It's easy for American Christians to forget how Jesus said his followers would actually live, what their new lifestyle would actually look like. They would, he said, leave behind security, money, convenience, even family for him. They would abandon everything for the gospel. They would take up their crosses daily...
BUT WHO DO YOU KNOW WHO LIVES LIKE THAT? DO YOU?
In Radical, David Platt challenges you to consider with an open heart how we have manipulated the gospel to fit our cultural preferences. He shows what Jesus actually said about being his disciple--then invites you to believe and obey what you have heard. And he tells the dramatic story of what is happening as a "successful" suburban church decides to get serious about the gospel according to Jesus.
Finally, he urges you to join in The Radical Experiment --a one-year journey in authentic discipleship that will transform how you live in a world that desperately needs the Good News Jesus came to bring.
Angie here: If you would like to read the first chapter of Radical then go here. Then once you read that go here to request your free copy of The Radical Question, it's a companion booklet to the Radical. For more information about this book check out the book's website: Radical.
They’ve been to three worlds in less than a day. Time isn’t just running out...it’s running wild.
David King is reeling from his travels through history-and the evil he’s found there. The last thing he needs is his great-great-uncle Jesse’s hospital-bed instructions: You can’t simply do nothing. You must fix things.
David and his brother Xander’s search for their abducted mother has repeatedly led them on strange and terrifying journeys as they’ve stepped through the portals of the creepy old house and into some of history’s most turbulant moments...and confronted an unimaginably bleak vision of the future.
Now Jesse’s words saddle them with an obligation to not only visit the past, but the need to rewrite it.
Fulfilling their purpose will take everything they have, both mentally and physically. But they have no choice...because everything in the past-and the future-is on the line.
My Thoughts:
Whirlwind is the fifth book in the Dreamhouse Kings Series and it's really hard to review it because I don't want to give anything away. You have to read this series in order because each book picks up where the other left off. This is another great book in the Dreamhouse Kings Series and I'm eagerly looking forward to getting the sixth and final book. I know...not the greatest review but I just don't want to give anything away.
When novelists Deeanne Gist and J. Mark Bertrand first met in a Houston critique group, they never expected where friendship would take them. She wrote romance; he wrote crime novels. But growing respect for each other's work culminated in the decision to try blending their talents into this wonderfully engaging story merging romance and mystery. Rylee Monroe walks dogs in old-money Charleston, a part of the city recently targeted by a daring thief. Logan Woods works the crime beat for the local paper but dreams of a life as a nonfiction writer. When the string of robberies takes a strange twist, Logan sees the making of a once-in-a-lifetime book that seems to circle around this charming, eye-catching dogwalker. But pursuing the truth means ignoring that he seems to be falling for her. And what is she hiding in her past that could crack the story wide open?
My Thoughts:
I love Deeanne Gist's books and was excited to read Beguiled. I don't know if Deeanne Gist and J. Mark Bertrand have any plans to co-author another book but if they do I'll certainly read it. Beguiled was a fast paced mystery/suspense with a side of romance and I really enjoyed it. Rylee is a dog walker that finds herself in the middle of a crime wave. Logan is the reporter who starts off just wanting to get the story but ends up falling for Rylee. I enjoy mysteries and love trying to figure out "who-dun-it", I have to admit I did figure out who was the Robin Hood burglar but there was some facts that I didn't guess and was surprised at the end. This is one of those books that will keep you up at night because you just have to see what happens next.
**Thanks to Bethany House for my free review copy**
It Only Takes an Instant for Love to Strike
Tragedy hits the Allenhouse family on a hot summer night in Ohio when a mother of four vanished. Eight-year-old Vada virtually grew up overnight and raised her three younger sisters while her father lost himself in his medical practice in the basement of their home.
Now, Vada is a grown woman, still making her home with her father and sisters. Her days are spent serving as an errand girl for Cleveland’s fledgling amateur orchestra; her evenings with Garrison Walker, her devoted, if passionless, beau.
Dizzying change occurs the day the Brooklyn Bridegrooms come to town to play the Cleveland Spiders and a line drive wallops the head of a spectator. The fan is whisked to the Allenhouse parlor, and questions swirl about the anonymous, unconscious man.
Suddenly, the subdued house is filled with visitors, from a flirtatious, would-be sports writer to the Bridegrooms’ handsome star hitter to the guilt-ridden ballplayer who should have caught the stray shot. The medical case brings Dr. Allenhouse a frustration and helplessness he hasn’t felt since his wife’s disappearance. Vada’s sisters are giddy at the bevy of possible suitors. And Vada’s life is awakened amid the super-charged atmosphere of romantic opportunity.
My Thoughts:
The first book I've ever read by Allison Pittman was Stealing Home and I loved it, so when I saw that she had another book out, The Bridegrooms, I knew I had to read it. And I'm happy to say that it's another great book by Allison Pittman. The Bridegrooms is the name of a baseball team...how funny is that?? The book takes place over a very crazy week in the Allenhouse's lives. Vada Allenhouse has been going out with Garrison for quite sometime and everyone expects they will get married..eventually. When Vada meets a handsome baseball player she starts to doubt her feelings for Garrison. Then add in the mix a local reporter who starts flirting with her and you have one confused lady. You also have a few little side stories with Vada's sisters: Hazel, Althea, and Lizette. This was an enjoyable story about finding love and the bond a family has through thick and thin.
Here are some pics that hopefully will make ya smile this Monday. :) A few of them are from a few months back when we got a lot of snow..at least it was a lot for us. ;) Then there is one of Jill sunning herself on my car and you will also see Gracie doing what she loves....swimming! :)
"Hahaha okay now that I have your attention... I thought since it was Friday it would be fun to talk about something that we all love whether we read Christian fiction or love a fun chick flick and that is...the hero! So I want to know who are your favorite fictional heroes from novels, movies or tv? Why do they appeal to you?
I'll start by sharing some of my favorites, it's a rather eclectic mix but variety is the spice of life right?"
Click here to see who Renee's favorite heroes are. :)
So I thought I would share with y'all my favorite fictional heroes.
I'll start with Rob Petrie from the Dick Van Dyke show. This is one of my all time favorite shows. What I love about Rob Petrie is he makes you laugh and I love the relationship he has with his wife, Laura. :)
Another TV character I really like is Chuck from Chuck. I haven't watched the show in a while but I like Chuck because he's one of those good guys.
One of my favorite movie heroes is Edward Ferrars from Sense and Sensibility. I like Edward because although he's shy and awkward he's so sweet.
And one of my favorite heroes in fiction is Matthew Cade. He's strong, protective and oh so romantic. If you haven't read this series I highly recommend it and I bet you'll fall in love with Matthew Cade too. ;)
Go over to Cleverly Inked to enter her awesome Birthday Phenomenon giveaway. You won't believe all she's giving away. So what are you waiting for...go check it out! :)
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!
Harvest House Publishers; Original edition (February 1, 2010)
***Special thanks to David P. Bartlett - Print & Internet Publicist - Harvest House Publishers for sending me a review copy.***
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Gayle Roper is the award-winning author of more than forty books and has been a Christy finalist three times. Gayle enjoys speaking at women’s events across the nation and loves sharing the powerful truths of Scripture with humor and practicality. She lives with her husband in southeastern Pennsylvania where Gayle enjoys reading, gardening, and her family.
List Price: $10.99 Paperback: 224 pages Publisher: Harvest House Publishers; Original edition (February 1, 2010) Language: English ISBN-10: 0736925864 ISBN-13: 978-0736925860
AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:
By the time Jon Clarke What’s-his-name drove me to the hospital, my terrible inner trembling had stopped. My hands were still cold, and the towel pressed to my cheek was still sopping up blood, but I was almost in control again. If I could only stop shaking, I’d be fine.
I’d been so sure I’d lost my face. My stomach still curdled at the memory. All I’d done was bend down to pet Hawk, the sable-and-tan German shepherd sleeping contentedly in the mid-August sun. How was I to know he had a nasty cut hiding under that sleek hot fur?
I was horrified when he lashed out, startled by the pain I had inadvertently caused him. He got me in the cheek with a fang, but despite the blood, the wound was mostly superficial. The thought of what would have happened if he’d closed his mouth made me break out in a fine sweat.
How dumb to touch a sleeping dog. Dumb, dumb, dumb. I knew better. Everyone knew better.
As we entered the emergency room, I rearranged my towel to find an area not stained with blood. I went to the desk and signed in with a woman whose jet black hair stuck out in spikes to rival a hedgehog. When she had my life’s history, she patted my paperwork with a proprietary air that made me wonder if she was willing to share the information with the people I’d come to see.
“Have a seat.” She gave me a warm smile. “They’ll be with you shortly.”
Hoping shortly really meant shortly, I took my seat.
“You don’t have to wait,” I told Jon Clarke as he took the bright orange plastic chair beside me in the otherwise empty emergency room. He smiled slightly and stretched his long legs out before him, the picture of long-suffering and quiet accommodation. His posture said it didn’t matter how long things took. He was prepared to be gallant and wait it out.
“Really,” I said. “I’ll be all right. You can go.”
I was embarrassed to have inflicted myself upon this man I didn’t know, this man whose last name I couldn’t even remember. He’d pulled into the drive at the Zooks’ Amish farm just as I bent over Hawk. While Mary Zook plied me with towels and bemoaned my possible disfigurement when she wasn’t yelling at the innocent Hawk, John Clarke Whoever climbed out of his car, took me by the elbow, put me in his passenger seat, and drove me here.
What would I have done if he hadn’t come along at just the right moment? Gone to the hospital in a buggy? Certainly that wouldn’t have worked if I’d had a life-threatening injury. I guess if that were the case, someone would run to the phone down on the road and dial 911 or run to a neighbor with a car. Hmm. Peace and serenity of the Amish variety had a definite downside.
Jon Clarke smiled at me now, looking comfortable in his very uncomfortable chair. “Of course I’ll wait for you. I’d never run out on a lady in distress. Besides, you need a way home.”
“I could call a cab.”
“Bird-in-Hand is too far from Lancaster for that. It would cost a fortune.” He smiled at me again, politely patient.
“It’s only fifteen minutes max.”
“That’s a lot when the fare indicator goes ca-ching, ca-ching. It’s better if I just wait.”
I gritted my teeth. Just what I needed, a shining knight when I was in no condition to play the lady. I smiled ungraciously and winced.
“Hurt much?”
Of course it hurt. What did he think? “The strange thing is that my tongue can push into the wound from the inside of my mouth. Only a thin piece of skin on my inner cheek keeps the puncture from going all the way through.” I pushed against my cheek with my tongue. It was a creepy sensation to feel the hole, but I couldn’t resist the need to fiddle.
He looked suitably impressed and apparently decided to keep talking to distract me from my pain and injury. I must say he shouldered the burden with stoic determination and great charm.
“Have you lived in the Lancaster area long?” he asked, and I could have sworn he actually cared.
“Three years. I love it here.”
“Were you at the Zooks’ to visit Jake too?”
Too. So he had come to see Jake. I shook my head. “I live there.”
That stopped him. “Really? On the farm?” He raised an eyebrow at me, an improbably dark eyebrow considering the light brown of his hair. “Have you been living there long?”
I glanced at the clock on the wall. “About four hours.”
The eyebrow rose once again. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope. Great beginning, isn’t it? Todd spent the morning and early afternoon helping me move, and he’d just left. I was on my way into the house when I stopped to pet Hawk.” I sighed. “They’ll probably decide I’m too much trouble to have around.”
I pulled the towel from my cheek and studied the bloody patterns on the white terry cloth. They looked like abstract art. I was an artist myself, but I never painted compositions like these. I liked more realism—which meant my work would probably never hang in important galleries.
Uptight and unimaginative, according to certain professors and fellow students from my college days. “Flex,” they said. “Soar! Paint where your spirit leads.”
I flexed and soared with the best of them, but the finished work still looked like what it was.
I refolded the towel, burying the modern art, reapplied a clean area, and pressed.
“Who’s Todd?” Jon Clarke asked.
I shrugged. Good question. “Todd Reasoner. A friend.”
“Ah.”
Would that Todd were as easily explained as the conclusion Jon Clarke had apparently leaped to.
“Don’t do that,” Jon Clarke said.
I blinked. “Do what?”
“Don’t push against your cheek like that.”
I hadn’t even realized I was doing it.
“What if that thin piece of skin ruptures? Scarring. Infection. MRSA. Who knows?”
I frowned. Talk about Worst Case Scenario Man. I wanted to tell him I’d play with the inside of my cheek if I felt like it, but he was probably right about all the dire possibilities. I didn’t want to rupture that thin membrane so delicately protecting the inside of my mouth. And I certainly didn’t want to do anything to encourage the possibility of scarring. I looked in the mirror enough to know my face didn’t need that kind of help.
“Not many people get to stay on an Amish farm.” He paused. “Because of their closed society,” he added as if I wouldn’t understand his point. “You’re very fortunate to get the opportunity.”
“I know. I consider this chance a gift straight from God. One day my principal mentioned that he had Amish friends who were willing to take in a boarder. I got the Zooks’ name and contacted them immediately.”
I didn’t tell him that when I first went to the farm, I wore one of my conservative suits, a gift from my parents when they were still hoping to quell my tendency toward bright colors and what they considered the instability of the art community, not that they actually knew any artists but me.
“If you’re too artsy, Kristina,” they said almost daily, as if being “artsy” was the equivalent of having a single digit IQ, “people won’t take you seriously.”
What they meant was that their people, all high-powered corporate lawyers who earned high six figures or even seven annually, wouldn’t take me seriously. They were a group that had no time for business casual, let alone colorful artsy.
On that first visit to the Zooks, I hadn’t been certain what cultural landmines I’d have to navigate, so I determined to at least defuse the clothing issue, the one I knew about and could somewhat mitigate. I’d straightened my navy lapels and smoothed my cream silk blouse before I got out of the car, another cultural difference that I wasn’t willing to yield on, not if I wanted to get to work.
To my delight, I found Mary and John Zook gracious, respectful, and kind. Mary sat there in her pinned-together dress and dark stockings, her organdy kapp crisp in spite of the humidity. John wore a white shirt and black broadfall trousers. His beard was full with only a hint of gray, and his straw hat hung on a peg by the door. They might demand the simple life of themselves and their family, but it was immediately obvious they would not demand the same of me.
Wouldn’t it be amazing if I had more freedom to be myself here in the midst of this highly structured society than in my own parents’ home?
“Your principal?” Jon Clarke asked from his seat beside me. “You teach?”
I nodded. “Elementary art.”
“When I first pulled into the drive, I thought you must be Jake’s visiting nurse.”
“Not me. I’d be a terrible nurse.”
“But a good teacher.”
“Adequate, anyway. And I get the summers off to study and paint. How do you know the Zooks?”
“I’ve known them forever. My aunt and uncle live down the road from them. But I haven’t seen them in several years. In fact, I haven’t been in Lancaster for a long time.”
So I’d bled all over his first visit in years. Great. “Was it a job that kept you away?”
“Yes and no. Yes, when I was a youth pastor at a church in Michigan. No, when I went to seminary and graduate school. I just finished my doctorate in counseling.”
“Really?” I was impressed.
“No. I confess. I’m lying. I just thought it sounded like a wonderful way to astonish and amaze a pretty girl.”
I blinked at him, and he smiled impudently back. “Really?” he said in a dead-on imitation of me.
Flustered, I looked away from his laughing eyes. “I was just trying to make decent conversation.”
His smile deepened. It was, I couldn’t help noticing, a most wonderful smile, crinkling his eyes almost shut and inviting me to smile along, which I was careful not to do because of my cheek.
“Kristina Matthews?” called the woman at the desk. Her nameplate said she was Harriet. She scanned the empty room as though there might be several Kristinas lurking about, and I resisted the urge to look over my shoulder to see who might have sneaked in while I wasn’t looking.
When I stood, Harriet smiled brightly. “There you are. Right through here, please.”
As I entered the treatment area, I passed a teenage boy staggering out on crutches and a lady in a bathing suit with her arm in a bright pink cast. The walking wounded. I wondered what my battle scars would be.
Ten minutes later I looked away as a nurse stabbed me efficiently with a needle.
“This tetanus shot may cause your arm to swell or stiffen,” she said, her voice filled with sorrow over my possible plight. I couldn’t decide whether she was sorry I might swell or sorry I mightn’t. “If it swells or stiffens, don’t worry. Take aspirin or Tylenol and call your personal physician if the pain persists.” She turned away with a great sigh and began cleaning up the treatment area.
I slid off the examination table and looked at my wobbly reflection in the glass doors of the supply cabinet. The flesh-colored butterfly bandage stuck in the middle of my left cheek distorted my face slightly, but I didn’t mind. There had been no need for stitches.
“Any scarring will be minimal,” the doctor said absentmindedly as he wrote something on the forms Harriet had passed to him. He was a good match for the nurse. I doubted he even noticed her melancholia. “Just keep the wound dry and check with your regular doctor next week to have it redressed.” He ripped off the top copy of the paperwork and handed it to me. “It tells you here. And you’re certain the dog had his shots?”
I nodded, took the paper, and hurried to the waiting room. At least Jon Clarke hadn’t had to wait long once I was seen.
But the waiting room was empty. My angel of mercy had flown the coop. I was standing there wondering what to do next when Harriet at the desk called to me.
“Don’t worry, honey. He’ll be right back. He said he had to run a quick errand.”
I nodded with disproportionate relief.
“Men,” she said sympathetically. “You never know what they’re going to do, do you? Sometimes they take off, and you never see them again.” The edge that had crept into her voice made me think she was speaking from experience. She gave herself a little shake. “But yours looked nice enough to me. I think you can trust him, don’t you?”
Her guess was as good as mine. We’d both known him for about the same length of time.
She got up from her desk. “Listen. I’ve got to go to the ladies’ room. I’m talking emergency here, believe me. Stay by the desk and watch things for me, will you?”
Yikes. “What if someone comes in?”
“Tell them I’ll be back in a minute. But don’t worry,” she called over her shoulder as she disappeared through a door. “Nothing big ever happens on Saturday afternoon.”
Taking no comfort from those words, I looked at the quiet waiting room.
No one, Lord, okay? Not till she gets back, okay?
The prayer was barely formed when the waiting room door slid open and an older man in khaki work clothes entered. His face, damp with perspiration, matched the color of the white envelopes sticking out of his shirt pocket, and he was rubbing his left arm. He stopped beside me at the desk.
“I think I’m having a heart attack,” he said as he might say he was going to sneeze.
I felt my own heart stop beating and my mouth go dry.
He staggered, and I reached out instinctively, taking his arm and lowering him into Harriet’s chair.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“Don’t apologize!” Now my heart was beating so loudly I could scarcely hear myself talk. “Don’t worry. Someone will be here to help you in a moment.”
Suddenly he stopped kneading his arm and pressed his hand against his chest. His face contorted and I froze. He was going to die right here while Harriet was in the ladies’ room!
After a minute he relaxed, and I began to breathe again. I ran to the door of the treatment area. “Help, somebody! Help!”
The sad-faced nurse leaned out of a cubicle. “Is anyone bleeding?” She was so intent on what was going on behind that curtain that she didn’t even look at me.
“No, but—”
“Then we’ll be there as soon as we can.” And she disappeared.
I could see several pairs of feet below the curtain and hear several voices, including that of my doctor, who was barking orders with impressive authority. Through a door down the hall I could see an ambulance with its back doors still open.
“But he needs you now,” I called desperately. “He really does! It’s his—”
“We’ll be there in a minute,” she yelled as a great cascade of blood flowed onto the floor.
Pushing down panic and not knowing what else to do, I went back to the man.
“They’ll be here in a minute,” I told him with all the confidence I could muster.
“Had one before,” he whispered to me. “Don’t worry. It’ll be all right. I’m not ready to die yet. I’ve got stuff to do.”
I tried to smile to encourage him, but between my punctured cheek and my fear, I think it was more of a grimace. The man seemed to appreciate my effort anyway.
Dear God, I screamed in silent prayer, where’s Harriet? Send her out here fast, Lord! Please!
The man rested his head against the wall. “What’s your name? Are you Harriet?”
“I’m Kristie Matthews. Should you be talking?”
“I drove myself here. You don’t think talking’s any worse than that, do you?”
“You drove yourself here? With a heart attack?”
He smiled faintly. “I had to get here somehow. And I didn’t think you were Harriet. You don’t look like a Harriet.”
I didn’t look like this Harriet. Plain old straight brown hair cut to bend at my chin instead of too-black spikes and the electrified look. Five seven and slim instead of short and a fan of Dunkin’ Donuts, if Harriet’s figure and the box in the trash receptacle were any indication. A hole in my cheek instead of an abundance of blusher.
Suddenly he raised his head and looked at me with an intensity that made me blink. “Will you do me a favor, Kristie Matthews?”
I leaned close to hear his weak voice. “Of course.”
“Keep this for me.” He fumbled in his shirt pocket, reaching behind the envelopes. “But tell no one—no one—that you have it.” He slipped a key into my cold hand and folded my fingers over it.
I heard a gasp from behind me. Harriet was finally back.
“Heart attack,” I said, but Harriet was three steps ahead of me.
Her voice boomed over the PA. “Dr. Michaels, Dr, Michaels, stat. Dr. Michaels, code!” Harriet disappeared back into the treatment area yelling, “Marie! Charles! Where are you? Get yourselves out here fast!”
An arthritic finger tapped my closed fist. “Remember, tell no one,” the old man managed to whisper. “Promise?”
“I promise.” What else could I say?
He stared at my face as if searching my soul. He must have been satisfied with what he saw because his hand relaxed on mine and his eyes closed. “Don’t forget. I’m counting on you.” He gave a deep sigh, and I froze. Was that his last breath? “I’m counting on you.”
The room came alive with people. Medical personnel converged on the sick man, and I stepped back with relief.
“Don’t you ever go to the bathroom again,” I hissed at Harriet, who probably never would if she valued her job.
When the doors to the treatment area slid shut and I could no longer see the man, I collapsed in one of the orange chairs, struggling with tears.
This is ridiculous. Why am I crying? I don’t even know the man.
I gave myself a shake and stared at the small piece of metal in my hand. Why had he given his precious key to me, a total stranger? Why hadn’t he let the hospital personnel keep it for him? Or asked them to hold it for a family member?
What could it possibly open that no one—no one—must know of it?
And what in the world should I do with it?
It was a relief when Jon Clarke finally returned.
“I’m sorry,” he said with that winning smile. “I got held up in traffic. I hope you didn’t think I’d deserted you.”
“Of course not,” I said as I slipped the key into my pocket. I hastened to correct my lie. “At least, not after Harriet told me you’d be back.”
He cocked that dark, heavy brow at me again, saying as clearly as if I’d spoken aloud that he knew all too well what I’d thought.
I flushed and began talking to cover my embarrassment. “This old man came in and had a heart attack. He scared me to death! I was the only one in the room—Harriet had gone to the ladies’ room. I had to be with him until help came. He gave me—”
I stopped abruptly. “No one,” he’d said, he’d insisted. “Promise.” And I had.
Did I owe him my silence? I didn’t even know him.
But I didn’t know this sandy-haired, dark-browed man standing beside me, either. I only met him an hour or so ago. I couldn’t bleed all over him anymore.
“He gave me quite a scare,” I said, decision made. I gave a short laugh. “I’m not used to anything more serious than the common cold or one of my students throwing up.”
From the publisher: Beloved author Gayle Roper begins a contemporary Amish series readers are sure to love....
Englischer Kristie Matthews’ move to an Amish family farm in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, starts on a bad note as the young schoolteacher is bitten by a dog. A trip to the local ER leads to an encounter with an old man who hands her a key and swears her to silence.
But when Kristie’s life is endangered, she suspects there’s a connection to the mysterious key. While solving the mystery (and staying alive), Kristie must decide whether her lawyer boyfriend, Todd Reasoner, is really right for her....or if Jon Clarke Griffin, the new local man she’s met, is all he seems to be.
Mystery, romance, and a beautiful Amish settling....just the thing readers are clamoring for.
My Thoughts:
I've read a few books by Gayle Roper and enjoyed them so I was excited to read A Stranger's Wish. As I started reading I thought some things sounded familiar so I did a little research on Amazon.com and realized that this series was first released in the late 90s and that the reason it sounded familiar was because I had read the third book in the series. So anyway, A Stranger's Wish wasn't really what I had hoped for, it's more of a romance with a little suspense thrown in. And there were times I wanted to shake the main character, Kristie. Things keep happening to her and she doesn't seem too concern at first. But all in all in wasn't a bad book and it would be perfect for a quick summer read.
***Special thanks to David P. Bartlett - Print & Internet Publicist - Harvest House Publishers for sending me a review copy.***
Back in February we got snow..not once but twice which is rare here in Central Texas. While most of the cats were inside staying warm Matthew and Luke were outside playing in the snow. They stayed out quite a while it's a wonder they didn't get frostbite on their paws. Anyway, these are my favorite pics I got of them outside. Enjoy! :)
I recently discovered that my cousin's eight year old enjoys reading. She is in the second grade but is reading on a fifth grade level. Pretty impressive. When I was in the second grade I had just moved to Texas and was failing reading! But with some help from my mom and dad I soon started making As. :) But anyway, I was wanting to get some books for my cousin's daughter but wasn't sure what to get. When I was kid I do remember reading The Babysitters Club, loooooved that series! So do y'all have any suggestions? Or perhaps you would just like to share your favorite series when you were a kid? Would love to hear about either. :)
Once a slave, Kale is given the unexpected opportunity to become a servant to Paladin. Yet this young girl has much to learn about the difference between slavery and service.
A Desperate Search Begins…
A small band of Paladin’s servants rescue Kale from danger but turn her from her destination: The Hall, where she was to be trained. Feeling afraid and unprepared, Kale embarks on a perilous quest to find the meech dragon egg stolen by the foul Wizard Risto. First, she and her comrades must find Wizard Fenworth. But their journey is threatened when a key member of the party is captured, leaving the remaining companions to find Fenworth, attempt an impossible rescue, and recover the egg whose true value they have not begun to suspect…
Weaving together memorable characters, daring adventure, and a core of eternal truth, Dragonspell is a finely crafted and welcome addition to the corpus of fantasy fiction.
My Thoughts:
A couple of weeks ago my husband and I went and saw How To Train Your Dragon and I enjoyed it so much I wanted to read a book that had dragons in it so I picked up Dragonspell which has been sitting on my TBR shelf for a while now. I really enjoyed reading about Kale and all the interesting characters she met on her journey. My favorite has to be Wizard Fenworth, he's so goofy you wonder how on earth he can be a Wizard. I'm looking forward to reading the other books in the this series. Now, I wonder where I can find a pet dragon? ;)
When I saw Carmel sunning himself the other day I had to grab my camera to take a picture. When I first saw him he was stretched out on his back, it was too funny, but by the time I got my camera he had sat up. So although I didn't get the funny picture I was wanting I do think I ended up with a pretty picture of Carmel. :)
About This Book 
