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:
Tyndale House Publishers, Inc. (June 7, 2010)
***Special thanks to Vicky Lynch of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc for sending me a review copy.***
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
When the going gets tough—or weird or wonderful—the daydreamer gets going on a new story. Sally John has been tweaking life's moments into fiction since she read her first Trixie Belden mystery as a child.
Now an author of more than fifteen novels, Sally writes stories that reflect contemporary life. Her passion is to create a family, turn their world inside out, and then portray how their relationships change with each other and with God. Her goal is to offer hope to readers in their own relational and faith journeys.
Sally grew up in Moline, Illinois, graduated from Illinois State University, married Tim in 1973, and taught in middle schools. She is a mother, mother-in-law, and grandmother. A three-time finalist for the Christy Award, she also teaches writing workshops. Her books include the Safe Harbor series (coauthored with Gary Smalley), The Other Way Home series, The Beach House series, and In a Heartbeat series. Many of her stories are set in her favorite places of San Diego, Chicago, and small-town Illinois.
She and her husband currently live in southern California.
Visit the author's
website.
Product Details:
List Price: $13.99
Paperback: 416 pages
Publisher: Tyndale House Publishers, Inc. (June 7, 2010)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1414327854
ISBN-13: 978-1414327853
AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:
Topala, Mexico
Eighteen months later
Like everything about the small village tucked into the foothills of the Sierra Madres in central Mexico, sunrise was a leisurely event.
Sheridan waited for it, tea mug in hand, shawl over her cotton nightgown, bare feet chilled against the tile floor of the second-story balcony. Alone, she listened in the dark to the squawk of roosters and clung to their promise that the world would once again know light.
“Oh, good grief,” she murmured to herself with a groan. “That is so maudlin. Truly and hopelessly maudlin. You might try something more chipper. Something like . . . Something like . . .” Her foggy brain offered nothing.
She scrunched her nose in defeat. The morning had shuffled in on the heels of a sleepless night. Chipper was not going to happen, no matter how hard she tried to talk herself into it.
If she could turn the calendar back eighteen months, she would not be talking to herself. No. Eliot would be right next to her, responding, most likely pointing out a dozen chipper thoughts in that funny way of his.
Nostalgia and regret hit her, a powerful one-two punch that still took her breath away. She clenched her teeth, waiting for it to pass, mentally spewing forth a verbal attack at the counselor who had promised her that time healed all wounds, that month by month they would see improvement.
What drivel that was! Eighteen months—or to be more precise, seventeen months, three weeks, and two days; but who was counting? All that time had passed and only one thing was healed: Eliot’s gunshot wound. His other wounds, the invisible ones, still oozed like toxins from a waste dump site. He was not the same man she had married.
Sheridan took a deep breath and let the bitter argument go. Nostalgia and regret settled back down into whatever corner of her heart they’d found to hide out in. Their impact, though, lingered.
Would time ever erase her longing for the Eliot she had married? The animated one, the one others adored, the one who was engaged in every detail of life, whether simple or complex, with every person who crossed his path. The one from B.C.E., Before the Caracas Episode. Now, in their A.C.E. days, he might as well be a deaf-mute for all the interest he showed in the world around him.
Sleep-deprived, she totally blamed him. She didn’t mean to. It wasn’t like he had much of a choice. The bullet that shattered his nerves shattered their life. Everything about it was over. Health, career, home, friends. All gone. Kaput. Some days she barely recognized herself and Eliot. Where were the Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery she once knew? These routines, hometown, health, acquaintances, and even personalities seemed lifted from the pages of some stranger’s biography.
“Oh, honestly. Get over it already, Sher.” She forced a swallow of tea and focused on the scene before her.
A lone sunbeam pierced between two mountain peaks and sliced into the distant mists. Another followed. And another and another until finally pure light broke free. Valleys and canyons burst into sight. Loud birdsong erupted. Then, as if God had uncurled His fist, long fingers of sunlight shot forth and touched the wrought-iron railing where she stood.
It was achingly gorgeous.
Sheridan flicked at a tear seeping from the corner of her eye. “You should have stayed in bed, you foolish, stubborn woman.”
Sunrises were the worst because they represented the best of what had been.
Most days she could ignore that thought. Evidently not today. She and Eliot were morning people. Had been morning people. Their daily ritual of tea and conversation at an east-facing view, awaiting dawn, was seldom missed. With crazy-full schedules, they needed such a time to relate on the deepest levels. Some days their hearts positively danced and sang in union. Naturally, through the years the tune changed now and then, the tempo sped up and slowed down, but the music never stopped. It never stopped. They always talked. They always connected.
Until that day in Caracas.
Now she watched sunrises by herself.
“You really should’ve stayed in bed.”
But it was so beautiful. And it went on and on like a slow waltz. At the bottom of her street now, purple haze still shrouded the town square. The sky brightened in slow motion above it, the fiery ball itself still hiding behind a peak.
Something moved in the semidarkness below. A person. Early risers were not uncommon, but she was startled. Something felt off about this one.
Or was that just her hypervigilance? Compliments of the incident in Caracas, it kicked into gear at times without warning, filling her with anxiety and suspicion.
Now she could see that it was a man. He passed the bandstand, his strides too deliberate for a villager, too American. He headed straight for the steep incline that led up to her house. In city terms, the distance was perhaps a block. In Topala terms, it was simply up beyond the sculptor’s shop.
The sun overtook the peaks and the man came into view.
“No way.” Her heartbeat slowed, but not quite to normal.
Even with his face concealed by a ball cap, his body clothed in a generic khaki jacket and blue jeans, a city block separating them, she recognized him. She recognized him simply because the air vibrated with him.
Luke Traynor owned whatever space he occupied.
Sheridan set the mug on the table beside her, tightened the shawl around her shoulders, and massaged her left arm. She felt no surprise at his unannounced arrival nor at the early hour. It was as if she had always expected him to show up sooner or later.
But as he climbed the narrow street, an uneasiness rose within her. Her muscles tensed. Why was he here? He had promised not to come. Sixteen months ago he promised. Not that she was keeping track. . . .
The sound of a soft whistle drew her attention back toward the square. Javier, the young sculptor, stood on the porch steps outside his shop. Behind him, the handicraft shop owner emerged from his door.
Javier raised his chin in question.
Sheridan gave a half nod. They needn’t be concerned. The stranger was, so to speak, a known quantity. Not that she felt the least bit glad to see Luke. Eliot would most likely be severely distressed at his arrival.
Wishing Luke were an apparition did not make it so. He continued his steady pace, arms swinging gently, head down as if he studied the cobblestones, making his way to her house.
Since that day in Caracas—the day her husband died in every sense except physically, the day this man saved her life—Sheridan had understood intuitively that Luke would always be a part of her life. And there he was, out of the blue, ascending her street in the middle of nowhere on a spring day as if he visited all the time.
She suddenly remembered the date. “Good grief.”
It was Annunciation Day, a day of remembrance, of celebration for when the angel Gabriel visited Mary and announced her future. How apropos. Luke appeared without warning. He would not have come unless he had something to tell her, some message that would irreversibly change her future.
Was this his joke or God’s?
Luke neared and looked up, straight at her.
She saw not the man whose presence had always triggered apprehension in her, but rather the guardian angel who had saved her life.
Sheridan turned and made her way inside, down the stairs, and through the house.
* * *
Sheridan opened the front door and stopped.
Luke Traynor stood less than six feet away, at the low gate in the stone wall where her front terrace met the steep hill.
She returned his steady gaze, knowing full well her own expression did not mirror the one before her. While dread, relief, and excessive gratitude rearranged every muscle on her face, his remained perfectly composed. The sharp nose, thin lips, and deep-set eyes could have been made of the same cobblestone he stood on.
He flashed a rakish grin. “I was in the neighborhood.”
“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”
He cocked his head, somber again. Always the gentleman, he waited for her to make the first move.
Sheridan clutched her shawl more closely and resigned herself to riding out the emotional disarray rumbling through her. She both loathed and loved this man. Of course he knew that, so it didn’t matter how she reacted to him except that she’d like herself better if she were polite.
With a quiet sigh, she walked to him, planted a kiss on his scruffy, unshaven cheek, and eased into his embrace. Nestled against the rough collar of his jacket, she smelled the familiar scent of him, an indescribable mix of earth, sun-drenched air, and confidence that bordered on lunacy. She felt the hardness of his body, always unexpected given his average height and build.
“Sheridan. How are you?”
“Fine.” She backed away, crossing her arms.
“And Eliot?” he said. “How is he?”
“Fine.”
Luke blinked, a slow movement of lids indicating he could take the truth.
She wanted to shriek obscenities at him. The disconcerting thing about angels, though, was that it was impossible to keep up any sort of pretense. Like an angel, Luke had stayed close beside her for long weeks after the shooting. He had gone with her to the edge of hell, holding on to her until she came back. He knew her better than she knew herself. Glossing over answers was a waste of time with him.
She tried another phrase. “We’re doing about as well as could be expected.”
He nodded.
“Eliot is still asleep.”
“It’s early. Perhaps I can greet him later.”
The resistance drained from her. Yes, Gabriel had come to deliver a message, and he would not leave until he’d done so.
She had no inkling how to shield Eliot and herself from this unexpected source of distress but gave a lame attempt. “I don’t suppose you’re passing through town and simply must be on your way right now, this very minute?”
“Sorry.”
She inhaled, her shoulders lifting with the effort, and blew the breath out with force. “Coffee?”
“Love some.”
Excerpted from Ransomed Dreams by Sally John. Copyright 2010 by Sally John. Used with permission from Tyndale House Publishers. All rights reserved.
Here's my review:
Sheridan Montgomery's life changed in one instant when her ambassador husband was shot leaving him with debilitating injuries. Eighteen months after the tragedy, Sheridan is living in a remote village in Mexico and is summoned home to the US by her frantic sister concerning the health of her father and some deeply hidden secrets. Sheridan's life is once again turned around and she questions all she holds onto when she finds buried secrets revealed and she must make tough decisions for herself and her marriage.
The introduction grabbed my attention and from then on it was downhill. I read through the whole book hoping the urgency and mystery would propel me forward. Unfortunately, the setting wasn't finished until the middle of the book. But at that time the conversations seemed to be repeated over and over. The emotional connection between Luke and Sheridan was so much more interesting than with Sheridan and her husband and as a Christian novel I wasn't impressed with how it was handled. To me, the whole book had a "soft" atmosphere and wasn't the gripping story I was hoping for. But what I liked best were that the chapters were short and I felt that the writer fully developed the characters.
*This book was provided to me free of charge for purpose of this review. This is my honest opinion of this book and no monetary compensation was received for my opinion.*
Win it: I am having a giveaway for this book. Open to US only and giveaway ends Friday, Aug 6.
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I really liked the suggestions Teresa gave regarding substitutes for sweeteners like using honey, pure maple syrup and making your own powdered sugar. Her recipes are very simple and actually use many ingredients you already have. I'm not sure if all of her recipes are truly healthy as many of them call for sour cream and cream cheese. However, Teresa has complied some unique recipes that would be fun to try. Here are few recipe titles that caught my eye and made me wonder what they would taste like: Upside Down Muffins, Chicken Broccoli Casserole and Banana Milk shake. So here are the pictures of these recipes. Of course, if you want the recipes you may either buy the book or enter to win the giveaway.
by Nancy Thayer is a novel about four women and their life changing experience one summer on Nantucket Island. The three Fox sisters- Abbie, Emma and Lily, are worried about their widowed father who has recently rented the guest cottage named "The Playhouse" to a beautiful recently divorced woman, Marina. The girls come together to protect their father and end up having chaotic romantic summers of their own. They form Nantucket Mermaids and each girl takes odd jobs all over the island while making sure their dad is