from+the+grave.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
Resurrection Sunday...Easter...On this blessed day may your hearts turn to Christ and the price He paid for us.<br />
<br />
You see, He didn't have to give up His place at the Father's side in heaven. No He chose to. He didn't have to suffer and die a painful death here on earth. He chose that, too! All for us, because He knew it was the only way for a sinful world to ever be forgiven.<br />
<br />
His time spent here was not a time of joy, but a time of trial, a time of suffering. He gave up the glory of heaven to come here and die on the cross so that one day we could go share His glorious home.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
May you never forget</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
the true meaning of Easter,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
the glorious gift given so long ago.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
May this day remind you of the bright and shining future</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
that was bought for you, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
not just that day on Calvary, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
but when the stone was rolled away</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
and your freedom was secured.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
May you cherish these</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
blessings on this Easter morning!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOk6z7MA0hb3VYZTXnpEMGtZcNiauGZ0WLpfVljQVBWPam3xUdZBR8j3pplxIqs8VEhJwCdoC3qRuuAslDK024C_ZCgmi4U2LdGuLA9Itg50ev2zcMC6i3hf2a8KHcXpKXxH4EehxNFy0/s1600/cross.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOk6z7MA0hb3VYZTXnpEMGtZcNiauGZ0WLpfVljQVBWPam3xUdZBR8j3pplxIqs8VEhJwCdoC3qRuuAslDK024C_ZCgmi4U2LdGuLA9Itg50ev2zcMC6i3hf2a8KHcXpKXxH4EehxNFy0/s1600/cross.jpg" /></a></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-629870306650238162.post-2212546919421861982014-03-06T23:27:00.001-05:002014-03-06T23:27:11.625-05:00Friday's Child - Clare Revell<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrH6JKR4kZ2_ChXSIuGl1RTDbQiNzvvuaalmkighHea0VaA7QmVlZn1u9_sSjYD6_mMx8s0W82wcZsdkckNP65g46Sxpxfu4RGjaUqE6JtD7dtXCL6_NgLnZxI7h0qynUpk5s4eI1Solk/s1600/Clare's+Books.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrH6JKR4kZ2_ChXSIuGl1RTDbQiNzvvuaalmkighHea0VaA7QmVlZn1u9_sSjYD6_mMx8s0W82wcZsdkckNP65g46Sxpxfu4RGjaUqE6JtD7dtXCL6_NgLnZxI7h0qynUpk5s4eI1Solk/s1600/Clare's+Books.JPG" height="170" width="200" /></a>Welcome back, Clare!<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Seems I've been remiss in staying caught up on this series, and it is such a great series! Clare has such a wonderful touch on writing romantic suspense that I haven't missed reading a single one of her stories. I just haven't kept up with sharing them.<br />
<br />
Here's the little rhyme that ties them all together:<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="text-align: center;">
<i> </i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="text-align: center;">
<i>Monday’s
Child must hide for protection,</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="text-align: center;">
<i>Tuesday’s
Child tenders direction</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<i>Wednesday’s
Child grieves for his soul<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<i>Thursday’s
Child chases the whole<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<i>Friday’s
Child is a man obsessed<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<i>Saturday’s
Child might be possessed<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<i>And Sunday’s
Child on life’s seas is tossed<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<i>Awaiting the
Lifeboat that rescues the lost<o:p></o:p></i></div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div>
Like I said in my last post, there are so many stories out there that it's hard to find the good ones sometimes - and I certainly like to share info about them when I can, so here's a peek at Friday's Child.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back Cover:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWDvK7RHOrN4_rSX45wbtku775Z0plwCLCxcLI2pYC1_XQR8hu7c9uK40KCl5jckoEkrsbpUE7c3Oq0QHWXqED03oruzS5vnc9ysdQ4yfxPtFD8dMz3BhqbTD61bvXl-kKjn1gZOrOndo/s1600/Friday's+Child.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWDvK7RHOrN4_rSX45wbtku775Z0plwCLCxcLI2pYC1_XQR8hu7c9uK40KCl5jckoEkrsbpUE7c3Oq0QHWXqED03oruzS5vnc9ysdQ4yfxPtFD8dMz3BhqbTD61bvXl-kKjn1gZOrOndo/s1600/Friday's+Child.png" /></a></div>
Friday's Child is a man obsessed...MI-5 agent Patrick Page is on the trail of a drug smuggler. He doesn't have time to revisit his past when he reconnects with the girl who got away--his girlfriend from college working at a library. He's more than surprised to see sweet Ellie singing on stage when he slips into a nightclub to gain intel on the club's owner. Why is she working two jobs? Why is she using an alias? Is she somehow involved? And is her involvement with his suspect merely a business relation or is there more to their partnership?<br />
<br />
Ellie has a secret she doesn't want Patrick to know. His daughter. She'd turned custody over to her parents, however now she wants to be a mother not just a sister. But her own mother can't seem to let go neither has she forgiven Ellie for her past. So Ellie works two jobs and supports them both. Her one light is her music. The career she abandoned, and her boss has promised to make her a star. But now with Patrick back in her life she's questioning her choices. And is he interested in her, or does he have some hidden agenda? Does Patrick have a secret too?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Excerpt:</div>
<div>
<i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></i></div>
<div>
<i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“You really agreed to a drop here?” His partner asked.</i></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br />Agent Patrick Page, MI5, nodded and looked up at the library, certain he was insane. Either that or he was going soft in his old age, letting informants insist on a dead drop location somewhere as public and quiet as this. Recently extended, the library was an interesting mixture of two modern A-frame wings of brown timber and huge panes of glass, with the original Tudor style wattle and daub central part sandwiched between. Colored posters lined the windows and an enticing display of books peeked between them.<br />It’s not insanity, it’s middle age, the small voice within him insisted.</i></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br />Thirty-seven is not old, no matter what you want to think.</i></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br />Great, now he was arguing with himself.</i></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br />Niamh, his sister, had summed it up last night over dinner. “You just work too hard. All work and no play have made Patrick a dull man. A man obsessed, with no time for anything, fun or otherwise.” He’d tried brushing the comment off, but she hadn’t let it drop. “You need to get out more, Pi. Do something other than work for once. Don’t do what I did, because it ruins your life.”</i></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br />“Earth to Patrick?”</i></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br />Patrick still stared at the library, through the pouring rain. He didn’t have time for fun. Not with his heavy case load. And not with this twisted case he was currently embroiled in. The tip off had come from Scotland, from an American of all people. He still couldn’t get his head around why an American cop would be working for the Scottish police, although he hadn’t had time to exchange pleasantries with the Lieutenant.</i></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br />Detective Inspector he corrected, as the guy had recently been promoted to an</i></span><i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> equivalent UK rank. Which was even more of a puzzle. One that could wait for a better time. Right now, he had work to do.</i></div>
<div>
<i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></i></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>“Patrick, are you all right?” Shay Williams, his partner of five years, sounded concerned this time.</i></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br />He shifted his gaze to her. “Yeah, I’m fine.”</i></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br />“Then how about answering me rather than staring into space. You’re letting this case get to you, aren’t you?”</i></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br />“No more so than usual.”</i></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br />Why had his contact, known only by his street name of Skinhead, given the library as the location for the drop? More to the point, why had he agreed? Accessibility? Hardly, given the library’s odd opening hours. An urge to read? Again, not likely either for him or his contact. No, for Patrick, it was his desire to catch this guy and make the charges stick this time. And while odd, he could go in and out of a library frequently without arousing suspicion.</i></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br />He checked his watch. It was time he actually did what he was paid for, rather than just sit here. Rain pounded against the car windshield. Even the wiper blades on super-fast made little impact on the downpour. Patrick pulled his collar up against the power of the elements and jumped out of the car. He opened the back door and leaned in to grab the pile of books.</i></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br />Raising an eyebrow at his blonde partner in the driver’s seat, he shot her a mock look of imposition across the top of the seats. “I should make you take these back yourself, Agent 7x3,” he said, using her nickname. She hated it, but after insisting she was only twenty-one no matter how many birthdays she had, what did she expect? “After all, they’re your library books.”</i></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br />Shay laughed at him. “But, it’s raining, Agent 3.14, and I know you’re too much of a gentleman to make a lady get out in the rain. Besides, it’s your drop, right? Your contact, your drop, so by default, your turn to get wet.”</i></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br />Patrick scowled half-heartedly at her, teasing her back. “Pfft, woman. And there I was thinking we were partners. How wrong can I be? You can buy lunch for this.”</i></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br />Shay rolled her eyes. “You stop for lunch? That will be a first. And it’d explain the rain.”<br />Not bothering to reply, he shut the door and hurried inside the building.</i></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br />Working for British Intelligence, Patrick’s fast-paced life left him very little time for the niceties, like stopping for lunch, visiting the library, going out with family, getting to church or dating. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw a woman socially that didn’t involve undercover work either with Shay or an informant. Or the last time he made an entire church service without his pager going off.</i></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br />He headed to the ‘in desk’ and stood in the queue. Glancing around, Patrick took in the huge windows, and walls lined with shelves of books. He hadn’t been in a library in years, but the smell never changed.</i></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br />The queue moved forwards and he placed the books on the counter, giving the librarian his best smile. “Hi. I’m returning these for a friend.”</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br />The librarian scanned them and nodded. “All done. Thank you.”</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br />“You’re welcome.” He paused, looking over the leaflets of things to do in the local area. He picked one up, taking his time over reading it, ignoring the queue behind him. Then he walked past the nondescript envelope on the edge of the desk and pocketed it in one swift action along with the leaflet, then stopped.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br />“Could you point me in the direction of the religious section, please?” While here, he might as well see if they had that book Liam recommended. Shay wouldn’t begrudge him a few minutes. After all, he’d done her a favor.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br />She nodded. “Around that way, then to the right.”</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br />He smiled. “Thank you.” He headed off in the direction she pointed. Liam had raved about this book for the past month. Either he found a copy here or he borrowed Liam’s one. H....h...there... He ran his fingers along the books until he found the one he wanted. He pulled it off the shelf and turned around.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br />“Oh, I’m sorry.” He looked at the woman he’d walked into and stopped short. Elle?<br />If it wasn’t her, it was someone who looked just like her and was just as beautiful as she had been when he last saw her—even though the tweed suit she wore gave her a dowdy appearance with its long skirt and boxy style. With her brown hair pulled back into a severe bun and glasses perched on her nose, she was the epitome of a stereotypical librarian.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br />Warmth flooded him and a hard bolt traveled through his stomach leaving it in knots. He forced his voice to work past the huge lump in his throat, and held out a hand to her. “Elle? Eleanor Harrison?”</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br />Her brown eyes widened with shock and recognition. “Patrick.” Her fingers whitened against the pile of books in her hand, and she made no attempt to take his hand in return. “What are you doing here?”</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br />“I’m borrowing a book.” He dropped his hand and smiled, ignoring the shaft of disappointment. “What did you expect in a library?”</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br />“No, I mean, here in Headley Cross.”</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br />“I live and work here. Always have.” His phone beeped. “Excuse me. I should get this.” He pulled the handset out of his pocket and checked the screen. Bother. Just when I could do with a few minutes. “I have to go. Can we meet up for coffee or something? Catch up on the past few years?”</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br />Elle shook her head, backing away. “It’s best to just leave the past alone. Bye.” She hurried off.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br />Patrick stood still, the book loose in his hand. He and Elle had been at university at the same time. Two years above her, he’d been post grad and assigned as her mentor, but they had been inseparable none the less.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br />Until she’d vanished into thin air partway through the spring semester. He hadn’t seen or heard from her since. Perhaps he had hurt her after all, though she had seemed pretty happy about their relationship, from what he remembered.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br />Shaking his head, he went to the desk and checked out the book. He glanced casually over his shoulder, always on alert, and saw her watching him.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br />Maybe he should go back over and speak to her. The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced he should. He might never have this chance again. He took a step towards her. A hand on his arm stopped him mid stride. He glanced around to see Shay. “What is it?”</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br />“Sorry to bother you, sweetheart.” She leaned into him, her hand squeezing him in an intimate gesture. Her voice was husky and low in his ear, as she played her part to perfection as always. “We’ve got to go. Suspect is on the move and we need to tail him. Did you get the intel?”</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br />He nodded, pushing all thoughts of Elle from his mind. “I’ll drive.”</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Review</b>:</span><br />
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Patrick Page is surely a man on a mission –
whatever mission he’s assigned to. He takes his work very seriously, yes to the
point of obsession, to the point of not having a personal life at all. But when
he runs into Elle at the library, his old flame, he is completely derailed –
and he doesn’t even know the half of it. He just can’t keep his mind off her.
Not only does he want resolution from those many years ago, to understand why
she left him, but he wants to protect her from what he knows is going on at the
club where she sings.</div>
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Elle is shocked to see Patrick, and afraid to let
him close for many reasons. She feels
deserted by God, fallen beyond redemption with nothing to offer anyone, but
that doesn’t stop her heart from wanting to be close to him again. Each time
they meet it gets harder to pushing him away.</div>
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If you like romantic suspense, you certainly don’t
want to miss this story (or any of the others in this series)! It has a bit of
something for everybody and you won’t set it down without these characters
touching your heart. Happy reading!</div>
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<b>Buy links</b>:</div>
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http://pelicanbookgroup.com/ec/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=31_42&products_id=487</div>
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http://www.amazon.com/Fridays-Child-Clare-Revell-ebook/dp/B00FAYSUY4/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1394166032&sr=8-1&keywords=friday%27s+child+clare+revell</div>
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About Clare:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_vbxK2vAWszdc7DWC96nGnf73qb7fm0AERe72FSWnkqn0mICITXZafa5n5yxTDaQpqafUcnP0CICqaabqPWv7JJdSRFyZ6ueVJZ3SsELFk8vrMRg-bdTQHWD-LL0DscoT1c98-HpTHks/s1600/ClareRevell.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_vbxK2vAWszdc7DWC96nGnf73qb7fm0AERe72FSWnkqn0mICITXZafa5n5yxTDaQpqafUcnP0CICqaabqPWv7JJdSRFyZ6ueVJZ3SsELFk8vrMRg-bdTQHWD-LL0DscoT1c98-HpTHks/s1600/ClareRevell.jpg" /></a><b><span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">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</span><nobr style="background-color: white; font-family: Ubuntu, Arial, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 20px;"> </nobr></b><nobr style="background-color: white; font-family: Ubuntu, Arial, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; font-weight: 600; line-height: 20px;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><a href="http://pelicanbookgroup.com/ec/"><span style="color: windowtext; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">schools</span></a><span style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;"></span></span></b></nobr><b>.</b><span class="apple-converted-space" style="font-weight: bold;"> </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">She has been a
Christian for more than half her life. She goes to Carey Baptist where she is
one of three registrars.</span><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-629870306650238162.post-16372476616272496472014-02-27T23:11:00.003-05:002014-03-01T14:47:11.110-05:00Beyond Justice - Joshua Graham<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgprH-QBDTGqskmOgWdWTv1DNNa0CJok82tiqeuDUWFveSshKlf5a0cWIX8bB-lHwAgx28O3mr6obtkLo49n8KpYgCNzHsaq1BBQidPwBap3ixIevcF1c4jZFngyhNsywwxkOWXejqcY4A/s1600/Beyond+Justice.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgprH-QBDTGqskmOgWdWTv1DNNa0CJok82tiqeuDUWFveSshKlf5a0cWIX8bB-lHwAgx28O3mr6obtkLo49n8KpYgCNzHsaq1BBQidPwBap3ixIevcF1c4jZFngyhNsywwxkOWXejqcY4A/s1600/Beyond+Justice.jpg" height="200" width="133" /></a></div>
Every once in a while there is a book that strikes me as simply phenomenal. Well, <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/BEYOND-JUSTICE-Joshua-Graham-ebook/dp/B003UV98BI/ref=cm_cr_pr_product_top">Beyond Justice</a></i> is one of those books and I just have to share it. I have no ties to this author, but this book truly spoke to me, enough that I want to spread the word! If you're looking for a really good book, check this one out!<br />
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There are just so many books out there to choose from that I wanted to make sure to shine my little light on this one. It's just a fantastic story!<br />
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Summary:<br />
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THE DESCENT INTO HELL IS NOT ALWAYS VERTICAL... Sam Hudson, a reputable San Diego attorney, learns this when the authorities wrongfully convict him of the brutal rape and murder of his wife and daughter, and sends him to death row. There he awaits execution by lethal injection. If he survives that long. In prison, Sam fights for his life while his attorney works frantically on his appeal. It is then that he embraces the faith of his departed wife and begins to manifest supernatural abilities. Abilities which help him save lives- his own, those of his unlikely allies-and uncover the true killer's identity, unlocking the door to his exoneration. Now a free man, Sam's newfound faith confronts him with the most insurmountable challenge yet. A challenge beyond vengeance, beyond rage, beyond anything Sam believes himself capable of: to forgive the very man who murdered his family, according to his faith. But this endeavor reveals darker secrets than either Sam or the killer could ever have imagined. Secrets that hurtle them into a fateful collision course. BEYOND JUSTICE, a tale of loss, redemption, and the power of faith.<br />
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Review:<br />
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What a great job the author does of not giving anything away! Phenomenal story build up to his trial, and the Christian message is not overwhelming, more an undercurrent that develops with everything he's going through. Truly a great story!!!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0