Wednesday, July 30, 2008

Romancing Hollywood Nobody by Lisa Samson



It is August FIRST, time for the FIRST Blog Tour! (Join our alliance! Click the button!) The FIRST day of every month we will feature an author and his/her latest book's FIRST chapter!




Today's feature author is:




and her book:



Romancing Hollywood Nobody



NavPress Publishing Group (July 15, 2008)



ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Lisa Samson is the author of twenty books, including the Christy Award-winning Songbird. Apples of Gold was her first novel for teens

These days, she's working on Quaker Summer, volunteering at Kentucky Refugee Ministries, raising children and trying to be supportive of a husband in seminary. (Trying . . . some days she's downright awful. It's a good thing he's such a fabulous cook!) She can tell you one thing, it's never dull around there.

Other Novels by Lisa:

Hollywood Nobody, Finding Hollywood Nobody, Straight Up, Club Sandwich, Songbird, Tiger Lillie, The Church Ladies, Women's Intuition: A Novel, Songbird, The Living End

Visit her at her website.

Product Details

List Price: $12.99
Paperback: 195 pages
Publisher: NavPress Publishing Group (July 15, 2008)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1600062210
ISBN-13: 978-1600062216

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

Monday, April 30, 6:00 a.m.

My eyes open. Yes, yes, yes. The greatest man in the entire world

is brewing coffee right here in the TrailMama.

“Dad.”

“Morning, Scotty. The big day.”

“Yep.”

“And this time, you won't have to drive.”

I throw back the covers on my loft bed and slip down to the dinette of our RV. My dad sleeps on the dinette bed. He's usually got it turned back into our kitchen table by 5:00 a.m. What can I say? The guy may be just as much in love with cheese as I am, but honestly? Our body clocks are about as different as Liam Neeson and Seth Green.

You know what I mean?

And we have lots of differences.

For one, he's totally a nonfiction person and I'm fiction all the way. For two, he has no fashion sense whatsoever. And for three, he has way more hope for people at the outset than I do. Man, do I have a lot to learn on that front.

He hands me a mug and I sip the dark liquid. I was roasting coffee beans for a while there, but Dad took the mantle upon himself and he does a better job.

Starbucks Schmarbucks.

He hands me another mug and I head to the back of the TrailMama to wake up Charley. My grandmother looks so sweet in the morning, her frosted, silver-blonde hair fanned out on the pillow. You know, she could pass for an aging mermaid. A really short one, true.



I wave the mug as close as I can to her nose without fear of her rearing up, knocking the mug and burning her face. “Charley . . .” I singsong. “Time to get a move on. Time to get back on the road.”

And boy is this a switch!

All I can say is, your life can be going one way for years and years and then, snap-snap-snap-in-a-Z, it looks like it had major plastic surgery.

Only in reverse. Imagine life just getting more and more real. I like it.

Charley opens her eyes. “Hey, baby. You brought me coffee. You get groovier every day.”

She's a hippie. What can I say?

And she started drinking coffee again when I ran away last fall in Texas. I mean, I didn't really run away. I went somewhere with a perfectly good reason for not telling anyone, and I was planning to return as soon as my mission was done.

She scootches up to a sitting position, hair still in a cloud, takes the mug and, with that dazzling smile still on her face (think Kate Hudson) sips the coffee. She sighs.

“I know,” I say. “How did we make it so long without him?”

“Now that he's with us, I don't know. But somehow we did, didn't we, baby? It may not have always been graceful and smooth, but we made it together.”

I rub her shoulder. “Yeah. I guess you could say we pretty much did.”

The engine hums its movin'-on song. “Dad's ready to pull out. Let's hit it.”

“Scotland, here we come.”

Scotland? Well, sort of.



An hour later

This has been a great school year. In addition to the online courses I'm taking through Indiana University High School, Dad's been teaching me and man, is he smart. I'm sure most sixteen-(almost seventeen)-year-olds think their fathers are the smartest guys in the world, but in my case it happens to be true.

Okay, even I have to admit he probably won't win the Nobel Prize for physics or anything, but he's street smart and there's no replacing that sort of thing. Big plus: he knows high school math. We're both living under the radar. And he's taken our faux last name. Dawn. He's now Ezra Fitzgerald Dawn. After Ezra Pound, one of F. Scott Fitzgerald's Lost Generation friends.

I'm just lovin' that.

“Your mom would have loved the name change, Scotty.”

He told me about his life as an FBI agent, some of the cases he worked on, and well, I'd like to tell you he had a life like Sydney Bristow's in Alias, but he probably spent most of his time on com-puter work and sitting around on his butt waiting for someone to make a move. The FBI, apparently, prefers to trick people more than corner them in showdowns and shootouts. The Robertsman case was his first time undercover in the field and we know how terribly that worked out for him. And me. And Charley. And Babette, my mother.

I pull out my math book and sit in the passenger seat of the TrailMama. “Ready for some 'rithmetic, Dad?”

“You bet.” He turns to me and smiles. His smile still makes my heart warm up like a griddle ready to make smiley-face pan-cakes. I flip on my book light.


It's still dark and we're headed to Asheville, North Carolina for Charley's latest shoot. A film about Bonnie Prince Charlie called Charlie's Lament. How ironic is that? The director, Bartholomew (don't dare call him Bart) Evans, is a real jerk. I'm not going to be hanging around the set much even though Liam Neeson is Lord George Murray, the voice of reason Prince Charlie refused to listen to. But hey, that's my history lesson. We're still on math.

I finish up the last lesson in geometry . . . finally! Honestly, I still don't understand it without a mammoth amount of help, but the workbook's filled and that's a good thing.

There.

I set down my pen. “Finished!”

Dad gives a nod as he continues to look out the windshield. You might guess, despite the tattoos, piercings, and his gleaming bald head, he's a very careful driver. And he won't let me drive like Charley did.

“So . . . driver's license then, right?”

He's been holding that over my head so I'd finish the math course.

“You know it. After the film, we'll request your new birth certificate and go from there.”

“What state are we supposedly from?” The FBI has given us a new identity, official papers and all that.

“Wyoming.”

“Are you kidding me? Wyoming? Why?”

“Think about it, honey. Who's from Wyoming?”

“Lots of people?”

“Know any of them?”

“Uh. No.”

“See?”


“Okay, Wyoming it is, then.”

“You realize you'll only have my beat-up old black truck to drive around.” The same truck we're towing behind the TrailMama.

“I'll take it.”

So here's the thing. The rest of the entire world thinks my father was shot in the chest and killed when he was outed by a branch of the mob he was after. This mob was financing James Robertsman's campaign for governor of Maryland.

The guy's running for president of the United States now.

I kid you not.

Wish I was kidding.

We thought he was after us for several years because Charley knew too much. But then last fall, we found out the guy chasing me was my father, and Robertsman is most likely cocky enough to think he took care of everything he needed. I say that's quite all right. Although, I have to admit, the fact that a dirtbag like that guy may end up in the Oval Office sickens me to no end.

Thanks to that guy, we had been running in fear from my own father.

The thing is, I could be really mad about all those wasted years, and a portion of me feels that way. But we've been given another chance, and I'll be darned if I throw away these days being angry. There's too much to be thankful for.

Don't get me wrong. I still have my surly days. I don't want Dad and Charley to think they have it as easy as all that!

Okay, time to blog.

Hollywood Nobody: April 30

Let's cut to the chase, Nobodies!

Today's Seth News: It's official. Seth Haas and Karissa Bonano are officially each other's exclusive main squeeze. The two were seen coming out of a popular LA tattoo parlor with each other's names on the inside of their forearms. How cliché. And pass the barf bag.

Today's Violette Dillinger Report: Violette has broken up with Joe Mason of Sweet Margaret. She wanted you all to know that long-distance romances are hard for any couple, but espe-cially for people as young as she is. “Joe needed to live his life. I'm on the road a lot. It wasn't fair to either of us.” Sounds like she's definitely not on the road to Britney. I'm just sayin'.

Today's Rave: Mandy Moore. The girl can really sing! And her latest album is filled with good songs. The bubble gum days of insipid teen heartbreak are over. She's finally come into her own. (Wish some others would follow her example, but I won't hold my breath. And man, are we on the theme of bratty stars today or what? Well, there are just so many of them from which to choose!)

Today's Rant: Crazy expensive celebrity weddings. What? If they spend more, will they be more likely to stay together? I have no idea. Mariah Carey's $25,000 dress pales in comparison to Catherine Zeta-Jones's $100,000 gown. What are those things made of?

Today's Quote: “Dream as if you'll live forever, live as if you'll die today.” James Dean

I haven't had a chance to read this yet. I have all 3 of her books in this series and the last 2 weeks have been so crazy around our home that I haven't had a chance. When I do, I'll post all my reviews for the books at once. I'm sure this is a great read since I have read Lisa's books before and have enjoyed them!

Thursday, July 24, 2008

Making It Real: Whose Faith is it Anyway? and Giveaway











Making It Real: Whose Faith Is It Anyway?
Publisher: Kregel

Retail: $11.99
168 pages - paperback
ISBN 978-0825425431

Making It Real: Whose Faith is it Anyway?
A recent statistic said that over 80% of Christian teens abandon their faith for a season. Author T. Suzanne Eller says, "As someone who has ministered to teens for a long time, I believe that teens leave a support system only to have to find out what they believe, as opposed to what they've heard in a sermon or celebrated as a family." Making It Real starts that journey now, rather than later so that they are not one of the 80% who aren't sure what they believe anymore. Whether the reader is a first-time Christ-seeker or a seasoned believer, the book is for teens wanting to know God on a personal life-changing level.

Making It Real helps teens grow their faith, no matter where they are spiritually--into a dynamic relationship with God.

For teens asking questions about their faith, like:


  • How do I make my faith more personal?


  • How do I turn to God in both good and bad times?


  • Where is God leading me?


  • Is my faith a relationship or tradition?

Family faith is awesome. Youth church is a place where teens can grow. But personal faith is a one-on-one journey. Making It Real is great for individuals as well as small cell or discipleship groups or Sunday school classes.



What Others Are Saying

Making It Real will engage you and take you on a faith-building and life-changing journey,leading you daily to a powerful one-on-one encounter with God. This book connects this generation with a message that is relevant, inspiring and definitely needed.

~ Beau Herbert, President Youthfire.com

About the Author

T. Suzanne (Suzie) Eller is the author of five books and over 600 articles and columns. She is a contributing writer to Today's Christian Woman, cbn.com, and Enrichment Journal. Suzie is a youth culture and parenting columnist, and a community mentor in The Woman of Vision program. Her books include The Mom I Want to Be, The Woman I Am Becoming: Embracing the Chase for Identity, Faith, and Destiny and Making it Real: Whose Faith is it Anyway? Suzie is a sought-after inspirational speaker who ministers internationally to groups of all sizes. She has been featured on hundreds of radio and TV programs. Suzie and her husband have three children and make their home in Tahlequah, Oklahoma. For more information, visit http://www.daretobelieve.org/


Author/Speaker Available for Interviews

Making it Real


How can teens own their faith rather than inherit it from their families?

At some point we all need to make a decision as we ask this question: Whose faith is it anyway? It's especially crucial for teens because they leave a support system and their faith is questioned, or they hit challenges and obstacles and dig deep for God and come up with a 1,000 sermons or their parent's belief system and it's often just not enough. Statistics say that over 80% of young adults walk away from their faith for a season. For some, that's just a statistic. To me, it's names. I could sit with you for hours and talk about the young adults who abandoned their faith for a season, and those who have never come back, and those who lost their way and are now in situations or circumstances that they never expected to be in.

Faith is so much bigger than hanging out in a church. It's knowing and loving God, and being loved and known by Him.

You talk about four "faithbusters." What are they?
  • Living your faith by feelings - Teens get tripped up when God is only as big as their last experience--whether an awesome camp moment or a colossal mistake. Living by feelings is roller-coaster Christianity at it's best. You are close to God and you are up. You make a mistake and you bungee down. The problem with living faith by feeling is that you turn to what feels good at the moment, instead of God when you don't feel Him or feel worthy.

  • Confusing tradition with faith - Traditions are amazing, but intimacy with God is making Him more than a habit. Going to church doesn't take the place of seeking God, or being honest with Him about your life, or carving out a part of your day to hang out with Him. It's not a to-do list. It's relationship.

  • Making faith a group activity only - I've worked with teens for a long time. I can tell you every gross food game; I can proudly say I've conquered mud mountain; I've watched teens connect with God in a beautiful way as a group in worship or service. But sometimes teens wait for the music or hype or youth pastor to tell them when to worship God. Worship is more than a song. It's becoming a follower of Christ, even if no one else chooses that path. It's knowing where to turn if the people you trust, like your youth pastor or believing parents, walk away from their own faith.
  • Living on borrowed convictions - A lot of teens (and adults) start thinking about education at a young age. It's a goal. But are we as educated about our beliefs? Too often Christians have enormous amounts of education, but only a 6th grade knowledge of their faith. I don't say that to be condemning, but to encourage believers to dig deeper. Do we know who God is? Do we understand the act of the Cross? Do we understand scripture and how it applied then, and how it applies today? When you live on borrowed convictions and you have to live them out in the real world, it's tough. That's why I wrote Making It Real. I love discipleship. I wanted a resource that a teen could take and it be relevant and real and deep, but not complex.
Isn't it scary for a teen to doubt his faith, or to ask the tough questions?

Many parents are fearful when a teen questions their faith, but let's look at it another way: they are trying to make it personal. They need to understand why they believe, and as they do their faith becomes a life-long journey, as opposed to just going to church.

If your teen came to you and said, "I don't get calculus," you'd most likely try to help them by giving them additional resources or support or encouragement. You wouldn't react with fear or anger.

So, what do you do when a teen is trying to "make it real"? During that time, you still go to church as a family, but you understand that Christ didn't drag any of us to the foot of the cross. You let your teen know that you trust that he or she will find their way and that you are praying for direction. You offer resources. It's important that your faith remain vibrant and intimate, as you turn to God and pray for your child. The average teen hears a thousand messages about spirituality or skewed perceptions of Christianity. My daughter once said, "when I thought about it, Mom, I thought about your relationship with God and I knew it was real and that was enough for me." Your influence spiritually is so much greater than you realize. Trust God. Pray. Ask for guidance. Continue to honor God as a family, but encourage the individual journey of your child. His or her faith may not look exactly like yours, but if the foundation is Christ, then they are well on their way to an intimate relationship.

It seems your life calling has taken on so many different themes. You have a heart for student ministries, young adult women, and mothers. What's it like writing and speaking for three different people groups? How are the dynamics different, and what one thing remains the same no matter the group?

The overall theme of my ministry is "becoming." If you look at what I teach or write, you'll see that theme stamped all over them. I dare to believe that God is who He says He is, and I want to become all that I can be as I follow Him. I love to share that same theme with others, no matter their gender or age.



The Contest



1. During this blog tour, any reader who responds to Twila Belk at iamstraightway@aol.com with the name of a church or organization that is interested in having Suzie in as a guest speaker, will receive all three of Suzie's books (up to 10 sets will be given away on a first come first serve basis).


2. If any of your readers contact Twila regarding a Bible study group or book club wanting to use Suzie's materials, their groups will receive conference calls from Suzie to kick off or conclude their studies.


3. All readers who post a comment regarding Suzie's books will be placed in a grand prize drawing on August 2, 2008, for a delightful gift basket (see description below).



Gift Basket Giveaway





Real Issues, Real Teens: What Every Parent Needs to Know

The Mom I Want to Be: Rising Above Your Past to Give Your Kids a Great Future

Real Teens, Real Stories, Real Life

Making It Real: Whose Faith Is It Anyway?

The Woman I Am Becoming: Embrace the Chase for Identity, Faith and Destiny

and. . .A sleek coffee cup filled with Dove Caramel chocolates

A tootsie roll bouquet

A Dove Almond Chocolate bar

Cleaning and changes

My daughter is cleaning out her bathroom cupboards. Doesn't seem like that big of a deal, right? I should be thrilled my nearly 17 yr old (in 4 days) has taken the initiative to clean. She called me to come in and look into the trash can. I almost burst into tears on the spot! All of the little girl stuff she's had for years, GONE. In the blink of an eye she's tossed it all: tiered, multi-colored lip glosses; blue, sparkly nail polish in a bear shaped jar; hair ribbons; butterfly removable tattoos, etc.

Ok, if she hears me crying she's going to take it all out and keep it for another 8 yrs. Maybe I should start bawling. No, I want her get rid of it. No, I don't. Yes, I do. I had no idea my little girl entering her last year of high school was going to be so traumatic...for ME!

What happened to my 10 yr old who let me fix up her hair for church? Where's my little girl who didn't care that she had no name brand clothes? How did my life stand still for 7 yrs while hers flew by? Can I get it back? Have a do-over?

Shoot, her come the water works again. This is going to be a loooong year. I'll probaby cry as she's getting her senior pictures taken, goes to her first day of her last year of school, goes to Homecoming, Prom, etc. PROM? My baby at prom? Awww, picking out her dress, someone hand me a tissue. Her first night out with a boy, unless she goes with a group of friends. Let's hope it's the latter - for my sake!

How will I live in my house without my little girl? She's such an integral part of this family. How do I live without her? How does a mom live without her heart? By now some of you might think we have the sweetest relationship and we're closer than a mom and daughter could ever be.

Unfortunately, that's not quite the case. I have failed time and time again to live up to the mom I should've been and the mom I should still be. I've never been very good at this mom thing and she knows it. I'm not beating myself up, just stating facts. Not looking for sympathy (at least not with regard to my parenting...but, my baby growing up, yes). I'm sure she doesn't understand how I could feel the way I do when I don't show her love like a mom should.

She has turned into an amazing young lady, inspite of me. Her love for the Lord, and His presence in her life has made her the sweet person she is. SHE will make an awesome mom some day. Of course, I'll be jealous of her because she'll be who I always wanted to be. She's attentive, funny, sweet, gentle, and relies on the Lord. Again, all this inspite of me. She has been this way since God put her inside me. She came out exactly who she is today.

Imagine a 5 yr old little girl wearing a black velvety dress with Cinderella sewn on the front. She's standing in a dark dining room in the evening lifting her hands up to the Lord as she listens to Rich Mullins sing Awesome God. Then last Sunday we're standing at church for our first Blue Jeans and Guitar Strings worship night. I look over to where my Baby (btw, that really is my nickname for her to this day) is standing with her friends and there is her arm up in the air worshipping the One who created her. My little girl.

How can I not be a wreck when I know she's leaving in a years time? She's growing up and there's nothing I can do about it. I know I can enjoy it, and I do. I simply have these moments of stark reality and I wonder if there's a way to stop time for a while. I want to do it all again, somehow. I want to be that mom she deserves. Deserves because she's so fantastic herself.

I've mentioned to friends a couple times that I wish she'd been part of a family that really loved being together. I mean, they ALL really liked each other. Sure, families have their disagreements and siblings can argue, but I know for a fact there are a few families in our church who my little girl would've blossomed in.

Sigh...I know this is a really depressing post, but that's part of what these blogs are about right? We're putting ourselves out there for the world. It's a way to purge what we could keep in. Ok, I'm not really one to hold stuff in. Yep, my daughter would agree with that one!

So, my daughter is growing up and getting ready to test her wings. Somehow God is going to have to provide me with supernatural strength to get thru it all. It'll be interesting to see where I am just over a year from now. I'm guessing basketcase. The day she leaves for college, or shall I say that night, I will be...what will I be? Utterly forlorn? Lost? A wreck? All the above? Have I mentioned I have 3 other children coming behind her? My littlest one will be starting Kindergarten. I'll save those emotions for another post.

Well, she's come out of the bathroom and is actually talking to me. And it's not with an attitude. Thank you God! Maybe I should see what's left of the little girl I miss dearly. TTFN ~ Mimi

Sunday, July 20, 2008

Watcher in the Woods by Robert Liparulo and Giveaway



It's May 21st, time for the Teen FIRST blog tour!(Join our alliance! Click the button!) Every 21st, we will feature an author and his/her latest Teen fiction book's FIRST chapter!




and his book:







Thomas Nelson (May 6, 2008)


ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Robert Liparulo is an award-winning author of over a thousand published articles and short stories. He is currently a contributing editor for New Man magazine. His work has appeared in Reader's Digest, Travel & Leisure, Modern Bride, Consumers Digest, Chief Executive, and The Arizona Daily Star, among other publications. In addition, he previously worked as a celebrity journalist, interviewing Stephen King, Tom Clancy, Charlton Heston, and others for magazines such as Rocky Road, Preview, and L.A. Weekly. He has sold or optioned three screenplays.

Robert is an avid scuba diver, swimmer, reader, traveler, and a law enforcement and military enthusiast. He lives in Colorado with his wife and four children.

Here are some of his titles:

House of Dark Shadows (Dreamhouse Kings Book 1)

Comes a Horseman

Germ

Deadfall


Product Details

List Price: $14.99
Reading level: Young Adult
Hardcover: 304 pages
Publisher: Thomas Nelson (May 6, 2008)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1595544968
ISBN-13: 978-1595544964

http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/1595544968/

website link for Bob: http://www.robertliparulo.com/


AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:



1

At twelve years old, David King was too young to die. At least he thought so.

But try telling that to the people shooting at him.

He had no idea where he was. When he had stepped through the portal, smoke immediately blinded him. An explosion had thrown rocks and who-knew-what into his face. It shook the floor and knocked him off his feet. Now he was on his hands and knees on a hardwood floor. Glass and splinters dug into his palms. Somewhere, all kinds of guns were firing. Bullets zinged overhead, thunking into walls—bits of flying plaster stung his cheeks.

Okay, so he wasn’t sure the bullets were meant for him. The guns seemed both near and far. But in the end, if he were hit, did it matter whether the shooters meant to get him or he’d had the dumb luck to stumble into the middle of a firefight? He’d be just as dead.

The smoke cleared a bit. Sunlight poured in from a school-bus-sized hole in the ceiling. Not just the ceiling—David could see attic rafters and the jagged and burning edges of the roof. Way above was a blue sky, soft white clouds.

He was in a bedroom. A dresser lay on the floor. In front of him was a bed. He gripped the mattress and pushed himself up.

A wall exploded into a shower of plaster, rocks, and dust. He flew back. Air burst from his lungs, and he crumpled again to the floor. He gulped for breath, but nothing came. The stench of fire—burning wood and rock, something dank and putrid—swirled into his nostrils on the thick, gray smoke. The taste of cement coated his tongue. Finally, oxygen reached his lungs, and he pulled it in with loud gasps, like a swimmer saved from drowning. He coughed out the smoke and dust. He stood, finding his balance, clearing his head, wavering until he reached out to steady himself.

A hole in the floor appeared to be trying to eat the bed. It was listing like a sinking ship, the far corner up in the air, the corner nearest David canted down into the hole. Flames had found the blankets and were spreading fast.

Outside, machine-gun fire erupted.

David jumped.

He stumbled toward an outside wall. It had crumbled, forming a rough V-shaped hole from where the ceiling used to be nearly to the floor. Bent rebar jutted out of the plaster every few feet.

More gunfire, another explosion. The floor shook.

Beyond the walls of the bedroom, the rumble of an engine and a rhythmic, metallic click-click-click-click-click tightened his stomach. He recognized the sound from a dozen war movies: a tank. It was rolling closer, getting louder.

He reached the wall and dropped to his knees. He peered out onto the dirt and cobblestone streets of a small village. Every house and building was at least partially destroyed, ravaged by bombs and bullets. The streets were littered with chunks of wall, roof tiles, even furniture that had spilled out through the ruptured buildings.

David’s eyes fell on an object in the street. His panting breath froze in his throat. He slapped his palm over his mouth, either to stifle a scream or to keep himself from throwing up. It was a body, mutilated almost beyond recognition. It lay on its back, screaming up to heaven. Male or female, adult or child, David didn’t know, and it didn’t matter. That it was human and damaged was enough to crush his heart. His eyes shot away from the sight, only to spot another body. This one was not as broken, but was no less horrible. It was a young woman. She was lying on her stomach, head turned with an expression of surprised disbelief and pointing her lifeless eyes directly at David.

He spun around and sat on the floor. He pushed his knuckles into each eye socket, squeegeeing out the wetness. He swallowed, willing his nausea to pass.

His older brother, Xander, said that he had puked when he first saw a dead body. That had been only two days ago—in the Colosseum. David didn’t know where the portal he had stepped through had taken him. Certainly not to a gladiator fight in Rome.

He squinted toward the other side of the room, toward the shadowy corner where he had stepped into . . . wherever this was . . . whenever it was. Nothing there now. No portal. No passage home. Just a wall.

He heard rifle shots and a scream.

Click-click-click-click-click . . . the tank was still approaching.

What had he done? He thought he could be a hero, and now he was about to get shot or blown up or . . . something that amounted to the same thing: Dead.

Dad had been right. They weren’t ready. They should have made a plan.

Click-click-click-click-click.

David rose into a crouch and turned toward the crumbled wall.

I’m here now, he thought. I gotta know what I’m dealing with, right? Okay then. I can do this.

He popped up from his hiding place to look out onto the street. Down the road to his right, the tank was coming into town over a bridge. Bullets sparked against its steel skin. Soldiers huddled behind it, keeping close as it moved forward. In turn, they would scurry out to the side, fire a rifle or machine gun, and step back quickly. Their targets were to David’s left, which meant he was smack between them.

Figures.

At that moment, he’d have given anything to redo the past hour. He closed his eyes. Had it really only been an hour? An hour to go from his front porch to here?

In this house, stranger things had happened. . . .




No No No NO!!! Not a cliffhanger. This is worse than the Dallas series when JR Ewing was shot. I remember the media and fan buzz over it. I was too young to care myself, but the rest of the world seemed to think it was all that mattered. Well, I for one feel that January is just too far away for the next book, thank you very much! Yes, January 2009. Six months! Ugh...

So, we begin this adventure with the King family right where we left them: in a freaky house, without a mom, and teen boys heading into rooms that remind me of the Choose Your Own Adventure stories. When I did my review on the first book, I likened it to The Magic Treehouse series on steroids. It's so much more than that. For the most part, it's quite the adventure. The boys continue to go into worlds that test their abilities to stay alive to make it back to the house. Another element, the one that makes me read with one eye shut, is the "scare factor". The men who keep showing up in the house, like they did in the first book, make me want to sleep with the light on. Sheesh, I read through those parts as fast as I can! The rest of the story I can't quite categorize. The family is battening down the hatches and getting to the business of finding their mom and working on their relationships.

I don't know how Toria, the little sister in the story, handles it all! She goes with the flow and tries to keep some semblence of normalcy. If I were her, I'd probably faint every time a board creaked. Xander, the oldest brother, is continuing to work on his relationship with his father. He's in the teen angst years and to go through everything he's gone through in just a week's time, has only intensified that. David is in the preteen stage and is still finding his footing. He wants to obey his dad, but he wants to find his mom even more. So when Xander convinces him of certain things, the desire to find his mom always overrules. And then there's Dad. He's trying to maintain the cover of the "regular" family, and has a hard time doing it. He's trying to juggle a lot of balls. He wants to repair his relationship with his oldest son, go to work every day, show his kids some cool things at the house, and pretend to the rest of the town they're "just fine", all the while starting a command post to figure out where his wife has been taken.

Well, while Dad is thinking, the boys are doing. Xander has no desire to think things through, make plans, or to tell his dad exactly what he wants to do. He just goes for it. That's where the high adventure kicks into gear. Of course, Xander takes David along on these wild adventures! Dad has made the rule they can't do anything, especially in the house, alone. On Xander's last trip through a door, chaos breaks out in the home. As he makes it back, amidst all the insanity, he starts to share what he's seen and that's where the book ends, but not the story!

I am really enjoying this series, even though it's made for the younger crowd. Mr. Liparulo has a talent for drawing the reader in. I am pretty positive that if his adult books are like these, but a lot more intense, I don't think I could handle them. His writing is too good, and that means I'd be too afraid. I know, I'm a big baby but this stuff gets inside my head. I like the whole sleeping thing I do at the end of my days! This series Dream House Kings, is just right for me. I'm still sleeping at night. Thank you again Mr. Liparulo, but could you either write faster, release about 3 books at once, or get your publishing house to change the process so your books come out sooner?! The suspense is killing me, which is what I know you want from your readers.

If you'd like to win BOTH Mr. Liparulo's books in this series, leave a comment telling me what the scariest/strangest book is you've ever read. I will choose a winner on Aug 3rd. I know this is a long contest, but I want to make sure I get the info to all the sites and people I can. This is for US residents only. Please leave me your email address to be considered for the drawing in this type of format: mnjesusfreak at gmail dot com, or something similar. If I don't hear from the winner within a week, I will choose a new one. One way to know if you've won is by signing up to receive my blog updates at the top right of the site. The other is to click to receive email updates whenever someone posts to this message. Blessings ~Mimi

Thursday, July 17, 2008

The Woman I Am Becoming

The Woman I Am Becoming

Author: T. Suzanne Eller

Harvest House Publishers

Retail: $11.99

ISBN-10: 0736920307

ISBN-13: 978-0736920308



The Woman I Am Becoming

Overarching themes such as identity, relationships, faith, and destiny provide readers a fresh approach to finding their way in this world. Author, speaker and mentor Suzie Eller offers young women an honest and faith-filled look at the journey to completeness. In The Woman I Am Becoming: Embracing the Chase for Identity, Faith, and Destiny, she acknowledges the pressures to look and act a certain way, and helps women explore key questions:
  • What is a real woman?
  • Where do I fit?
  • What should I look like?

  • Who should I be with?
  • Where am I going?

  • What about my faith?

Suzie shares her own story teamed up with life applications, as well as real-life advice from women further along in the journey who are still in the process of becoming. Concluding questions help readers assimilate what they've read into their own lives. As twenty-somethings absorb the book by owning their emotions and meet God in a new way, they'll begin to understand the woman they're becoming.

What Others Are Saying

"Wow, is this a much-needed book! Since I, like most women, ventured into my twentysomething and married years far from home and the influence of older women who had been around the block, I so appreciate Suzanne's heart to create a way for young women to gather and receive that sort of input and counsel."

~ Shaunti Feldhahn, Author of For Women Only and Coauthor For Young Women Only

"Real. Raw. Relatable. For women from all backgrounds trying to figure out this thing called life."

~ Kerri Pomarolli, nationally known comedian and author

The Woman I Am Becoming Interview

Describe the passion or burden behind writing The Woman I Am Becoming.

I've worked with teens in different ways for nearly two decades. I'm lucky, because that means I now have a lot of connections and friendships with twentysomethings and even those in their early thirties. I don't have all the answers, and that is not what this book is about, but I have had the privilege to come along side these amazing young women as they ask tough questions.

We're encouraged scripturally as older women (that's me!) to teach the younger women. For me, the definition of teaching is to talk about the issues that matter to them. First, I need to know exactly what that is, rather than assume that I know. Second, I need to be open to a dialogue, a conversation between women at different stages of life, and I love that part of this book. I also love that in real life. It's not a one-sided relationship, but I learn from them and perhaps I can share insight gained through experience, or through bumps (or crashes into brick walls) and thus we all are stronger.

I receive e-mails from all over the nation, and even from as far away as Nigeria or South Africa or West Africa and other parts of the world from young women who say, "I read your book today and it answered a question I have been praying over." That's priceless to me. Many have become Facebook friends and we continue to stay in touch.

You made sure to gather the input of several young women (twentysomethings) for the book. What was the common thread or theme in their stories?

Transition. They were making every critical decision in their lives: who to love, where to live, what to do, wondering what God expected or wanted from them at this stage. This was true, regardless of whether they were 21 and in college or 28 and a wife and mom to two. It was just different in intensity.

If you could give sort of a coming-of-age speech to women in their twenties who are just now finding their way in this world, what would be your three main points?

  1. You are a work in progress - be patient with the process. Learn from it.
  2. You fit - we are not all alike and aren't meant to be, and there is a niche for you. I can't take your place, you aren't meant to take mine, but together we can make a difference
  3. Your "calling" is to love and know God daily - we make it too complex. We are looking at the five-year or ten-year plan, and many times we miss the opportunities all around us--right where we are right now.

This age probably has the hardest time fitting in at church. The women's groups seem to be more for married women with children, and the college and career class is starting to feel too immature. What do you recommend for women who want to be involved at church, but don't feel like they fit in?

Margaret Feinberg, author of Twentysomething, says, "What makes a difference for twentysomethings who grow in their faith and one who grows stagnant or falls away? Without fail, relationships and community are most often cited as the determining factors for growth."

Community is a word that is strong among twentysomethings. They have left or are leaving the familiar world of family. Even if they are still close to family (distance or otherwise), the way their family perceives them may remain the same, but the reality is that they are changing. They are no longer the rebellious 16-year-old or the really smart cheerleader or the screw-up or the good daughter. Labels have fallen away as they are educated, make new friends, attempt to find a spiritual community, make relationship choices or face heartbreak, live financially on their own, work their way up the career ladder, have babies or wait to have babies, etc. They have moved from child to adult. Family is just as important to them, but they are looking for new sources of strength and encouragement.

The same difficulties arise in finding a church. Where do you find your niche? It's like a black hole in ministry among many churches. The twentysomething comes home and finds out that the youth group is mostly 13-year-olds and definitely not a good fit, or the singles group is comprised of mostly divorced men and women in their 40's with very different needs. Where do they fit?

So, I ask twentysomethings to redefine community as becoming a part of something larger. You contribute. You take. These people matter to you.

I encourage them to create community right where they are. For some, the biological family remains the primary community. Others find community in small groups or their community becomes four or five couples who meet in their home or at Starbucks, or four or five close friends who remain connected and close. The secret is that one community does not take away from the other. But it's still vital.

Author/Speaker Available for Interviews

The Contest

1. During this blog tour, any reader who responds to Twila Belk at iamstraightway@aol.com with the name of a church or organization that is interested in having Suzie in as a guest speaker, will receive all three of Suzie's books (up to 10 sets will be given away on a first come first serve basis).

2. If any of your readers contact Twila regarding a Bible study group or book club wanting to use Suzie's materials, their groups will receive conference calls from Suzie to kick off or conclude their studies.

3. All readers who post a comment regarding Suzie's books will be placed in a grand prize drawing on August 2, 2008, for a delightful gift basket (see description below).

Gift Basket Giveaway

Real Issues, Real Teens: What Every Parent Needs to Know

The Mom I Want to Be: Rising Above Your Past to Give Your Kids a Great Future

Real Teens, Real Stories, Real Life Making It Real: Whose Faith Is It Anyway?

The Woman I Am Becoming: Embrace the Chase for Identity, Faith and Destiny

and. . .

A sleek coffee cup filled with Dove Caramel chocolates

A tootsie roll bouquet

A Dove Almond Chocolate bar

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

Recent Winners

For me seeing my name as the winner of the book is a joyous occasion. Why? Because I don't have the luxury of buying books since it's not part of our budget! I actually get giddy when I know my names been drawn. For me, it's better than the lottery, although I don't play the lottery. On the other hand, it's such a bummer when I don't win. Thankfully I don't always remember which giveaways I enter so I can be somewhat detached as well. If it's a book I've been really waiting for, I watch it like a hawk circling it's prey.

I have 2 recent winners I would love to hear from. I'm looking for:

Dawn dmthomason13 who won A Mile in My Flip-Flops

Lucie LucieinCA who won Beyond the Night

If you guys could email me your snail mail address or respond to this post I would love to send these books off to you. I'd like to hear from you by tomorrow, Thurs, July 17. Thanks so much!

Have a great rest of your week!

Mimi

Friday, July 11, 2008

The Mom I Want to Be by T. Suzanne Eller & Giveaway


The Mom I Want to Be
Harvest House Publishers
Author: T. Suzanne Eller
ISBN: 978-0-7369-1755-1
Retail: $11.99

The Mom I Want to Be


Being a mom is a great joy and a great responsibility. But what if you have a painful past, a background that didn't include a good role model for parenting? What if your experiences have given you an unhealthy view of motherhood? How can you be the parent you want to be without dragging along your history?

Suzie Eller knows from experience that a mother is influenced by the mothering she received as a child. In her book, The Mom I Want to Be, Suzie shares from the brokenness of her own growing-up years and compassionately discusses how bitterness and anger can be transformed into hope and determination when a woman turns her past and her future over to God's care. Suzie draws attention to a rarely addressed topic, detailing how to put shattered legacies back together, restore broken images of motherhood, forgive the unforgettable, set boundaries that make sense, and let go of yesterday so a new today and tomorrow can be embraced.

The author says, "This is a book for women and moms, but especially for women who want to find wholeness, healing from the past, and specific helps to give their children better memories than they received as a child." She wants her readers to know they don't have to repeat the unhealthy patterns from their childhood. With God's healing power at work in their lives, women can become the moms they want to be.

What Others Are Saying

"I truly believe all parents WANT to be good parents, but some lack the skills or are themselves weighed down and stagnated by an injured inner child. This amazing book offers thoughts and direction to overcome hurtful memories and improve your parenting skills. It is positive and liberating."

Brenda Nixon, author of Parenting Power in the Early Years

The Contest


1. During this blog tour, any reader who responds to Twila Belk at iamstraightway@aol.com with the name of a church or organization that is interested in having Suzie in as a guest speaker, will receive all three of Suzie's books (up to 10 sets will be given away on a first come first serve basis).

2. If any of your readers contact Twila regarding a Bible study group or book club wanting to use Suzie's materials, their groups will receive conference calls from Suzie to kick off or conclude their studies.

3. All readers who post a comment regarding Suzie's books will be placed in a grand prize drawing on August 2, 2008, for a delightful gift basket (see description below).










Gift Basket Giveaway

Real Issues, Real Teens: What Every Parent Needs to Know

The Mom I Want to Be: Rising Above Your Past to Give Your Kids a Great Future

Real Teens, Real Stories, Real Life

Making It Real: Whose Faith Is It Anyway?

The Woman I Am Becoming: Embrace the Chase for Identity, Faith and Destiny

and. . .A sleek coffee cup filled with Dove Caramel chocolates

A tootsie roll bouquet

A Dove Almond Chocolate bar

Wednesday, July 9, 2008

My life a.k.a. "The roller coaster ride"

Last week was a really hard week. For some reason it was very emotional. Being the single parent of 4 kids isn't always easy. My life hasn't taken the course I expected and some days I'm just tired of it all.

So, last Sunday my sisters-in-law took my boys home with them...to Chicago, for about 10 days. As a mom I felt terrible because I felt like I was sending them away. My friends insisted I needed a break. I'm definitely torn between guilt and joy.

I'd had a 4 day break from work so when I went back to work yesterday, Monday, I figured my paycheck would be there. Well, it wasn't. I was frantic. I needed gas. My drive home would've finished me. I also needed groceries, badly: bagels, no cream cheese; caramel, no apples; bread, no butter or strawberry jelly and so on. Of course, my girls (teens) consider having "no food" as being out of fruit snacks, cookies, ice cream, pop tarts and the like. I ended up having to call my husband and ask him to cover what I needed. Thankfully in this area we have a good deal of friendliness! As I left work, empty handed, I left the HR lady a note since she was already gone for the day and wouldn't be in until NOON the next day.

Today, Tuesday, I forgot I had to take my husband's kittens in for their first shots. The first kitty, he got a couple weeks ago and she's about 9 weeks old. My boys named her Snowball. The 2nd cat the boys and I got for him last Thursday to keep Snowball company. She is about 3 months old, but seemed just fine on the ride to the apartment. She was skittish, which is normal. I get to the apartment today to pick up the kitties and Snowball comes bounding out of her hiding place. "New" kitty, who is named Princess Leia, is in hiding. I find her under the treadmill. I try to grab her and she runs. I shut her in the bedroom and try numerous times to get her out from under the bed. I finally get her in the small spot under the dresser. I pull her out and she freaks out! Oh, and I don't mean, "she meowed and hissed." No, I mean, FREAKED OUT! Have you ever seen the Animal Control shows on Animal Planet when they catch feral cats? Well, that's what happened with this insane feline! Mind you, I've had cats all my life and have never encountered this.

Evil Kitty, as I quickly renamed her, tore into both of my arms and hands with her teeth and claws. I was able to get her by the scruff, but it didn't release any of those things that are supposed to relax kittens. She kept trying to reach up with her left back paw to get hold of me. I called my husband as I was trying to keep hold of her. I was actually afraid to let her go because I wasn't sure what damage she'd do when I released her. I finally dropped her and took Snowball and left.

When I got to the vet's office I asked the front desk girl for a band aid and ointment. My arm was bleeding pretty badly and was actually pretty deep. I got the band aid and that's it. When the vet came into the room, I'd been there for about 20 min and I noticed my pointer finger on my right hand was swelling pretty badly. I showed the vet and she said I HAD to get to the doctor today to get on antibiotics.

As a side note, a friend I hadn't seen in about 7 yrs was in town for the 4th and I happened to bump into her. When she moved 7 yrs ago, she was going thru a time where she'd almost lost her arm and her life. She'd been scratched by her cat on her left forearm. She has about a 6" gouge out of her left arm where the doctors had to take the dead tissue. She said she still gets really high fevers of about 105! All from a cat scratch!!

Of course, her arm is going thru my mind as I call the doctor's office. Do you think they have anyone available after the 4th of July weekend? Nope! So, Urgent Care opened in the same clinic a few hours later and I went in at that time.

While I was at home waiting, I headed to the computer. That is until my friend, Lisa, called me. We talked about what had happened and she started yelling at me, while she was at her kids baseball game because I hadn't put anything on the punctures. I'd forgotten by the time I got home. I couldn't find my triple antibiotic so she told me to pour Peroxide on the cuts. Now mind you, I haven't used the stuff on myself for ages. I use it on my kids and tell them it doesn't hurt. Oh, Lisa had a hey day when I started freaking out because of all the burning! I honestly didn't know it burned. I was whining LOUDLY because it felt like dozens of tiny needles everywhere Evil Kitty attacked me. THEN she told me I had to open, yes OPEN, the deep wound that had closed! "What?! Are you out of your mind? Why...I don't wanna. It's gonna hurt." Her response? "Do it, NOW!" More burning!

So, by 1:30 I was off to the Urgent Care office. The doctor saw me and asked me questions I didn't know about the kitten. She left to make some calls to vets and I called the kittens owner. The owner said Evil Kitty had only been out on a couple of occasions. She also told me kitty's mama was a "scaredy cat" and grandma had the same disposition. Why thank you for sharing AFTER I took her home. Yes, she did tell me the kitten was nervous, but I didn't know exactly what that meant. Well, she was more right than we would've ever guessed. My doctor came back and said she had to call the Minnesota Dept of Health. She thought we'd have to euthanize the kitten to test for rabies because she hadn't had any shots yet. Doc came back and said my husband would have to quarantine her for 10 days and if she died or started acting "insane" then she probably had rabies and I'd have to start intensive rabies vaccinations. I also had to start medication immediately! So, now I'm taking the largest medication I've ever seen in my entire life.

My index finger on my right hand feels like it's on fire and it's still swollen. I've marked it and the puncture that I didn't notice so much on the underneath of my left forearm. By the time I went to work, the skin surrounding the puncture on my left arm was the size of a quarter. The bite on my finger is barely discernible and I can't believe it's caused so much pain. At work I kept hitting both my finger and the left arm on all kinds of stuff. Working at a hardware store, I'm constantly physical! I feel like if I bend my finger the skin is going to explode apart! If you can see it, between my swollen knuckles is a tiny spot, toward the top which is the puncture site. Clicking on the picture it will enlarge it I believe and you'll actually be able to see a blurred expanded version with the puncture. I know, not everyone will be interested, but this kind of stuff is cool to me. It has to be, if I can't find something interesting in this life of mine, I'd go completely insane. :o)

In relation to a roller coaster, I think I'm on one of those curves that seems to take your breath away. Oh, and by the way, my work called after this escapade and they'd found my check attached accidentally to someone else's who had picked up their check last week. They meant to tell me they'd found it and put it in my folder at work, but forgot. hahahahahahaha Ah, my life!

~Mimi

Friday, July 4, 2008

Beyond The Night - Marlo Schalesky & Giveaway

With music of the 1970s playing throughout, Marlo Schalesky has joined forces with Multnomah Books to release Beyond the Night, the first of three books whose endings aren’t what readers expect.

A wet road, the dark of night, and pouring rain become the cruel combination that forces Maddie and her husband’s car off the road. Now Maddie lies in a coma, her faithful and loving mate by her side speaking words of encouragement.

As she rests in the darkness of her hospital room, the life journey Maddie has traveled plays again in her mind. Scenes flash in between whispers of a voice she’s grown to love. “Maddie, remember with me. Remember the day I fell in love.”
A playful kiss igniting romance between friends, an extraordinary love, a universe of fear and darkness, a triumph over blindness in both eyes and soul. Maddie’s walked a hard road and succeeded against the odds.
But then came the night that changed everything.
Marlo Schalesky delivers a powerfully emotional story that is certain to take both Maddie and the reader Beyond the Night.


~~~Marlo Schalesky Is Available For Interview~~~

About Marlo Schalesky

About Marlo Schalesky Wind Remembers, Cry Freedom, Freedom’s Shadow, and Empty Womb, Aching Heart. A graduate of Stanford University, Marlo recently earned a Masters of Theology with an emphasis in Biblical Studies from Fuller Theological Seminary. She also runs her own construction consulting business as well as an engineering firm that she and her husband own. Married nearly twenty years, she lives with her husband, Bryan, and their four daughters in California.


Q&A with Marlo Schalesky, author of Beyond the Night

Q. Marlo, you’re a woman full of surprises! What made you decide to work in the construction industry? Isn’t that a field normally dominated by males?

A. Well, something has to pay for my Starbucks venti white mochas! But seriously, when I met my husband at Stanford years ago (Note: A number of incidents in Paul and Maddie’s love story in Beyond the Night grow out of my story with Bryan . . . I’ll let the reader guess which), he was majoring in Engineering, and I majored in Chemistry. After graduating, he got a job in sales in the construction industry (roofing); I did chemical research. We discovered that there was a lot of chemistry involved in roofing. So, about ten years ago, we decided to open our own engineering firm that specialized in roofing and waterproofing. From the contacts and experience I gained there, in January of 2007 I opened my own construction consulting firm where I can use my left-brained skills (writing novels uses up all the rightbrained energy) to earn a few bucks and pay for those fancy coffees. And I have to admit, I enjoy doing something that’s so different from my writing.
It’s refreshing to deal with numbers and forms, caulking and chemicals, instead of only words and ideas. It makes for a nice balance in my life.

As for construction being male-dominated – it certainly is as far as actual construction workers and facilities managers. But there are plenty of women working in the administrative aspects of the business, which again makes for a nice balance. It’s fun to meet different kinds of people, and a number of them have also become my readers. Others just think I’m crazy – trying to run a business, writing novels, and take care of my four little daughters. But, hey, with God all things are possible . . .


Q. How did you decide to write a series of novels with surprise endings?

A. It was all God’s fault. And it started with a dream. Not one of those “I have a dream” kind of dreams, but a real, honest-to-goodness, it’s-3am-and-I’m-asleep kind of dreams. I dreamt Paul and Maddie’s love story. And when I woke up, I couldn’t get the two of them out of my head. I thought about them in the shower, on the way to seminary classes, in the grocery store. Everywhere! For weeks, I found myself replaying tidbits of their story in my mind, until I finally figured out that maybe God wanted me to write their story.

“But,” said I to God, “there’s not enough here. It’s not compelling enough.”

“Yes,” said God to me, “but Maddie’s going blind.” (Well, maybe it wasn’t so much in those words, but just in the revelation of what was going on with Maddie.)

“Oh,” said I, “That’s very interesting. But it’s still not enough. Not quite.

”Two more days went by, and Paul and Maddie’s story still kept teasing my mind. “It’s not enough,” I kept saying to God. “There’s got to be more.”

And then I saw it – the big twist. The incredible truth that I had no idea about before. It took my breath away. So, after I finished picking my jaw up off the floor, I sat down and starting working on the proposal for Beyond the Night.

As I fleshed out the story, I realized that this is exactly the type of book I’d like to keep writing – something with the poignancy of a Nicolas Sparks love story (without the sap!) matched with the knock-your-socks-off twist of a M. Night Shymalan movie (without the horror!). That kind of story excited me, spiritually, emotionally, mentally. And I figured that there had to be more people like me out there – people who want to be both moved emotionally and surprised and delighted intellectually. People who want to be changed, challenged, and caught with wonder by a story. People who just want something more in their stories, because the typical story is just not quite enough.

Happily, Multnomah agreed. When my agent sent them the proposal for Beyond the Night, they asked for two more ideas in one week. But how could I come up with two more stories like that in such a short time? It usually took months, even years, for me to find the right story. But God was faithful again. Onthe first day of that week, the storyline for Book 2, Faces in the Sand, came to me. And on the last day of the week, I got the idea for Book 3 (with five very nervous days in between). Multnomah contracted all three, and now I’m pressing forward, writing these books that God has given me to write, and prayingevery day that I’ll see the story as He has dreamed it. And I’m hanging on to the belief that He who gave me this mission will be faithful not only at its inception, but in the execution and beyond.

Q. You’ve been in the publishing industry for a while now with four previous novels and a nonfiction book to your credit. How has your publishing experience lined up with expectations? How has it not?

A. You’ll find that most of my books include a theme about life not turning out the way you plan or expect. That’s because God has given me the equivalent of a PhD in “My plans are not your plans, saith the Lord . . .” And my publishing experience has been a significant course in that learning process.

Nothing in my experience with publishing has gone according to expectation. At first, that was just because I was naïve. I thought I just had to write some good stuff, and I’d get a contract for my first books, which, at the time, was an end times series (this was before the Left Behind craze). So, I went to conferences with my proposal and heard from all the editors, “We aren’t interested in this type of futuristic fiction.” What they meant, of course, was they weren’t interested in that type of story from a newbie like me.

So, I tried historical fiction. And got a contract just as expected. Except the contract was canceled . . .that was unexpected. And it hurt.

Eventually, another publisher contracted that book and it became my first published novel. I received a few other contracts, had those books published, and then came another rude awakening in the form of sales figures. I expected to write a good book and have it do well. But that’s not how it worked for my third novel. Because of internal publishing house changes, sales went badly. And there wasn’t anything I could do about it. That was hard because I’d written the story as an act of faithfulness to God’s call, I felt He was pleased with it, I’d done everything I could in promotion and marketing, and still it “failed.” Ouch!

At that time, I was told to expect the numbers for that book to prevent other publishers from wanting to publish future books of mine. “It would have been better for you if that book hadn’t even been published,” they said. But God was about to crush that expectation as well.

A publisher contracted my next historical novel, I wrote it, and then just before it was scheduled for release, the company went through a large restructuring – they cut fiction, most of the members of the PR department left, the fiction editor left, and my book was stranded. I hadn’t expected that either.

But God was up to something in the meantime – a new story idea that I simply had to write. A story that so moved the Multnomah team, even in its synopsis form, that they wanted to publish it despite my previous sales numbers. They wanted that story, plus two more. The story was Beyond the Night. It came as an unexpected gift from God.

And just like everything else in my publishing experience, it has taken me by surprise. Pre-readers are calling me and emailing saying how the story has moved them, impacted them. But it’s not because of my great planning. It’s because God has again done something that I didn’t foresee, didn’t expect. And I thank Him for it.

Glass Road Public Relations 7926 State Route 166 East Fulton, KY 42041 Phone 615-986-9516 Fax 615-986-9517 info@glassroadpr.com http://www.glassroadpr.com/


I really enjoyed this story. We meet Maddie, who is in a coma. Her husband Paul never leaves her side. Maddie meanwhile remembers the beginning of her life with Paul. Marlo, the author, really helps us to understand the depth of their friendship, which lasted 3 yrs before either of them realized there could be something more. Then Maddie begins losing her eyesight. We see the struggles Paul and Maddie go through during the story trying to figure out their friendship, and if there should even be a friendship. We begin to care so much about the characters. As you get further into their lives, it tugs at your heartstrings. The end is surprising, although I'd guessed some of it, but not all! Here is a sweet romance all will definitely enjoy. If you'd like a chance to win my copy of this book, please leave a comment and I will draw a name July 11th. Please only US residents enter to win the copy, otherwise everyone can leave a comment.

Tuesday, July 1, 2008

Giveaway & FIRST chapter of A Mile in My Flip-Flops by Melody Carlson



It is July FIRST, time for the FIRST Blog Tour! (Join our alliance! Click the button!) The FIRST day of every month we will feature an author and her latest book's FIRST chapter!




The feature author is:


Melody Carlson

and her book:
A Mile in My Flip-Flops

WaterBrook Press (June 17, 2008)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

In sixth grade, Melody Carlson helped start a school newspaper called The BuccaNews (her school’s mascot was a Buccaneer...arrr!). As editor of this paper, she wrote most of the material herself, creating goofy phony bylines to hide the fact that the school newspaper was mostly a "one man" show.

Visit Melody's website to see all of her wonderful and various book titles.

Don't miss her latest teen fiction, Stealing Bradford (Carter House Girls, Book 2).


Product Details:

List Price: $13.99

Paperback: 336 pages

Publisher: WaterBrook Press (June 17, 2008)

Language: English

ISBN-10: 1400073146

ISBN-13: 978-1400073146

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:


I’m not the kind of girl who wants anyone to feel sorry for her.

So after my fiancé jilted me less than four weeks before our wedding date, and since the invitations had already been sent, my only recourse was to lie low and wait for everyone to simply forget.

Consequently, I became a recluse. If I wasn’t at work, teaching a delightful class of five-year-olds, who couldn’t care less about my shattered love life, I could be found holed up in my apartment, escaping all unnecessary interaction with “sympathetic” friends.

And that is how I became addicted to HGTV and ice cream. Okay, that probably calls for some explanation. HGTV stands for Home and Garden TV, a network that runs 24/7 and is what I consider the highest form of comfort TV. It is habit forming, albeit slightly mind numbing. And ice cream obviously needs no explanation.

Other than the fact that my dad, bless his heart, had seven quart-sized cartons of Ben & Jerry’s delivered to my apartment the day after Collin dumped me. Appropriately enough, dear old Dad (who knows me better than anyone on the planet) selected a flavor called Chocolate Therapy, a product worthy of its name and just as addictive as HGTV.

But now, eighteen months and twenty-two pounds later, I seem to be in a rut. And apparently I’m not the only one who thinks so.

“Come on, Gretchen,” urges my best friend, Holly, from her end of the phone line. “Just come with us–please!”

“Right…,” I mutter as I lick my spoon and dip it back into a freshly opened carton of Chunky Monkey–also appropriately named, but let’s not go there. Anyway, not only had I moved on to new ice cream flavors, but I also had given up using bowls. “Like I want to tag along with the newlyweds. Thanks, but no thanks.”

“Like I keep telling you, we’re not newlyweds anymore,” she insists. “We’ve been married three months now.”

“Yeah…well…”

“And it’s Cinco de Mayo,” she persists, using that little girl voice that I first heard when we became best friends back in third grade. “We always go together.”

I consider this. I want to point out that Holly and I used to always go to the Cinco de Mayo celebration together–as in past tense. And despite her pity for me, or perhaps it’s just some sort of misplaced guilt because she’s married and I am not, I think the days of hanging with my best friend are pretty much over now. The image of Holly and Justin, both good looking enough to be models, strolling around holding hands with frumpy, dumpy me tagging along behind them like their poor, single, reject friend just doesn’t work for me.

“Thanks anyway,” I tell her. “But I’m kind of busy today.”

“So what are you doing then?” I hear the challenge in her voice, like she thinks I don’t have anything to do on a Saturday.

I slump back into the sofa and look over to the muted TV, which is tuned, of course, to HGTV, where my favorite show, House Flippers, is about to begin, and I don’t want to miss a minute of it. “I’m, uh…I’ve got lesson plans to do,” I say quickly. This is actually true, although I don’t usually do them until Sunday evening.

She snickers. “Yeah, that’s a good one, Gretch. I’ll bet you’re vegging out in front of HGTV with a carton of Chocolate Fudge Brownie.”

“Wrong.” Okay, Holly is only partially wrong. Fortunately, I haven’t told her about my latest flavor.

“Come on,” she tries again. “It’ll be fun. You can bring Riley along. He’d probably like to stretch his legs.”

I glance over to where my usually hyper, chocolate Lab mixed breed is snoozing on his LL Bean doggy bed with a chewed-up and slightly soggy Cole Haan loafer tucked under his muzzle. “Riley’s napping,” I say. “He doesn’t want to be disturbed.”

“Like he wouldn’t want to go out and get some fresh air and sunshine?”

“We already had our walk today."

Holly laughs. “You mean that little shuffle you do over to the itty bitty park across the street from your apartment complex? What’s that take? Like seven and a half minutes for the whole round trip? That’s not enough exercise for a growing dog like Riley.”

“I threw a ball for him to chase.”

“So there’s nothing I can do or say to change your mind?” House Flippers is just starting. “Nope,” I say, trying to end this conversation. “But thanks for thinking of me.”

“Want me to bring you back an empanada?”

“Sure,” I say quickly. “You guys have fun!” Then I hang up and, taking the TV off mute, I lean back into the soft chenille sofa and lose myself while watching a hapless couple from Florida renovate a seriously run-down split-level into something they hope to sell for a profit. Unfortunately, neither of them is terribly clever when it comes to remodeling basics. And their taste in interior design is sadly lacking too. The woman’s favorite color is rose, which she uses liberally throughout the house, and she actually thinks that buyers will appreciate the dated brown tiles and bathroom fixtures in the powder room. By the time the show ends, not only is the house still on the market despite the reduced price and open house, but the couple’s marriage seems to be in real trouble as well.

“Too bad,” I say out loud as I mute the TV for commercials. Riley’s head jerks up, and he looks at me with expectant eyes.

“You just keep being a good boy,” I tell him in a soothing tone. Hopefully, he’ll stretch out this midday nap a bit longer. Because once Riley starts moving, my tiny apartment seems to shrink, first by inches and then by feet.

My hope for an elongated nap crumbles when his tail begins to beat rhythmically on the floor, almost like a warning–thump, thump, thump–and the next thing I know, he’s up and prowling around the cluttered living room. Riley isn’t even full grown yet, and he’s already way too much dog for my apartment. Holly warned me that his breed needed room to romp and play. She tried to talk me into a little dog, like a Yorkie or Chihuahua, but I had fallen for those liquid amber eyes…and did I mention that he’s part chocolate Lab? Since when have I been able to resist chocolate? Besides, he reminded me of a cuddly brown teddy bear. But I hardly considered the fact that he would get bigger.

After he climbed into my lap that day, licking my face and smelling of puppy breath and other things that I knew could be shampooed away, there was no way I could leave him behind at the Humane Society. I already knew that he’d been rejected as a Christmas present. Some dimwitted father had gotten him for toddler twins without consulting Mommy first. Even so, Holly tried to convince me that a good-looking puppy like that would quickly find another home.

But it was too late. I knew Riley was meant for me, and that was that. And I had grandiose ideas of taking him for long walks on the beach. “He’ll help me get in shape,” I assured Holly. She’d long since given up on me going to the fitness club with her, so I think she bought into the whole exercise theory. She also bought Riley his LL Bean deluxe doggy bed, which I could barely wedge into my already crowded apartment and now takes up most of the dining area, even though it’s partially tucked beneath a gorgeous craftsman-style Ethan Allen dining room set. Although it’s hard to tell that it’s gorgeous since it’s pushed up against a wall and covered with boxes of Pottery Barn kitchen items that won’t fit into my limited cabinet space.

“This place is way too small for us,” I say to Riley as I shove the half-full ice cream carton back into the freezer. As if to confirm this, his wagging tail whacks an oversized dried arrangement in a large bronze vase, sending seedpods, leaves, and twigs flying across the carpet and adding to the general atmosphere of chaos and confusion.

My decorating style? Contemporary clutter with a little eclectic disorder thrown in for special effect. Although, to be fair, that’s not the real me. I’m sure the real me could make a real place look like a million bucks. That is, if I had a real place…or a million bucks.

I let out a long sigh as I stand amid my clutter and survey my crowded apartment. It’s been like this for almost two years now.

Overly filled with all the stuff I purchased shortly after Collin proposed to me more than two years ago. Using my meager teacher’s salary and skimpy savings, I started planning the interior décor for our new home. I couldn’t wait to put it all together after the wedding.

“Have you ever heard of wedding presents?” Holly asked me when she first realized what I was doing.

“Of course,” I assured her. “But I can’t expect the guests to provide everything for our home. I figured I might as well get started myself. Look at this great set of espresso cups that I got at Crate & Barrel last weekend for thirty percent off.”

“Well, at least you have good taste,” she admitted as she stooped to admire a hand-tied wool area rug I’d just gotten on sale. Of course, she gasped when she saw the price tag still on it. “Expensive taste too!”

“It’ll last a lifetime,” I assured her, just like the Karastan salesman had assured me. Of course, as it turned out, my entire relationship with Collin didn’t even last two years. Now I’m stuck with a rug that’s too big to fit in this crummy little one-bedroom apartment–the same apartment I’d given Mr. Yamamoto notice on two months before my wedding. It was so humiliating to have to beg to keep it after the wedding was cancelled, but I didn’t know what else to do.

And now, a year and a half later, I’m still here. Stuck. It’s like everyone else has moved on with their lives except me. It wouldn’t be so bad if I had enough room to make myself at home or enough room for Riley to wag his tail without causing mass destruction…or enough room to simply breathe. Maybe I should rent a storage unit for all this stuff. Or maybe I should move myself into a storage unit since it would probably be bigger than this apartment.

As I pick up Riley’s newest mess, I decide the bottom line is that I need to make a decision. Get rid of some things–whether by storage, a yard sale, or charity–or else get more space. I vote for more space. Not that I can afford more space. I’m already strapped as it is.

Kindergarten teachers don’t make a whole lot. I feel like I’ve created a prison for myself. What used to be a convenient hideout now feels like a trap, and these thin walls seem to be closing in on me daily. Feeling hopeless, I flop back onto the couch and ponder my limited options. Then I consider forgetting the whole thing and escaping back into HGTV, which might call for some more ice cream.

But that’s when I look down and notice my thighs spreading out like two very large slabs of ham. Very pale ham, I might add as I tug at my snug shorts to help cover what I don’t want to see, but it’s not working. I stare at my flabby legs in horror. When did this happen?

I stand up now, trying to erase that frightening image of enormous, white thunder thighs. I pace around my apartment a bit before I finally go and stand in front of an oversized mirror that’s leaning against the wall near the front door. This is a beautiful mirror I got half price at World Market, but it belongs in a large home, possibly over a fireplace or in a lovely foyer. And it will probably be broken by Riley’s antics if it remains against this wall much longer.

But instead of admiring the heavy bronze frame of the mirror like I usually do, I actually look into the mirror and am slightly stunned at what I see. Who is that frumpy girl? And who let her into my apartment? I actually used to think I was sort of good looking. Not a babe, mind you, but okay. Today I see a faded girl with disappointed eyes.

Some people, probably encouraged by Holly, a long-legged dazzling brunette, used to say I resembled Nicole Kidman. Although they probably were thinking of when Nicole was heavier and I was lighter. Now it’s a pretty big stretch to see any similarities. To add insult to injury, Nicole has already hit the big “four o,” whereas I am only thirty-two. Her forties might be yesterday’s twenties, but my thirties look more like someone else’s fifties. And I used to take better care of myself. Okay, I was never thin, but I did eat right and got exercise from jogging and rollerblading. Compared to now, I was in great shape. And my long strawberry blond hair, which I thought was my best asset, was usually wavy and fresh looking, although you wouldn’t know that now. It’s unwashed and pulled tightly into a shabby-looking ponytail, which accentuates my pudgy face and pale skin. Even my freckles have faded. It doesn’t help matters that my worn T-shirt (with a peeling logo that proclaims “My Teacher Gets an A+”) is saggy and baggy, and my Old Navy khaki shorts, as I’ve just observed, are too tight, and my rubber flip-flops look like they belong on a homeless person–although I could easily be mistaken for one if I was pushing a shopping cart down the street.

Then, in the midst of this pathetic personal inventory, my focus shifts to all the junk that’s piled behind me–the boxes, the myriad of stuff lining the short, narrow hallway and even spilling into the open door of my tiny bedroom, which can barely contain the queensize bed and bronze bedframe still in the packing box behind it. If it wasn’t so depressing, it would almost be funny. I just shake my head. And then I notice Riley standing strangely still behind me and looking almost as confused as I feel. With his head slightly cocked to one side, he watches me curiously, as if he, too, is afraid to move. This is nuts. Totally certifiable. A girl, or even a dog, could seriously lose it living like this. Or maybe I already have. They say you’re always the last to know that you’ve lost your marbles.

“It’s time for a change,” I announce to Riley. He wags his tail happily now, as if he wholeheartedly agrees. Or maybe he simply thinks I’m offering to take him on a nice, long walk. “We need a real house,” I continue, gathering steam now. “And we need a real yard for you to run and play in.” Of course, this only excites him more.

And that’s when he begins to run about the apartment like a possessed thing, bumping into boxes and furnishings until I finally open the sliding door and send him out to the tiny deck to calm himself.

After he settles down, I go and join him. It’s pretty hot out here, and I notice that the seedling sunflower plants, ones we’d started in the classroom and I’d brought home to nurture along, are now hanging limp and lifeless, tortured by the hot afternoon sun that bakes this little patio. Just one more thing I hate about this place.

So much for my attempt at terrace gardening. I’d seen a show on HGTV that inspired me to turn this little square of cement deck into a real oasis. But in reality it’s simply a barren desert that will only get worse as the summer gets hotter. I feel like I’m on the verge of tears now. It’s hopeless.

This is all wrong. On so many levels. This is not where I was supposed to be at this stage of the game. This is not the life I had planned. I feel like I’ve been robbed or tricked or like someone ripped the rug out from under me. And sometimes in moments like this, I even resent God and question my faith in him. I wonder why he allows things like this to happen. Why does he let innocent people get hurt by the selfishness of others? It just doesn’t make sense. And it’s not fair.

Oh, I’ve tried to convince myself I’m over the fact that my ex fiancé, Collin Fairfield, was a total jerk. And I try not to blame him for being swept away when his high school sweetheart decided, after fifteen years of being apart, that she was truly in love with him. I heard that the revelation came to Selena at the same time she received our engraved wedding invitation, which I did not send to her. She wasn’t even on my list.

And I actually believe that I’ve mostly forgiven Collin…and that sneaky Selena too. And I wish them well, although I didn’t attend their wedding last fall. A girl has to draw the line somewhere.

But all that aside, this is still so wrong. I do not belong in this stuffy little apartment that’s cluttered with my pretty household goods. I belong in a real house. A house with a white picket fence and a lawn and fruit trees in the backyard. And being single shouldn’t mean that I don’t get to have that. There must be some way I can afford a home.

Of course, I’m fully aware that real estate isn’t cheap in El Ocaso. It’s on the news regularly. Our town’s prices certainly aren’t as outrageous as some of the suburbs around San Diego, but they’re not exactly affordable on a teacher’s salary. I try not to remember how much I had in my savings account back before I got engaged and got carried away with spending on my wedding and my home. That pretty much depleted what might’ve gone toward a small down payment on what probably would’ve been a very small house. But, hey, even a small house would be better than this prison-cell apartment.

And that’s when it hits me. And it’s so totally obvious I can’t believe I didn’t think of it sooner. I will become a house flipper! Just like the people on my favorite HGTV show, I will figure out a way to secure a short-term loan, purchase a fixer-upper house, and do the repairs and decorating myself–with my dad’s expert help, of course!

And then, maybe as early as midsummer, I will sell this beautifully renovated house for enough profit to make a good-sized down payment on another house just for me…and Riley. Even if the secondhouse is a fixer-upper too, I can take my time with it, making it just the way I want it. And it’ll be so much better than where I live now.

I’m surprised I didn’t come up with this idea months ago. It’s so totally simple. Totally perfect. And totally me!

“We are going house hunting,” I announce to Riley as I shove open the sliding door and march back inside the apartment. His whole body is wagging with doggy joy as I quickly exchange my too-tight shorts for jeans and then reach for his leather leash and my Dolce & Gabbana knockoff bag–the one I bought to carry on my honeymoon, the honeymoon that never was. I avoid looking at my image in the big mirror as we make a hasty exit.

“Come on, boy,” I say as I hook the leash to his collar at the top of the stairs. “This is going to be fun!” And since this outing is in the spirit of fun, I even put down the top on my VW Bug, something I haven’t done in ages. Riley looks like he’s died and gone to doggy heaven as he rides joyfully in the backseat, his ears flapping in the breeze. Who knows, maybe we’ll find a house for sale on the beach.

Okay, it’d have to be a run-down, ramshackle sort of place that no one but me can see the hidden value in, but it could happen. And while I renovate my soon-to-be wonder house, Riley can be king of the beach. The possibilities seem limitless. And when I stop at the grocery store to pick up real-estate papers, I am impressed with how many listings there are. But I can’t read and drive, so I decide to focus on driving. And since I know this town like the back of my hand, this should be easy.

But thanks to the Cinco de Mayo celebration, the downtown area is crowded, so I start my search on the south end of town, trying to avoid traffic jams. I’m aware that this area is a little pricey for me, but you never know. First, I pull over into a parking lot and read the fliers. I read about several houses for sale, but the prices are staggering.

Even more than I imagined. Also, based on the descriptions and photos, these houses already seem to be in great shape. No fixer-uppers here. Then I notice some condo units for sale, and I can imagine finding a run-down unit in need of a little TLC, but it’s the same situation. According to the fliers, they’re in tiptop, turnkey shape–recently remodeled with granite counters and cherry hardwood floors and new carpeting and prices so high I can’t imagine doing anything that could push them a penny higher. My profit margin and spirits are steadily sinking. Maybe my idea to flip a house has already flopped. Just like the rest of my life.


Excerpted from A Mile in My Flip-Flops by Melody Carlson Copyright © 2008 by Melody Carlson. Excerpted by permission of WaterBrook Press, a division of Random House, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

I am really enjoying this first adult book of Melody's that I've read. My 16 yr old read it first and wasn't that interested so stopped reading it. I was a bit concerned because we typically like the same books. Well, I have really enjoyed it and related to Gretchen. I'm not an HGTV watcher, but have enjoyed TLC and their home improvement shows.

This book is definitely First Person POV and to me it's more noticeable than in most books. Sometimes it has a diary quality to it, at least in my thinking. It's interesting, and not in a bad way. Sometimes I think I'm walking right along with Gretchen with the descriptions Melody gives us in her writing.
I'm only 1/2 way thru the book to the part where Noah has taken care of Gretchen's dog, Riley. I'm still debating whether or not I like Gretchen. I think it's because we pretty much know her every thought and I think if we knew that about even our closest friend we'd have some questions about how we feel toward them. I can't wait to see how things turn out with Noah, because she's pretty judgemental, and to see if she begins to have a deeper faith.

Hopefully I'll finish by tonight so I can finish this review. If you'd like to win a copy of this book, my copy, let me know if you've ever done any major home improvements on your own and how it went! Any crazy stories? US residents only for the contest. Sorry, postage isn't part of my budget. :o) I'll choose a winner on July 8. Wow, how are we already in July?

Blessings~Mimi

Ok, still haven't finished it, but am enjoying it more as it moves along. I realized tonight another reason why I'm enjoying it (ok I just thought of another one, too) . I work in a hardware store! So I know a lot about the tools Gretchen is using and how some of the remodel is being done. I also like it because of the photography aspect. Only a few more chapters to go. I just finished Tina's wedding! What a nightmare to have to go thru.

 
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Woven by Words by Mimi B is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.