Tuesday, January 31, 2012

First Chapter Peak - Threads of Hope by Andrea Boeshaar

It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!



Today's Wild Card author is:


and the book:

Realms (January 3, 2012)

***Special thanks to Jon Wooten of Charisma House for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:


Andrea Kuhn Boeshaar is a certified Christian life coach; a popular speaker at writers’ conferences, workshops, and women’s groups; and the author of numerous published books, including the Seasons of Redemption series: Unwilling Warrior, Uncertain Heart, Unexpected Love, and Undaunted Faith.

Visit the author's website.



SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:


Kristin Eikaas has her hopes set on a new life in America.

The year is 1848, and Kristin Eikaas has traveled from Norway to Wisconsin with dreams of a new life. But when she arrives, she finds one disappointment after another. Worse, her superstitious uncle now believes that his neighbor’s Oneida Indian wife has put a curse on Kristin. Everyone knows the Sundbergs put spells on people…

Everyone except Kristin. Her run-ins with Sam Sundberg only prove that he is a good man from a Christian family. But when her uncle discovers she’s been associating with Sam, his temper flares. To escape his wrath, Kristin gratefully accepts a job as the Sundbergs’ house girl, finding solace at the family’s spinning wheel.

In the time Sam and Kristin spend together, their friendship develops into much more, and Sam prays about a match between them. But opposition threatens to derail their newfound love. Will they have the courage to stand up for what is right—even against their own families?


Product Details:

  • List Price: $13.99
  • Paperback: 304 pages
  • Publisher: Realms (January 3, 2012)
  • Language: English
  • ISBN-10: 1616384972
  • ISBN-13: 978-1616384975



    AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:


    September 1848
    It looks like Norway.
    The thought flittered across nineteen-year-old Kristin Eikaas’s mind as Uncle Lars’s wagon bumped along the dirt road. The docks of Green Bay, Wisconsin, were behind them, and now they rode through a wooded area that looked just as enchanting as the forests she’d left in Norway. Tall pine trees and giant firs caused the sunshine to dapple on the road. Kristin breathed in the sweet, fresh air. How refreshing it felt in her lungs after being at sea for nearly three months and breathing in only salty sea air or the stale air in her dark, crowded cabin.
    A clearing suddenly came into view, and a minute or so later, Kristin eyed the farm fields stretched before her. The sight caused an ache of homesickness. Her poppa had farmed . . .
    “Your trip to America was good, ja?” Uncle Lars asked in Norwegian, giving Kristin a sideways glance.
    He resembled her father so much that her heart twisted painfully with renewed grief. Except she’d heard about Onkel—about his temper—how he had to leave Norway when he was barely of age, because, Poppa had said, trouble followed him.
    But surely he’d grown past all of that. His letters held words of promise, and there was little doubt that her uncle had made a new life for himself here in America.
    Just as she would.
    Visions of a storefront scampered across her mind’s eye—a shop in which she could sell her finely crocheted and knitted items. A shop in which she could work the spinning wheel, just as Mor had . . .
    Uncle Lars arched a brow. “You are tired, liten niese?”
    Ja. It was a long journey.” Kristin sent him a sideways glance.
    “I am grateful I did not come alone. The Olstads made good traveling companions.”
    Her uncle cleared his throat and lowered his voice. “But you have brought my inheritance, ja?” He arched a brow.
    Ja.” Kristin thought of the priceless possession she’d brought from Norway.
    “And you would not hold out on your onkel, would you?”
    Prickles of unease caused Kristin to shift in her seat. She resisted the urge to touch the tiny gold and silver cross pendent suspended from a dainty chain that hung around her neck. Her dress concealed it. She couldn’t give it up, even though it wasn’t legal for a woman to inherit anything in Norway. But the necklace had been her last gift from Mor. A gift from one’s mother wasn’t an inheritance . . . was it? “No, Onkel.”
    She turned and peered down from her perch into the back of the wooden wagon bed. Peder Olstad smiled at her, and Kristin relaxed some. Just a year older, he was the brother of Kristin’s very best friend who had remained in Norway with their mother. She and Peder had grown up together, and while he could be annoying and bad tempered at times, he was the closest thing to a brother that she had. And Sylvia—Sylvia was closer than a sister ever could be. It wouldn’t be long, and she and Mrs. Olstad would come to America too. That would be a
    happy day!
    “You were right,” John Olstad called to Uncle Lars in their native tongue. “Lots of fertile land in this part of the country. I hope to purchase some acres soon.”
    “And after you are a landowner for five years, you can be a citizen of America and you can vote.” The Olstad men smiled broadly and replied in unison. “Oh, ja, ja . . . ”
    Uncle Lars grinned, causing dozens of wrinkles to appear around his blue eyes. His face was tanned from farming beneath the hot sun, and his tattered leather hat barely concealed the abundance of platinum curls growing out of his large head. “Oh, ja, this is very good land. I am glad I persuaded Esther to leave the Muskego settlement and move northeast. But, as you will soon see, we are still getting settled.”
    Ja, how’s that, Lars?”
    Kristin heard the note of curiosity in Mr. Olstad’s voice.
    “I purchased the land and built a barn and a cabin.” He paused and gave a derisive snort. “Well, a fine home takes time and money.”
    “Oh, ja, that way.” Mr. Olstad seemed to understand.
    And Kristin did too. One couldn’t expect enormous comforts out in the Wisconsin wilderness.
    Just then they passed a stately home situated on the Fox River. Two quaint dormers peered from the angled roof, which appeared to be supported by a pair of white pillars.
    “That is Mr. Morgan Martin’s home. He is a lawyer in town.”
    Uncle Lars delivered the rest of his explanation with a sneer. “And an Indian agent.”
    “Indians?” Kristin’s hand flew to her throat.
    “Do not fret. The soldiers across the river at Fort Howard protect the area.”
    Kristin forced her taut muscles to relax.
    “Out here the deer are plentiful and fishing is good. Fine lumber up here too. But the Norwegian population is small. Nevertheless, we have our own church, and the reverend speaks our language.”
    “A good thing,” Mr. Olstad remarked.
    “I cannot wait for the day when Far owns land,” Peder said, glancing at Mr. Olstad. “Lots of land.” The warm wind blew his auburn hair outward from his narrow face, and his hazel eyes sparked with enthusiasm, giving the young man a somewhat wild appearance. “But no farming for me. I want to be rich someday.”
    “As do we all!” exclaimed Mr. Olstad, whose appearance was an older, worn-out version of his son’s.
    Kristin’s mind had parked on land ownership. “And once you are settled, Sylvia will come to America. I cannot wait. I miss her so much.”
    She grappled with a fresh onset of tears. Not only was Sylvia her best friend, but she and the entire Olstad clan had also become like family to her ever since a smallpox epidemic ravaged their little village two years ago, claiming the lives of Kristin’s parents and two younger brothers. When Uncle Lars had learned of the tragic news, he offered her a place to stay in his home if she came to America. Onkel wrote that she should be with her family, so Kristin had agreed to make the voyage. Her plans to leave Norway had encouraged the Olstads to do
    the same. But raising the funds to travel took time and much hard work. While the Olstads scrimped and saved up their crop earnings, Kristin did spinning, weaving, knitting, and sewing for those with money to spare. By God’s grace, they were finally here.
    Uncle Lars steered the wagon around a sharp bend in the rutty road. He drove to the top of a small hill, and Kristin could see the blue Lake Michigan to her left and farm fields to her right.
    Then a lovely white wood-framed house came into view. It didn’t look all that different from the home they’d just past, with dormers, a covered front porch, and stately pillars bearing the load of a wide overhang. She marveled at the homestead’s large, well-maintained barn and several outbuildings. American homes looked like this? Then no wonder Mr. Olstad couldn’t wait to own his own farm!
    Up ahead Kristin spied a lone figure of a man. She could just barely make out his faded blue cambric shirt, tan trousers, and the hoe in his hands as he worked the edge of the field. Closer still, she saw his light brown hair springing out from beneath his hat. As the wagon rolled past him, the man ceased his labor and turned their way. Although she couldn’t see his eyes as he squinted into the sunshine, Kristin did catch sight of his tanned face. She guessed his age to be not too much more than hers and decided he was really quite handsome.
    “Do not even acknowledge the likes of him,” Uncle Lars spat derisively. “Good Christians do not associate with Sam Sundberg or any members of his family.”
    Oh, dear, too late! Kristin had already given him a little smile out of sheer politeness. She had assumed he was a friend or neighbor. But at her uncle’s warning she quickly lowered her gaze.
    Kristin’s ever-inquiring nature got the best of her. “What is so bad about that family?”
    “They are evil—like the Martins. Even worse, Karl Sundberg is married to a heathen Indian woman who casts spells on the good people of this community.”
    “Spells?” Peder’s eyes widened.
    Ja, spells. Why else would some folks’ crops fail while Karl’s flourish? He gets richer and richer with his farming in the summer, his logging camps in the winter, and his fur trading with heathens, while good folks like me fall on hard times.”
    “Hard times?” Peder echoed the words.
    Ja, same seed. Same fertile ground. Same golden opportunity.”
    Uncle Lars swiveled to face the Olstads. “I will tell you why that happens. The Sundbergs have hexed good Christians like me.” He wagged his head. “Oh, they are an evil lot, those Sundbergs and Martins. Same as the Indians.”
    Indians? Curiosity got the better of her, and Kristin swung around in the wagon to get one last glimpse of Sam Sundberg. She could hardly believe he was as awful as her uncle described. Why, he even removed his hat just now and gave her a cordial nod.
    “Turn around, niese, and mind your manners!” Uncle Lars’s large hand gripped her upper arm and he gave her a mild shake.
    “I . . . I am sorry, Onkel,” Kristin stammered. “But I have never seen an Indian.”
    “Sam Sundberg is not an Indian. It is his father’s second wife and their children. Oneida half-breeds is what we call them.”
    “Half-breed, eh?”
    Kristin glanced over her shoulder and saw Peder stroke his chin.
    “Interesting,” he added.
    “How very interesting.” Kristin couldn’t deny her interest was piqued. “Are there many Indians living in the Wisconsin Territory?”
    Ja, they trespass on my land, but I show my gun and they leave without incident. Sundberg brings his Indian wife to church.” He wagged his head. “Such a disgrace.”
    “And the Territory officials do nothing?” Mr. Olstad asked.
    Uncle Lars puffed out his chest. “As of three months ago, we are the State of Wisconsin—no longer a territory.” Uncle Lars stated the latter with as much enthusiasm as a stern schoolmaster. “Now the government will get rid of those savages once and for all.” He sent Kristin a scowl. “And you, my liten niese, will do well to stay away from Indians. All of them, including our neighbors, the Sundbergs. You hear, lest you get yourself scalped.”
    Ja, Onkel.”
    With a measure of alarm, Kristin touched her braided hair and chanced a look at Peder and Mr. Olstad. Both pairs of wide eyes seemed to warn her to heed Uncle Lars’s instructions. She would, of course. But somehow she couldn’t imagine the man they’d just passed doing her any harm. Would he?

    Sam Sundberg wiped the beads of perspiration off his brow before dropping his hat back on his head. Who was the little blonde riding next to Lars Eikaas? Sam hadn’t seen her before. And the men in the wagon bed . . . he’d never seen them either.
    After a moment’s deliberation he concluded they were the expected arrivals from the “Old Country.” Months ago Sam recalled hearing talk in town about Lars’s orphaned niece sailing to America with friends of the family, so he assumed the two red-haired men and the young lady were the topics of that particular conversation. But wouldn’t it just serve Mr. Eikaas right if that blonde angel turned his household upside down—or, maybe, right-side up?
    He smirked at the very idea. Sam didn’t have to meet that young lady to guess Mr. Eikaas would likely have his hands full. Her second backward glance said all Sam needed to know.
    The word plucky sprang into his mind. He chuckled. Plucky she
    seemed, indeed.
    But was she wise enough not to believe everything her uncle said?
    Sam thought it a real shame. Years ago Pa and Lars Eikaas had been friends. But then Pa’s silver went missing, insults were traded, and the Eikaases’ prejudice against Ma, Jackson, and Mary kept the feud alive.
    The Eikaas wagon rolled out of sight, leaving brown clouds of dust in its wake. A grin threatened as Sam thought again of that plucky blonde’s curious expression. Maybe she did have a mind of her own. Now wouldn’t that be something? Sam thanked God that not everyone around here was as intolerant of Wisconsin Natives as the Eikaas family. There were those who actually befriended the Indians and stood up to government officials in their stead. Like Pa, for instance. Like Sam himself.
    The blistering sun beat down on him. Removing his hat once more, he wiped the sweat from his forehead. He started pondering the latest government proposal to remove the Indians from their land. First the Oneida tribe had been forced out, and soon the Menominee band would be “removed” and “civilized.” As bad as that was, it irked Sam more to think about how the government figured it knew best for the Indians. Government plans hadn’t succeeded in the past, so why would they now? Something else had to be done. Relocating the Menominee would cause those people nothing but misery. They’d stated as much themselves. Furthermore, the Indians, led by Chief Oshkosh, were determined not to give up their last tract of land. Sam predicted this current government proposal would only serve to stir up more violence between Indians and whites.
    But not if he and Pa could help it.
    In the distance he heard the clang of the dinner bell. Ma didn’t like him to tarry when food was on the table. Across the beet field, Sam saw his younger brother run on ahead of him. He wagged his head at the twelve-year-old and his voracious appetite.
    With one calloused hand gripping the hoe and the other holding the bushel basket, Sam trudged toward their white clapboard home. Its two dormers protruded proudly from the second floor.
    Entering the mudroom, he fetched cold water from the inside well, peeled off his hat, and quickly washed up. Next he donned a fresh shirt. Ma insisted upon cleanliness at the supper table. Finally presentable, he made his way into the basement where the summer kitchen and a small eating area were located. The cool air met his sun-stoked skin and Sam sighed, appreciating the noonday respite.
    Next he noticed a cake in the middle of the table.
    “That looks good enough to eat,” he teased, resisting the urge to steal a finger-full of white frosting.
    Ma gave him a smile, and her nut-brown eyes darkened as she set the wooden tureen of turkey and wild rice onto the table. “Since it’s Rachel’s last day with us, I thought I would prepare an extra special dessert.”
    Sam glanced across the table at the glowing bride-to-be. In less than twenty-four hours Rachel Decker would become Mrs. Luke Smith. But for the remainder of today she’d fulfill her duties as Ma’s hired house girl who helped with the cooking, cleaning, sewing, washing, and ironing whenever Ma came down with one of her episodes, which were sometimes so intensely painful that Ma couldn’t get out of bed without help. Rachel had been both a comfort and an efficient assistant to Ma.
    “I helped bake the cake, Sam.”
    He grinned at his ten-year-old sister, Mary. “Good job.”
    They all sat down, Mary taking her seat beside Rachel. Sam helped his mother into her place at the head of the table then lowered himself into his chair next to Jackson, who’d been named after Major General Andrew Jackson, the seventh president of this great country.
    “Sam, since your father is away,” Ma began, “will you please ask God’s blessing on our food?”
    “Be glad to.” He bowed his head. “Dearest Lord, we thank Thee for Thy provisions. Strengthen and nourish us with this meal so we may glorify Thee with our labors. In Jesus’s name, amen.”
    Action ensued all around the table. The women served themselves and then between Sam and Jack, they scraped the bowl clean.
    “Good thing Pa’s not home from his meetings in town,” Jack muttered with a crooked grin.
    “If your father were home,” Ma retorted, “I would have made more food.”
    “Should have made more anyhow.” Jack gave her a teasing grin. “No seconds.” He clanged the bowl and spoon together as if to prove his point.
    “You have seconds on your plate already,” Ma said. “Why, I have never seen anyone consume as much food as you do, Jackson.”
    His smile broadened. “I’m growing. Soon I’ll be taller than Sam.”
    “Brotherly competition.” Sam had to chuckle. But in the next moment, he wondered if his family behaved oddly. Didn’t all families enjoy meals together? Tease and laugh together? Tell stories once the sun went down? According to Rachel, they didn’t. The ebony-haired, dark-eyed young woman had grown up without a mother and had a drunkard for a father . . . until Ma got wind of the situation and took her in. She invited Rachel to stay in the small room adjacent to the kitchen and offered her a job. Rachel had accepted. And now, years later, Rachel would soon marry a fine man, Luke Smith, a friend of Sam’s.
    Taking a bite of his meal, he chewed and looked across the table at Mary. Both she and Jack resembled their mother, dark brown hair, dark brown eyes, and graceful, willowy frames, while Sam took after his father, blue eyes and stocky build, measuring just under six feet. Yet, in spite of the outward dissimilarities, the five Sundbergs were a closely knit family, and Sam felt grateful that he’d known nothing but happiness throughout
    his childhood. He had no recollection whatsoever of his biological mother who had taken ill and died during the voyage from Norway to America.
    Sam had been but a toddler when she went home to be with the Lord, and soon after disembarking in New York, his father met another Norwegian couple. They helped care for Sam and eventually persuaded Pa to take his young son and move with them to Wisconsin, known back then as part of the “Michigan Territory.” Pa seized the opportunity, believing the promises that westward expansion touted, and he was not disappointed.
    He learned to plant, trap, and trade with the Indians, and he became a successful businessman. In time, he saved enough funds to make his dreams of owning land and farming a reality.
    Then, when Sam was a boy of eight years, his father met and married Mariah, an Oneida. Like her, many Oneida were Christians and fairly well educated due to the missionaries who had lived among them. In time Sam took to his new mother, and she to him. Through the years Ma cherished and admonished him as though he were her own son. She learned the Norwegian language and could speak it fluently. As far as Sam was concerned, he was her own son—and Mariah, his own mother.
    They were a family.
    “Was that the Eikaas wagon driving by not long ago?” Mary asked.
    Sam snapped from his musing. “Sure was. It appears they have relatives in town.”
    “Mr. Eikaas didn’t stop and visit, did he?” Mary’s eyes were as round as gingersnaps.
    Sam chuckled. “No, of course not. I can’t recall the last time Lars Eikaas spoke to me . . . or any of the Sundbergs, for that matter.”
    “Erik is nice to me at school.” Mary took a bite of her meal.
    “Glad to hear it.”
    “I can’t wait to begin school next week.”
    Sam grinned at his sister’s enthusiasm. He’d felt the same way as a boy.
    “Sam, what made you assume Mr. Eikaas transported relatives in his wagon today?”
    He glanced at Ma. “A while back I’d heard that Lars’s niece was coming to America, accompanied by friends, and since I didn’t recognize the three passengers in the wagon this morning, I drew my own conclusions.”
    “Is she pretty?” Jackson’s cheeks bulged with food.
    “Is who pretty?”
    “Mr. Eikaas’s niece . . . is she pretty?”
    Sam recalled the plucky blonde whose large, cornflower-blue eyes looked back at him with interest from beneath her bonnet. And pretty? As much as Sam hated to admit it, she was about the prettiest young lady he’d ever set eyes on.
    Jackson elbowed him. “Hey, I asked you a question.”
    Sam gave his younger brother an annoyed look. “Yeah, I s’pose she’s pretty. But don’t go getting any big ideas about me courting her. She’s an Eikaas.”
    “You’re awful old to not be married yet.” Jack rolled his dark eyes.
    “What do you know about it? I’m only twenty-one.” Sam grinned. “Hush up and eat.” It’s what the boy did best. “So . . . did everyone have a pleasant morning?” He forked another bite of food into his mouth, wondering why he tried so hard to shift the subject off of Lars Eikaas’s niece.

    Kristin looked around the one-room shanty with its unhewn walls and narrow, bowed loft. Cotton squares of material covered the windows, making the heat inside nearly unbearable.
    Disappointment riddled her being like buckshot. Although she knew she should feel grateful for journeying safely this far, and now to have a roof over her head, she couldn’t seem to shake her displeasure at seeing her relatives’ living quarters. It looked nothing like her uncle had described in his letters nor the homes she’d glimpsed on the way.
    “Here is your trunk of belongings,” Uncle Lars said, carrying the wooden chest in on one of his broad shoulders. With a grunt, he set it down in the far corner of the cabin. “Where is my inheritance? Let me have a look at it.”
    “Right now, Onkel?”
    Ja, ja . . .” Impatience filled his tone.
    Pulling open the drawstring of her leather purse, she reached inside and extracted the key. She unlocked the trunk and opened its curved lid. Getting onto her knees, Kristin moved aside her clothes and extra shoes until she found what she searched for. Poppa’s gold watch. She held the black velvet-covered box reverently in her hands for one last, long moment before she stood and presented it to her uncle.
    “This belonged to my poppa.”
    “Ah . . .” Uncle Lars’s face lit up with delight as he opened the box. Looking to Aunt Esther, he nodded. “This will bring a fair price, do you think?”
    Disbelief poured over her. “But . . . you would not sell Poppa’s watch, would you?”
    “None of your business!”
    Kristin jumped back at the biting reply. Her opinion of her uncle dropped like a rock into a cavern.
    “Anything more?” Her uncle bent over the wooden chest and quickly rummaged through it, spilling clothes onto the unswept floor.
    Onkel, please, stop. My garments . . .”
    “Does not seem to be anything else.” Uncle Lars narrowed his gaze. “Is there?”
    “No.” The necklace Mor had given her burned against her already perspiring skin. Still, Kristin refused to part with the gift. “Nothing more. As you know, Poppa was a farmer. He supplemented his income by working at the post office, but no money was ever saved. After my parents died, I sold everything to help pay for a portion of my passage to America. I earned the rest myself.”
    “Any money left?”
    Kristin shook her head as she picked up the last of her belongings, careful not to meet her uncle’s stare. A little money remained in the special pocket she’d sewn into her petticoat. For safety, she’d kept her funds on her person throughout the entire voyage. The last of her coinage would purchase muchneeded undergarments. She’d managed to save it throughout the journey for the specific purpose of buying new foundations when she reached America. It wasn’t inherited. She’d worked hard for it.
    With a grunt Uncle Lars turned and sauntered out of the cabin.
    “You will sleep in the loft with your cousins.” Aunt Esther’s tone left no room for questions or argument. Wearing a plain, brown dress with a tan apron pinned to its front, and with her dark brown hair tightly pinned into a bun, the older woman looked as drab as her surroundings. “Your uncle and I sleep on a pallet by the hearth.”
    “Yes, Tante. I am sure I will be very comfortable.” Another lie.
    “Come, let us eat.” Aunt Esther walked toward the hearth where a heavy black kettle sat on top of a low-burning fire. “There is venison stew for our meal.”
    “It sounds delicious.” Kristin’s stomach growled in anticipation. She’d eaten very little on the ship this morning. Excitement plus the waves on Lake Michigan made eating impossible. But after disembarking in Green Bay, her stomach began to settle, and now she was famished.
    Aunt Esther called everyone to the table, which occupied an entire corner of the cabin. Her three children, two girls and one boy, ranging in ages from seven to sixteen, came in from outside, as did the Olstads. After a wooden bowl filled with stew was set before each person, the family clasped hands and recited a standard Norwegian prayer . . .
    I Jesu navn gar vi til bords,—We sit down in the name of Jesus,
    Spise drikke pa ditt ord,—To eat and drink according to Your
    Word,
    Deg Gud til are, oss til gavn,—To Your honor, Oh Lord, and
    for our benefit,
    Sa far vi mat i Jesu navn.—We receive food in the name of
    Jesus.
    Amen.
    Having said grace, hands were released, and everyone picked up a spoon and began to eat. Kristin noticed her cousins, Inga and Anna, eyeing her with interest. They resembled their father, blonde curls and blue eyes.
    “What do you like to do on sunny afternoons such as this one?” she asked cheerfully, hoping to start conversation. After all, Inga’s age was close to hers. Perhaps her cousin would help her meet friends.
    “We do not talk at the table,” Aunt Esther informed her. “We eat, not talk.”
    “Yes, Tante.” Kristin glanced at Peder and Mr. Olstad who replied with noncommittal shrugs and kept eating.
    Silently, Kristin did the same. The Olstads always had lively discussions around their table.
    When the meal ended, the girls cleared the table and the men took young Erik and ambled outside.
    “May I help with cleaning up?” Kristin asked her aunt.
    “No. You rest today and regain your strength. Tomorrow we are invited to a wedding, the day after is the Sabbath. Then beginning on Monday, you will labor from sunup to sunset like everyone else in this place.”
    “Except for one,” Inga quipped. No one but Kristin heard.
    “Who?” Her lips moved, although she didn’t utter a sound.
    Far, that is who.” Disrespect seeped from Inga’s tone, which was loud and clear.
    Hadn’t Aunt Esther overheard it?
    Tante suddenly whirled around and glared at Kristin. “Do something with yourself. We are working here.”
    With a frown, Kristin backed away. Her aunt’s brusque manner caused her to feel weary and more homesick than
    ever. She missed her parents and her little brothers. Why did God take them, leaving her to live life without them? And Sylvia . . . how she longed for her best friend!
    Kristin knelt by the trunk and carefully lifted out a soft, knitted shawl that had once belonged to her mother, Lydia Eikaas. Mor had been an excellent seamstress, expert in spinning wool into yarn and thread, as well as in weaving and sewing garments. She’d taught Kristin everything she knew about the craft. Surely Kristin could now put her skills to good use in this new country, this land of opportunity.
    She sighed and glanced over to where her aunt and two cousins continued straightening up after the meal. Inga and Anna barely smiled, and her aunt’s expression seemed permanently frozen into a frown. Is that what this country really afforded . . . misery?
    Allowing her gaze to wander around the dismal cabin once more, Kristin began to wish she had not come to America.

    Monday, January 30, 2012

    It's Monday What are You Reading?

    It's Monday What are You Reading? is a wondeful meme that is hosted by Sheila over at Book Journey.

    This past week has been really busy with work and health issues and family things.  so not alot of stuff got done as far as household things and and bloggy stuff.  This week should be back to normal and hopefully I will be able to do more reading and more blogging.

    Last Week on the blog:

    Review of
    Unhallowed Ground (Chronicles of Hugh De Singleton, Surgeon)
    Unhallowed Ground by Mel Starr

    Book Review of
    Mornings with Jesus 2012: Daily Encouragement for Your Soul 366 Devotions
    Mornings with Jesus Devotional

    This week on the blog

    First chapter peak
    Threads of Hope
    Threads of Hope by Andrea Boeshaar

    Book review of
    Beyond Molasses Creek
    Beyond Molasses Creek by Nicole Seitz

    First Chapter Peak
    Nocover-blank-133x176
    Ellie's Haven by Sharlene Maclaren

    First Chapter Peak
    Everything Romance: A Celebration Of Love For Couples
    Everything Romance by David Bordon and Tim Winters

    Coming Up

    An Amish Family Reunion
    Amish Family Reunion of Mary Ellis

    Currently Reading

    Audio
    Lonesome Dove
    Lonesome Dove by Larry McMurtry

    Leah's Choice (Pleasant Valley, #1)
    Leah's Choice by Marta Perry

    Kindle

    Delivering Hope
    Delivering Hope by Jennifer Ann Holt

    hard copy

    Beyond Molasses Creek
    Beyond Molasses Creek by Nicole Seitz

    Birthday Party Murder (A Lucy Stone Mystery, #9)

    Birthday Party Murder by Leslie Meier


    What's on Your Reading Horizon?

    Saturday, January 28, 2012

    Unhallowed Ground: The Fourth Chronicle of Hugh de Singleton, Surgeon by Mel Star

    Unhallowed Ground: The Fourth Chronicle of Hugh de Singleton, Surgeon by Mel Starr

    9780825425905


     

    About the Book: The fourth adventure of Hugh de Singleton, medieval surgeon and detective, finds Hugh investigating what seems to be a suicide of one of the town's scoundrels and his longtime enemy. Though at first reluctant to pursue a mystery that no one else sees, Hugh and and his new wife Kate set out from the town of Bampton only to follow the clues back in order to discover which of their friends committed the murder.

     
     
     
     
     
     
    From Goodreads.com: Thomas atte Bridge, a man no one likes, is found hanging from a tree near Cowleys Corner. All assume he has taken his own life, but Master Hugh and Kate find evidence that this may not be so. Many in the town had been harmed by Thomas, and Hugh is not eager to send one of them to the gallows. Then he discovers that the worldly and corrupt priest John Kellet had been covertly in Bampton at the time atte Bridge died. Master Hugh is convinced that Kellet has murdered atte Bridge - one rogue slaughtering another. Searching for proof he sets out of Exeter, where Kellet now works. But there he finds that the priest in an emaciated skeleton of a man, who mourns the folly of his past life. Hugh must return to Bampton - and discover which of his friends has murdered his enemy...
     
    My take:  This is the ongoing story involving Hugh de Singleton.  It is interesting to read about this time period and I learn something new everytime I read a book in this series.  IT's also interesting to see how the mystery works out.  I never figure it out till the very end.  I would suggest reading the series from the beginning although each book is enjoyable in its own right.
     
    I received a review copy from the publisher.

    Mornings With Jesus

    Mornings with Jesus 2012: Daily Encouragement for Your Soul 366 Devotions

    About the book:
    "Be still and know that I am God.” is one of the most beautiful verses from the Bible, but it’s not easy to practice in this busy world. Mornings with Jesus will help you do just that—“be still” in Jesus’ beautiful and powerful presence. For those who are seeking a deeper experience in their relationship with Christ, Mornings with Jesus offers a fresh perspective of who Jesus is (the Healer, the Son of God, the Comforter, the Good Shepherd) and what that means for day-to-day life. With a warm and friendly voice, 365 short devotional writings on the character and teachings of Jesus encourage readers to greet each day by drawing near to Him and inviting His presence into their day. Spend time with Jesus at the beginning of each day and experience His nearness and peace in a new way throughout the year. Each day’s selection includes: • a Bible verse • an entry based on Jesus: His words, miracles, and parables; His wisdom, compassion, and comfort; His mystery, power, divinity, and humanity • a “faith step” that will inspire and challenge readers to apply the day’s message to their lives

     
    Link to buy the book:  http://ow.ly/8BbyO   
     
    My Take:  I have decided to use this book as one of my devotionals for the year.  Everyday is written by a different author and addresses an everyday event that each of us can relate with and gives us some insight into that issue. I have been enjoying the daily meeting with other women.  Great for todays woman.
     
    I was sent a copy of this book for review purposes.

    Friday, January 20, 2012

    Chasing Mona Lisa by Tricia Goyer and Mike Yorkey



    About the book: It is August 1944 and Paris is on the cusp of liberation. As the soldiers of the Third Reich flee the Allied advance, they ravage the country, stealing countless pieces of art. Reichsmarschall Hermann Göring will stop at nothing to claim the most valuable one of all, the Mona Lisa, as a post-war bargaining chip to get him to South America. Can Swiss OSS agents Gabi Mueller and Eric Hofstadler rescue DaVinci's masterpiece before it falls into German hands? With nonstop action, Chasing Mona Lisa is sure to get readers' adrenaline pumping as they join the chase to save the most famous painting in the world. From war-ravaged Paris to a posh country chateau, the race is on--and the runners are playing for keeps.

    Read an excerpt, watch a video and find out more here. http://www.triciagoyer.com/historicalfiction.html#ChasingMonaLisa


    About the authors:

     Tricia Goyer is the coauthor of The Swiss Courier as well as the author of many other books, including Night Song and Dawn of a Thousand Nights, both past winners of the ACFW's Book of the Year Award for Long Historical Romance. Goyer lives with her family in Arkansas. For more about Tricia and her other books visitwww.triciagoyer.com

     Mike Yorkey is the author or coauthor of dozens of books, including The Swiss Courier and the bestselling Every Man's Battle series. Married to a Swiss native, Yorkey lived in Switzerland for 18 months. He and his family currently reside in California. For more about Mike and his other books visit http://www.mikeyorkey.com/

    Link to buy the book: ow.ly/8sRzd

    My Take:  I really like Historical fiction and one of my favorite time periods to read about is World War II.  I had read before of how the Nazi's would take valuables and spirit them away. This book takes that and gives you a exciting thrilling ride to save one of the most recognized pieces of art of all time.  Even though this is fiction you feel like it was real and that it really happened.  Excellent book.

    Win an iTouch SPY Pack in the Chasing Mona Lisa Giveaway from @triciagoyer @mikeyorkey! Chasing Mona Lisa is the continuing tale of Gabi Mueller and Eric Hofstadler (first introduced in The Swiss Courier). This time the due are on a relentless quest to save the most famous painting in the world  - the Mona Lisa. You can help Gabi and Eric with your very own spy pack when you enter The Chasing Mona Lisa Giveaway!


    One passionate protector will receive:
    • iTouch (The must-have device for any spy. Camera, Maps & Music.)
    • Starbucks Gift Card (For all those late nights.)
    • Moleskin Notebook (For those important notes.)
    • Invisible Ink Pen (Don’t want anyone reading those important notes.)
    • Chasing Mona Lisa by Tricia Goyer & Mike Yorkey (Great handbook and intriguing tale for any spy-in-training!)
    Enter today by clicking one of the icons below. But hurry, the giveaway ends at noon on January 31st. The winner will be announced at the Chasing Mona Lisa Facebook Party on 1/31. Tricia and Mike will be hosting an author chat (on Facebook and Live from Tricia's website) and giving away their books and a Book Club prize pack! (Ten copies of the book for your small group or book club AND a LIVE Author Chat for your group with Tricia and Mike.)

    So grab your copy of Chasing Mona Lisa and join Tricia and Mike on the evening of the 31st for an author chat, spy training (do you know how to pick a lock?) and lots of giveaways. 

    Enter via E-mail Enter via FacebookEnter via Twitter
    Don't miss a moment of the fun. RSVP today and tell your friends via FACEBOOK or TWITTER and increase your chances of winning. Hope to see you on the 31st!

    FIRETHORN by Ronie Kendig

    Thursday, January 19, 2012

    First Chapter Peak - Loves Blooms in Winter by Lori Copeland

    It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!

    You never know when I might play a wild card on you!



    Today's Wild Card author is:


    and the book:


    • Harvest House Publishers (January 1, 2012)

    ***Special thanks to Karri | Marketing Assistant |Harvest House Publishers for sending me a review copy.***

    ABOUT THE AUTHOR:


    Lori Copeland is the author of more than 90 titles, both historical and contemporary fiction. With more than 3 million copies of her books in print, she has developed a loyal following among her rapidly growing fans in the inspirational market. She has been honored with the Romantic Times Reviewer's Choice Award, The Holt Medallion, and Walden Books' Best Seller award. In 2000, Lori was inducted into the Missouri Writers Hall of Fame. She lives in the beautiful Ozarks with her husband, Lance, and their three children and five grandchildren.

    Visit the author's website.

    SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:

    This new romance from bestselling author Lori Copeland portrays God’s miraculous provision when none seems possible. An engagement, a runaway train, and a town of quirky, loveable people make for more adventure than Tom Curtis is expecting. But it is amazing what can bloom in winter with God in charge.

    1892—Mae Wilkey’s sweet next-door neighbor, Pauline, is suffering from old age and dementia and desperately needs family to come help her. But Pauline can’t recall having kin remaining. Mae searches through her desk and finds a name—Tom Curtis, who may just be the answer to their prayers.

    Tom can’t remember an old aunt named Pauline, but if she thinks he’s a long-lost nephew, he very well may be. After two desperate letters from Mae, he decides to pay a visit. An engagement, a runaway train, and a town of quirky, loveable people make for more of an adventure than Tom is expecting. But it is amazing what can bloom in winter when God is in charge of things.





    Product Details:

      • List Price: $13.99
      • Paperback: 304 pages
      • Publisher: Harvest House Publishers (January 1, 2012)
      • Language: English
      • ISBN-10: 0736930191
      • ISBN-13: 978-0736930192


    AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:


    Dwadlo, North Dakota, 1892
    The winter of ’92 is gonna go down as one of the worst Dwadlo’s ever seen,” Hal Murphy grumbled as he dumped the sack of flour he got for his wife on the store counter. “Mark my words.” He turned toward Mae Wilkey, the petite postmistress, who was stuffing mail in wooden slots.
    “Spring can’t come soon enough for me.” She stepped back, straightening the row of letters and flyers. She didn’t have to record Hal’s prediction; it was the same every year. “I’d rather plant flowers than shovel snow any day of the week.”
    “Yes, ma’am.” Hal nodded to the store owner, Dale Smith, who stood five foot seven inches with a rounded belly and salt-and-pepper hair swept to a wide front bang. “Add a couple of those dill pickles, will you?” Hal watched as Dale went over to the barrel and fished around inside, coming up with two fat pickles.
    “That’ll fix me up.” Hal turned his attention back to the mail cage, his eyes fixed on the lovely sight. “Can’t understand why you’re still single, Mae. You’re as pretty as a raindrop on a lily pad.” He sniffed the air. “And you smell as good.”
    Smiling, Mae moved from the letter boxes to the cash box. Icy weather may have delayed the train this morning, but she still had to count money and record the day’s inventory. “Now, Hal, you know I’d marry you in a wink if you weren’t already taken.” Hal and Clara had been married forty-two years, but Mae’s usual comeback never failed to put a sparkle in the farmer’s eye. Truth be, she put a smile on every man’s face, but she wasn’t often aware of the flattering looks she received. Her heart belonged to Jake Mallory, Dwadlo’s up-and-coming attorney.
    Hal nodded. “I know. All the good ones are taken, aren’t they?”
    She nodded. “Every single one. Especially in Dwadlo.”
    The little prairie town was formed when the Chicago & North Western Railroad came through five years ago. Where abundant grass, wild flowers, and waterfalls had once flourished, hundreds of miles of steel rail crisscrossed the land, making way for big, black steam engines that hauled folks and supplies. Before the railroad came through, only three homesteads had dotted the rugged Dakota Territory: Mae’s family’s, Hal and Clara’s, and Pauline Wilson’s.
    But in ’87 life changed, and formerly platted sites became bustling towns. Pine Grove and Branch Springs followed, and Dwadlo suddenly thrived with immigrants, opportunists, and adventure-seeking folks staking claims out West. A new world opened when the Dakota Boom started.
    Hal’s gaze focused on Mae’s left hand. “Jake still hasn’t popped the question?”
    Mae sighed. Hal was a pleasant sort, but she really wished the townspeople would occupy their thoughts with something other than her and Jake’s pending engagement. True, they had been courting for six years and Jake still hadn’t proposed, but she was confident he would. He’d said so, and he was a man of his word—though every holiday, when a ring would have been an appropriate gift, that special token of his intentions failed to materialize. Mae had more lockets than any one woman could wear, but Jake apparently thought that she could always use another one. What she could really use was his hand in marriage. The bloom was swiftly fading from her youth, and it would be nice if her younger brother, Jeremy, had a man’s presence in his life.
    “Be patient, Hal. He’s busy trying to establish a business.”
    “Good lands. How long does it take a man to open a law office?”
    “Apparently six years and counting.” She didn’t like the uncertainty but she understood it, even if the town’s population didn’t. She had a good life, what with work, church, and the occasional social. Jake accompanied her to all public events, came over two or three times a week, and never failed to extend a hand when she needed something. It was almost as though they were already married.
    “The man’s a fool,” Hal declared. “He’d better slap a ring on that finger before someone else comes along and does it for him.”
    “Not likely in Dwadlo,” Mae mused. The town itself was made up of less than a hundred residents, but other folks lived in the surrounding areas and did their banking and shopping here. Main Street consisted of the General Store, Smith’s Grain and Feed, the livery, the mortuary, the town hall and jail (which was almost always empty), Doc Swede’s office, Rosie’s CafĂ©, and an empty building that had once housed the saloon. Mae hadn’t spotted a sign on any business yet advertising “Husbands,” but she was certain her patience would eventually win out.
    With a final smile Hal moved off to pay for his goods. Mae hummed a little as she put the money box in the safe. Looking out the window, she noticed a stiff November wind snapping the red canvas awning that sheltered the store’s porch. Across the square, a large gazebo absorbed the battering wind. The usually active gathering place was now empty under a gray sky. On summer nights music played, and the smell of popcorn and roasted peanuts filled the air. Today the structure looked as though it were bracing for another winter storm. Sighing, Mae realized she already longed for green grass, blooming flowers, and warm breezes.
    After Hal left Mae finished up the last of the chores and then reached for her warm wool cape. She usually enjoyed the short walk home from work, but today she was tired—and her feet hurt because of the new boots she’d purchased from the Montgomery Ward catalog. On the page they had looked comfortable with their high tops and polished leather, but on her feet they felt like a vise.
    Slipping the cape’s hood over her hair, she said goodbye to Dale and then paused when her hand touched the doorknob. “Oh, dear. I really do need to check on Pauline again.”
    “How’s she doing?” The store owner paused and leaned on his broom. “I noticed she hasn’t been in church recently.”
    Dale always reminded Mae of an owl perching on a tree limb, his big, dark blue eyes swiveling here and there. He might not talk a body’s leg off, but he kept up on town issues. She admired the quiet little man for what he did for the community and respected the way he preached to the congregation on Sundays.
    How was Pauline doing? Mae worried the question over in her mind. Pauline lived alone, and she shouldn’t. The elderly woman was Mae’s neighbor, and she checked on her daily, but Pauline was steadily losing ground.
    “She’s getting more and more fragile, I’m afraid. Dale, have you ever heard Pauline speak of kin?”
    The small man didn’t take even a moment to ponder the question. “Never heard her mention a single word about family of any kind.”
    “Hmm…me neither. But surely she must have some.” Someone who should be here, in Dwadlo, looking after the frail soul. Mae didn’t resent the extra work, but the post office and her brother kept her busy, and she really didn’t have the right to make important decisions regarding the elderly woman’s rapidly failing health.
    Striding back to the bread rack, she picked up a fresh loaf. Dale had private rooms at the back of the store where he made his home, and he was often up before dawn baking bread, pies, and cakes for the community. Most folks in town baked their own goods, but there were a few, widowers and such, who depended on Dale’s culinary skills. By this hour of the day the goods were usually gone, but a few remained. Placing a cherry pie in her basket as well, she called, “Add these things to my account, please, Dale. And pray for Pauline too.”
    Nodding, he continued sweeping, methodically running the stiff broomcorn bristles across the warped wood floor.
    The numbing wind hit Mae full force when she stepped off the porch. Her hood flew off her head and an icy gust of air snatched away her breath. Putting down her basket, she retied the hood before setting off for the brief walk home. Dwadlo was laid out in a rather strange pattern, a point everyone agreed on. Businesses and homes were built close together, partly as shelter from the howling prairie winds and partly because there wasn’t much forethought given to town planning. Residents’ homes sat not a hundred feet from the store. The whole community encompassed less than five acres.
    Halfway to her house, snowflakes began swirling in the air. Huddling deeper into her wrap, Mae concentrated on the path as the flakes grew bigger.
    She quickly covered the short distance to Pauline’s. The dwelling was little more than a front room, tiny kitchen, and bedroom, but she was a small woman. Pauline pinned her yellow-white hair in a tight knot at the base of her skull, and she didn’t have a tooth in her head. She chewed snuff, which she freely admitted was an awful habit, but Mae had never heard her speak of giving it up.
    Her faded blue eyes were as round as buttons, and no matter what kind of day she was having, it was always a new one to her, filled with wonders. Her mind wasn’t what it used to be. She had good and bad days, but mostly days when her moods changed as swift as summer lightning. She could be talking about tomatoes in the garden patch when suddenly she would be discussing how to spin wool.
    Mae noted a soft wisp of smoke curling up from the chimney and smiled. Pauline had remembered to feed the fire this afternoon, so this was a good day.
    Unlatching the gate, she followed the path to the front porch. In summertime the white railings hung heavy with red roses, and the scent of honeysuckle filled the air. This afternoon the wind howled across the barren flower beds Pauline carefully nurtured during warmer weather. Often she planted okra where petunias should be, but she enjoyed puttering in the soil and the earth loved her. She brought fresh tomatoes, corn, and beans to the store during spring and summer, and pumpkins and squash lined the railings in the fall.
    In earlier days Pauline’s quilts were known throughout the area. She and her quilting group had made quite a name for themselves when Dwadlo first became a town. Four women excelled in the craft. One had lived in Pine Grove, and two others came from as far away as Branch Springs once a month to break bread together and stitch quilts. But one by one the women had died off, leaving Pauline to sew alone in her narrowing world.
    Stomping her boots on the porch, Mae said under her breath, “I don’t mind winter, Lord, but could we perhaps have a little less of it?” The only answer was the wind whipping her garments. Tapping lightly on the door, she called, “Pauline?”
    Mae stepped back and waited to hear the shuffle of feet. Pauline used to answer the door in less than twenty seconds. It took longer now. Mae made a fist with her gloved hand and banged a little harder. The wind howled around the cottage eaves. She closed her eyes and prayed that Jeremy had remembered to stack sufficient firewood beside the kitchen door. The boy was generally responsible, and she thanked God every day that she had him to lean on. He had been injured by forceps during birth, which left him with special needs. He was a very happy fourteen-year-old with the reasoning power of a child of nine.
    A full minute passed. Mae frowned and tried the doorknob. Pauline couldn’t hear herself yell in a churn, but she might also be asleep. The door opened easily, and Mae peeked inside the small living quarters. She saw that a fire burned low in the woodstove, and Pauline’s rocking chair sat empty.
    Stepping inside, she closed the door and called again. “Pauline? It’s Mae!”
    The ticking of the mantle clock was the only sound that met her ears.
    “Pauline?” She lowered her hood and walked through the living room. She paused in the kitchen doorway.
    “Oh, Pauline!”

    Book Spotlight - Cyberlife by W. H. Buxton

    CyberLife
    Cyberlife by W. H. Buxton


    From Goodreads.com
    The year is 2069 and Jim Murphy thinks he has the world pretty much figured out, as a Knowledge Management Consultant (whatever that is!) muddling through various technology consulting jobs. That is, until his company, SciPop Inc., assigns him to work a particularly unusual project involving the acquisition of a small backpacking and hiking services business owned by techno-hater Laura Meyers. Jim, however, never works alone. He, like everyone else in the world, is armed with the ultimate technology super-support tool: a personalized, artificially intelligent, holographic Virtual Life form, more commonly known as a Vertal, named Jasper. Just as Jim lives, works and socializes in the physical world; Jasper lives, works, and socializes in the Cybersphere, coexisting and coordinating on behalf of Jim with other Vertals as both navigate the world of the Cybersphere; a 24/7 on-line computer world connecting everyone to everything. Everyone uses it, but in order to use it, you need a Vertal. Somehow, Laura Meyers has learned to exist in the Cybersphere without a Vertal, unfathomable to Jim, Jasper or anyone else at SciPop. But as Jim works the project, he soon discovers there is much more going on in the Cybersphere than SciPop's acquisition of this small, unassuming business when Jasper suddenly goes missing. Jim discovers SciPop has a much bigger and darker plan for "Laura's Hikes" than just a simple acquisition of one of the few non-technical companies left in existence. Much more. Welcome to CyberLife: A weeklong initiation into the cybercentric universe of techno-biologic symbiosis which is considered by all to be perfectly organized, functional, efficient, and effective. As long as Jim, Laura and Jasper follow the rules and regulations of SciPop. Which, so far, they have tended not to do very well

    My  Take:
    To be perfectly honest, I just couldn't get into this book.  I tried but I became bored  with the whole interaction with every single thing in your life from your toilet to your refrigerator. 

    Here is a review by Gemma that gives a little different perspective. 

    I might try to read this book at another time.  I have been going through a bit of a funk with my reading and nothing has appealed to me lately. 

    Monday, January 16, 2012

    It's Monday what are You Reading?

    It's been a few weeks since I have participated in this meme and I have missed it. 

    It's Monday What are you reading is hosted by Sheila over at Bookjourney.  Head over there and see what others are reading this week. 

    I have not been a very good blogger lately.  I have fallen into a bit of a reading funk and have just not really liked any of the book that I have been reading. 

    Last Week on the blog

    I reviewed
    101 Things You Thought You Knew About the Sinking of the Titanic Which Aren't True!
    101 things you Thought you knew about the Titanic...but didn't by Tim Maltin

    I posted book trailers for:

    The Mulligans of Mt. Jefferson: A Novel
    The Mulligan's of MT. Jefferson by Don Reid

    Alienation (C.H.A.O.S., #2)
    Alienation by Jon S. Lewis

    Replication: The Jason Experiment
    Replication by Jill Williamson

    The Shadow of Your Smile
    The Shadow of Your Smile by Susan May Warren

    Next week on the blog

    Book review of
    Chasing Mona Lisa: A Novel
    Chasin Mona Lisa by Tricia Goyer and Mike Yorkey

    Book Review of
    CyberLife
    Cyberlife by W.H.Buxton

    First Chapter Peak and Book review of
    Love Blooms in Winter
    Love Blooms in Winter by Lori Copeland

    Audio Book of the Week
    Kill Alex Cross (Alex Cross, #18)
    Kill Alex Cross by James Patterson

    Book Trailers of
    Love Finds a Home: 3 Historical Romances Make Falling in Love Simple and Sweet
    Love Finds a Home by Wands Brunstetter

    Rose's Pledge (Harwood House)
    Rose's Pledge by Sally Laity and Dianna Crawford

    Tomorrow's Sun (Lost Sanctuary)
    Tomorrow's Sun by Becky Melby

    Firethorn (Discarded Heroes)
    Firethorn by Ronie Kendig

    Addison Blakely: Confessions of a PK
    Addison Blakely: Confessions of a PK by Betsy St. Amant

    Currently Reading

    Audio
    Whiskey Sour (Jack Daniels Mystery, #1)
    Whiskey Sour by J. A. Konrath

    Lonesome Dove
    Lonesome Dove by Larry McMurtry

    Kindle
    Replication: The Jason Experiment
    Replication : the Jason Experiment by Jill Williamson

    Book
    Love Blooms in Winter
    Love Blooms in Winter by Lori Copeland


    coming Up:

    Mornings With Jesus
    Mornings with Jesus

    Beyond Molasses Creek
    Beyond Molasses Creek by Nicole Seitz

    An Amish Family Reunion
    An Amish Family Reunion by Mary Ellis


    What's on your reading Horizon?

    'Love Finds a Home' by Wanda E. Brunstetter, 3-in-1 Volume

    Wednesday, January 11, 2012

    101 Things You thought You Knew About the Titanic...but Didn't by Tim Maltin



    The above video is just a small portion of what you will learn in this book.

    From Goodreads:
    101 Things You Thought You Knew About the Titanic ... But Didn't! (Paperback)

    The sinking of the Titanic has long aroused debate, mysticiation and disagreement. This book presents the facts behind the fictions.


    My Take:  This book was very interesting.  Some of the things that weren't true I thought were true.  Tim Martin has done alot of research and presents his findings very straight forward.  If you are interested in Titanic this would be an interesting book for you.

    I received a copy for review from Netgalley.