tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-178750822024-03-13T21:18:20.789-04:00Mimi's Pixie CornerThis is my spot for mayhem and mischief.M. C. Pearsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13777325241098466381noreply@blogger.comBlogger493125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17875082.post-28595220444238953572016-03-01T17:36:00.000-05:002016-03-01T17:49:11.202-05:00Countdown: Cannon Steel by John P. Szeker<div align="center">
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<strong style="background-color: transparent;"><span style="color: #333399; font-size: 20.8px;"><span style="color: #cc0000;"><i>My Thoughts:</i></span></span></strong></div>
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<span style="color: #111111; font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;"><i>CIA intrigue,
terrorists, a comet! What's not to love? With the current events of near-Earth
asteroids and terrorism, John Szeker's book rings only too true. His life
experience with missile defense adds believable scenarios as well as exciting
characterization. I adore the accents of various people, especially the Irish
brogue. John doesn't hold back with the Christian spiritual warfare either. I
love the 'visions' that one of the main characters keeps having. Wonderful job
answering some scary 'what if' questions. Great read!</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<strong><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: 180%;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/John-P-Szeker-1272896049393300/?pnref=story">John P. Szeker</a></span></strong>
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<strong><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: 180%;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: 100%;">and the book:</span> </span></strong>
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<strong><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: 180%;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0692588418">Countdown: Cannon Steel</a></span></strong>
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FIRST Wild Card Press (March 1, 2016)
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<strong><span style="color: #333399; font-size: 130%;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">ABOUT THE AUTHOR:</span> </span></strong><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj48vrTqFfJN_HL6wpb9yNKLtmRIPQGVrHvZiEWMvFT_RCLGhmXHnDDkuJw-oBfSmiTy_1Seni8OuvAR2-_KlI8sfgn3wCrkhSrMLUK9EztHMuHbvCxMLMrDV7APoc1ZJ8OKiA38w/s1600/Author+Pic+RGB.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj48vrTqFfJN_HL6wpb9yNKLtmRIPQGVrHvZiEWMvFT_RCLGhmXHnDDkuJw-oBfSmiTy_1Seni8OuvAR2-_KlI8sfgn3wCrkhSrMLUK9EztHMuHbvCxMLMrDV7APoc1ZJ8OKiA38w/s200/Author+Pic+RGB.jpg" width="174" /></a><span style="background-color: white; color: #111111; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"></span></div>
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John Szeker holds an M.S. in Applied Mathematics from Santa Clara University and a B.S. from Manhattan College. He retired after a thirty-five year engineering career with Lockheed Martin Missiles & Space Company, and continues as an internationally recognized expert in missile guidance and simulation. His missile system development, battle management, and war gaming experience provides accurate technical realism to his writing. He and his wife of fifty-five years have four daughters, nine grandchildren, and two great grandchildren.</div>
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Visit the author's <a href="https://www.facebook.com/John-P-Szeker-1272896049393300/?pnref=story">website</a>.
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<strong><span style="color: #333399; font-size: 130%;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:</span> </span></strong></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: white; line-height: 19px;">The U.S. is under siege. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: white; line-height: 19px;">Middle Eastern terrorists.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: white; line-height: 19px;"> Russian renegades. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: white; line-height: 19px;">A comet. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: white;"><span style="line-height: 19px;"><span style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit;"></span></span><br /></span>
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: white; line-height: 19px;">A lone man recognizes the danger signs as the president creates Cannon Steel, a task force to deal with these imminent threats.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: white; line-height: 19px;"><b>Paperback:</b> 438 pages</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: white; line-height: 19px;"><b>Publisher:</b> FIRST Wild Card Press; Revised edition (March 1, 2016)</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: white; line-height: 19px;"><b>Language:</b> English</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: white; line-height: 19px;"><b>ISBN-10:</b> 0692588418</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: white; line-height: 19px;"><b>ISBN-13: </b>978-0692588413</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:</span> </strong>
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<i>Disaster. Huge, heavy hailstones fell relentlessly from the sky. As the deadly ice missiles hit the city, they created large craters into which cars and buildings collapsed. Fire engulfed everything that came in its way. Screaming people ran panic-stricken in all directions. In the midst of the horrific destruction, an old man prayed. He was all in white—white beard, thick, white eyebrows, and a pure-white robe. He looked sad, yet resigned.</i></blockquote>
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<b>JUNCTION CITY, KS</b></h3>
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Stan Smith opened his eyes to the familiar sight of his study walls. He had been seeing these disturbing images for weeks, which first occurred as dreams during the night but now had begun to intrude into his daytime life.</div>
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He looked at his watch. “Oh, no,” he muttered, remembering that his wife, Rachel, had invited guests for dinner. He dried his sweat-soaked hair, quickly cleared the mess from his desk, and then locked the door. Luckily, his home was only a few miles down the road, a ten-minute drive away.</div>
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WEDNESDAY NIGHT—SAN FRANCISCO, CA </h3>
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The phone rang, startling Pete Strong out of his self-pity. Don’t tell me—another editor calling, I’ll bet. He turned off his laptop and swiped the phone off its cradle.</div>
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“Hello, Pete?” a deep, confident voice inquired.</div>
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“Yes. Who is this?” Pete said, rolling his aching neck from side to side while stroking his unshaven chin. It couldn’t be. Not after all this time.</div>
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“Mark. Come on, good buddy, you couldn’t have forgotten that easily.”</div>
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Pete turned and looked at a picture midway up his wall. “Mark? Mark McKendrick?” He grinned as he stared at the photo of Mark and him, taken outside CIA headquarters in Washington. They had been young, virile thrill-seekers back then, handsome and debonair—one, a crew-cut blond, and the other, dark and wavy-haired—a very long time ago. He wondered how his old friend had fared over the years. “My gosh, I thought you’d lost my phone number. Where are you calling from?” Pete asked.</div>
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“Washington right now. Say, I’m going to be in the San Francisco Bay area for a few days. Can we get together for lunch?”</div>
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“Sounds great to me, Mark. How about Ming’s Chinese in Palo Alto? You do remember how to get there, don’t you?” Pete said, perking up at the chance to get together with his old buddy.</div>
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“You kidding? I haven’t lost my memory—just some hair. How does tomorrow sound? I fly in at 0730 for an early meeting, but the rest of my afternoon’s free.”</div>
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“Roger that. Man, I can’t wait to catch up on old times. See you at noon.” As he stood to hang up the phone, his eyes caught the movement in the mirror. He turned and stared at himself. How much had he changed over the years? He glanced toward his wedding portrait and gently traced the outline of his estranged wife’s face. All it did was rekindle the guilt about his failed marriage.</div>
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THURSDAY MID-DAY</h3>
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“Pete, over here!” Mark waved at him from what used to be their favorite table. If it weren’t for that greeting, Pete doubted that he’d have recognized his former comrade-in-arms. From a slim Harrison Ford look-alike who’d had no problem attracting women, Mark now looked noticeably older and considerably wider.</div>
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“Mark, you old son of a gun, good to see you.” Pete squeezed Mark’s hand and pounded his back.</div>
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“Sit down, buddy.” Mark gave his friend the once-over as he sat. “You look great. I’m impressed. Did you shave just for me?” he asked.</div>
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Pete’s hand went to his smooth face. Not wanting to give him the upper hand, he ignored the question. “You still with the CIA—or are you looking for a job?”</div>
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“I’ll have you know that I am now special advisor to the Director of the CIA…” Mark took another sip of tea as if to let that one sink in before adding, “John Stanton.”</div>
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Stanton had been their boss several years back, when they had both been agents.</div>
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“John? Jeez, they put him in charge?” He laughed.</div>
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“Well, if he could control you, he can easily deal with President Nelson.” Mark joined Pete’s laughter, interrupted only by the approach of the waiter.</div>
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After ordering, Mark asked, “What’s your story, Pete? Where have you been hiding yourself?”</div>
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“I haven’t been hiding. But there are other things in life besides always dashing into danger.” Pete’s mood turned uncharacteristically solemn, and he looked down at his napkin.</div>
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“Whoa, partner. No offense.” Mark held up his hands in surrender.</div>
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With perfect timing, the waiter arrived with their food. Pete realized his emotions had gotten the better of him. “Oh, brother. Mark, I’m sorry. I know you didn’t mean anything. It’s just…I…I don’t know.”</div>
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“That’s okay, bud. What’s wrong? Is Marilyn all right?”</div>
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Pete shook his head. “We’re getting a divorce. I thought I knew what she wanted. The Agency was so all-consuming that I thought if I quit, our marriage would fall back into place. But I immersed myself in the new job instead and didn’t spend the time to repair the old damage. Just caused a whole new set of the same old problems.”</div>
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“I’m sorry, Pete. I thought that new job would have given you more time for the family.”</div>
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“Well, so did I, Mark, but the aerospace industry turned out to be just as demanding.” Pete speared a pot sticker.</div>
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“How did you end up in aerospace anyway? That’s some jump from secret agent to writing government proposals.”</div>
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Putting down his chopsticks, Pete replied, “Well, remember hearing about the surveillance events prior to Desert Storm?”</div>
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“Oh, yeah. That was the last time we were here at Ming’s. Stanton told us about the time that he had been assigned to get the specs on the enemy’s weaknesses in their underground bunker system.” Mark’s eyes lit up in remembrance. “They needed a large, accurate weapon that would penetrate to pay dirt.”</div>
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“Marlock Aerospace put that system together in less than a month’s time. That’s what made me want to work for them, Mark,” responded Pete, finishing his green tea. “Want dessert, by the way?”</div>
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“No, thanks, Pete,” Mark patted his already oversized waistline.</div>
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For a brief second, Pete was reminded of the old days, when he and Mark used to fly at a moment’s notice to unknown parts of the Middle East with assumed names and blank airline tickets. Only their boss knew where they were going or why. He still missed those times. He had never been able to find another partner like Mark. They never had to explain things twice to each another. Kindred spirits like that were hard to find.</div>
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Their meal finished, they sat and stared at each another in awkward silence. Pete realized this meeting was more than just a let’s-reminisce-about-old-times dinner.</div>
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Mark broke the silence. “Pete, I know you don’t work for the CIA anymore, but I need your opinion...it’s got to stay confidential, though.”</div>
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Pete gave a tentative nod.</div>
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Mark lowered his voice. “We can’t talk here. Can you come to my hotel room later tonight?”</div>
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“Sure. Just name the time.”</div>
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“Room 104. Holiday Plaza. Eighteen-thirty. Okay?”</div>
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“I’ll be there.”</div>
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Mark sat reviewing his notes, when he heard a knock on his hotel room door. After checking through the peephole that it was indeed Pete, he opened the door and gestured him in.</div>
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“Always were right on time, Pete,” he said. “Pick a seat. Would you like a drink?”</div>
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“Sure. Got a beer?” Pete spread his lanky frame on one of the uncomfortable motel room chairs. A pop-hiss of escaping air was his answer, and Mark handed him the open can before seating himself in an equally uncomfortable chair.</div>
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“Pete, what I’ve got to tell you is top secret. I can’t go into much detail tonight, and unless you agree to be briefed on the subject, I can’t even give you the gist of it,” Pete’s mouth was still open when Mark continued, “your clearance level is Top Secret, right?”</div>
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“Of course.”</div>
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“You’re also deeply involved in national missile defense—weapon systems engineering, isn’t it?” he asked, looking at his notes. Pete nodded in affirmation, but looked a little disgruntled. “Hey, you’re not bent out of shape about the background check we ran on you, are ya?”</div>
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Pete smirked. “Give me the CliffsNotes version, Pete. Where are we on missile defense?” He already knew the answer. The government had led aerospace contractors down a roller coaster path for some time now. Most of the technology to perform the NMD job had already been developed, but the United States had not yet deployed an anti-missile defense system. However, he wanted to hear Pete’s response.</div>
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“Mark, you know as well as I do that we don’t have one. We obviously have the offensive nuclear missile deterrent. But a covert surprise attack on the U.S. would wipe us out.”</div>
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“And that’s the reason you’re here, Pete,” Mark settled into his chair and lit up a cigar, “but as I mentioned earlier, I can’t tell you why at this point. You’ll have to trust me.” He and Pete exchanged sharp glances before he continued, “Can you come to Washington for a while?”</div>
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Pete avoided the question momentarily. “I do have a job, you know. Why in blazes is the CIA heading this up and not the Department of Defense, Mark?”</div>
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“I can’t tell you that either, Pete.”</div>
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Pete sighed. “Can I let you know tomorrow, after I sleep on it some?”</div>
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“Time is of the essence...” Mark caught himself, as Pete lifted both eyebrows. “...so go sleep on it, Pete. Or if you can’t sleep on it, toss and turn on it.”</div>
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FRIDAY—SAN JOSE, CA</h3>
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As Marilyn Strong folded her daughter’s clothes, her mind wandered to the meaning of life—well, at least her life. More specifically, the part of it that had felt empty since she and Pete had separated. She paused in front of the mirror. She was still a vibrant woman, still able to attract men, but without him, she felt a gaping hole. The ringing kitchen phone interrupted her reflections. Pete. Speak of the devil, and there he appears.</div>
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“Marilyn, something’s come up that I need to discuss with you right away.” His voice tensed. “It’s important.”</div>
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Annoyed at Pete’s lack of warning, she responded, “Pete, I already have plans for tonight.”</div>
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“Lyn, I know it’s last minute, but please...”</div>
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She sighed, brushing her long, blond hair behind her ear. “All right, Pete. I’ll call Phil and cancel if it’s that important.”</div>
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He ignored the reference to her boyfriend. “How about our place up in the Santa Cruz Mountains—the Shadowbrook Restaurant?”</div>
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“Boy, that will bring back some memories,” she said, not knowing if they were memories that she wanted dredged up right now.</div>
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“How about if I pick you up at five?”</div>
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Marilyn glanced at the clock on her stove-top. “I’ll be ready.”</div>
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While Pete drove to his ex-wife’s house, thoughts ricocheted through his mind. I hope Marilyn won’t ask me about church. Why on earth did God allow this break-up in the first place? Dating? How could she be dating already? Well, at least she’s talking to me again, but is our relationship doomed forever if I go back to the CIA?</div>
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As he pulled into the driveway of the two-story, Spanish-style home where they had lived for many years, memories flooded his brain. Softball games. Swimming pool parties. Birthday barbecues. He waved to his former neighbor, who returned the greeting. Marilyn answered the doorbell immediately. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. She had on the same dress that she had worn on their last anniversary, a beautiful blue sequined affair with a lace collar. Her slim figure still attracted him.</div>
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“Marilyn, you look beautiful.” Yanking on his sports coat, he added, “I guess I’m a little under dressed.”</div>
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She shook her head and guffawed. “If you weren’t, I wouldn’t know you. Let’s go.”</div>
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The drive to the restaurant was refreshing as they chatted pleasantly. Marilyn brought him up-to-date on his daughters’ goings-on while Pete tried to share several hopeful glances. This was where Pete had proposed to Marilyn some fifteen years ago. As the couple entered the restaurant, Pete tried to ignore the heads of men turning to eye his beautiful wife. Her elegant figure and her flowing blond hair still attracted the male of the species, who often paid with bruised shins from their glaring wives. Escorted to their special table by a stiff, officious waiter, they sat quietly for a few moments, both obviously immersed in reverie.</div>
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Noticing a small tear in her eye, Pete asked, “What is it, Lyn?”</div>
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Her voice had softened, but she avoided looking at him. “Oh, it’s just...the last time we were here, Pete. That was the happiest time in my life.”</div>
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Pete gently caressed her hand, not saying a word.</div>
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“I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to feel that way again.” Marilyn focused her gaze on him, her eyes full of paralyzing pain.</div>
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He nudged her hand, trying to change the subject. “Let’s order, Lyn. I wonder if the prime rib is as good as last time.”</div>
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“It could never be as good as last time, Pete,” she said, as she jerked her hand away from his, “but, sure, let’s order.”</div>
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Pete took a deep breath. “Marilyn, I need to talk to you. I don’t know how it’s going to affect us and—” he began.</div>
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Her expression changed to that old look of dreadful anticipation. “What is it, Pete?”</div>
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He focused his eyes on his bread plate. “It’s Mark McKendrick. He wants me to help him out on some secret project, but he won’t tell me what it’s about, just that it’s a matter of national security.”</div>
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“Yes, go on, Pete,” she said, in a barely audible voice.</div>
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“It’s a temporary assignment only—two, maybe three months—in Washington.” He began to feel a little more at ease. At least she hadn’t exploded yet. He folded his menu and stared at the cover. “Please, Lyn, I really am struggling with this decision. But I won’t do it if you’re against it.” He slowly looked up at her.</div>
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“Pete, we’re separated,” she reminded him, looking away. “I don’t want to influence you one way or the other. It’s up to you.”</div>
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He decided to confess the real reason for this dinner. Summoning his courage, he said, “Marilyn, I guess I’ll have to say it. I love you, and I don’t want to hurt our chances for reconciliation.”</div>
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She slowly returned her eyes to his, “I can’t commit to anything, Pete,” she said, with a hint of resentment. “I still have feelings for you, but also a lot of reservations. You always said, ‘It won’t be long, honey. Only a few months, and we’ll be together again.’ Do you know how many times I’ve heard that? How many months does it take to make a year, then two, then five? You were gone for the birth of our first, then our second child…how many ball games, recitals, broken hearts were you there for? I had to be both mother and father to our girls. They don’t even know you—I don’t even know you anymore. I used to love that James Bond mystery thing, and I know you still do, but I can’t do it anymore. I can’t take the thought of you dead who-knows-where.”</div>
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She turned her glance back toward the wall, and her voice broke. “I just can’t take it, Pete.”</div>
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“I’m not saying that I’m joining the CIA. It’s just an emergency assignment,” he promised. “Please, Lyn, can’t you accept it? I’ll be back here after it’s over.”</div>
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“When will there not be a national emergency, Pete?” she asked. “Anyway, I’m not going anywhere. Go save the world. I’ll talk to you when you get back.”</div>
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For a brief instant of time, the couple looked at each other in the same exciting way that they had when they were courting. They had unfinished business and the frustration that accompanied it, but they also had more than a hint of hope.</div>
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After dropping Marilyn back home, he phoned Mark to confirm what he suspected his friend already knew.</div>
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“So, what about Marilyn?” Mark asked.</div>
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“I can only hope she’ll be here when I get back, Mark…but I’ve got to do it.” Pete’s hands sweated because he secretly suspected that this decision would affect his life for a long time to come.</div>
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“It’s late now,” said Mark. “Can you go to Washington this weekend? Monday at the latest?”</div>
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“That soon? What about Marlock?”</div>
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“Tell them you have a family emergency. That’s all anyone needs to know.”</div>
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“Okay. We need to make travel arrangements.”</div>
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“Already done. I knew you’d go. I’ll e-mail the itinerary to you. See you at the airport, pardner.”</div>
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As they hung up, Pete felt a strong sense of their old camaraderie again.</div>
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M. C. Pearsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13777325241098466381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17875082.post-63205538523599495042014-04-11T00:11:00.002-04:002014-04-11T00:12:30.388-04:00Becoming the Chateran by S. J. Aisling<br />
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<i><strong><span style="color: #333399; font-size: 21px;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">My Thoughts: </span></span></strong><br />I'm currently reading </i>Becoming the Chateran<i>, so I cannot yet give a thorough review. That said, let me give you my first impressions. But first I must tell you a little story. Currently, I am teaching/leading a writing club for homeschoolers. We meet every Wednesday to discuss writing and read our prose to each other. Before starting this book, we went over 'Using our Senses' in writing. We went outside and wrote down what we heard, then what we smelled, and also what we saw. That night I started reading </i>Becoming the Chateran<i>. If you'll scroll down, you'll see that I've included the first chapter on this post. Read the 3rd, 4th, and 5th paragraphs...it tickled me to see all the senses being used. The next week I read those paragraphs to the club. What a wonderful example of writing with senses in mind! I loved it!<br /><br />As a fantasy writer and illustrator myself, I have enjoyed paging through this book and looking at all of S. J.'s drawings. She has really done a wonderful job with the clothing, scenery, and the creatures. My only criticism would be that all the human faces look alike. I wish that she had used real people as models or at least varied the facial structures. Also, I would have liked to see these as finished drawings, without all the sketch lines still showing. They do show some great emotions and movement.</i><br />
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<i>I give S. J. kudos for her imaginative names, but I have a terrible time remembering how to pronounce them. Luckily, she has a pronunciation guide at the end of the book. Still, I would enjoy it more if the names of the characters and towns etc. were a bit easier to read.</i><br />
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<i>I am eager to get into this story and will let you know more of my thoughts when I have finished the book. It is rather long, 536 pages, so it may take a while.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9wqrdwSX_u2P108nEuvtPVWXb79gjyDCUVIv-_6UOy0b80v-E9tGE91R4ZwF7TJd1co6Yg42vyriXC2_en4z3PKM5sTJCOYWorkmiI2s-4lKbDRpJM27M91XDBudISkhxsCol/s1600/FIRSTWildCardTours2.jpg"></a><a href="http://firstwildcardtours.blogspot.com/"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9wqrdwSX_u2P108nEuvtPVWXb79gjyDCUVIv-_6UOy0b80v-E9tGE91R4ZwF7TJd1co6Yg42vyriXC2_en4z3PKM5sTJCOYWorkmiI2s-4lKbDRpJM27M91XDBudISkhxsCol/s200/FIRSTWildCardTours2.jpg" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480264388542368882" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 200px; margin: 0 10px 10px 0; width: 145px;" /></a>It is time for a <span style="color: #990000;"><strong><a href="http://firstwildcardtours.blogspot.com/">FIRST Wild Card Tour</a></strong></span> 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! <span style="color: #990000;"><strong>Enjoy your free peek into the book!</strong></span>
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"><em>You never know when I might play a wild card on you!</em></span>
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<strong>Today's Wild Card author is: </strong>
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<strong><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: 180%;"><a href="http://sjaisling.com/">S. J. Aisling</a></span></strong>
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<strong><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: 180%;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: 100%;">and the book:</span> </span></strong>
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<strong><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: 180%;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/1622450965">Becoming the Chateran</a></span></strong>
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ANEKO Press</div>
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***Special thanks to Michael Allanson for sending me a review copy.***
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<strong><span style="color: #333399; font-size: 130%;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">ABOUT THE AUTHOR:</span></span></strong></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibG3g_u6_fYHcJ6VazFSW2jn5YUpv4SZBEQcVgrhlxd405uoKaWBn6s68qUcZRS6LBTmkv8o8vJcK25a71LgWpEJeruVi1HaluivTn1TY1Y-NxjMLgRV_sN1xSI_1C-ASNsQYs8Q/s1600/Author+Photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibG3g_u6_fYHcJ6VazFSW2jn5YUpv4SZBEQcVgrhlxd405uoKaWBn6s68qUcZRS6LBTmkv8o8vJcK25a71LgWpEJeruVi1HaluivTn1TY1Y-NxjMLgRV_sN1xSI_1C-ASNsQYs8Q/s1600/Author+Photo.jpg" height="200" width="135" /></a>Stacia Joy has always loved to tell stories and invent fictional lands and characters. But she never considered becoming a writer herself until age thirteen, when, inspired by a pretend play she invented with a friend, she wrote the first draft of Becoming the Chateran. The story has since expanded into what will become The Chateran Series. Stacia Joy also writes in several other genres, including steampunk and paranormal/science fiction, and occasionally writes poems about buffalo.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Wanting to be able to show others what her imagined universe looks like, Stacia Joy taught herself to draw by studying the work of illustrators like Alphonse Mucha, Arthur Rackham, Kate Seredy, and Jan Brett. She also received training in illustration and graphic design at Madison Area Technical College, and plans to become a full-fledged freelance illustrator before long.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>When not immersed in writing or art, Stacia Joy spends her time playing the piano and folk harp, composing music, Irish dancing, singing at the top of her lungs, and learning new things. She also enjoys helping with children's ministry at her church, and currently resides in the Madison, Wisconsin area with a kitten named Lord Peter Whimsey.<br />
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Visit the author's <a href="http://sjaisling.com/about/">website</a>.
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<strong><span style="color: #333399; font-size: 130%;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:</span> </span></strong></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBOW7mUWw0UhlEAegVMkAPJudTfLD7t1HZfX4-YzRQ27HEIZxhdKNnPAvLBamdW5k-LlndWPVGM32C-dYuFQ6Z6eQIioqb9ZQAb8l-FEk6kNIjGLb5HrPUZZbg39N3UDbBcfqDig/s1600/Becoming+the+Chateran+Cover+(Front).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBOW7mUWw0UhlEAegVMkAPJudTfLD7t1HZfX4-YzRQ27HEIZxhdKNnPAvLBamdW5k-LlndWPVGM32C-dYuFQ6Z6eQIioqb9ZQAb8l-FEk6kNIjGLb5HrPUZZbg39N3UDbBcfqDig/s1600/Becoming+the+Chateran+Cover+(Front).jpg" height="200" width="128" /></a><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>When Princess Rhea’s actions inadvertently condemn two innocent knights to death, she wakes to the hard reality that not even nobility is above the law. All her attempts to remedy the situation only complicate it, however, until she finds herself a fugitive in her own kingdom, having dragged her best friend into the trouble, as well. Their only hope for pardon? To accompany Sir Paladin and Sir Zephen in their sentence:<br />
Slay, or be slain by, the Dragons of Sama-Ael-Fen.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Travelling incognito, they meet with more malicious Phoenixes than could be coincidental, discover the mysterious disappearance of numerous citizens, and come face to face with a reawakened evil power. With the kingdom oblivious to the connection of these dangers, it’s up to Rhea and her outlaw companions to stop the rising threat and redeem their names – if they can survive their quest.<br />
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Product Details:<br />
List Price: $14.99<br />
Series: Becoming the Chateran<br />
Paperback: 560 pages<br />
Publisher: ANEKO Press (February 1, 2014)<br />
Language: English<br />
ISBN-10: 1622450965<br />
ISBN-13: 978-1622450961<br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:</span> </strong>
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Part One: Princess’s Honor<br />
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Chapter One<br />
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Commotion in the Castle<br />
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“Griffin guard! Double the patrol, search the area!”<br />
“Send archers to the outer gates at once!”<br />
The great castle of Cabochon was not normally this alert so early in the morning. Boots scuffed and clicked along hallways, sheaths and chain mail rattled, orders were barked out, and “aye, sir” clipped back in chorus. Doors slammed, and the whoosh and whir of Griffins’ wings disturbed the air. All too intent on the problem at hand to take much notice of anything else, those awake in the castle were oblivious to the beauty of the morning.<br />
From over the Bay of Dirías, the sea breezes stirred the thick curtains and mingled the scent of salt and dew-dampened earth with the perfume of climbing honeysuckle. Inside the castle, the morning sunlight fell in slanting rays across the marble floor and pushed back the shadows that clung behind pillars and staircases and around corners. One shadow, however, did not move as the other shadows did, curving away from the sunbeams, but in its own direct course. As the sun rose higher and the air grew warmer, it passed soundlessly up from the lower levels of the keep towards the inner castle’s larger towers. Whenever Royal Centrinels or guards rushed past, it slipped out of sight behind pillars or heavy damask window curtains. But the castle was awakening. Soon more than silently intent soldiers would be afoot.<br />
Careful now! The shadowy, grey-cloaked figure licked its lips and leaped down from a windowsill to hasten on. You mustn’t be caught! Only a few flights of stairs and a hallway left to go.<br />
Outside, the sky was flushed with pink and faint gold over the white-flecked sea far below the castle, and a ray of sunlight foraged through the window into the darkness of the staircases and halls. A glimpse of steel caught the light under the figure’s cloak but was swept out of sight again as the figure adjusted the hood to hide its face more effectively. All around, the sounds of disturbance in the castle grew louder, shouted commands echoed down the hallways themselves, and the castle bell in the northern tower rang out the hour of five in ripples of silver music. At the sound, the shadow jumped, heart leaping, and ran up the staircase, only to stop short. Footsteps were coming. Footsteps and the merry sound of a few bars of whistled music. Across the eager face, half-hidden by the dark hood, a smile flashed for a moment, before the cloaked one leapt forward to disappear into the shadow of another flight of stairs just ahead.<br />
He is coming!<br />
The footsteps drew closer.<br />
In the dark of the stairwell, the cloak rippled and shifted, and there came a soft hissing, metallic sound. A bright, metallic gleam shone for a minute, straight and silver, before slipping behind the cloak again.<br />
Now the sound of swishing cloth could be heard accompanying the footsteps.<br />
Wait for it.<br />
The shadow crouched down and took a silent step forward, the fingers of one hand just reaching the end of the stairwell where it met the hallway. The breathing of the approaching walker could be discerned. Under the cloak, the shadow’s heartbeat throbbed like a drum. A moment later, a young man appeared before the stairwell.<br />
The grey-cloaked figure leapt out into the corridor, and the silver gleam flashed and hissed through the air. With a gasp, the man flung himself backwards out of the way, crashing over a carved chair and thudding against the wall behind him. Just as swiftly, the cloaked shadow jumped forward and whipped the sword point up to his chest. For a moment the young man, his green eyes wide, stared wildly, holding his breath. Then all at once his face broke into a grin, and he relaxed, laughing.<br />
“Rheúlea! If Leiarah sees you with that, you’ll be locked in a tower for sure!”<br />
The hood of the grey cloak slipped back, revealing a graceful girl in an embroidered nightgown and, judging by the state of the buckles, hastily pulled-on boots. The sunlight turned the girl’s golden-red hair to fire as she smiled at the man. She lowered the sword from his chest to weigh it in her hand and let the sunbeams dance along the blade.<br />
“It’s a lovely birthday present, Valrient!”<br />
“I’m glad, but I’d rather it not be confiscated from you the moment you get it.” Valrient flicked her snub, freckled nose. “Ambushing people and swinging it under their very noses! You’re going to get me in a lot of trouble if you don’t take better care of hiding what I’ve had the nerve to give you. This morning most of all. I’m surprised you weren’t found on your way back from the armory.”<br />
“I knew it would be something like this. You waking me up so dreadfully early and telling me to go down to the armory gave it away. It’s beautiful! The perfect weight for me to use and everything.” Rhea held the sword closer to her face to inspect the elegant, scrolled hilt, where her initials were inlaid with gold. “And I know more about the castle than a few recruits do. Any idea as to why they’re in such a flurry so early? And why are there so many of them?”<br />
“I’ve no idea, I’m afraid. It could be training that I wasn’t notified about.” Valrient shrugged as he straightened from righting the chair knocked over in his surprise of earlier, but the way he cleared his throat and pulled at his collar did not let this answer satisfy Rhea.<br />
No matter. Rhea smiled to herself. It’s my birthday, after all. There are bound to be surprises I’m not supposed to know about.<br />
Pretending not to have noticed anything curious, she shrugged and took her brother’s hand. But when she began walking back in the direction he had come, towards the Royal Apartments, he didn’t move. Instead, he pulled back. “Let’s not go up to your room quite yet.”<br />
“Why not?”<br />
“Er,” Valrient hesitated. “I-I think Leiarah is … preparing something for you. Don’t ask,” he added. “It’s your birthday, you remember.”<br />
“Ah, yes. Then I’ll not plague you. I’m incredibly placid on my birthday, you know.”<br />
Valrient laughed as they began strolling in the opposite way down the hallway, swinging their clasped hands between them.<br />
“Then you’ll forgive me for waking you up so early on your birthday, hmm?”<br />
“Of course. Waking early for such a lovely present is nothing!”<br />
“You’ll have to keep waking early if you wish to use it. Leiarah did banish you from fencing, didn’t she?”<br />
“Aye,” Rhea sighed, sheathing the sword. “She says ladies taking part in fencing is looked down upon in other countries. Which shouldn’t bother her, I think, as a princess being given a sword is strictly a Gemworthian tradition. ‘Every princess in the royal family of Gemworthy, since the very first king and queen, Kierfk the Swordhanded and his wife Aéna the White-Robed, sat on the throne, had been given a rapier and taught how to hold it. In the first few generations following King Kierfk, this action was necessary for protection. But soon the dangers wore off, the kingdom of Gemworthy became secure and peaceful, and the princesses wore their inlaid swords like curious jewelry instead of weapons.’” Rhea rattled off, quoting history lessons that had been pounded into her head since a young age. “Even princesses who married into our family were ceremonially given their own swords like I was four years ago, so I don’t understand why Leiarah dislikes my having one.”<br />
“You’re the first in a long time to actually use your sword, Rhea.” Valrient smiled and then changed the subject when Rhea pouted her lip in her all-too-familiar way. “How have you been of recent? We couldn’t talk much last night when I arrived, as it was so late, and the last letter I received from you was two months ago. You’ve been well?”<br />
“Well enough, I suppose.” The pout grew more pronounced on Rhea’s face.<br />
“Found that being the little princess has some disadvantages mayhap?”<br />
“If by disadvantages you mean a score of tutors, then aye, indeed.”<br />
“Ah, so you’re becoming a scholar as well, then?”<br />
“Not anywhere near as agreeably as you did though. You fenced and rode and had such a jolly time in the Erudithall, and now you’re off playing ambassador to all the Open World. I must sit still and embroider flowers onto a tapestry and learn pages and pages of the most dull books. Everything I get from them seems as helpful and interesting as the dust that comes off them when they are opened.”<br />
Silence for a moment, then Valrient lifted Rhea’s chin with his finger and whispered, “I know you though, little princess. You look as serious as a Centauride chieftainess, but I know under that grave face, you’re laughing, for you’ve been riding and hawking and aiming at the archery butts, now haven’t you?”<br />
Rhea’s face dimpled. “Don’t tell anybody.”<br />
“You little shieldmaiden! How Lady Leiarah would flutter and cry aloud to see us now. And now you’ve got a sword.”<br />
He chuckled, and Rhea looked up into his face. It was flushed, and yet he grinned broadly.<br />
“I’ll just blame you if she scolds me for having it,” she laughed. “I know you’re glad you’ve given it to me.”<br />
“I confess I am. I see nothing wrong with a lady fencing, for it’s a good thing for one to know how to protect herself,” Valrient said, frowning slightly.<br />
“Lady Leiarah won’t take that as an excuse. I’ve nothing to protect myself from!”<br />
“Hmm,” Valrient grunted.<br />
He’d stopped as they reached the end of the wide hallway, carpeted in sun-bathed red and blue, leading up to the rooms of the royal family. Directly opposite stood a large window, one of many along the hall, and through it they could see down into the innermost of the three courtyards of the castle. Though the hour was early, already a large number of people moved through the paved area, some on horseback, some in carriages, and many with entourages dressed in armor that glittered in the morning light. There were many more guards on the walls and towers than normal, though, and they were moving about the courtyard. Overhead flew Griffins of various kinds – broad-winged Hirrietas, mottle-coated Aequires, and wiry Lawtirrin – who swept through arched doorways and over rooftops. They too wore armor that caught the sunlight, but many also bore leather packs like saddlebags, bearing important messages and items from all over Gemworthy.<br />
As Rhea watched, four burly Griffins carried between them a large bundle over the northwestern wall and deposited it among a knot of soldiers and officers on the embattlement. She wondered if this fact was connected to the disturbance earlier, then put it from her mind with another knowing smile, a shiver of excitement tingling through her. Lately, she had seen little else but people, who arrived in the courtyard and moved slowly but steadily towards the great arched doorway leading into the castle itself, and many mysterious packages arrived with them. Avoiding the temptation to spy on what she assumed were her birthday presents, she turned to her brother. To her surprise, he was frowning at the courtyard like a testy thundercloud.<br />
“Whatever’s the matter, Valrient?”<br />
He started as if from deep thought and ran a hand through his hair, which was the same color as Rhea’s, but darker. “What? No, nothing’s wrong.”<br />
“I am not convinced.” Rhea put her hands on her hips and tossed her curls. “You could never trick even the simplest kitchen maid that you hadn’t taken a tart when we were little, Valrient. Tell me what’s wrong!”<br />
Valrient shoved his hands into his pockets and sighed. “No, I’d rather not tell. It would spoil your pleasure in your birthday.”<br />
“You’re spoiling my pleasure anyway.” Rhea frowned up at her brother. “Tell me.”<br />
“No.”<br />
She tugged at his sleeve. “I’m the princess, and I’m ordering you to tell me!”<br />
Valrient shook his head. “And I’m the prince who is both older than you and the second in line to the crown, and I’m ordering you to stop asking me. You don’t want to have a tiff on the morning of your birthday, do you?”<br />
“We won’t if you tell me.”<br />
“I’m not going to, and that’s final.”<br />
“Very final?” Rhea tilted her head to one side and smiled so sweetly that honey was vinegar in comparison.<br />
“Absolutely. And don’t you start seething!” he added, throwing up one hand.<br />
“I won’t,” Rhea sighed, smoothing her cloak over her nightgown. “After all, it probably is just something about that last present that arrived, and I don’t want to ruin any more surprises you might have for me,” she added on a whim.<br />
But her hope of rattling her brother’s defenses struck a deeper blow than she’d expected. At mention of “the present,” he stiffened so suddenly it startled her, but she pounced upon the action with vigor.<br />
“Hah! So it is about the present! What is it? Is it another thindring? I’ve wanted a white one for a while,” she pressed, thinking wistfully of a new addition to her small pet herd of the delicately built, single-horned, deer-like creatures from which the legends of unicorns had sprung.<br />
“Ah, no.”<br />
“It needed four Griffins to carry it. So it’s something either heavy or fragile. And it’s precious enough to need to be guarded.” Rhea pushed her hands into her curls, blue eyes bright with the challenge of guessing, then frowned thinking of all the officers gathered to receive the mysterious package. “It’s what this fuss among the centrinels and guards is about, isn’t it?”<br />
Valrient didn’t look at her.<br />
“It is!” she crowed, bouncing so that one unbuckled boot flew off her foot.<br />
Her brother bent to pick it up, but she knelt with him, slipped her arm through his and nuzzled him affectionately. “Come on, Rie, tell me!” she begged, using the pet name she’d given him for extra persuasion. “Please! I’ll pretend to be surprised when I get it later, I promise!”<br />
Valrient put his free hand over his eyes and moaned. “I told them I wasn’t the best person to guard you!”<br />
“Guard me? What in the Open World are you talking about?” Rhea straightened.<br />
Valrient dropped to sit on the carpet and toyed with her boot. She sat with him, her nightdress forming a lacy circle around her. “If you don’t tell me, I shall plague you for the rest of the day.”<br />
“I know, and that’s what I told them.”<br />
“Told who?”<br />
“Father and the guards. ‘She’ll listen to you,’ Father said. Aye, you listened when I told you to go down to the armory to get your present, and I’ve managed to keep you safe down here so far, but you’ve got precious little respect for your older brother aside from that, don’t you?” Valrient grinned ruefully, putting his arm around Rhea, who shook her head and laughed, scooting closer to him as if he were a storyteller getting to the most gripping part of a tale.<br />
“Why did Father send you to protect me?”<br />
Valrient kicked at the carpeting with the heel of his boot and cleared his throat. “There was a Phoenix outside the castle.”<br />
“A Phoenix? A Phoenix?” Rhea sat bolt upright. “But, that hasn’t even happened since … since I don’t even remember!”<br />
“Exactly.” Valrient nodded, picking up her foot and stuffing her boot back on it. “And for good reason too. The last time they were in Gemworthy was during the Great War, and they’ve been outlawed from here since by peace treaties. Nobody knows what a Phoenix appearing so close to Cabochon now could mean.”<br />
“What happened? When was it seen?”<br />
“Our Griffin guard sensed it earlier this morning, about an hour ago, and tracked it down. I saw it myself from the ramparts on the eastern wall. The Griffins tried to get it to surrender, but it fought back and tried to flee. So they killed it. It had forfeited its life by coming here against the treaty’s conditions.”<br />
“And … and you were sent to get me from my room to go downstairs?” Rhea asked after a startled pause. “To keep me from seeing any of this happening?”<br />
“And to keep you safe – Phoenixes are dangerous. Some can burn down entire houses, and we didn’t want to chance you getting hurt. Your bedroom is one of the highest points of the castle, you remember.”<br />
Rhea nodded, surprise and disappointment mingling inside her. I could have seen a Phoenix.<br />
Outside the window, the tolling of the castle bell announced the half hour. Valrient tugged at his collar, cleared his throat, and slapped his knees with his hands.<br />
“Come on. Your ladies-in-waiting will probably be going into your room to wake you soon, and it’d work better if you were actually in bed. And it’d be good if we could keep this Phoenix business quiet for a while, if possible. So let’s get you back to your room.” He stood, then held out his hands to help Rhea up.<br />
“I’ve got to hide my sword too.” She nodded, then clutching his hands, whispered, “What did it look like, the Phoenix?”<br />
“Red.”<br />
“Oh, come on. What else?”<br />
“Something like an a big, angry hawk, but I can’t tell you much more. It was too far away for me to see clearly.”<br />
“Pity you aren’t an Elf, then,” Rhea pouted.<br />
Wrinkling his nose, Valrient was about to reply to the quip when he suddenly stiffened, laying a hand on her arm. “Hush!”<br />
“What is it?”<br />
Valrient put up his hand and looked over his shoulder, and Rhea, holding her breath, made out the sound of footsteps and voices approaching from farther down the hallway. She recognized several of the voices and clutched her grey cloak.<br />
“Oh dear. They’re some of my birthday guests, I think. If they see me dressed like this, Lady Leiarah will weep with disappointment for a fortnight about my impropriety!”<br />
“And they’d be sure to find out your sword in the meantime.” Valrient bit his lip and glanced all around as the footsteps grew louder. “Well, Rhea, don’t stand about, run! If I can, I’ll stall whoever it is. Remember though, don’t tell your ladies-in-waiting about the Phoenix, if you can help it!”<br />
Rhea stood on her tiptoes and kissed her brother’s cheek. “I won’t! The sword is lovely too and worth running about in a nightgown for.”<br />
Then she gathered up her cloak and nightdress skirts and sprinted down the hallway, the carpeting muffling the sound of her boots. She clutched the sword in its sheath close to her, the cool weight of it pressing against her beating heart. Down one turn and then another she hurried, darting into an adjacent corridor with the confidence of familiarity, pausing only a moment at each opening of the ways to check if all was clear.<br />
At length, she reached the last hallway leading to the Royal Chambers – she could see the bright sunshine through wide windows at the end of it. Hitching up her nightgown, she sped on towards the light. When she reached the opening of the hallway, however, she stopped again, trying to keep her labored breathing quiet, and peeped out. This was a crucial spot.<br />
The hallway led out into one of the upper balconied floors of a large room with a painted, arched roof, and the eastern wall comprised of sweeping windows. Through these, the scene of the city of Cabochon lay, gold, brown, and white amid the tender green of spring and framed alongside the deep glittering waters of the bay, reflecting back the clear sky and the risen sun. The view, high on the hillside, was spectacular, but Rhea didn’t bother to admire it. Since this room was so large and opened to the other floors, she might be seen by anyone on the balcony above or strolling around the fountain and potted ferns below. There were several large jars of these ferns near the doorway where Rhea stood, and she crouched behind them on the carpeting and listened.<br />
I don’t hear anything. Nobody must be coming.<br />
She took a deep breath, jumped up, and turned sharply around the potted ferns, only to run straight into a brown-haired girl in a red dressing gown. The girl gave a little scream, as Rhea tried to thrust the sword out of sight behind her. Both of them crashed against the marble wall behind, clutching to each other to keep from falling over.<br />
“Rhea!” The girl swung her long braids behind her back and smoothed her skirts. “Where have you been? I came with your stepmother to make sure you weren’t disturbed by all the commotion among the guard, and we found nothing but your bed left in a positive uproar!”<br />
“Oh, Hiylienea, I’m dreadfully sorry about that! I didn’t hear you, this thick carpet, you know, and I-I was just …” Rhea slumped her shoulders, and her cloak fell down to cover her front, but not quickly enough.<br />
“You’re wearing your fencing boots?” Two bright spots of red flushed Hiylienea’s cheeks, and she put a hand to her mouth. “What do you have behind your back?” She said it seriously, but her brown eyes were sparkling.<br />
“Very well, I’ll tell you, since you seem to find out everything I do anyway.” Rhea pulled back the cloak to display the sword. “Valrient gave it to me!”<br />
At the sight of the sword, Hiylienea burst into laughter, shaking her head. “It seems to me you were never meant to be a princess, Rhea!”<br />
“I think it suits me exactly,” Rhea grinned, “because I can order you to learn to fence with me now.”<br />
“Oh, mercy no, Rhea.” Hiylienea sobered. “Archery is enough for me, and if you tried to teach me anything more unladylike, I’m sure Lady Leiarah would put an end to it.”<br />
“Ah, just as well.” Rhea sheathed the sword again after a last loving inspection of its glassy blade. “You’re better than I am at archery, so it’s only fair for me to be the master hand of fencing alone.”<br />
“I’m glad you think so; it will save me a deal of trouble. Speaking of which, I think it would be best if you got to your room.”<br />
“The wisest thing you’ve said this morning, which is saying a great deal.” Rhea nodded, and bending her head close to her friend’s ear, she whispered, “And I know what all the fuss is with the guards! It’s a Phoenix!”<br />
Valrient might have told her not to tell her ladies-in-waiting, but he’d said nothing about not telling her companion. Arm in arm, they hurried along the balcony, Rhea whispering the news as fast as she could, the high ceilings echoing softly back the two girls’ excited gasps and giggles. Rhea had hardly finished the tale, however, when the sound of other voices interrupted Hiylienea’s surprised response.<br />
In the short time Rhea and Hiylienea met and spoke, several people, to judge by the sound of the footsteps, had approached the open room on the floor below, and they were now almost directly underneath the two girls. With a little squeak, Rhea flattened herself against the wall away from the balcony edge and pulled Hiylienea with her.<br />
“They can’t see my sword!”<br />
So, squished between a pillar and a resplendent suit of armor on display, the two held their breath and listened.<br />
“I wouldn’t worry about her, dearest,” a gruff masculine voice said, and Rhea’s eyes widened.<br />
Papa? She peeped around the large shield of the suit of armor, half of her wanting to hurry down the stairs and run to him. He is here, not in the Great Hall, like he usually is? Ah, yes, for my birthday, of course. Dear Papa!<br />
Then Lady Leiarah, Rhea’s stepmother, answered, “But I did so wish to start her birthday out as happily as could be managed. This rumor of a Fallen isn’t helping anything. It is always a trial, turning seventeen, and I think it would be easier for everyone if we made her as comfortable and pleased as we could. When one is happy, one is easier to be with, you know.”<br />
“I do not think the rumor is threatening. And she knows little of these tidings, so why do you fear?”<br />
“You never told her?” Leiarah’s voice grew higher, and Rhea felt a strange shrinking feeling deep inside, while at the same time her heart seemed to swell.<br />
What are they talking about?<br />
She exchanged a quick glance with Hiylienea, whose wide eyes mirrored her own surprise.<br />
“Ah, how could I, Leiarah? When … when Alexandrite died, my daughter was the closest thing to her I had.” King Gromweill’s voice grew gruffer, and he cleared his throat. “I could not bear the thought that I would someday be required to give her away. Such a thing does not grow easier with time either. And there hasn’t been a princess born into our family in such a long time.”<br />
“Very true. I do not blame you,” Leiarah murmured. “Rhea is a gem, a little in need of polishing, it is true – though we are all like that in some way – but there is beauty in her.”<br />
“Then why do you worry about how she will take to the proceedings?”<br />
“She is, as I said, in need of polishing.”<br />
“But you told me only a fortnight ago she was coming along well.”<br />
“She is, to be sure, but not quite as forward as I could wish. Her companion, Hiylienea, has helped. She will be with Rhea throughout the week; I have made sure of it.”<br />
Rhea turned to Hiylienea again and nudged her, whispering, “What’s this?”<br />
Hiylienea shook her head. “I was told by Queen Leiarah to be ever near you during the feast, but since that is what I do every day, I thought little of it.”<br />
Down on the floor below, Gromweill appeared, pacing along with his hands behind his back and studying the floor. He was not a particularly imposing man or even an attention-demanding one, but sturdy and square, with mild blue eyes and the same stubborn nose as Rhea’s. His light brown beard, however, was streaked with grey. Beside him glided Lady Leiarah, satiny and ruffled with lace, her black hair a great coil at the back of her head, one hand resting on Gromweill’s arm. They went up to the fountain, and Leiarah sat on its wide stone edge and rested her hands on her lap, as the king stood and absently ran his hand along one of the huge ferns.<br />
“You are worried as to how she might react then, dear?” he asked.<br />
“Yes, I am. Of course, it will be affected by who it is, but I think even you must admit she is strong willed.” Leiarah smiled, her oval face dimpling. “I remember being like that.”<br />
“Who it is, you say? And who do you think it will most likely be?”<br />
Leiarah opened the embroidered purse she carried with her at all times and procured from it a small book. Opening to a place marked with a ribbon, she studied the page. As she did so, Gromweill sat down beside her and looked over her shoulder. After a moment, Leiarah touched the page with her finger.<br />
“Him. I believe he will be the one.”<br />
“Crown Prince Ohnferead Randerrin Leovarne of the Avrinn Isles,” Gromweill read aloud after fishing his spectacles from his pocket and putting them on.<br />
At her elbow, Rhea heard Hiylienea whisper, “Prince Ohnferead? Who is he?”<br />
“The Crown Prince of the Avrinn Isles, apparently,” Rhea muttered. “And I wonder what they want with him.”<br />
“What? Why?”<br />
“I met him once … when I was four.”<br />
“What was he like?”<br />
“Stiff as a spear and a rival of one’s friendliness.” Rhea wrinkled her nose as she remembered the tall, lanky boy with fair hair and blue eyes that had looked down at her with nothing more than extreme boredom.<br />
“Oh come, Rhea, he is bound to have changed in thirteen years.”<br />
Rhea shrugged and held up one finger for silence when her father spoke again, as if coming out of a muse. “I suppose there is something in that. The Avrinn Isles are a lovely place, and the Royal Court quite lively enough in a genteel way. Ohnferead may do, yes.”<br />
“That may be, but Rhea’s conduct will, without doubt, affect the turnout,” Leiarah sighed, packing away her book in her purse again.<br />
“Surely she knows how to present herself at a feast!” Gromweill chuckled. “She has been to so many I’ve lost count.”<br />
“Yes, no doubt of that. But this is not an ordinary feast, and if anybody finds out about all the things she used to do, it could be rather disastrous. Like my brother used to say, her actions up to a few years ago really were quite irregular.”<br />
Rhea remembered a conversation between several of the courtiers outside the Great Hall after her sword-receiving ceremony years ago and pursed her lips. A heavy sensation of dread was beginning to grow in her, but why she could not exactly tell.<br />
“I don’t see how those things will affect the turnout of this feast.” Gromweill stroked his beard.<br />
“Mayhap they won’t at first, but given time they will. It will be helpful for her own good, for her to learn to outgrow those childish, flighty pastimes and become the young woman she now is. Sometimes I shudder to think of what you allowed her to do, Gromweill, even if they were kindly meant: fencing and riding astride …” Leiarah made a noise as if the mere thought of what Rhea used to do (and still secretly did) was as overwhelming as lifting a hundred stone weight.<br />
“It wasn’t laudable, I realize that now.” Gromweill shook his head, but he was smiling slightly.<br />
“Well, marriage always helps people settle down.” Leiarah patted his arm. “And if everything goes well at this feast, I’m sure Rhea will be on the way to becoming a real credit to you.”<br />
Rhea blinked hard, shock tingling through her, and she dimly heard Hiylienea beside her gasp, “Oh my goodness!”<br />
Marriage?<br />
She didn’t wait to hear another word. She didn’t want to hear another word. Grabbing Hiylienea’s hand, she sprang from behind the suit of armor’s shield and made a run for it. A surprised cry from Leiarah made her heart try to leap out of her body, but she ran the faster, clattering up the stairs and down the hallway beyond, pulling Hiylienea with her. The sword banged against her legs, and Hiylienea tripped on the train of her nightdress, but she didn’t stop. The words spoken by her father and stepmother rang in her mind so much like those she had heard before in that same wide room years ago. She didn’t like to remember that discussion, and what she had heard.<br />
~~~<br />
Rhea had finished her fencing lesson and was trotting back to her bedroom to change when she heard angry voices in the room below and stopped short, staring out the wide window at the city spread on the hillside, and listened hard. Her brothers always collapsed with laughter when she mimicked any of the courtiers, and this heated conversation held the promise of many good applause-catching lines.<br />
“This won’t do!” The broad, nasal voice was none other than the chamberlain’s, the big man who could as much fill a room with words as his body could a doorway.<br />
Rhea dropped to her knees, crawled across the carpet, and stopped behind a pot of ferns to peep through the carved railing at the cluster of noblemen below.<br />
“Look at the princesses in the Avrinn Isles or of Marrien, and remember the ones who married our princes!” the minister for foreign affairs moaned. “None of them ever used a sword … this conduct is most irregular.”<br />
Rhea stuck her tongue out at the minister.<br />
“Swordmaidens have long been a large part of our history.” The royal recorder gathered his fur-lined robes about himself and sat down to stroke his short, grey beard. Rhea smiled at him from behind the ferns.<br />
“Of our history, aye, indeed they have, but not of the present. Things are no longer the way they were long ago.” The blustering chamberlain strode up to him. “Great evil was present in the time of Kierfk and Aéna.”<br />
“Great evil is always present, my lord,” the royal recorder sighed. “One always lives in danger of it.”<br />
“Aye, aye. But you understand my meaning. In the time of the First Order of Knights, the evil Fallens outnumbered our kinsfolk, the Fey, by great numbers. It was a time of war. Now there is peace in Gemworthy. There is no need of swordmaidens!”<br />
“That is true.” The recorder shrugged. “But if the king sees no harm in our Princess Rhea’s actions, why should we? We must all agree that he found having his daughter involved in the same activities as his sons and even himself to be a bonding feature.”<br />
Rhea began to feel that this conversation wasn’t quite as amusing as she’d hoped it would be.<br />
“Because, as mentioned before, it is most irregular!” The chamberlain now looked very red in the face and sat down, breathing heavily. “The princess is fast approaching the age where she shall become eligible for matrimony. A royal engagement is hard enough to happily arrange without adding the complications of a very untraditional princess to it.”<br />
“Uncommonly close to the truth, you are.” The minister for foreign affairs blanched at the mention of royal engagements.<br />
“What are we to do, then?” The lord chancellor rubbed his forehead.<br />
“We must stop the princess’s irregularity.” The chamberlain threw up his hands adding, “Though, good Iridiris, twill be hard work.”<br />
“How would you propose we do that?” The recorder folded his hands. “The king does not appreciate our meddling in his private family affairs.”<br />
“He is the king, not a private person. To bring his daughter up properly is his duty to his country. I know he’s tried his best, but the queen’s death, Empyrean bless her, so soon after our princess was born did complicate things. Not having a mother, a queen, to raise a princess is a great loss.” The chamberlain shook his head, then stopped and lifted it to look at the minister for foreign affairs with a smile spreading across his ruddy face. “And if the king will not listen to us in this matter, we must find someone to whom he will pay heed.”<br />
Rhea never did mimic that conversation for her brothers’ amusement. She never told anybody about it. And a year later, the marriage of King Gromweill to Lady Leiarah, sister of the minister for foreign affairs, took place at last. For quite a while, Rhea and her brothers had suspected the wedding would occur. Leiarah was the soft-faced woman with dark hair who laughed heartily, delighted in feasts, dressed more richly than any other lady in the court, and several years after the death of Queen Alexandrite, had begun to catch the eye of the lonely king. Rhea didn’t mind having Leiarah about.<br />
“I’m not going to try to be your mother,” Leiarah had said to her just before the wedding. “But I do want to be your friend.”<br />
And that was fine with Rhea – she’d never had a mother she could remember, and life had been enjoyable anyway. But the courtiers had other ideas.<br />
“There,” Rhea heard the chamberlain whisper pointedly to the royal recorder, as they left the Great Hall after the wedding. “Now our Princess Rhea shall be properly brought up.”<br />
But they forgot one thing as they rubbed their hands with contentment when Lady Leiarah ended the princess’s lessons in fencing, archery and riding, and replaced them with dancing, deportment, and sewing. They forgot the tapestries in their princess’s bedroom, where she saw them every morning when she woke and every evening as she fell asleep. They forgot the single great tapestry over the fireplace opposite her bed, where a woman with flaming hair tumbling about her shoulders stood tall and graceful with a gleaming sword, a real sword, a tool, a weapon, at her side.<br />
They had named the little princess Rheúlea, gallant one like the ones of old, and they had forgotten it.<br />
~~~<br />
And now, Rhea shoved open the door and staggered into the middle of her tower bedroom. Panting, she stared up at the tapestry over her fireplace.<br />
“Oh no …” she moaned, flinging off her cloak and sinking down onto her featherbed, which was still a tangle of counterpane from when she left it earlier that morning to search the armory for her present.<br />
“Crown Prince Ohnferead!” was all Hiylienea could gasp out, and she repeated it several times, fanning at herself with one hand.<br />
Rhea lay back on the bed and covered her face with her hands, the image of the young prince rising in her memory again. What would he be like now, thirteen years later?<br />
“Oh, Lienea, I do hope people can change in thirteen years, like you said!”<br />
“I’m sure he has.” Hiylienea wrung her hands. “How old was he when you met him?”<br />
Rhea buried her hands among her red curls and screwed her eyes shut, thinking hard.<br />
“Fourteen, I believe, or fifteen.”<br />
“Well,” Hiylienea began feebly, “boys always seem very intolerable at that age.” Rhea glared at her, and Hiylienea stopped.<br />
“Lienea, he’s twenty-seven now. That is ten years older than I am. He’s quite a man, and I’m… I’m just a girl!” Tears started up in Rhea’s eyes.<br />
“Rhea, you’re seventeen today. Seventeen is a woman.”<br />
“I don’t want to be!” Rhea scrubbed at her tears with her sleeve. “I don’t want to be a woman, if being a woman means being packed off to a prince like a piece of high-importance correspondence! It’s not right. In all the stories, the men go off and do marvelous things like saving people and getting knighted. They become heroes, and the ladies do nothing but sit about and get married, as if that was all we were fit for.”<br />
“Rhea! Did your father and Leiarah sound as if they were doing anything of the sort? Didn’t you hear your father? He doesn’t want to give you away to anyone!”<br />
“Then why doesn’t he stick to that, instead of breaking both our hearts? I want to stay here, at home, and be with you and all my things. I mean, I’ll get married someday, of course, but why now? And why him?”<br />
As she said this, Rhea looked about her round tower room, rich and bright with the sunlight shining through the eastern window. Carved chairs stood before the fireplace and the marble bath with its embroidered curtains around on one side. The polished reading desk sat by the western window, groaning under its load of manuscripts, baskets of sewing, and trinkets. The tapestry representing one of her favorite stories, Aéna the warrior-princess of old, hung opposite her bed above the fire that now lay reduced to dead coals in the grate. For a moment, Rhea admired the tapestry. She relished how the tall, graceful woman depicted on it did not have, like most lovely ladies in tales, a faultless complexion or yellow streams of hair cascading down to her feet. Tied back from her face, pale red-gold hair fell over the shoulders of the woman in the tapestry, and her noble face bore, with a regal air, freckles. Rhea rubbed her nose, equally blessed, and smiled before sighing once more and sniffing.<br />
What good is it? What good is it to be the first princess born to Gemworthy’s royal house in centuries, if all you do is leave and be wedded to a prince of a far-off country?<br />
“Oh, Rhea, don’t fret about it, please.” Hiylienea sat down beside her on the rumpled bed. “It won’t help anything, and as you saw, your parents are already in a great deal of worry about it.”<br />
“Hiylienea, I’m going to be engaged.”<br />
Hiylienea twisted her hands together. “Well, it isn’t certain yet. There’s scores of people invited to this feast. There’s no guarantee that out of all of them Ohnferead is going to be the one you’re going to marry. If you even marry any of them,” she added quickly, when Rhea started up at her words.<br />
“How would you like it, if your parents decided to pledge you to a man you know nothing about?”<br />
“Well, I’m sure I wouldn’t like it. It is a frightening thought. But Rhea, your father loves you dearly, and when has he ever done something unwise or rash? If he does choose someone for you to marry, I’m quite sure it will be a good, honest man, for he’d never give you to anyone who would neglect you.”<br />
“And your meaning is …” Rhea frowned.<br />
“It’s been thirteen years since you met Prince Ohnferead. Just give him a chance. It doesn’t do any good at all to decide what you think of someone before you even meet him.”<br />
“I have met him.” Rhea crossed her arms over her chest. “And that one time gave me enough to think of him for the rest of my life, thank you.”<br />
“Oh come, Rhea.”<br />
The princess did not say a word, but gave Hiylienea a hard look through her tumbled hair.<br />
“Er, well, then you can distract yourself with your other suitors.” Hiylienea shrugged.<br />
“Other suitors?” Rhea threw up her hands. “Hiylienea, it should be you getting courted, for with your romantic head and heart, they’d find a willing recipient of all the roses, ballads, and serenades they could supply!”<br />
Hiylienea’s face flushed. “I’m sorry.”<br />
“It’s not your fault. You’re simply what a lady is supposed to be – sweet, gentle, and quiet. Which I’m not.” Kicking off her boots, Rhea unbuckled her sword belt and laid it across her lap, gazing at it ruefully. “You know, I have a bad feeling this feast will not go well.”<br />
“Well, at least you can try and make it start well.” Hiylienea rose and moved across the room to where Rhea’s clothes were laid out and ready. “Why don’t you put your sword away, and I’ll help you dress. It will probably ease the shock of seeing you in your nightgown outside of your bedroom for Lady Leiarah, if she finds you dressed and decent.”<br />
“She already saw me in my cloak and nightgown.” Rhea crossed her arms over her chest and glared jealously at the garb of Aéna the White-Robed in the tapestry; her attirewas elegant, yet entirely functional for a much-moving and sword-wielding young woman.<br />
“Oh, come, Rhea.” Hiylienea tilted her head to one side and gave the sweet smile that dimpled her face. “If you don’t get dressed, you shan’t see the present I’ve got for you.”<br />
Rhea leapt from the bed, almost dropping her new sword. “What is it?”<br />
“Hide the sword, then you’ll see,” Hiylienea said as she poured rose water into the washbasin and set out towels and lavender soap.<br />
Crouching down on the thick carpet, Rhea pulled from under her large white bed a battered wooden trunk enforced with gold-detailed metal bands and unlocked it with the key from the bedside table drawer. Inside, neatly folded, lay a variety of boy’s garments, from wide-sleeved shirts and tailored breeches to leather jerkins and a fur-trimmed cloak. Rhea tucked her pair of buckled boots into one corner of the chest, then laid the sword with its sheath and belt on top of the cloak. Giving it one last caress, she locked the trunk up and returned it to its hiding place.<br />
“Nobody’s found your cache yet, I see.” Hiylienea looked up as Rhea finished this.<br />
“No.” Rhea shook her head and smiled. “You’re still the only one – besides Valrient – who knows about it. I can’t fence in dresses, and I would be in a tight place if Leiarah found my uniforms of action.”<br />
“Speaking of Lady Leiarah and dressing …” Hiylienea cleared her throat.<br />
Rhea sighed and submitted herself to being laced into her silk gown, though she brightened when Hiylienea gave her the promised gift – a string of small pearls with a sparkling white gem set in gold in the middle. And despite her dark predictions, the day moved on to become better.<br />
King Gromweill let the kingdom take care of itself for a few hours and ate breakfast in the royal sitting room with the rest of the family in honor of the day. And the entire family was there for once: Vair on holiday from his studies at the Erudithall in northeastern Gemworthy, the twins Saltire and Martlet home from their adventuring as errant-knights throughout the country, Valrient returned from an embassy to Marrien, and Crown Prince Reglann setting matters of state aside for a while, as their father did. Rhea was seated at her Papa’s side, and they all laughed and talked of everything that occurred while the two travelers were away, and Leiarah took the head of the breakfast table and served out the mulled wine.<br />
Rhea began to feel turning seventeen wasn’t quite so trying when her father, stepmother, and brothers lavished her with presents. Gifts came pouring in from the guests of the upcoming feast as well: blue and red parrots and gold-threaded silk scarves from Marrien, delicate ivory carvings and silver jewelry from Theltain, jeweled trinkets from all the regions of Gemworthy, and even a pearl, almost as large as Rhea’s fist, from the Thalassic ambassadors who gathered in the waters of the bay below.<br />
But then Leiarah noticed the castle bell ringing the time, and her hands flew to her face. “Just listen to how late it’s grown! My goodness, and there’s so much to prepare for tonight. Hurry now, Rhea, back up to your room. You’ll not be fit to be seen in the Great Hall if you don’t get started now!”<br />
Rhea had never dreaded feasts before; dressing in her finest silk and brocade and jewels, dancing, and meeting new people had been a joy. But now, on the way back to her room for the long process of preparation, she stopped at the same window where Valrient had glared down upon the unwelcome arrival of the Phoenix and stuck her tongue out at the crowds below like a wild goose girl.<br />
“Suitors! Suits me if they’d all go back where they came from! And without a bride!”<br />
All afternoon Rhea was surrounded by ladies-in-waiting, who prepared her bath, dressed her hair with perfumed oils, and at last, as the sun began to redden in the western sky, began to dress her. They laced her into a sea-blue gown embroidered with jewels like stars and adorned her curls with an intricate electrum caul and crown – reserved for the very highest occasions – which glittered with opals and diamonds. Hiylienea, having undergone similar treatments in her chamber across the corridor, appeared in a red and ivory dress and accompanied Rhea down to the Great Hall.<br />
“Please don’t be worrisome.”<br />
“What makes you think I will be?” Rhea could hear music coming up from the lower levels of the castle, and excitement began to tingle through her.<br />
“You know why … this feast …”<br />
“Well, worrying doesn’t help anything.” Rhea shrugged. “And since this feast is all about my birthday, it’s bound to be good, and I don’t want to spoil it by worrying.”<br />
Hiylienea sighed and straightened. “Good. I wonder who’s there already!”<br />
The two girls bustled up their skirts and hurried to one of the balconies overlooking the Great Hall. The ponderous tasseled curtains provided a perfect hiding place for them to crouch behind and whisper their opinions on everything as the hall below began to fill with guests.<br />
The hall was fascinatingly decorated, with the crystal chandeliers and wall candelabras all sparkling and shining, the light gleaming on the tapestries, the royal arms on display, and the gold and silver and cut glass on the tables. Dressed in rich brocade of every imaginable hue, lords, ladies, knights, and Fey sat or stood at the long tables, their laughing voices rising to the high, painted ceiling. To the left of the dais, where Rhea, her family, and a few select guests would dine, a group of minstrels garbed in the royal colors created a pleasing backdrop to the hubbub of conversation. Piquing her curiosity, there were also more of the Royal Centrinels than normal present, standing in their rigid military way about the hall. She accredited this to it being her birthday feast, but then remembered the commotion that morning among the guards and the Phoenix. This worried her only a moment, however, for the flow of arriving guests was much more amusing to observe. Every now and then the herald at the doors opposite the dais would bellow out the arrival of some preeminence.<br />
There were the dukes of the eight regions of Gemworthy and their families, lords of the major cities, and knights of the high-ranking Gemstar order. Chieftains and chieftainesses of the Centaur tribes of the Gemworthian plains, tall and giant-like, and their smaller cousins from the Varshan hills entered next. Following were the Griffin captains from the National Guard and from the great Griffin colony-outpost in the mountains of the far northern border, Ternum Cataract. They strode along silently, big as horses but as graceful and silken-coated as giant cats with their great wings arched over their backs. Next came the Elf-regents from the tree-covered hills of the Korrwood and the southern shores, fair-haired and dressed in blue and silver and green. Guests were not limited to those from Gemworthy, however. Hailing from the north, across the Thuork sea, were Fían Headman and his wife. They took their seats beside the dusky-skinned Epari and Eparina of Marrien, who had travelled long from their far southern homeland to attend the occasion. Last of all came the guests from the Avrinn Isles. But before Rhea and Hiylienea could catch a glimpse of the people belonging to the names the herald shouted, they heard a cry behind them and turned to see a herald hurrying towards them.<br />
“Ah, Your Highness!” He bowed, turning his plumed hat in his hands. “We have been looking for you everywhere … your royal father requests you to come to the doors of the Great Hall to enter with His Majesty and the rest of Your Highness’s family.”<br />
As Rhea departed down the hallway, she caught the words of the herald’s announcement of the next guest.<br />
“His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Ohnferead Randerrin Iltumír Leovarne of the Avrinn Isles.”<br />
She felt Hiylienea reach out and give her hand a quick grasp. She glanced over to see her brown eyes fixed on her.<br />
“Regal and sedate!” Hiylienea whispered as they reached the wide, arched doorway leading into the Great Hall, where King Gromweill, Queen Leiarah, and Rhea’s five brothers stood waiting. “It’s been thirteen years since you last saw him. Give him a chance!”<br />
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M. C. Pearsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13777325241098466381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17875082.post-36443348402075561652013-01-29T00:00:00.000-05:002013-01-29T00:00:09.360-05:00The Juice Lady's Big Book of Juices and Green Smoothies by Cherie Calbom<i><b>What I Thought: </b>I love the Juice Lady, Cherie Calbom. She has such great recipes, and she is such a great motivator. What a witness! I want to get healthy again, and Cherie has wonderful ideas on how to do so. Check out some of the juice recipes below. Make sure to click the photos to see the recipes better!</i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9wqrdwSX_u2P108nEuvtPVWXb79gjyDCUVIv-_6UOy0b80v-E9tGE91R4ZwF7TJd1co6Yg42vyriXC2_en4z3PKM5sTJCOYWorkmiI2s-4lKbDRpJM27M91XDBudISkhxsCol/s1600/FIRSTWildCardTours2.jpg"></a><a href="http://firstwildcardtours.blogspot.com/"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480264388542368882" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9wqrdwSX_u2P108nEuvtPVWXb79gjyDCUVIv-_6UOy0b80v-E9tGE91R4ZwF7TJd1co6Yg42vyriXC2_en4z3PKM5sTJCOYWorkmiI2s-4lKbDRpJM27M91XDBudISkhxsCol/s200/FIRSTWildCardTours2.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 200px; margin: 0 10px 10px 0; width: 145px;" /></a>It is time for a <span style="color: #990000;"><strong><a href="http://firstwildcardtours.blogspot.com/">FIRST Wild Card Tour</a></strong></span> 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! <span style="color: #990000;"><strong>Enjoy your free peek into the book!</strong></span>
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"><em>You never know when I might play a wild card on you!</em></span>
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<strong>Today's Wild Card author is: </strong>
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<strong><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: 180%;"><a href="http://www.juiceladycherie.com/Juice/">Cherie Calbom</a></span></strong>
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<strong><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: 180%;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: 100%;">and the book:</span> </span></strong>
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<strong><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: 180%;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/162136030X">The Juice Lady's Big Book of Juices and Green Smoothies</a></span></strong>
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<span style="text-align: start;">Siloam (January 8, 2013)</span></div>
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***Special thanks to <span style="text-align: start;">Althea Thompson</span> for sending me a review copy.***
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<strong><span style="color: #333399; font-size: 130%;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">ABOUT THE AUTHOR:</span></span></strong></div>
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Cherie Calbom, MS, is the author of The Juice Lady’s Turbo Diet, The Juice Lady’s Living Foods Revolution, and Juicing for Life, which has nearly two million books in print in the United States. Known as “The Juice Lady” for her work with juicing and health, Cherie has taped HealthWatch for CNN and scores of TV and radio shows and has appeared in Shape, First for Women, Women’s World, Men’s Journal,Vogue, Quick & Simple, Marie Claire, and Elle Canada. Cherie earned a master’s degree in nutrition from Bastyr University, where she now serves on the Board of Regents, and has practiced as a clinical nutritionist at St. Luke Medical Center in Bellevue, Washington. <br />
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Visit the author's <a href="http://www.juiceladycherie.com/Juice/">website</a>.
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<strong><span style="color: #333399; font-size: 130%;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:</span> </span></strong></div>
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Juice and smoothies are sweeping the nation! Why? They’re fruity, delicious, easy to make, and packed with powerful nutrition. It’s no wonder everyone is enjoying the convenience and great taste of these healthy meal and snack alternatives. Bring your blender or juicing machine into the twenty-first century with the most updated versions of Cherie’s recipes to be found anywhere—more than just refreshment, these recipes enhance your energy and boost your mental and physical health.<br />
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Product Details:<br />
List Price: $17.99<br />
Paperback: 208 pages<br />
Publisher: Siloam (January 8, 2013)<br />
Language: English<br />
ISBN-10: 162136030X<br />
ISBN-13: 978-1621360308<br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">AND NOW...THE INTRODUCTION AND A FEW GREAT RECIPES! CLICK ON RECIPE PICTURES TO SEE THEM LARGER:</span> </strong>
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The Juice Lady’s Big Book of Juices and Green Smoothies<br />
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Introduction<br />
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MORE AND MORE celebrities, athletes, and people of all ages and walks of life are turning to juicing and green smoothies to lose weight and to improve their overall health. Why? Because they have found that juicing is changing their lives—giving them more energy, better sleep, stronger immune systems, brighter skin, and a younger appearance. It’s even helping their bodies heal from a variety of ailments. Below is a testimony I received recently from someone who has read my books and come to me for counseling.<br />
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It’s been about a month since you last spoke with me. You may not remember me because you talk with so many people. But I will never forget you. I told you about the more than fifty pounds of fluid I had retained. Using both natural and medical prescriptions, I had not been able to get rid of that fluid. I have also not been absorbing my food. You told me not to worry about my diet because I already had a healthy one but to add a green juice drink with every meal. About three weeks before I spoke with you I started drinking pure cranberry juice every day, and that was helping with the fluid. Over the three weeks I lost fifteen pounds, but I would bounce back and forth with my weight. When I added the green juice drinks, it put my body in high gear. I have lost thirty pounds. The water weight is literally just falling off of me.<br />
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You have no idea how much better I am feeling. I have energy and can physically work. I have not had energy or felt good since my last baby was born twenty-five years ago. I have not been able to push my body to work for the last five years. Now I am splitting firewood and stacking it. I shoveled rock for our drainage system in our yard. I can clean my own house again. Yesterday I cleaned house and stacked two cords of firewood. If you haven’t stacked firewood, let me tell you, that’s a lot of wood. And I can walk again. For the last two years I have been fighting just to walk up and down my short driveway, feeling totally exhausted and in pain afterward. Now I am easily walking a mile and have energy to burn. I feel great and have no pain when I’m finished. And my fibromyalgia pain is almost gone.<br />
For the last five years I have been fighting to stay alive.</blockquote>
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Now for the first time in years I feel alive. I am no longer on Lasix and have cut back most of my nutritional supplements. I was taking over $500 worth of supplements a month, and it was bankrupting us. Last year my doctor told me to apply for disability because my body was dying. I could no longer function. The naturopathic physician I used to work for told me that my husband and I needed to accept the fact that my body was dying. He told us to purchase better health insurance and prepare for the worst. I wish he could see me now.</blockquote>
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Long story short, Cherie, I am so grateful to you for taking the time to talk with me. I know you probably hear stories like mine all the time, but for me it’s new and life saving. Thanks for pointing me to the path of life. You have been one of God’s blessings and a lifesaver in the most literal sense of the word.</blockquote>
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I hope her story encourages you to juice every day. With more than four hundred delicious recipes, The Big Book of Juices and Green Smoothies can help you change your life, just as juicing has changed the lives of thousands of people who have adopted this plan for themselves—people just like me. My life changed years ago when I discovered the healing, vitality-producing power of freshly made juices and raw and whole foods.<br />
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Sick, Tired, and Completely Toxic<br />
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I sat by the window in my father’s home in Colorado staring at the snow-topped mountains in the distance, imagining that people were enjoying the hiking trails; perhaps someone was climbing the mountain that day. It was early June and a beautiful, sunny Colorado day. I wished I had the strength to just walk around the block. But I was too sick and tired—I could barely walk around the house. I had been sick for a couple of years and just kept getting worse. “Would I ever be well again?” I wondered.<br />
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I had to quit my job when I turned thirty. I had chronic fatigue syndrome and fibromyalgia that made me so sick I couldn’t work. I felt as though I had a flu that just wouldn’t go away. I was lethargic and constantly feverish with swollen glands. I was also in nonstop pain. My body ached as though I’d been bounced around in a washing machine.<br />
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I had moved back to my father’s home in Colorado to try and recover, but not one doctor could tell me what I should do to improve my health. So I browsed around some health food stores, talked with employees, and read a few books. I decided that everything I’d been doing was tearing down my health rather than healing my body. When I read about juicing and whole foods, it made sense. So I bought a juicer and designed a program I could follow.<br />
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I began my health program with a five-day vegetable juice fast. On the fifth day my body expelled a tumor the size of a golf ball. I was totally surprised that in five days this amazing result could take place. I never did have the tumor tested because I was too taken back and overwhelmed by the event. I just flushed it away.<br />
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I then continued to juice every day and ate a nearly perfect diet of live and whole foods for three months. There were ups and downs throughout. On some days I felt encouraged that I was making some progress, but on other days I felt worse. Those days made me wonder if good health was an elusive dream. I didn’t realize I was experiencing detox reactions—no one had told me about them. I was very toxic, and my body was cleansing away all the stuff that had made me sick.<br />
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But one morning I woke up around 8:00 a.m., which was early for me, without an alarm sounding off. I felt like someone had given me a new body in the night. I had so much energy I actually wanted to<br />
exercise. What had happened? This new feeling of good health and vitality had just appeared with the morning sun. Actually, my body had been healing all along; it just had not manifested fully until that day. I felt such a wonderful sense of being alive! I looked and felt completely renewed.<br />
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With my juicer in tow and a new lifestyle fully embraced, I returned to Southern California and my friends a couple weeks later to finish writing my first book. For nearly a year it was “ten steps forward” with great health and more energy and stamina than I’d ever remembered. Then all of a sudden I took a giant step back.<br />
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The Night I’ll Never Forget<br />
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The Fourth of July was a beautiful day like so many others in Southern California. I celebrated the holiday with friends at a backyard barbecue. That evening we put on jackets to insulate against the cool evening air and watched fireworks light up the night sky. I returned just before midnight to the house I was sitting for vacationing friends, who lived in a lovely neighborhood not far from some of my family members. After such a full day I was in bed shortly after I arrived at the house.<br />
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I woke up shivering some time later wondering why it was so cold. I rolled over to see the clock. It was 3:00 a.m. That’s when I noticed that the door was open to the backyard. “How did that happen?” I thought as I was about to get up to close and lock the door. That’s when I saw him. Crouched in the shadows of the corner of the room was a shirtless young man in shorts. I blinked twice, trying to deny what I was seeing.<br />
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Instead of running out the open door, he leaped off the floor and ran toward me. He pulled a pipe from his shorts and began beating me repeatedly over the head and yelling, “Now you are dead!” We fought, or I should say, I tried to defend myself and grab the pipe.<br />
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Finally it flew out of his hands. That’s when he choked me to unconsciousness. I felt all life leaving my body. In those last few seconds I knew I was dying. “This is it, the end of my life,” I thought. I felt sad for the people who loved me. Then I felt my spirit leave. It felt as though it just popped out of my body and floated upward. Suddenly everything was peaceful and still. I sensed I was traveling through black space at what seemed like the speed of light. I saw what looked like lights twinkling in the distance.<br />
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But all of a sudden I was back in my body, outside the house, clinging to a fence at the end of the dog run. I don’t know how I got there. I screamed for help with all the energy I had. It was my third scream that took all my strength. I felt it would be my last breath. Each time I screamed, I passed out and landed on the cement. I then had to pull myself up again. But this time a neighbor heard me and sent her husband to help. Before long I was on my way to the hospital.<br />
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Lying on a cold gurney at 4:30 a.m., chilled to the bone, in and out of consciousness, I tried to assess my injuries, which was virtually impossible. When I looked at my right hand, I almost passed out again. My ring finger was hanging on by a small piece of skin. My hand was split open, and I could see deep inside. The next thing I knew I was being wheeled off to surgery. Later I learned that I had suffered serious injuries to my head, neck, back, and right hand, with multiple head wounds and part of my scalp torn from my head. I also incurred numerous cracked teeth, which led to several root canals and crowns months later.<br />
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My right hand sustained the most severe injuries. Two of my knuckles were crushed to mere bone fragments and had to be held together with three metal pins. Several months after the attack I still couldn’t use my hand. The cast I wore, which had bands holding up the ring finger that had almost been torn from my hand and various odd-shaped molded parts, looked like something from a science fiction movie. I felt and looked worse than hopeless. The top of my head was shaved, and my eyes were totally red and swollen. I had a gash on my face, a weird-looking right hand, terrorizing fear, and barely enough energy to get dressed in the morning.<br />
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I was an emotional wreck. I couldn’t sleep at night—not even a minute. It was torturous. I was staying with a cousin and his family, so there was no need to worry about safety from a practical point of view, but that made no difference to me emotionally. I’d lie in bed all night and stare at the ceiling or the bedroom door. I had five lights that I kept on all night. I’d try to read, but my eyes would sting. I could sleep only for a little while during the day.<br />
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But the worst part was the pain in my soul that nearly took my breath away. All the emotional pain of the attack joined with the pain and trauma of my past to create an emotional tsunami. My past had been riddled with loss, trauma, and anxiety. My brother died when I was two. My mother died of cancer when I was six. I couldn’t remember much about her death—the memories seemed blocked. But my cousin said I fainted at her funeral. That told me a lot.<br />
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I lived for the next three years with my maternal grandparents and father. But Grandpa John, the love of my life, died when I was nine. That loss was very hard. Four years later my father was involved in a very tragic situation that would take far too long to discuss here, but to sum it up—it was horrific. He was no longer in my daily life. I felt terrified about my future. My grandmother was eighty-six. I had no idea how much longer she would live. The next year I moved to Oregon to live with an aunt and uncle until I graduated from high school.<br />
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As you can probably imagine, wrapped in my soul was a huge amount of anguish and pain—it felt like gaping holes in my heart. It took every ounce of my will, faith, and trust in God; deep spiritual work; alternative medical help; extra vitamins and minerals; vegetable juicing; emotional release; healing prayer; and numerous detox programs to heal physically, mentally, and emotionally. I met a nutritionally minded physician who had healed his own slow-mending broken bones with lots of vitamin-mineral IVs. He gave me similar IVs. Juicing, cleansing, nutritional supplements, a nearly perfect diet, prayer, and physical therapy helped my bones and other injuries heal.<br />
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After following this regimen for about six months, what my hand surgeon said would be impossible became real. My hand was fully restored and fully functional. He had told me I’d never use my right hand again, and that it wasn’t even possible to implant plastic knuckles because of its poor condition. But my knuckles did indeed re-form primarily through prayer, and my hand function returned. A day came when the surgeon told me I was completely healed, and though he admitted he didn’t believe in miracles, he said, “You’re the closest thing I’ve seen to one.”<br />
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It was a miracle! I had a useful right hand again, and my career in writing was not over as I thought it would be. In the end it seemed my inner wounds were the most severe and the hardest to heal. Nevertheless, they mended too. I experienced healing from the painful memories and trauma of the attack and the wounds from the past through prayer, laying-on of hands, and deep emotional healing work.<br />
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I call them the kitchen angels—the ladies who prayed for me around their kitchen tables week after week until my soul was restored. It seemed I cried endless buckets of tears that had been pent up in my soul. It all needed release. Forgiveness and letting go came in stages and was an integral part of my total healing. I had to be honest about what I really felt and be willing to face the pain and toxic emotions confined inside, and then let them go. Finally, one day after a long, long journey—I felt free. A time came when I could celebrate the Fourth of July without fear.<br />
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A New Beginning<br />
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When I look back to that first day in the hospital after many hours of surgery, it’s amazing to me that I made it. My hand was resting in a sling hanging above my head. It was wrapped with so much stuff it looked like George Foreman’s boxing glove. My face had a big cut running down the left side, and my eyes were red—very little whites. A maintenance man came into my room for a repair and did a double take. He asked if I’d been hit by a truck! He was serious. I felt like I had. As I lay there alone with tears streaming down my face, I asked God if He could bring something good out of this horror. I needed something to hang on to.<br />
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My prayer was answered. Eventually I knew my purpose was to love people to life through my writing, juicing, and nutritional information— to help them find their way to health and healing. If I could recover from all that had happened to me, they could too. No matter what anyone faced, there was hope.<br />
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Juice Recipes for Health and Healing<br />
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In the pages that follow, you’ll discover a wide variety of juices for every possible need and occasion. I have basic juice recipes for those who are getting started and want something simple. There are yummy fruit juice recipes for those with picky palates who want the sweet taste of fruit. Green juices are my favorite and offer the most nutrition; you’ll find a big selection of green juice recipes to choose from.<br />
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Check out the chapter on juice remedies and rejuvenators for juice combos that address what ails you. And I think you’ll really like the gourmet juice chapter that has a lot of unique combinations and delicious drinks. There’s also the green smoothie chapter with one hundred smoothie recipes and great combinations. And I also included my old favorites from The Juice Lady’s Turbo Diet and The Juice Lady’s Living Foods Revolution. Have fun trying some new and unusual combinations. There’s a lot to choose from with more than four hundred recipes.<br />
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And if you’re struggling with your health, there is hope for you, no matter what health challenges you face. Never, ever give up. There’s a purpose for your life, just as there was for mine. You need to be healthy and strong to complete your purpose. To that end, The Juice Lady’s Big Book of Juices and Green Smoothies can help you live your life to the fullest. My hope is that this book of delicious recipes will truly inspire you to juice each and every day and that you will experience firsthand the healing, rejuvenating power of fresh juice and green smoothies.<br />
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M. C. Pearsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13777325241098466381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17875082.post-71496380956171431162012-12-06T01:15:00.000-05:002012-12-06T01:20:51.903-05:00FREE Kindle Book of FAIRIES! Act Now!!!<br />
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<br />
In celebration of my book, F.A.I.R.I.E.S.: Baptism by Fire, winning the Bronze Medal for Readers Favorites in the Christian Fantasy category, I am offering free downloads for Kindle for THREE days!<br />
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Starting at midnight on Dec. 6th and going through Dec. 8th, 2012 you can download F.A.I.R.I.E.S. for FREE!<br />
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Please let everyone that you think may like it know. Share this on your page if you like. The more the merrier!<br />
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I also made corrections to the Kindle version: the German for the yeti's name is now correct AND the annoying question marks have been removed. Yay!<br />
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Go <a href="http://www.amazon.com/F-A-I-R-I-E-S-Baptism-Realm-Series-ebook/dp/B0068MYW3K/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1354767649&sr=1-1&keywords=fairies+by+m.+c.+pearson">HERE </a>at midnight to download it for FREE!M. C. Pearsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13777325241098466381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17875082.post-72262557818888211052012-12-06T01:00:00.000-05:002012-12-06T01:00:02.716-05:00Devotions for a Revolutionary Year by Lynn Cowell<i><b>What I Thought: </b></i><br />
<i><br />I work with pre-teens and teens for my church's youth group...and I write for young adults. I highly recommend this devotional. What a great variety of subjects this deals with! Not only does this have awesome daily devotions, it also has daily challenges, or as Lynn calls them, "Start the Revolution". For example: "Here's a reading project. Read all the words spoken by Jesus in the book of John." I just love those extra tid-bits. She also has short prayers for the reader to say at the end of each devotion. This would make a great Christmas gift for the young adult in your life.</i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9wqrdwSX_u2P108nEuvtPVWXb79gjyDCUVIv-_6UOy0b80v-E9tGE91R4ZwF7TJd1co6Yg42vyriXC2_en4z3PKM5sTJCOYWorkmiI2s-4lKbDRpJM27M91XDBudISkhxsCol/s1600/FIRSTWildCardTours2.jpg"></a><a href="http://firstwildcardtours.blogspot.com/"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480264388542368882" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9wqrdwSX_u2P108nEuvtPVWXb79gjyDCUVIv-_6UOy0b80v-E9tGE91R4ZwF7TJd1co6Yg42vyriXC2_en4z3PKM5sTJCOYWorkmiI2s-4lKbDRpJM27M91XDBudISkhxsCol/s200/FIRSTWildCardTours2.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 200px; margin: 0 10px 10px 0; width: 145px;" /></a>It is time for a <span style="color: #990000;"><strong><a href="http://firstwildcardtours.blogspot.com/">FIRST Wild Card Tour</a></strong></span> 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! <span style="color: #990000;"><strong>Enjoy your free peek into the book!</strong></span>
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"><em>You never know when I might play a wild card on you!</em></span>
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<strong>Today's Wild Card author is: </strong>
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<strong><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: 180%;"><a href="http://www.lynncowell.com/">Lynn Cowell</a></span></strong>
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<strong><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: 180%;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: 100%;">and the book:</span> </span></strong>
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<strong><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: 180%;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0784735700">Devotions for a Revolutionary Year</a></span></strong>
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<span style="text-align: start;">Standard Publishing; First Edition, None edition (September 4, 2012)</span></div>
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***Special thanks to Blythe Daniel for sending me a review copy.***
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<strong><span style="color: #333399; font-size: 130%;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">ABOUT THE AUTHOR:</span></span></strong></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBTAZ_CMlqem8WancMYap_-qJ0jt7Pa-zMbmjn59lpajvOuTsQvoJteIyHw8uF4cSvqMABtVM8-YTGE7LbSZULiz1AkNxh6ytbh5bPnaIxIPOAbYJ18_UwzfoxoDE_XMEVPpL1/s1600/LynnCowell+profile+pic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBTAZ_CMlqem8WancMYap_-qJ0jt7Pa-zMbmjn59lpajvOuTsQvoJteIyHw8uF4cSvqMABtVM8-YTGE7LbSZULiz1AkNxh6ytbh5bPnaIxIPOAbYJ18_UwzfoxoDE_XMEVPpL1/s200/LynnCowell+profile+pic.jpg" width="149" /></a></div>
Lynn Cowell is a Proverbs 31 Speaker and Author. Her passion is empowering women to become wise and in turn, raise wiser daughters. She does this through her website at www.LynnCowell.com, writing articles for publications such as Focus on the Family's Thriving Family and Susie Mag, and devotions for Proverbs 31 Ministries, which has over a half a million subscribers. She loves investing in teens and adults by speaking at conferences across the country.<br />
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Visit the author's <a href="http://www.lynncowell.com/">website</a>.
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<strong><span style="color: #333399; font-size: 130%;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:</span> </span></strong></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGPSdWLkzBOp14PiseC9lb4KxV0P9o36V5KNuygJM5CrTiwR2AFwEACKzEXnphmFy_kCckz2Z_yJVcQyKdQDa38uxg6t-x-AQwmwPv_yOkEUzoWtxaEupQRec0wwmdUqt8THuC/s1600/Devotions+from+Amazon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGPSdWLkzBOp14PiseC9lb4KxV0P9o36V5KNuygJM5CrTiwR2AFwEACKzEXnphmFy_kCckz2Z_yJVcQyKdQDa38uxg6t-x-AQwmwPv_yOkEUzoWtxaEupQRec0wwmdUqt8THuC/s200/Devotions+from+Amazon.jpg" width="200" /></a>Devotions for a Revolutionary Year expands on the themes of Lynn Cowell’s first book, His Revolutionary Love. In short, easy-to-read daily devotions, Lynn chats to girls about the challenges of growing up as a girl: identity and acceptance, rejection and rebellion, and self-control and surrender. Through Scripture and stories any girl can relate to, Lynn Cowell encourages girls to remember that Jesus loves them and is pursuing them every day—and that knowing his love day by day can make for one revolutionary year.<br />
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Product Details:<br />
List Price: $12.99<br />
Reading level: Ages 13 and up<br />
Paperback: 384 pages<br />
Publisher: Standard Publishing; First Edition, None edition (September 4, 2012)<br />
Language: English<br />
ISBN-10: 0784735700<br />
ISBN-13: 978-0784735701<br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:</span> </strong>
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Introduction:<br />
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Revolutionary Love<br />
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Infatuation is a powerful thing. It has the power to make your mind, body, and heart soar. Then, faster than you can say your ex-boyfriend’s name, it can drop you, leaving you sick to your stomach.<br />
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There is something more powerful—revolutionary love. Love that is perfect, unconditional, stable. Love that is not based on what you did for it yesterday or what you can do for it in the future. This love is unlike any you’ve encountered. This love forgives and forgets the past while promising an amazing future. This love is Jesus.<br />
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If you are a girl who wants more—more confidence, more security, more hope—this is the perfect book for you.<br />
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This book isn’t going to radically change you. Only one book can do that—the Bible. My book simply gives you a diving board to help spring you into the pool of God’s Word, where you can swim by yourself!<br />
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I hope you’ve already read His Revolutionary Love: Jesus’ Radical Pursuit of You—that’s what we’re building on. But even if you haven’t, you can dive in with us now. For the next 365 days, we’re going to dig deeper into Jesus’ love letters to us. Don’t just read the devotions—I want you to get out your Bible; read the key verse each day, and read the verses before and after it. Take some time to figure out exactly what God is saying to you.<br />
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This year, we’re going to let God start the revolution in our hearts, making us radical girls who can change our world for his honor.<br />
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So glad to be on this journey with you!<br />
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Jesus, thank you for choosing us. Your love is what our hearts have always craved—the only love that can fill them. Change us. Make us radical so we can share your love with others. In your powerful name, amen.<br />
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1: How Much?<br />
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This is how much God loved the world: He gave his Son, his one and only Son. And this is why: so that no one need be destroyed; by believing in him, anyone can have a whole and lasting life.<br />
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—John 3:16 (The Message)<br />
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What was at the top of your Christmas list last year? The newest boots? Apple’s hottest phone?<br />
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If you could ask for something that money can’t buy, what would that be? Your parents reunited? Your sister back home?<br />
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What extreme measures would you be willing to take to get your heart’s desire? Move to a new city and have your family start over? Sell everything to put your sister in rehab?<br />
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Would you die?<br />
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Would you die to see their lives changed?<br />
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Jesus’ answer was yes. He thought of you and what it would take for you to have new life in him. “Yes, I’ll die to make that happen,” was his response to his Father’s request.<br />
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Talk about love! Talk about a hero!<br />
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I responded to his yes by saying yes back. Yes to receiving forgiveness and choosing his way instead of mine. Yes to having him revolutionize the way I think, act, and live.<br />
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When he died, he proved how much he wants us—me and you. The real question now is, how much do you want him?<br />
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Show him you want him too. Take time this year to go after him. Learn how crazy Jesus is about you. And become crazy about him!<br />
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Start the Revolution<br />
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Read John 3:16.<br />
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Ask: Am I ready to say yes to God’s love for me?<br />
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Jesus, I am ready—ready to find out just how much you love me and to really love you in return. Help me<br />
to come to you each day. I can’t wait to discover<br />
more about you! Amen.<br />
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2: Absolutely Beautiful<br />
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Has anyone ever seen anything like this—dawn-fresh, moon-lovely, sun-radiant, ravishing as the night sky with its galaxies of stars?<br />
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—Song of Solomon 6:10 (The Message)<br />
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Have you ever heard of someone choosing his wife when he’s in sixth grade? Crazy, I know! That’s exactly what Greg did! He saw a girl singing a solo in church and wrote in his Bible, “I, Greg, will marry her—to be stopped by nobody!” If only he had known . . . she didn’t even know his name!<br />
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Sounds like the beginning of a long romance, right? Not! Greg found her number. Called a few times. After a bit, the crush burned out . . . for him. Not for her. Why? She didn’t even really know him. But she had wanted to be wanted, and he at one point wanted her. You know, it didn’t even have to be Greg. She just wanted to be wanted again.<br />
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That girl was me, and that crush crushed me. I asked myself, “What’s wrong with me? My body—my flat chest? My personality or faith?” Whatever it was, I felt ruined.<br />
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Have you ever been on the wrong end of a love equation? Guy + Me = Value?<br />
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The fact was, and still is, there was nothing wrong with me. There is nothing wrong with you.<br />
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Jesus tells me I am beautiful . . . every part of me. Maybe at that time I wasn’t Greg’s type. But in Song of Solomon, a book that is often used as a metaphor for God’s love for us, we read these words: “The feelings I get when I see the high mountain ranges . . .<br />
remind me of you, and I’m spoiled for anyone else! Your beauty, within and without, is absolute, dear lover, close companion” (7:5, 6, The Message). Jesus loves my outsides and insides! (Sounds like Greg was the one missing out!)<br />
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Don’t let any guy define you. Don’t let his rejection or acceptance determine whether or not you think you are beautiful. The Perfect Love says you are absolutely beautiful; listen closely to that truth.<br />
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Start the Revolution<br />
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Look in the mirror and say: “Jesus thinks I’m beautiful.”<br />
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Jesus, you and your love are all I want<br />
to define me. Amen.<br />
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3: Priceless<br />
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I paid a huge price for you. . . . That’s how much you mean to me! <br />
That’s how much I love you! I’d sell off the whole world to <br />
get you back, trade the creation just for you.<br />
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—Isaiah 43:3, 4 (The Message)<br />
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When Prince William and Kate got married, it was like watching a Disney fairytale movie in real life. Except, perhaps, for all the press. Reporters commented on the price tag of everything—Kate’s gown, shoes, ring, flowers, etc. Until they came to the tiara.<br />
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“Priceless.”<br />
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That’s how they described her gorgeous headpiece. Given to Queen Elizabeth as a gift for her eighteenth birthday, this diamond tiara was on loan to the princess-to-be. No price tag could be put on the brilliant crown; it was impossible to replace. If it should somehow disappear, Scotland Yard would be all over London in a heartbeat.<br />
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In the end though, the tiara is still just a super fancy hat. A thing that can be lost or stolen.<br />
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That’s so very different from you. Why? Because <br />
Jesus gave his everything, his very life, to make you his.<br />
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The girl who understands just how much she is wanted is a girl who can be fully confident—empowered to make every decision a wise one, because she knows her decisions matter. A girl who knows that she is priceless is a girl who will never settle for anything short of the best from the one who loves her the most. A girl who is sure that she is cherished and adored is a girl who no longer worries about herself; her focus is on sharing this radical love with all those she comes in contact with. You can be that girl.<br />
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Start the Revolution<br />
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Look up the price of the biggest diamond. You’re worth more than that!<br />
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Jesus—help me to get this message. Help me to <br />
appreciate the price you paid for me. Amen.<br />
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4: You Belong<br />
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And now you Gentiles have also heard the truth, the Good News <br />
that God saves you. And when you believed in Christ, he identified you as his own by giving you the Holy Spirit, whom he promised long ago. The Spirit is God’s guarantee that he will give us the inheritance he promised and that he has purchased us to be his own people. <br />
He did this so we would praise and glorify him.<br />
<br />
—Ephesians 1:13, 14 (NLT )<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I couldn’t care less if Greg’s ring on my finger looked ridiculous. It made the statement: “I belong to him.” That’s what mattered.<br />
<br />
Have you ever wanted something that said you belonged? The softball team sweatshirt? The personalized chamber music folder? Your new dad’s last name?<br />
<br />
You do belong. Just as Greg’s class ring was my identity marker, the Holy Spirit in you can be your identity marker. His presence says you belong to the one who is perfect and who loves perfectly too!<br />
<br />
“How does the Holy Spirit do that?” you ask.<br />
<br />
Here’s how I think it happens. Have you ever had a sense of the right thing to do? The Holy Spirit was leading. Ever had strength for something scary? The Holy Spirit brought his peace. Ever ready to explode, yet somehow you kept your cool? The Holy Spirit brought self-control.<br />
<br />
Sometimes we don’t recognize him; we think it’s us. Just because we don’t recognize his voice and direction, that doesn’t make it any less him.<br />
<br />
Most things in life we belong to come to an end. You and your boyfriend break up, cross-country season wraps up, and the curtains close on the play.<br />
<br />
Not so with the Holy Spirit. He is one who never leaves, a season without end, and a play acted out eternally. Once you receive the Holy Spirit, you are forever his.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Start the Revolution<br />
<br />
Design an infinity symbol sticker with the words “Holy Spirit” in it.<br />
<br />
Holy Spirit, today I’ll need something: an answer, or hope, or direction. Help me look to you and see your presence as my identity marker. I belong to you. Amen.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
5: Treasured<br />
<br />
“On the day when I act,” says the Lord Almighty, “they will be my treasured possession. I will spare them, just as a father has compassion and spares his son who serves him.”<br />
<br />
—Malachi 3:17<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
The tornado ruined everything. As Kim and Brenda approached the place that had once been their parents’ home, nothing was there. No front door. No furniture. . . . No parents. Everything was destroyed.<br />
<br />
In the days ahead, possessions of their parents began to slowly surface. Papers in a field. A quilt in a tree. Each one was a treasure to my friends because each item represented what my friends no longer had.<br />
<br />
I wonder if God ever feels that way about his creation. When he looks at the earth where selfishness and sin rule, does he ever feel brokenhearted over the destruction that lies where beauty once was?<br />
<br />
On that day when Christ returns to the earth, we, his followers, will be his treasured possession. When he returns to the earth, the sight of us will bring him joy and comfort. The King James Version of Malachi 3:17 calls us God’s “jewels.”<br />
<br />
Does your life reflect that you are God’s treasured possession? When God’s eyes roam the earth, does it bring his heart so much joy to see you—the jewel among the wreckage?<br />
<br />
Once, I would have said no. A tornado of a broken relationship left a hole in my heart. I let my problems define who I was. Learning that God treasured me brought me hope, causing me to shine like the jewel he says I am.<br />
<br />
You are his treasured possession. Today, look at your world through the eyes of someone who is deeply cherished.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Start the Revolution<br />
<br />
Think of someone you treasure. Tell them about it today!<br />
<br />
Spy on your life for the next twenty-four hours. How is God telling you “You are my treasured possession”? Make these revelations your prayer of thanks to him.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
6: Real Peace<br />
<br />
The tender mercy of our God, by which the rising sun will come to us from heaven to shine on those living in darkness and <br />
in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the path of peace.<br />
<br />
—Luke 1:78, 79<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Having just left my dying father’s hospital room, I searched in vain for my car in the parking deck. Twenty-four hours of visitation left me exhausted, both mentally and physically. It was my birthday, yet there wasn’t anything happy about it.<br />
<br />
There is no way I could have prepared for that day; it’s a strange sensation to take care of your dad. Feelings of being robbed overwhelmed me. I was too young not to have a dad.<br />
<br />
Climbing into my car, I felt tears streaming down my face. As soon as I turned the key, lyrics from the radio spoke of a day when going to Heaven would bring our new bodies—ultimate healing.<br />
<br />
Jesus came into my car that day. He reached down into my pit of despair. He made it clear to me that he was real and Heaven is real too.<br />
<br />
That peace stayed through the day Dad died, the day of his funeral, and every day since. His perfect love flowing down to imperfect me quiets the fear of the future and the pain of the past.<br />
<br />
I know there are days when you feel that life is not fair, maybe even hopeless. At times like these, when we don’t feel Jesus’ love for us, our faith can be built stronger. We can learn to depend on him no matter how we feel.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Start the Revolution<br />
<br />
What song brings you peace? Sing it today.<br />
<br />
Jesus, no matter how I feel, help me to remember the peace you want to give me through your perfect love. Amen.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
7: Eyes on You<br />
<br />
But the eyes of the Lord are on those who fear him, on those whose hope is in his unfailing love.<br />
<br />
—Psalm 33:18<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Isn’t it a strange feeling when someone is staring at you? Sometimes you can’t tell why. Is there something in your hair or on your shirt? You start to wonder, What’s wrong with me?<br />
<br />
Today, my friend was staring at my mouth. Finally she said, “You have something green in between your teeth.” Ugh! How embarrassing!<br />
<br />
Jesus stares at me too, but not like my friend! He is looking at me as one who fears him and hopes in his unfailing love. Fear in today’s verse is a good thing; it means “worship.” He looks at me because I worship him.<br />
<br />
Verse 19 of this Psalm says his eyes are on his people “to deliver them from death and keep them alive in famine.” His eyes are on me because he wants to take care of me and keep me from harm.<br />
<br />
Jesus is looking at you today. He is fully aware of the situation you are in. He sees you feeling so alone in school. He knows you want so much to live for him. <br />
He knows you struggle.<br />
<br />
But even if you completely mess up today and make everyone mad and upset, his eyes are still on you. Not eyes of disgust at your shortcomings. Not eyes rolling as he thinks, She did it again?! His eyes are eyes of love. He wants to help you. He wants to keep you alive, not just in body, but in mind and spirit too.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Start the Revolution<br />
<br />
Have a staring contest with a friend. Jesus can keep his eyes on you forever!<br />
<br />
Let the truth that Jesus is looking at you with eyes of love give you strength. Thank him for having <br />
his eyes on you.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
8: Perfection<br />
<br />
There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love.<br />
<br />
—1 John 4:18<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
“There is no way he could love me.” Allison had done a lot of stuff—bad stuff. Stuff she had grown up learning was wrong, and yet she had done it anyway.<br />
<br />
Now her friend Lindsay was trying to tell her that Jesus loved her and still wanted a relationship with her. Allison just couldn’t believe that could be true. She knew what her parents would do if they found out; they’d kick her out. If her parents would respond that way, how could she expect anything else from a perfect God?<br />
<br />
I’ll be the first to admit it: it’s hard to understand a love that loves no matter what. We fear coming to him in all of our mess. He is perfect and holy. We are not. It’s hard to fathom that no matter what we do, he will still love us and want to have a relationship with us.<br />
<br />
That is why his love is so revolutionary. Nothing can taint it, because it originates from the one who is perfect. Knowing he loves us this way, because of what he has done and in spite of what we have done, gives us the confidence to come to him, even when we are messed up.<br />
<br />
It is here, living in his love, that we are forgiven, given another chance, and eventually perfected. Yes, you heard me—I said perfected. That is exactly what the Father wants to do with you. He doesn’t want to make you just OK. He wants to take away your sin—those things that drive you from him—and perfect you, drawing you to him.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Start the Revolution<br />
<br />
Try to draw a perfect circle. Write in the circle what to do to get closer to Jesus.<br />
<br />
Jesus, I want to be rid of __________. <br />
(Name the thing that separates you from him.) <br />
Please forgive me and perfect me! Amen.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
9: Poor in Spirit, Rich in Love<br />
<br />
Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.<br />
<br />
—Matthew 5:3<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Poor in spirit. That sure doesn’t sound like something I want to be! I want to be confident and have great self-esteem. I want to feel good about how I look, be proud of what I do, and be surrounded by people who like me. Doesn’t everybody?<br />
<br />
Michelle shared with me on Facebook: “Society wants us to be flawless. We compare ourselves to models. Now I know that Jesus thinks I am flawless. He knows me very well. . . . I don’t need to try to be perfect for anybody here on earth, because my heavenly Father has an unconditional love that can forgive anything. That’s what I love about Jesus. He loves me no matter what. It’s hard to try to live without noticing my ‘imperfections’ . . . I want Jesus to be my everything.”<br />
<br />
Michelle was “poor in spirit,” but this was a great place to be! Why? It caused her to reach out to Jesus. Now what does she have? Confidence and a positive outlook that cannot be taken from her. Her hope is not based on her appearance, accomplishments, or attributes. Her confidence is in Jesus’ view of her as flawless (Song of Solomon 4:7).<br />
<br />
Let’s get this straight—we all have flaws. (Yes, even those supermodels in the magazines.) We all make mistakes. We all sin. But when Jesus looks at us with his kingdom perspective, he sees who we really are and what we can be—what we are made to be. And that is flawless.<br />
<br />
When we are helpless to feel good about ourselves, that is the perfect time for Jesus to come in with his truth. We can move from being girls whose lives are based on this passing world to girls who are focused on what lasts forever, the kingdom of Heaven. We can go from being poor imitations to experiencing the richness Jesus has to offer. This is when we truly become radical girls!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Start the Revolution<br />
<br />
Avoid looking in the mirror today. Just be confident in Jesus’ view of you!<br />
<br />
Jesus, I struggle a lot with my self-esteem. I want to believe the truth—that you see me as flawless. Amen.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
10: Near<br />
<br />
But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far away have been <br />
brought near by the blood of Christ.<br />
<br />
—Ephesians 2:13<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Sad. No explanation. Just sad. There are times when I have wanted to climb back in bed, pull the covers up over my head, and just stay there. Because I have soaked my heart in God’s Word, it begins to talk to me: “Why are you sad? You have so much to be thankful for!” I know this is true. Yet sometimes it’s easier said than felt.<br />
<br />
On hard days, I remind myself that although I change—my heart and mind swinging back and forth—Jesus’ love for me doesn’t. It is constant and stable.<br />
<br />
Christ has already done all that needs to be done to draw me close to him. Whether my feelings tell me today that I am loved and Jesus is with me, or whether they lie and tell me I’m on my own and have no hope, it doesn’t change Jesus’ location. My feelings cannot move him away from me.<br />
<br />
Paul told the Ephesians that all of us were “dead in transgressions” at one time. Another version puts it this way: “You filled your lungs with polluted unbelief, and then exhaled disobedience” (Ephesians 2:2, 3, The Message). But even when we were filled with sin, God took us in and, through Jesus’ death and resurrection, made us alive and drew us close to him again. We didn’t do anything to get God to do this for us, and nothing we do can change it. All we have to do is accept it. And if we do that, as Paul also wrote, then we are members of God’s household (2:19): “You’re no longer strangers or outsiders. You belong here, with as much right to the name Christian as anyone.”<br />
<br />
So on the hard days, when my emotions threaten to rock my world, I can cling to Jesus who is near and tell my feelings to quit lying. I belong with him.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Start the Revolution<br />
<br />
Use a dry-erase marker to write on your mirror: “People in this mirror may be closer to Jesus than they appear.”<br />
<br />
Jesus, no matter how I feel, please remind me <br />
that you are near. Amen.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
11: What He Sees<br />
<br />
You are altogether beautiful, my darling; there is no flaw in you.<br />
<br />
—Song of Solomon 4:7<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
“Is it true that guys are only attracted to you because of your looks? If so, I don’t have a chance.” My heart breaks as I listen to Carly’s words. She wants so badly to have a boyfriend, to have someone she likes, like her back.<br />
<br />
I don’t really know how to answer Carly. After all, I’m a girl too. Yes, it is common knowledge that a guy is attracted by what he sees. The question is, how’s his vision? That is, is he able to see the real value of things, or does he just see what’s on the surface? It takes some training and some maturity to be able to see properly.<br />
<br />
There is a guy who sees with perfect vision. Maybe you have never thought of Jesus in this way before, but he is a guy who sees you as you are and knows your worth.<br />
<br />
What does he see? We’re given a glimpse of this in Song of Solomon 4:7. “You are beautiful from head to toe, my dear love, beautiful beyond compare, absolutely flawless” (The Message). In another version, these words are “You are altogether beautiful, my darling, beautiful in every way” (NLT).<br />
<br />
When he looks at you, Jesus sees the girl he created—his work of art! He sees the girl he died for—the girl he is passionate about! You may not feel perfect, but Jesus says you are to die for! Speak this truth every day! I know it may not help all the time (like when that guy you like walks right by you and asks someone else to dance), but if you get used to hearing the truth about yourself, you’ll believe it. And then you’ll act like a person who knows she is truly valuable—and that is attractive.<br />
<br />
And while we’re on this topic, check your own vision. How do you look at guys? Can you see beyond face value? Practice looking at the world through Jesus’ eyes.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Start the Revolution<br />
<br />
Check your eyes today. Are you seeing beyond the surface?<br />
<br />
Jesus, thank you that you saw in me a beauty that <br />
was to die for. Help me see that beauty too! Amen.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
12: Let Him In<br />
<br />
I slept but my heart was awake. Listen! My beloved is knocking: <br />
“Open to me, my sister, my darling, my dove, my flawless one.”<br />
<br />
—Song of Solomon 5:2<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
“I feel invisible. Like I’m walking down the hall every day, seeing all the people and potential in their lives, but does anyone see me?”<br />
<br />
Can you relate to my friend? I know you want others to see you; you want to be wanted. I can’t promise you that, someday, the group of friends you long to be a part of will let you in. I don’t know if one day the guy you’re crushing on will see you and text you.<br />
<br />
What I do know is there is one who is doing all he can to get your attention. He hasn’t passed you by—he’s calling you every day, sending you messages, knocking on your heart’s door.<br />
<br />
You might wonder, Why doesn’t he just come in? He could barge right through—I mean, he’s God!<br />
<br />
Unlike some guys you may know, Jesus is a gentleman. He doesn’t barge his way into anyone’s life. Forced love is not love at all. Love is only valuable when it is offered freely and accepted freely.<br />
<br />
Revelation 3:20 says, “Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him and he with me.” That’s pretty personal, at least at my house. We don’t let just any person come in and eat with us.<br />
<br />
There is someone who sees you—someone who sees all your potential, all you were created to be. Say yes to his knocking. Stop wasting your time, thoughts, and talents worrying about people who haven’t noticed you. Focus your love energy on the one who loves perfectly in return.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Start the Revolution<br />
<br />
Open the door to your room.<br />
<br />
Imagine Jesus walking right in.<br />
<br />
What do you do now?<br />
<br />
Jesus, thank you for paying attention to me. Please come into my life and help me be all I can be. Amen.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
13: For Us<br />
<br />
What, then, shall we say in response to these things? <br />
If God is for us, who can be against us?<br />
<br />
—Romans 8:31<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Math and I have always been archenemies. That’s no surprise; writers and numbers often don’t mix. The problem was, I had to have geometry to graduate. None of it made sense to me; I failed my first test. Handing me the paper with the red F, my teacher moved me to the back of the room. “Obviously you don’t get it, so that is where you belong.” I thought teachers were supposed to help you!<br />
<br />
Are there days when you feel like everyone is against you? Even when you’re trying your hardest?<br />
<br />
Been there. I’ve felt like a Tilt-A-Whirl at the fair, always spinning, spinning, spinning—trying to make (or keep) everybody happy. It was so exhausting! And worst of all, I wasn’t even sure who was the real me.<br />
<br />
Until . . . I really got that God was for me. He wanted me, mess-ups and all. You know what happened when I got that he was for me? I stopped caring so much what others thought of me! At first, it was weird. I was so used to the anxiety of pleasing people. It didn’t take long, though, for me to enjoy the new peace!<br />
<br />
Now, when I sense those old feelings coming up, I remind myself, “If God is for me, who can be against me?” I focus on pleasing the one who loves me perfectly, and let the Lord figure out the rest!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Start the Revolution<br />
<br />
Say this out loud:<br />
<br />
“If God is for me, who can be against me?”<br />
<br />
Thank you that YOU are for me, Jesus! Amen.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
14: Ugly Words<br />
<br />
Whoever touches you touches the apple of his eye.<br />
<br />
—Zechariah 2:8<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
The words on Facebook glared back at her. “You are so ugly! You are fat, annoying, and I hate you!”<br />
<br />
Lindsay just sat there, staring at the screen, baffled. What did I say? What did I do?<br />
<br />
Maybe this has happened to you, or in some way you’ve faced this same type of painful rejection. I recently spotted a T-shirt at the mall that read, “You’re no one until someone talks about you.” How sad! In a world where gossip fuels most of the popular TV shows, it comes as no surprise that mean defines many girls today.<br />
<br />
How can we guard our hearts when someone makes us feel ugly?<br />
<br />
Feeling unaccepted is nothing new. If you read through the whole Bible, you’ll find several characters who felt unloved or rejected. Even Jesus was “despised and rejected by mankind” (Isaiah 53:3).<br />
<br />
Remembering who we are in God’s eyes counteracts the poison of meanness. When I know that I am accepted by God, I can deal with insults. How do you know what God says about you? Read it in his Word:<br />
<br />
• <br />
“My beloved is mine and I am his” (Song of Solomon 2:16).<br />
<br />
• <br />
“You’re beautiful from head to toe, my dear love, beautiful beyond compare, absolutely flawless” (Song of Solomon 4:7, The Message).<br />
<br />
• <br />
“You are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s special possession” (1 Peter 2:9).<br />
<br />
I put truth everywhere, so I can read it over and over again. When we feel rejected, these words remind us that we are accepted. But not just accepted—we are the “apple of his eye.”<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Start the Revolution<br />
<br />
Print out some of the verses mentioned here or save them in your phone. Put them where you can see and read them every day.<br />
<br />
Thank you, Jesus, that you are mine and I am yours. Amen.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
15: Crazy Love<br />
<br />
“Though the mountains be shaken and the hills be removed, <br />
yet my unfailing love for you will not be shaken nor my covenant <br />
of peace be removed,” says the Lord, who has compassion on you.<br />
<br />
—Isaiah 54:10<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
“Hurry! Hurry! You’ll be too late!” I shouted at the screen. You’d think I’d never seen this movie before. In fact, I’ve watched it over and over. I know the hero will come right at the last second, risking his life to save hers.<br />
<br />
Like the girl in the movie, we want to be desired, fought for, pursued. And we are.<br />
<br />
Our Creator pursues us. He gave up his life, paying a great price to come and rescue us.<br />
<br />
There were times in my life when I saw Jesus as my Savior, Shepherd, and friend. But it wasn’t until I read the following verses and realized the magnitude and depth of his love for me that I saw how valuable I am to him:<br />
<br />
<br />
Don’t be afraid, I’ve redeemed you. I’ve called your name. You’re mine. When you’re in over your head, I’ll be there with you. When you’re in rough waters, you will not go down. When you’re between a rock and a hard place, it won’t be a dead end—Because I am God, your personal God, The Holy of Israel, your Savior. I paid a huge price for <br />
you. . . . That’s how much you mean to me! That’s how much I love you! I’d sell off the whole world to get you back, trade the creation just for you. (Isaiah 43:1-4, The Message)<br />
<br />
He’d give up everything just for me? The whole world? That’s crazy! This truth satisfied a deep longing in my heart, a longing I didn’t even know I had. This is the love that fills the love gaps in my wanting heart and answers the question: Am I valuable enough to be pursued?<br />
<br />
Yes, I am. And so are you, my friend.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Start the Revolution<br />
<br />
Watch your favorite romantic movie and remember that Jesus is pursuing you too!<br />
<br />
Jesus, thank you for giving up everything for me! Amen.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
16: Wild<br />
<br />
Be here—the king is wild for you. Since he’s your lord, adore him.<br />
<br />
—Psalm 45:11 (The Message)<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
“He loved me; but did he like me?” I grew up learning about salvation and Jesus dying for my sins, so I got that he loved me. Did he like me, though? When he looked at me, was he disappointed in me? What could I do to get him to like me more?<br />
<br />
I wish I could understand where such warped thinking came from. Maybe it’s the fake society we live in. We have “friends” who “like” us in front of us, but behind us, they are quick to tell all the ways we annoy them. Could the same be true of Jesus?<br />
<br />
Then I discovered the truth. Even knowing my deepest thoughts, my darkest deeds, and my disappointing attitudes didn’t change his loving thoughts toward me.<br />
<br />
He didn’t die for me because he had to; he did it because he wanted to! He did it because he is wild about me! He was on the day he died; he is still today.<br />
<br />
In the New International Version, our verse today says, “Let the king be enthralled by your beauty.” Enthralled means to be captivated or charmed. When he looks at you, not only does he like you, not only does he love you, he’s captivated by you! He can’t take his eyes off you. He’s crazy about you!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Start the Revolution<br />
<br />
How do you feel about your most favorite things in the whole world? Jesus loves you like that!<br />
<br />
Think of one thing that you think Jesus likes about you. Now think of one thing you like about him. <br />
Make these into your prayer today.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
17: Chosen<br />
<br />
For he chose us in him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in his sight. In love he predestined us for adoption to sonship through Jesus Christ, in accordance with his pleasure and will.<br />
<br />
—Ephesians 1:4, 5<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
“If I had known she was going to tell my secrets, I would have never become friends with her!” “If I had known he was going to dump me, I would have never gone out with him!” “If I had known that this was the way it was going to turn out, I would have never ________ !” (Fill in the blank.) Ever have these thoughts?<br />
<br />
Just think of this: God did know exactly the way <br />
everything was going to turn out when it came to his relationship with us—and he still created us! He knew some would reject him: “I don’t want that!” He knew others would say “Not now. Maybe after college.” He knew some would break his heart.<br />
<br />
He also knew some would love him deeply. This is why he still chooses to put his heart out there and risk rejection. He does it again and again because he wants close, intimate relationship with us. He is willing to go through the pain of rejection from some in order to experience the joy of chosen love from others.<br />
<br />
Why would he go through this? Because love is only valuable when love is chosen.<br />
<br />
Jesus doesn’t need love from us; he is already complete in the relationship he has with the Father and the Holy Spirit. He does, however, want a relationship with us.<br />
<br />
Don’t take this invitation lightly, friend. The Creator of the universe wants to interact daily and relate with you. Don’t let this opportunity for real love pass you by. Choose his deep love.<br />
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<br />
<br />
Start the Revolution<br />
<br />
Make an invitation from God to you. Be sure to spend some extra time with him this week.<br />
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Jesus, may I never say no, or later, to what you offer me. Today I am saying yes to you! Amen.<br />
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18: Lenses<br />
<br />
For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; <br />
then we shall see face to face.<br />
<br />
—1 Corinthians 13:12<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Ever seen a girl who had no idea that a certain guy was crazy about her? Let me tell you about Abby and John.<br />
<br />
Abby is an absolutely adorable girl. One of Abby’s best friends is John. Abby and John do everything together. One day when I was hanging out with their friend Megan, she said, “I wish I had a best friend like John.”<br />
<br />
I thought, Best friends? No way. John has it bad for Abby.<br />
<br />
Several months later, I was with Megan when she said, “Guess what? John told Abby he’s liked her this whole time!”<br />
<br />
“Really?!” I replied with a grin.<br />
<br />
Abby didn’t see herself as a girl who was wanted. When she looked in the mirror, she saw a skinny girl with braces. But that isn’t what John saw at all!<br />
<br />
A lot of us are just like Abby. When we look at ourselves, we don’t see what Jesus sees. Mirrors can distort our vision. But someday when we see him face-to-face, we’ll see in his eyes a true reflection. Until then we need to remind ourselves of the truth that Jesus sees us as beautiful and is crazy about us. Then our confidence will be built on something that can never be taken from us.<br />
<br />
Today, look at your life as the girl in the know, like I was in the know about John and Abby. Look through the lenses of a girl who is being pursued and fought over. What does your world really look like through the lenses of one who is wanted?<br />
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<br />
Start the Revolution<br />
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Look through a magnifying glass. Remember: Jesus’ vision magnifies all the best in you.<br />
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Give me your lenses, Jesus. Amen.<br />
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19: How You’re Made<br />
<br />
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; <br />
your words are wonderful, I know that full well.<br />
<br />
—Psalm 139:14<br />
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<br />
<br />
I hate the number, the one staring back at me on the scale today. I try not to care, to not let that number have power over how I feel.<br />
<br />
But it’s hard.<br />
<br />
I feel pressure to fit into skinny jeans, to avoid at all costs having a muffin top or flabby legs. Some of the pressure comes from society: commercials, magazines, movies, and TV shows. Hollywood makes it hard on us girls! Perfect bodies, hair, and teeth—it’s exhausting to even think of keeping up with it all.<br />
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Other days, the pressure comes from within. I look in the mirror; I see the teeth that never had braces. Would that have made me feel more beautiful? Is it too late?<br />
<br />
It’s not just the teeth; my chest could really use some help too. And so on and so on . . .<br />
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This is where our battles take place: on the scale, in front of the mirror, in the closet. And this is where we need to fight back!<br />
<br />
Stand on your battleground and ask Jesus for help. Consider the beauty of our Lord and Savior, and let him define for you what true beauty is. Repeat today’s verse: “I am wonderfully made!”<br />
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<br />
Start the Revolution<br />
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Arm yourself for battle. Use the sword of the Spirit—God’s Word—as you face your battle today.<br />
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Jesus, I don’t want to offend you and criticize the way you made me, but I could really use some help here. Open my eyes to show me what you see. Amen.<br />
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20: Everlasting<br />
<br />
The Lord appeared to us in the past, saying: “I have loved you with <br />
an everlasting love; I have drawn you with unfailing kindness.”<br />
<br />
—Jeremiah 31:3<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Name some things in your life that are eternal. Things that never end. Pretty short list, isn’t it?<br />
<br />
One thing on your list should be the love of God. He’s been loving you and will love you forever: before he created you, in this short gap called life, and when you leave this earth. How incredible! You would think that, since we have this kind of unending love from God, it would be a no-brainer to invest in loving him back. Even though we receive this perfect love, though, sometimes we fail. We spend much of our efforts on things that are not eternal. And so little energy returning the love that is.<br />
<br />
In most relationships, when we don’t call or reach out and show we care, those relationships falter or even fall apart. Ever have a best friend move away or go to a different school? Relationships that are not convenient are often hard to keep.<br />
<br />
God’s love is not like that! He keeps reaching out to us with his everlasting love, no matter what! His is not a love we should take for granted; we need to meet with him, loving him back, every day!<br />
<br />
It can be easy to forget God in the day-to-day details of our busy lives. We allow things, both good and bad, to crowd him out. But even then his response is to draw us back; he wants us so much!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Start the Revolution<br />
<br />
What will you do today to put energy back into your relationship with him?<br />
<br />
Thank you, Jesus, for such a perfect, everlasting love. Amen.<br />
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21: Lavish<br />
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See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are! The reason the world does not know us is that it did not know him.<br />
<br />
—1 John 3:1<br />
<br />
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<br />
Whenever I read my Bible and see the word love, I just have to start digging. I guess I must be one desperate girl, because I just can’t seem to get enough.<br />
<br />
Today’s key verse tells us that the Father has lavished his great love on us. <br />
Lavished isn’t a word in my everyday vocabulary. Dictionary.com says it means: “to expend or give in great amounts or without limit.”<br />
<br />
Have you ever been squeezing someone in a giant bear hug and they squeak out “Stop!”? Maybe their love language isn’t physical touch! Possibly you’ve had a friend wish you didn’t call so much, or a guy who thought you were spending too much time with each other.<br />
<br />
Not so with God! There is no point at which God says “OK, that’s enough,” when it comes to his love. It’s impossible for him to spoil you, so he just keeps giving and giving.<br />
<br />
One of the ways he expresses this crazy, luxurious love is by calling us his children. YOU are the child of God! You belong to the one who owns and created everything.<br />
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<br />
<br />
Start the Revolution<br />
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Are you proud of the name “Christian”?<br />
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What does it mean to you?<br />
<br />
Thank you for calling me your child. Thank you for adopting me and making me your own. Amen.<br />
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22: Wanted<br />
<br />
It’s in Christ that we find out who we are and what we are living for. Long before we first heard of Christ and got our hopes up, he had his eye on us, had designs on us for glorious living, part of the overall <br />
purpose he is working out in everything and everyone.<br />
<br />
—Ephesians 1:11, 12 (The Message)<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
If you read His Revolutionary Love, you know I was a stalker-type girl at one point. I schemed and planned about how I could spend the rest of my life with Greg. Here’s an example of how over the top I was. In my sophomore year I didn’t buy my yearbook. I figured that, since Greg was a senior at the same school, we would already have his copy when we someday got married! Can you even believe me? (Seriously, I either needed help or I had really crazy faith! Maybe both?)<br />
<br />
This type of thinking can really tank a girl in the pit of self-pity. Daydreaming to the point of obsession can end up being just another reminder that you aren’t wanted!<br />
<br />
I am so glad that Jesus took care of all that! Talk about feeling wanted! Today’s verse says that before I even heard of Christ, he had chosen me. He already had a plan in place for us to be together. He worked out all the details for how he was going to bring my life and his incredible plan together!<br />
<br />
When we focus on this reality, that Jesus wants us and has an amazing future for us, it builds confidence in our hearts. This kind of confidence empowers us to be joyful—with or without that guy we’ve been stalking!<br />
<br />
Find out whose you are and what you’re living for. Become a Jesus stalker! You know all that time you spend (or waste) thinking about that guy, cruising his Facebook page, reading his tweets? Just think how much more amazing you would become if you took this same time and energy and stalked Jesus! That wouldn’t be time wasted; it would be time invested!<br />
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<br />
<br />
Start the Revolution<br />
<br />
Be a Jesus stalker today. Read his messages over and over again. Find out where he’s working, and join him!<br />
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Jesus, help me to become a Jesus stalker! Amen.<br />
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23: Undeserved<br />
<br />
It wasn’t so long ago that you were mired in that old stagnant life of sin. . . . It’s a wonder God didn’t lose his temper and do away with the whole lot of us. Instead, immense in mercy and with an incredible love, he embraced us. He took our sin-dead lives and made us alive in Christ. He did all this on his own, with no help from us!<br />
<br />
—Ephesians 2:1-5 (The Message)<br />
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<br />
Ever have someone be kind to you when you deserved the worst? I was in a hurry. (Then again, when am I not? I think I was just born stuck in high gear.) I hopped into my little black car, shoved my gearshift into reverse, floored the gas—and slammed right into a huge mulch pile. There, for the entire world to see, shone a new crack in my bumper.<br />
<br />
You know what worried me most? Not the cost of the repair. Not the expense of my newly increased insurance bill. What really concerned me was my husband’s reaction. I just knew that he was going to be sooooo mad. If not that, he’d be really disappointed in me. I hated to have to deliver the bad news!<br />
<br />
But when I finally did tell Greg, do you know what he did? He forgave me. He looked at the crack and said, “I know you didn’t mean to.”<br />
<br />
I really didn’t see that coming! I thought I’d get what I deserved—yelled at! Greg had every reason to lose his temper, but he didn’t. Instead, he totally demonstrated the love of Jesus.<br />
<br />
I deserve to be yelled at—and a lot more—by God. For the sins I’ve committed, I deserve death. But instead, Jesus forgives me and gives me a new life. He shows me mercy—a gift of love I will never deserve.<br />
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<br />
<br />
Start the Revolution<br />
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Who in your life needs love they don’t deserve?<br />
<br />
Spill out some mercy on those around you today.<br />
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Show me who needs your love today, Jesus, <br />
and let it pour out through me. Amen.<br />
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24: Measuring Up<br />
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I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, <br />
together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.<br />
<br />
—Ephesians 3:17-19<br />
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What rattles your confidence and pushes your insecurity buttons? My thing is being around success. Somehow, I breathe in the lie that all people are created in the same way, so we should all be able to do the same things.<br />
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I can’t stand the insecurity coming up inside me. It’s like the last time I got the flu.<br />
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What does it for you? The look and giggle as you walk down the hall. Striking out—for the third time in a row? Having a teacher read test scores out loud? All these events have something in common: comparison. We feel as if our best is being compared to another’s, and we just don’t measure up.<br />
<br />
This shifty thing called self-esteem can create trouble, even for the most secure. It’s a trial that won’t go away, no matter what your age. So what’s a girl to do?<br />
<br />
Base your esteem on the one constant: Christ’s love for and in you. His perfect love never changes. Here, rooted in this solid love, we can rest secure. The more we understand how endless his love truly is, the more stable we will be—inside and out.<br />
<br />
When bad things happen—and they will, over and over again—we can keep going back to his unshakable devotion. We can return to the truth of his radical love and have it fill our aching hearts again and again.<br />
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<br />
<br />
Start the Revolution<br />
<br />
Read today’s passage again.<br />
<br />
Allow the truth of the depth of his love to fill your heart’s gap.<br />
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Jesus, help me remember that whatever happens today, it isn’t anything that your powerful love and I <br />
cannot handle together! Amen.<br />
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25: Sing It<br />
<br />
By day the Lord directs his love, at night his song is with me—<br />
a prayer to the God of my life.<br />
<br />
—Psalm 42:8<br />
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<br />
Don’t you love when you feel strong? There have been different seasons in my life when I have been very fit. When I was fifteen, I ran my first half marathon. I loved the ability to go out and just run and run and run. It made me feel powerful—free.<br />
<br />
There is another time when I feel strong: in the morning. During my favorite time of the day, I spend quiet moments with Jesus. Filling my heart and mind with just what I need to make it through the day—love and hope. Seriously, sometimes I actually giggle when I’m gathering my Bible and journal. I just love it.<br />
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Nighttime, though, can be really hard. As I lie in bed, my mind swirls, pulling me into a spiral focus on my troubles. Inside my heart, a war goes on between faith and fear.<br />
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Do you ever struggle at night? Maybe you have thoughts like these: “Nobody else is home alone. Other people are out together, having fun, while I’m here alone.”<br />
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We can take a cue from David. During the day, he allowed the Lord’s love for him to give him direction. Knowing he was loved gave him the strength to make the hard choices that were the best choices. Then at night he put away all the words and hard thinking and just sang praise to God.<br />
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<br />
<br />
Start the Revolution<br />
<br />
Choose a song to sing—a song that thanks him for his deep love for you! Sing this song tonight as you lie in bed.<br />
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Today, make your prayer a song to him—<br />
even if it isn’t night.<br />
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26: Make a List<br />
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How beautiful you are, my darling! Oh, how beautiful! <br />
Your eyes behind your veil are doves. Your hair is like a flock of goats descending from the hills of Gilead.<br />
<br />
—Song of Solomon 4:1<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
“I am in love!” she tells you. Then she begins to tell you everything that is so wonderful about her guy:<br />
<br />
• His smile when I walk into the room.<br />
<br />
• His manners. He even opens my door!<br />
<br />
• He only has eyes for me.<br />
<br />
• He’s a guy’s guy, totally manly!<br />
<br />
• I feel beautiful when I am with him.<br />
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At this point, you’ve probably heard enough and are trying to figure out some way to get her to stop.<br />
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There is one who does the same about you; he goes on and on. Throughout the Bible, God expresses his love for us. And one book in particular is said to reflect the love of God for his creation: Song of Solomon. It’s not hard to see just how wild about you he is. Here are some descriptions from Song of Solomon 4 (The Message):<br />
<br />
• You’re so beautiful.<br />
<br />
• Your smile is generous and full.<br />
<br />
• You’ve captured my heart, dear friend.<br />
<br />
• How beautiful your love, dear, dear friend.<br />
<br />
He goes on and on, saying: “You’re beautiful from head to toe, my dear love, beautiful beyond compare, absolutely flawless” (v. 7).<br />
<br />
Radical girl, if he has filled a whole book on how crazy he is about you, how about starting a journal about why you are wild about him? You’ll need a lot of pages to describe your amazing Lord.<br />
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<br />
<br />
Start the Revolution<br />
<br />
Start a journal. Here’s a first line: I’m crazy about him because he’s crazy about me!<br />
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Jesus, I can’t wait to dive into your Word and learn just how amazing you are! Amen.<br />
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27: Hopefully in Love<br />
<br />
You’ve captured my heart, dear friend. You looked at me, and I fell in love. One look my way and I was hopelessly in love!”<br />
<br />
—Song of Solomon 4:9 (The Message)<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Maybe you’re still having a hard time believing that Jesus is in love with you. Does your mind think Why? What’s so great about me? Possibly a lack of a boyfriend is what makes it hard for you to believe that you could capture the heart of anyone!<br />
<br />
But you have. The picture painted in Song of Solomon is one of a King utterly in love with the object of his devotion. Let’s consider the image of two guys. First, there’s the typical guy at your school: young, immature, still trying to figure life out, insecure, selfish . . . need we go on? Contrast him to Jesus: perfect, all-knowing, and unconditionally loving—the very definition of unselfish.<br />
<br />
Now who are you going to believe when it comes to your lovability level? That crush who is crushing you or the one who is flipped-out, madly in love with you?<br />
<br />
Since you can see and hear your crush, it makes it easier to believe him. Seeing all the couples at school holding hands, going out, texting, tweeting . . . it makes it hard not to view that picture as the only kind of love. But if you’ll take some time to look a little deeper, you can see the shallowness of this type of relationship. Often it is filled with the “what can you do for me” mentality. Rarely is it unselfish and about the benefit of the other person.<br />
<br />
The love that loves no matter what you do, the love that only wants to know you—that is real love.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Start the Revolution<br />
<br />
If you’re stuck thinking you are unlovable—look again, through the eyes of Jesus.<br />
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Jesus, please fill that gap in my heart that wants a crush I can touch. You are all I need! Amen.<br />
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<br />
28: Unselfish Love<br />
<br />
I have made you known to them, and will continue to make you known in order that the love you have for me may be in them <br />
and that I myself may be in them.<br />
<br />
—John 17:26<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Jesus, speaking to his Father God in this verse, says he is going to continue what he started: sharing with everyone he can about his Father. Jesus wants us to get the depth of love that exists between himself and God.<br />
<br />
It’s unfortunate that in the English language we have only one word for love. Love can have so many different meanings! You can love your parents, love the beach, and love going to church—all completely different kinds of love.<br />
<br />
In the study notes of my Bible, it says that the word for love in this verse is agape. Agape love is so different from the types of love we usually live out. Agape isn’t just a feeling; it’s a choice that is made to value and treat as precious the one it loves. It’s isn’t about what’s in it for me; it’s all about how the one loving can benefit the one loved.<br />
<br />
This is the perfect love that Jesus has for us. It’s rooted in unselfishness and is pure. Agape love is the love that Jesus wants us to have in us, so that his love can live out of us.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Start the Revolution<br />
<br />
Choose to show love today—especially to someone not easy for you to love.<br />
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Jesus, the “love” I know depends on feelings. Fill me with your perfect agape love and give me the strength<br />
to pour out your love on others. Amen.<br />
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<br />
29: He Fought for You<br />
<br />
My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all; <br />
no one can snatch them out of my Father’s hand.<br />
<br />
—John 10:29<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I have never been fought over. Never. Not for a team on the playground. Not between two girls who wanted to be my best friend. For sure not between two guys. Unless you count that dream I had after watching the first Pirates of the Caribbean movie. Seriously though, I don’t think that counts.<br />
<br />
There was a side of me, like Elizabeth in that movie, that wanted to be fought over! Part of me just wanted to know that someone was so crazy about me, he’d do anything for me.<br />
<br />
When I read today’s verse, I heard Jesus saying, “That’s me, Lynn!” Nothing is going to take me away from him, and he will always rescue me. His love compels him to do anything and everything to protect me.<br />
<br />
Read today’s verse out loud. When I read it, I picture Jesus, on the day I gave him my life, standing up and shouting for all to hear: “This one is mine!”<br />
<br />
I don’t have to wish that someone would fight over me, and neither do you. Jesus already did, on the cross. This was more than just a few thrown punches. Jesus fought to the death and beat Satan by a long shot!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Start the Revolution<br />
<br />
Read today’s verse out loud, shouting it out!<br />
<br />
Put your name in place of “them.”<br />
<br />
Jesus, you are my rescuer! Thank you for fighting <br />
for me then, and every day since! Amen.<br />
<br />
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<br />
30: He Got There First<br />
<br />
We love because he first loved us.<br />
<br />
—1 John 4:19<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
There is something very powerful about our first crush. I should know; mine lasted seven years . . . and then I married him!<br />
<br />
You know, when I first fell for Greg, it was kind of weird. I mean, I didn’t even know him. That first time he called, I couldn’t put his face and name together in my mind. One thing I did know. Someone—a boy someone—was calling me, and I liked it!<br />
<br />
I hate to admit that being wanted was my reason for letting this crush even begin. But it’s the truth. There is something almost riveting about having someone like you first.<br />
<br />
I’m sure that is what first got me about Jesus too. As embarrassed as I am to admit that, it helps knowing that I am not the only one! When John wrote a letter to the churches in Asia, he made this statement: “We love because he first loved us.”<br />
<br />
I guess it’s just human nature: when we are loved, we find it a lot easier to return love.<br />
<br />
So now that you know he loves you, and loves you greatly, it’s time to spread it around. Spread it first back to Jesus and then on to all those around you. Let this love fill your heart until it can’t help but spill out. Get so full with his love, there is nothing that can hold it back. Love because he first loved you.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Start the Revolution<br />
<br />
Love someone today, because Jesus loved you first.<br />
<br />
Jesus, you loved me before I even knew about you. <br />
Fill me up so I can pour you out! Amen.<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
31: Refuge<br />
<br />
The Lord is good, a strong refuge when trouble comes.<br />
He is close to those who trust in him.<br />
<br />
—Nahum 1:7 (NLT)<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
There’s not a ton of hugs or snuggling going on around here; I live in a house of people whose love language is not physical touch. In fact, we just might ask you to move over if you get too close on the couch. We all love each other; we just don’t show it with slobbery kisses and bear crushes.<br />
<br />
One of the many things I love about God is that every language is his love language. Words of affirmation, quality time, gifts, acts of service—he loves them all. And it is absolutely impossible to get too close to this one who loves you so much.<br />
<br />
Love is vulnerable; love is open. In fact, those qualities are exactly what it takes to let this radical love of Jesus revolutionize your life. Today’s verse says he is close to those who trust in him. When you know that you are loved, it is not hard to trust. You know that the person has your best at heart each time, every time.<br />
<br />
When we make a choice to depend on his love in our hard situations, it will cause us to draw closer to him than we were before, and he wants that! The confidence we gain from giving our troubles to the one who can be trusted will be a confidence we can rely on again and again.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Start the Revolution<br />
<br />
Memorize Nahum 1:7.<br />
<br />
I want you close to me, Jesus! I want to run to your strength and love again and again! Amen.<br />
<br />
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<br />
32: Rescue<br />
<br />
Who is this, robed in splendor, striding forward in the greatness of his strength? “It is I, proclaiming victory, mighty to save.”<br />
<br />
—Isaiah 63:1<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Anyone who knows me knows I am crazy about movies set back in time, such as A Little Princess and Braveheart. Throw a little romance in there, and I am hooked!<br />
<br />
Today’s verse reminds me of a time gone by. I picture Aragorn from Lord of the Rings, riding on a horse, rescuing those he loved from evil.<br />
<br />
There are some days when I need someone who loves me to come to my rescue. Pressures around me threaten to pull me under. My own dumb mistakes leave my relationships in a mess. My own thoughts make me feel sad and dejected.<br />
<br />
We don’t have to wish that we lived in a different time, with knights coming to our rescue. We live in a time when a Prince has come to our rescue, and his name is Jesus. There is no reason for us to try to pull ourselves out of our sticky situations we can’t repair. Jesus, who has all power and strength, is ready to come to our rescue. It is so simple; it just takes calling one word: Jesus.<br />
<br />
Simply saying his name brings power into our lives. I really don’t understand it. I just know that when I feel like I can’t take any more, whispering his name brings his peace.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Start the Revolution<br />
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Say his name: Jesus.<br />
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Experience the peace of the one who rescues you.<br />
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Jesus, I can’t ever repay you for rescuing me. <br />
Thank you for giving me your strength. Amen.<br />
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33: He Bends<br />
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I led them with cords of human kindness, with ties of love. <br />
To them I was like one who lifts a little child to the cheek, <br />
and I bent down to feed them.<br />
<br />
—Hosea 11:4<br />
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How could I have messed up . . . again? Falling for that same old trap? I didn’t mean to. It wasn’t like I was purposefully trying to make her look bad.<br />
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I feel awful; the weight of sin is pulling me under. I’ll just never be who I want to be. Seeking relief, I begin to pray.<br />
<br />
Truth comes to my rescue. Coming alongside the mud pit of discouragement that I have thrown myself into, Jesus leads me. He picks me up, whispering, “I forgive you.” He opens his arms of love wide, inviting me to come and accept his forgiveness. Yes, his heart for me is obedience, but right now, he just reminds me his care isn’t based on my being perfect.<br />
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Even as we are learning just how crazy Jesus is about us, some days our own inability to get things right drags us under. God stoops to us, loving us in a way we can understand and receive. He bends down to meet me so I can accept his perfect love.<br />
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Can you picture it? Ever see a father swing his little girl up high? In Daddy’s arms she feels both thrilled with and safe in his strength. Ever watch a father feed his child, bending to give her one bite at a time? She depends on him for food, and she trusts that what he gives her will be good. We have a perfect Father, who wants to protect and nourish us, just as we are. We don’t have to become lovable; we just have to let his love in. Jesus takes care of the changing.<br />
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Start the Revolution<br />
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When you are feeling down, run to him. Tell him how you feel, then rest quietly, allowing him to tell you how much he adores you.<br />
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Jesus, I need to know your love, especially on the days when I feel down about myself. I just can’t get enough of you or your love. Amen.<br />
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34: Different<br />
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You will be a crown of splendor in the Lord’s hand, <br />
a royal diadem in the hand of your God.<br />
<br />
—Isaiah 62:3<br />
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“I can’t stop thinking about my weight,” Mandy confessed. “Every time I eat, I feel guilty. Even the parts of my body that I know I shouldn’t worry about, I do. I feel trapped. I wish I had long skinny legs like other girls at school.”<br />
<br />
My friend Mandy is slipping down the mountain of comparison and is about to hit bottom. If you looked at her, this conversation would make no sense. She is a gorgeous girl, but that is not what Mandy sees. She sees different. Different from the girls at school. Different from the girls on TV. She doesn’t like different.<br />
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I, too, have gotten caught by comparison. Friendships. Outfits. Success. I know that feeling of being trapped; maybe you do too.<br />
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I’ve found only one escape from the comparison prison: looking to Jesus. When I stop my mind from comparing myself to others and instead look to my Jesus, I am set free from jealousy jail.<br />
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God calls his people a crown of splendor in his hand. When I read this verse, I picture a royal crown, like the one worn by Princess Kate at the royal wedding. Full of diamonds, brilliant and gorgeous. Dictionary.com defines splendor as: grandeur, glory, and brilliant distinction. How’s that for different?<br />
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Friend, God does want you to see yourself as different—a brilliant distinction from every other girl on the earth. It’s up to you to replace the lies in your mind with the truth of who you are.<br />
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<br />
<br />
Start the Revolution<br />
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Today, remind yourself: “I am a crown of splendor in God’s hand.”<br />
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Lord, thank you for making me different. <br />
Help me to see my value as you see it. Amen.<br />
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35: Between Us<br />
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Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? . . . I am convinced <br />
that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the <br />
present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, <br />
nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us <br />
from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.<br />
<br />
—Romans 8:35, 38, 39<br />
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Why didn’t she like me? I had only dated her son a couple of times. But she let him know often how she felt—he told me! Maybe it was one of those “no one is good enough for my boy” deals. I would analyze myself. When I was around her, I tried not to be loud, used my best manners, and made conversation politely.<br />
<br />
None of it worked. Her dislike of me caused us to break up. (That’s probably what she was hoping for!)<br />
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I am so glad Jesus’ love for us is so powerful—nothing can come between us—nothing! No trouble or hardship can separate us from his love. No mother, or any other person, for that matter!<br />
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There may be times when you don’t feel his love; in fact, you may feel just the opposite. Make up your mind today that you will believe this truth: nothing can separate you from Jesus’ love. When the time comes that you feel he’s as far away as he can be, you can go back to this day, when you planted deep in your heart this seed of truth.<br />
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<br />
<br />
Start the Revolution<br />
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Your bond with God is not like other relationships—nothing can separate you from his love.<br />
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Jesus, there are so many things I can’t count on. Thank you that you and your love can be counted on. Amen.<br />
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36: Surprises<br />
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It is the glory of God to conceal a matter;<br />
to search out a matter is the glory of kings.<br />
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—Proverbs 25:2<br />
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Have you ever had someone completely surprise you with a gift? One year for my birthday, Greg planned the perfect surprise! Without my knowing, he had my best friends flown to our town, hid them in a hotel, and then had them sit at our table in a restaurant before we arrived for dinner. When the restaurant hostess asked us if we would mind sharing a table with another couple, I was so mad! This was my birthday! I didn’t want to share this special day with people I didn’t know.<br />
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As we approached the table, the couple’s backs were to us. I was still fuming. When I turned to sit down, I was completely blown away! There were two of the people who meant the most to me! The fact that Greg would work so hard to surprise me was really the best gift of all! It was no easy task to keep this a secret from me. He really wanted me to know that he loved me so much!<br />
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Sometimes I feel like God does the same thing; he creates surprises just to tell me how much he loves me. Since I am a nature freak, that is where I’ve discovered a lot of my surprises. A purple and peach sunset. Fog-cloaked mountains. A turquoise-covered ocean. The first time I went snorkeling I was blown away by the gorgeous treasures hidden under the ocean’s surface. Talk about God hiding a surprise!<br />
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He wants to show you just how much he loves you too! Today, keep your eyes open for God to love on you in the most unexpected ways. Remember, nothing is a coincidence! God is speaking his love to you.<br />
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<br />
<br />
Start the Revolution<br />
<br />
Look out for God’s surprises in your day today.<br />
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Lord, I’ve got my eyes open. Show me your love! Amen.<br />
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37: No Accident<br />
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We remember before our God and Father your work produced by faith, your labor prompted by love, and your endurance inspired by hope in our Lord Jesus Christ. For we know, brothers and sisters loved by God, that he has chosen you, because our gospel came to you not simply with words but also with power, with the Holy Spirit and deep conviction.<br />
<br />
—1 Thessalonians 1:3-5<br />
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I hated Valentine’s Day. Most of all, I hated the annual flower fund-raiser. When that day started though, I was hopeful. Maybe there was someone who would use this day to express how he really felt about me. First block of classes, second block, lunch. Nothing. Fourth block. . . . Then the “flower girl” glided into our room.<br />
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She called my name! I saw it—the pink flower. My heart began to flutter. Then I saw who it was from. Really? Him?<br />
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For a brief second, I allowed myself to get excited.<br />
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Then reality kicked in. There’s no way this can be true. He was popular; I was not. There’s no way he would want me. I shoved the flower down in my backpack. I feared it wasn’t real, so I acted like it never happened. Never knowing the truth was better than finding out it was a joke.<br />
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Since then I have discovered Jesus has chosen me—chosen a life for me. He has work for me to do, through faith and love and endurance. You too are chosen! You are not an accident, nor a mistake. You are a person of worth and purpose created by God, and through him you can have power and conviction.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Start the Revolution<br />
<br />
Find out more about God’s chosen people in the Bible.<br />
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Lord, I’m trying to get it: you have chosen me and my value comes from you. Thank you! Amen.<br />
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38: Return to Me<br />
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“Return to me, and I will return to you,” says the Lord Almighty.<br />
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—Malachi 3:7<br />
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Your weekend with the girls got out of control, and you found yourself in the center of the gossip storm. The small disagreement with your parents escalated, ending in a grounding because you became disrespectful. That peck on the cheek became so much more, and now you feel shame.<br />
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Sin. It leaves us feeling awful—embarrassed and shameful.<br />
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When you sin, does God say “I can’t believe you! I’m so disappointed”? Does he turn away from us? His Word doesn’t lead me to believe that. In fact, he tells us exactly what to do when we are in this place: “Return to me, and I will return to you.”<br />
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In this passage, God’s people had been ripping him off. He was blessing them, and they were keeping it all to themselves, not giving any back to him. He instructs them on how to get back to serving him. “Return to me and I’ll return to you. Start bringing your tithe into the temple; do what is right. You take the first step toward me, and I’ll take the next step toward you.”<br />
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If you need to return to him, start by asking for forgiveness. Then do the right thing. Admit to your friends you were wrong to gossip. Ask your parents to forgive your disrespect. Break up with the boy. Return to Jesus. You’ll find he is right there, ready to have you back.<br />
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<br />
<br />
Start the Revolution<br />
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Have you turned away from God?<br />
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What steps do you need to take now?<br />
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Jesus, it is so easy to mess up. Thank you for making it simple, through forgiveness, to come back. Amen.<br />
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39: On Fire<br />
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Place me like a seal over your heart, like a seal on your arm; <br />
for love is as strong as death, its jealousy unyielding as the grave. <br />
It burns like blazing fire, like a mighty flame. Many waters cannot quench love; rivers cannot sweep it away. If one were to give all the wealth of one’s house for love, it would be utterly scorned.<br />
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—Song of Solomon 8:6, 7<br />
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Love is very powerful. Wars have been started for love. Families have been betrayed for love. People have died for love. That’s the power of human love.<br />
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Multiply that by a number bigger than we can conceive, and that would represent the power of God’s love for us. Love of this kind is not hot today and moved on to somewhere else by tomorrow. It has the ability to stay no matter what comes; there is no trouble that can cause God to run.<br />
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When his love becomes the thing we live for, it creates a fire in our lives—a passion that gives our lives purpose and meaning. He becomes the reason for the decisions we make.<br />
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Radical girl, you need more to live for than the next boyfriend, the next party, or the next weekend. Jesus is that thing.<br />
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<br />
<br />
Start the Revolution<br />
<br />
Look at the images of God’s love in these verses. Paint your own word pictures. How do you describe his love?<br />
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Jesus, set your love for me as a seal over my heart. May you be the one thing I live for. Amen.<br />
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40: His Ideas<br />
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No eye has seen, no ear has heard, and no mind has imagined what God has prepared for those who love him.<br />
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—1 Corinthians 2:9 (NLT )<br />
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Have you ever prepared a surprise for someone you loved? Weren’t you just so excited to see them completely blown away by your gift?<br />
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I knew she would love it! Her favorite band was in America—all the way from England. It might possibly be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity; so I bought her the concert tickets.<br />
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It was all I could do to keep it a secret! I told her sister, making her take a vow of silence. (I had to tell at least one person!)<br />
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Her birthday finally came. When she opened her gift, she let out a scream! She was completely shocked! (You know, it’s possible to get someone something they want, and it’s possible to get someone a surprise, but to surprise them with something they want is a huge feat!)<br />
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Those concert tickets were nothing compared to what God says he has conceived for you! The God who has access to the best of the best prepared a plan for you, and he is just waiting to bring it all together. Our lives are like puzzle pieces, and at just the right time, God brings another piece in to create the whole picture. Our part? Just keep loving and obeying him.<br />
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<br />
<br />
Start the Revolution<br />
<br />
Give a small gift to someone just because. Think about the joy God has in store for each of us.<br />
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Jesus, all I can say is, bring it on! I can’t wait to <br />
see the amazing love you have prepared for me. <br />
Empower me to stay close to you so that you can bring all the puzzle pieces together. Amen.<br />
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41: Because<br />
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But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions—<br />
it is by grace you have been saved.<br />
<br />
—Ephesians 2:4, 5<br />
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Because. There’s a word we use all the time. “I can’t pick up my bedroom, because I am doing my homework!” “I ate the last piece of cake because I wanted to!” Because.<br />
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A lot of the time when we use that word, it’s pretty empty. It’s a signal of an excuse coming up—and usually an illegitimate excuse. Or maybe just a reason without any explanation: “Because I said so.”<br />
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But in this verse, because isn’t empty. It’s full of purpose, of meaning, and of love.<br />
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Because of love. Because of love, when God looked at us, he chose to make us alive. Because of love, he chose to send Jesus. Because of love, he gave us new life. Even though there was no reason in us to do it.<br />
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It’s your turn now. Your turn to say because. Because he first loved me, I live my life for him. Because he first loved me, I choose to honor him. Because he first loved me, I choose his way and not my own.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Start the Revolution<br />
<br />
How do you use the word because?<br />
<br />
What will you do because of God’s love for you?<br />
<br />
Jesus, you offer me everything. <br />
Help me to give you my everything in return. Amen.</div>
M. C. Pearsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13777325241098466381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17875082.post-52953905754057997762012-11-30T15:45:00.001-05:002012-11-30T16:03:14.015-05:00Readers Favorites Award Ceremony<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9lpSgBBi355ReWqIvujJtPtLRjjV7LR0mxYMWhFb3ZBCxqsHG8rW7-j1vqivu_qX7kLAZtLpnfC4KqjJ61m_nUkf18tS-cv8osSFZiCSyizi41AkM1rvQjM_pcVQdtjX_GNlAtQ/s1600/bronze.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9lpSgBBi355ReWqIvujJtPtLRjjV7LR0mxYMWhFb3ZBCxqsHG8rW7-j1vqivu_qX7kLAZtLpnfC4KqjJ61m_nUkf18tS-cv8osSFZiCSyizi41AkM1rvQjM_pcVQdtjX_GNlAtQ/s1600/bronze.png" /></a></div>
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Hello everyone! This month I went to <a href="http://www.miamibookfair.com/">The Miami Book Fair International</a> for an Awards Ceremony for <a href="http://readersfavorite.com/2012-award-contest-winners.htm">Readers Favorites</a>. My book, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/F-A-I-R-I-E-S-Baptism-Realm-Series-ebook/dp/B0068MYW3K/ref=tmm_kin_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1354307272&sr=8-1">F.A.I.R.I.E.S.: Baptism by Fire</a> won the Bronze for the Christian Fantasy/Sci-Fi division. Here are some of the photos. I had a blast and a half!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU50t9yFwetaCdTPG39qZz73FkBHKpBN010JpfoAkKa4Yavlgawxka0trWsQ35raFwyD7Qk10VlRAnKD6IN9v3V5czWW3D5xGn7mBsQz7yCabb6upN8lOeEV4nhvwWM5RN2ajJyQ/s1600/mimi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU50t9yFwetaCdTPG39qZz73FkBHKpBN010JpfoAkKa4Yavlgawxka0trWsQ35raFwyD7Qk10VlRAnKD6IN9v3V5czWW3D5xGn7mBsQz7yCabb6upN8lOeEV4nhvwWM5RN2ajJyQ/s320/mimi.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Mimi at the Readers Favorites booth</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSIVJYL_-TxUkjYAOXHsnKsqzj8INTQdmGswyea9Cok4Xi05uEMiIf9-HhkiYIt4Jrr8A_WZemdKXn0ZdxSY8uRD4oDQGgBKwhcM9tCBWyaxFZiu0Oc1uk5MLDkfLEENb7BUgLFQ/s1600/DSC01299.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSIVJYL_-TxUkjYAOXHsnKsqzj8INTQdmGswyea9Cok4Xi05uEMiIf9-HhkiYIt4Jrr8A_WZemdKXn0ZdxSY8uRD4oDQGgBKwhcM9tCBWyaxFZiu0Oc1uk5MLDkfLEENb7BUgLFQ/s320/DSC01299.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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Mimi at the Readers Favorites booth</div>
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Mimi with Debra Gaynor, CEO of Readers Favorites at the Readers Favorites booth</div>
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Mimi at the Readers Favorites booth</div>
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My parents at the Readers Favorites booth</div>
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Mimi at the Readers Favorites booth</div>
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Mimi at the Readers Favorites booth</div>
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Mimi at the Readers Favorites booth</div>
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Mimi with Debra Gaynor, CEO of Readers Favorites at the Readers Favorites booth</div>
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<a href="http://www.miamibookfair.com/">The Miami Book Fair International</a> </div>
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<a href="http://www.miamibookfair.com/" style="text-align: -webkit-left;">The Miami Book Fair International</a><span style="text-align: -webkit-left;"> </span></div>
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Mimi at <a href="http://www.miamibookfair.com/">The Miami Book Fair International</a> </div>
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Mimi at <a href="http://www.miamibookfair.com/" style="text-align: -webkit-left;">The Miami Book Fair International</a><span style="text-align: -webkit-left;"> </span></div>
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Readers Favorites Award Ceremony (My parents are in the lower left corner)</div>
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Readers Favorites Award Ceremony (My mom is in the lower left corner)</div>
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Readers Favorites Award Ceremony</div>
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Mimi with author and actor, Paul Michael Glaser, </div>
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best known from his staring roll on the TV series "Starsky & Hutch" at the Awards Ceremony</div>
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Mimi with author and actor, Paul Michael Glaser, </div>
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best known from his staring roll on the TV series "Starsky & Hutch" at the Awards Ceremony</div>
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Author and actor, Paul Michael Glaser, </div>
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best known from his staring roll on the TV series "Starsky & Hutch" at the Awards Ceremony</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrBTwGh6A7uZ6neMYRW6R5ot-ta02JE_z2SEPF3ObIMCpszIBUGCUQ9yC7BzRr-oa9EvJIiVC5xaSyJBHs1NeAebGDBF5mAeVZXJFg2dwk2ayrYzVkJNoUM5fmumeSujDSBLxrzA/s1600/DSC01382.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrBTwGh6A7uZ6neMYRW6R5ot-ta02JE_z2SEPF3ObIMCpszIBUGCUQ9yC7BzRr-oa9EvJIiVC5xaSyJBHs1NeAebGDBF5mAeVZXJFg2dwk2ayrYzVkJNoUM5fmumeSujDSBLxrzA/s320/DSC01382.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Mimi accepting her Bronze for <a href="http://www.amazon.com/F-A-I-R-I-E-S-Baptism-Realm-Series-ebook/dp/B0068MYW3K/ref=tmm_kin_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1354307272&sr=8-1">F.A.I.R.I.E.S.: Baptism by Fire</a> </div>
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Mimi accepting her Bronze for <a href="http://www.amazon.com/F-A-I-R-I-E-S-Baptism-Realm-Series-ebook/dp/B0068MYW3K/ref=tmm_kin_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1354307272&sr=8-1">F.A.I.R.I.E.S.: Baptism by Fire</a> </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwAAeAwnJYU3bACO0spsRFt6HufVZknYcvWYCr4hq-3_a8gT0Yt0zJbxL69SOlGpbXd5v3YOXrhWqhv0q7MVFOumR2LLK3EGuqLVjA5oHxD-X-ZLj7rsyDPDeGO41WY9FB-ETTYw/s1600/DSC01384.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwAAeAwnJYU3bACO0spsRFt6HufVZknYcvWYCr4hq-3_a8gT0Yt0zJbxL69SOlGpbXd5v3YOXrhWqhv0q7MVFOumR2LLK3EGuqLVjA5oHxD-X-ZLj7rsyDPDeGO41WY9FB-ETTYw/s320/DSC01384.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Mimi accepting her Bronze for <a href="http://www.amazon.com/F-A-I-R-I-E-S-Baptism-Realm-Series-ebook/dp/B0068MYW3K/ref=tmm_kin_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1354307272&sr=8-1">F.A.I.R.I.E.S.: Baptism by Fire</a> </div>
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Mimi accepting her Bronze for <a href="http://www.amazon.com/F-A-I-R-I-E-S-Baptism-Realm-Series-ebook/dp/B0068MYW3K/ref=tmm_kin_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1354307272&sr=8-1">F.A.I.R.I.E.S.: Baptism by Fire</a> </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7g4kwmrS9RBNbg3kDvyxTgb-hjXClOVn1mRJkKf_nxvWPa8n5q_6Y5R-xr1L_yJp0fuNnBK0r4u26muVExCc23-bUEM3NGMDKDswXuUDkm6fWGHLISlTsTUm1jq7UDHThCsM9pA/s1600/dsc0424q.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7g4kwmrS9RBNbg3kDvyxTgb-hjXClOVn1mRJkKf_nxvWPa8n5q_6Y5R-xr1L_yJp0fuNnBK0r4u26muVExCc23-bUEM3NGMDKDswXuUDkm6fWGHLISlTsTUm1jq7UDHThCsM9pA/s320/dsc0424q.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Mimi accepting her Bronze for <a href="http://www.amazon.com/F-A-I-R-I-E-S-Baptism-Realm-Series-ebook/dp/B0068MYW3K/ref=tmm_kin_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1354307272&sr=8-1">F.A.I.R.I.E.S.: Baptism by Fire</a> </div>
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Mimi accepting her Bronze for <a href="http://www.amazon.com/F-A-I-R-I-E-S-Baptism-Realm-Series-ebook/dp/B0068MYW3K/ref=tmm_kin_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1354307272&sr=8-1">F.A.I.R.I.E.S.: Baptism by Fire</a> </div>
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Mimi with fellow FIRST member and writer, Paulette Harper </div>
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(she won the 2011 Silver Award for Chiristian Non-Fiction)</div>
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Mimi with fellow FIRST member and writer, Paulette Harper </div>
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(she won the 2011 Silver Award for Chiristian Non-Fiction)</div>
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Mimi with fellow FIRST member and writer, Paulette Harper </div>
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(she won the 2011 Silver Award for Chiristian Non-Fiction)</div>
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Mimi with fellow FIRST member and writer, Paulette Harper </div>
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(she won the 2011 Silver Award for Chiristian Non-Fiction)</div>
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Mimi won the 2012 Bronze for Christian Fantasy/Sci-Fi for </div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/F-A-I-R-I-E-S-Baptism-Realm-Series-ebook/dp/B0068MYW3K/ref=tmm_kin_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1354307272&sr=8-1">.A.I.R.I.E.S.: Baptism by Fire</a></div>
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Mimi with her parents, John and Syl Szeker </div>
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at the Readers Favorites Award Ceremony in Miami</div>
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<br />M. C. Pearsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13777325241098466381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17875082.post-32617985704493027742012-10-11T01:40:00.000-04:002012-10-11T02:03:50.235-04:00The Mustard Seeds by Karen Mueller Bryson<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i><b>What I Thought:</b></i> </blockquote>
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<i>I thought the premise for this book was ideal, and since I know and have worked with kids with Asperger's Syndrome, I thought that I would truly love this book. As I read, I couldn't help thinking that this was written more like a screenplay than a novel. It also felt like a book report instead of a novel...like a detailed book report that stays just far enough away from the action that it reads more like a summary. When I looked at the author bio, I realized that I was smack on about the screenwriting. She is a screenwriter. It also had poor editing. Writing in present tense and using universal point of view doesn't always work in novels. This one is one of those novels. I did like the story line and the whole idea of it. But the writing just wasn't right. Most of all, I do wish that Karen had shown me the story instead of telling me it. You may know that axiom, 'Show, don't tell'. If you don't know what I mean, here's an example of the way she writes...I'll put in the same paragraph idea rewritten to show action:</i></blockquote>
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<i style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 48px;"><span style="color: red;">Karen wrote: </span></i><span style="line-height: 24px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 48px;"><br /><br />Elliot merely grunts in response and heads into his bedroom. Amaryllis follows her nephew into his room, which she’s surprised to see is immaculate. It’s a bit of out of place compared to the chaos of the rest of the house. </span><i><span style="color: red;"><span style="line-height: 24px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 48px;"><br /><br />
I would correct it as something like this:</span> </span></i><span style="line-height: 24px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 48px;"><br /><br />
Elliot grunted as he headed into his bedroom. Amaryllis followed him but stopped short at the doorway. "Oh, my! Do you clean your own room?" </span><br />
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Elliot looked at her. <i>Why does she always make those faces? Is she mad? Confused? Happy?</i> He shrugged and said, "Of course. Mother didn't come into this area. This is my area. You can come in, but don't touch anything." </span><br />
<span style="line-height: 24px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 48px;"><br />Amaryllis cleared her throat. "I mean, um, why isn't the rest of the house like," she waved her hand, indicating his immaculate room, "this?"</span><span style="line-height: 24px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 48px;"><br /></span><span style="line-height: 24px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 48px;"><br />
Elliot sighed. <i>Maybe she's just stupid?</i> "I told you. Mother didn't come in here."</span></blockquote>
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<i>I do hope that Karen keeps trying. The idea was wonderful...but I also hope that she reads a bit more about writing for novels. It is very different than screenplays.</i></blockquote>
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<a href="http://firstwildcardtours.blogspot.com/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480264388542368882" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9wqrdwSX_u2P108nEuvtPVWXb79gjyDCUVIv-_6UOy0b80v-E9tGE91R4ZwF7TJd1co6Yg42vyriXC2_en4z3PKM5sTJCOYWorkmiI2s-4lKbDRpJM27M91XDBudISkhxsCol/s200/FIRSTWildCardTours2.jpg" style="float: left; height: 200px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 145px;" /></a>It is time for a <span style="color: #990000;"><strong><a href="http://firstwildcardtours.blogspot.com/">FIRST Wild Card Tour</a></strong></span> 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! <span style="color: #990000;"><strong>Enjoy your free peek into the book!</strong></span>
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"><em>You never know when I might play a wild card on you!</em></span>
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<strong>Today's Wild Card author is: </strong>
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<strong><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: 180%;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/SITE">Karen Mueller Bryson</a></span></strong>
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<strong><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: 180%;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: 100%;">and the book:</span> </span></strong>
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<strong><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: 180%;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/1478189746">The Mustard Seeds</a></span></strong>
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<span style="text-align: start;">CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform (August 26, 2012)</span></div>
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***Special thanks to Karen Mueller Bryson for sending me a review copy.***
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<strong><span style="color: #333399; font-size: 130%;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">ABOUT THE AUTHOR:</span> </span></strong></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkKEh3HArKP5poNk5jaOvQ2YggHPqNNIGoLygJsoeMmSSYiACq-JXAaUpdEhr-8cbhdRq8ePkLpPptoJk460sa341eraiubLsKCop_MqZpSm83ftYmyy-2zgboMz6_GEnKIhNg/s1600/Karen+200+Smile.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkKEh3HArKP5poNk5jaOvQ2YggHPqNNIGoLygJsoeMmSSYiACq-JXAaUpdEhr-8cbhdRq8ePkLpPptoJk460sa341eraiubLsKCop_MqZpSm83ftYmyy-2zgboMz6_GEnKIhNg/s200/Karen+200+Smile.jpg" width="153" /></a></div>
Dr. Karen Mueller Bryson is an award-winning/optioned screenwriter, produced playwright and published novelist. Karen has been writing since she learned to read and fell in love with books! When she's not at her computer creating new stories, Karen enjoys spending time with her husband and their bloodhounds. Karen is the founder of Short on Time Books, fast-paced and fun novels for readers on the go. Karen is also an Associate Professor of Psychology and Human Services at Ottawa University.<br />
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Visit the author's <a href="http://www.blogger.com/PASTE">website</a>.
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<strong><span style="color: #333399; font-size: 130%;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:</span> </span></strong></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7E4iLWyMBOTdsLAUpRkUqWqm_4gyAStPhbQp_LxO6jGtk8zR43-ZLmXm3sizo_mstkbUEKm1bieBFjBhVvZ_dU-n53KMX_DrHqbWmHF1FwbH9qoAKBEdoUjTbrYLf6VGJSGz4/s1600/Mustard+Seeds+Front+Cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7E4iLWyMBOTdsLAUpRkUqWqm_4gyAStPhbQp_LxO6jGtk8zR43-ZLmXm3sizo_mstkbUEKm1bieBFjBhVvZ_dU-n53KMX_DrHqbWmHF1FwbH9qoAKBEdoUjTbrYLf6VGJSGz4/s200/Mustard+Seeds+Front+Cover.jpg" width="134" /></a>After his mom’s sudden death, Elliot White, a 16-year old musical savant with Asperger’s Syndrome, is forced to leave his performing arts high school in New York City when he relocates to Winslow, Arizona to live with his eccentric aunt, and must attend a school with no music program.<br />
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Product Details:<br />
List Price: $6.95<br />
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Paperback: 128 pages<br />
Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform (August 26, 2012)<br />
Language: English<br />
ISBN-10: 1478189746<br />
ISBN-13: 978-1478189749<br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:</span> </strong>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt;">Sixteen-year-old Elliot White wriggles in an ill-fitting black suit and adjusts Buddy Holly-like glasses as he stares at a sign in front of him. It reads: Discount Funerals (Includes Free Lunch Buffet). Although it should be a somber occasion, all he can think about is his recital later in the afternoon. He finally gets to play the solo piece he has been painstakingly practicing for months. Why did his mom have to die right before his big show?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt;">Elliot’s aunt, 38-year-old Amaryllis Long, adjusts the straps of her black sundress then straightens the substantial crucifix around her neck. She’s not sure she’s ready to bury her only sister—her only sibling. Now she is truly alone in the world. Well, except for Elliot. Amaryllis takes a deep breath, then grabs her nephew by the arm in an effort to lead him into the shabby funeral home.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt;">Elliot flinches as soon as Amaryllis touches him. Touching is not something he prefers to engage in. The act feels painful and foreign. He avoids it whenever possible. It’s one of the many things he avoids because they overwhelm his delicate sensory system.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt;">Inside the funeral home, Elliot and Amaryllis take seats in two of the few folding chairs in the back of the small room. They both stare silently at the closed pine casket, which takes up most of the front part of the room. Finally, Elliot clears his throat. “I have to get back to school in one hour. I have a solo in the spring musical extravaganza.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt;">“Your mother always did have awful timing,” Amaryllis replies.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14pt; font-weight: bold;">♫♪♫</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt;">A short time later, Amaryllis and Elliot make their way into the auditorium of his elite performing arts high school. It’s one of the best in New York City. Amaryllis feels very out of place amongst the instrument-toting teens and their well-dressed parents. She hasn’t stepped foot in a high school since her own graduation twenty years ago. And she certainly doesn’t make many trips out of the Arizona desert.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt;">Amaryllis takes a seat in the packed audience and listens contently as the orchestra plays a rousing medley of classical favorites. In the middle of the final piece, Elliot, still in his funeral attire, stands and plays a stunning solo on his viola. She is amazed at the talent of her own flesh and blood. Although she hasn’t seen him in at least 10 years, her only nephew holds a special place in her heart. And now that her sister’s gone, Amaryllis will be his guardian and caretaker. She shudders slightly at the thought. What does she know about raising children? Or raising any living thing, for that matter. She can’t even keep a houseplant alive.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt;">At the conclusion of Elliot’s solo, the audience erupts in applause and gives the young musician a standing ovation. Elliot simply bows and takes his seat with the rest of the orchestra.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt;">Once the performance is over, there was a small reception for Elliot in the school’s foyer. Elliot finds himself standing awkwardly under a sign, which reads: Farewell, Elliot, We Will Miss You. Next to Elliot is a small folding table with a punch bowl, papers cups and a small tray of butter cookies. Mr. Grubb, the school’s portly orchestra director, stands on the far side of the table, rubbing sweat from his brow with a handkerchief. Both Mr. Grubb and Elliot wait patiently for well-wishers but none are forthcoming. Finally, a little boy with a red Kool-Aid mustache runs up to the table and giggles. He snatches several cookies, shoves them into his mouth and dashes away. Mr. Grubb holds out some hope when a group of teens carrying instruments approaches and it looks like they might stop at the table, but the kids continue down the hallway laughing amongst themselves.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt;">Mr. Grubb glances over at Elliot, who was now picking lint from his suit jacket. “We’ll certainly miss you,” he says warmly.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt;">“I know,” Elliot responds without making eye contact.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14pt; font-weight: bold;">♫♪♫</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt;">The next morning, Amaryllis and Elliot, each carrying several packing boxes, approach a shabby-looking brownstone row house with a FOR RENT sign in the front window.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt;">When they enter the home, Amaryllis is shocked to find the living room in complete disarray. She was not aware of the extent of her sister, Iris’s, mental illness or the fact that she dealt with major depressive episodes for most of Elliot’s life. When Iris got depressed, she holed herself up in her bedroom, sometimes for days at a time, and Elliot was forced to fend for himself.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">“You can pack whatever’ll fit in these boxes,” Amaryllis says matter-of-factly. “The rest’ll have to go to Goodwill. The landlord, bless his soul, said he’d get some friends from church to help him clear the place out.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">Elliot merely grunts in response and heads into his bedroom. Amaryllis follows her nephew into his room, which she’s surprised to see is immaculate. It’s a bit of out of place compared to the chaos of the rest of the house.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">Elliot immediately opens his desk drawer and fills the first box with sheet music that packs the bottom drawer.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">“What is all that?” she asks.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">“My music,” he says and snorts.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">Amaryllis raises an eyebrow.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">Elliot continues, “I have to have my music.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">She watches curiously as he moves to his bookshelf, removes a miniature viola and carefully places it in his second box. She opens the small closet next to her and notes the few shirts and pants hanging there. “Don’t you think we should pack these clothes?”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">Elliot snorts in response. He grabs a framed photo of his mother and him and stares at it for a moment.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">“She’s in a better place,” Amaryllis says as she glances at the photo.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">Elliot grunts again, then places the photo in his box.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">On their way out of the house, a book lying on the sofa catches Amaryllis’s eye. It’s titled Asperger’s Disorder: A Beginner’s Guide. She grabs the copy as they head out the door.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14pt; font-weight: bold;">♫♪♫</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"> They carry filled boxes toward her beater pick-up and load them in the truck’s cab. Amaryllis gets into the driver’s side and Elliot hops into the passenger’s seat. He places a black urn containing his mother’s ashes in his lap and the two began their trip across the country.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">“So, what did my sister tell you about me?” Amaryllis asks, trying to make conversation.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">“My mother? She never said a word about you,” he replies.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">“No surprise there.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">After an awkward moment of silence passes, she says, “Your mother mentioned something about Asperger’s Syndrome.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">Elliot snorts in response.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">“Is there anything I should be aware of?” Amaryllis knows even less about the disorder than she does about raising teenagers.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">Elliot tugs nervously on his earlobe then says, “I’m not like everyone else.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">Amaryllis shrugs. “Neither am I.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">“Aspies’ brains are wired differently. We think differently than neurotypicals.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">“Neurotypicals?”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">“That’s everyone who’s not on the autism spectrum. Which are most people.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">Amaryllis nods. She certainly understands what it feels like to not be like other people. Since she finally has Elliot talking, she tries another question. “Arizona should be quite an adventure for you.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">“I don’t like adventures,” Elliot replies flatly. He turns and looks out the window as the big open country passes by.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">Amaryllis realizes the moment has passed and the conversation is now over.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14pt; font-weight: bold;">♫♪♫</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">It takes several days, but the pair finally makes it to the Arizona border. Amaryllis gives a little hoot as her pick-up rambles past a sign that reads: Arizona - The Grand Canyon State. As they drive through the barren land of northern Arizona, Elliot watches as a lone tumbleweed blows by. His first time out of New York is not yet proving to be eventful.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">“We should be in Winslow in no time,” Amaryllis says, breaking the silence that has lasted since Colorado.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">“Everything looks dead,” Elliot notes.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">She chuckles. “Welcome to Arizona.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14pt; font-weight: bold;">♫♪♫</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">As Amaryllis’s truck rambles down Second Street, she breathes a sigh of relief that they are finally back home. The tired old town of Winslow has seen better days, but its familiarity is a welcome site. As they drive past the ‘Standin’ on a Corner in Winslow, Arizona’ site made famous by the Eagles, a haggard man with a collie walks by a life-sized male statue marking the place for tourists.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">“There it is,” Amaryllis says as she gazes out the window. “The famous corner.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">When Elliot looks out the window, he sees the haggard man’s collie lift his leg on the statue. Elliot looks puzzled. “What’s so famous about that corner?”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">“I guess you’ve never heard of the Eagles.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">“The birds of prey?”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">“The rock band,” Amaryllis replies, immediately feeling older. “Standin’ on the corner in Winslow, Arizona. That doesn’t sound familiar to you?”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">Elliot shakes his head.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">“And you say you’re a musician,” she teases.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">Elliot remains stoic and Amaryllis wonders if he is able to take a joke.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14pt; font-weight: bold;">♫♪♫</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">About ten miles out of town, Amaryllis pulls into the Desert Dream Trailer Park. Seven well-worn double-wides mark the otherwise desolate landscape. One of the double-wides also serves as a make-shift office. A sign over it reads: Welcome to your Desert Dream.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">She pulls her truck up to her trailer and they hop out. They both take a much-needed stretch after the long ride.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">“We made it,” Amaryllis says.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14pt; font-weight: bold;">♫♪♫</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">Elliot just stares at the sight of his new home. It’s a big step down from his mother’s row house.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">“I know it doesn’t look like much, but it’s paid for,” she says. “We best get your stuff unpacked before nightfall.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">Inside, Elliot glances at the well-worn furniture. He notices religious iconography surrounding the room’s centerpiece—a massive velvet Jesus painting. Even though his mother never took him to church, he loves to read about the world’s major religions.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">Amaryllis points to a small room off of the living area. “That’ll be your room. Used to be my sewing room.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">“Where will you sew?” Elliot asks.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">“Austin’s got some space for me.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">He looks puzzled. “Austin is one thousand twenty miles from here.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">She gives her nephew a huge grin. “Nope, right next door.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">As if on cue, 45-year-old Austin Young, a burnt-out hippie, enters the double-wide. “Did someone mention my name?”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">Amaryllis leans over to Elliot conspiratorially and says, “The walls have ears. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">Elliot quickly glances around the small room looking for signs of ears on the walls. How could a wall have ears, he wonders? So far, Arizona is an extremely confusing place for him.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">Austin puts out a hand for Elliot to shake, but the young man seems oblivious to the gesture and does not reciprocate. He tugs on his earlobe instead.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">Austin tries another tactic. “How was your trip?” he asks.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">When he doesn’t respond, Amaryllis pipes in, “Tiring. Elliot must be exhausted.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">“I’m not tired,” Elliot interjects a little too loudly. “I slept for 22 of the 35 hours we traveled and I slept in both of the motels in which we stayed. Day one was a 14-hour trip with two gas breaks and a lunch break. Day two was similar. Today, we only had to travel for 7 hours.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">“That’s precise,” Austin says with a smile at Elliot. Then he says to Amaryllis, “You’re welcome to come by my place for dinner. I’ll fire up the grill.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">“I think we’ll take a rain check.” She pats her friend’s arm. “Elliot has to get ready for school tomorrow.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">“Gotcha. Dinner’s an open invitation.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">“I know,” Amaryllis says, giving Austin a warm smile.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">Austin heads for the door, but turns back before exiting. “I’ve got a new recipe for chipotle steak sauce. Bet it’d taste awfully good with those baby potatoes you love so much.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">“Good night, Austin,” Amaryllis says as she lovingly nudges him out the door. She smiles as the door closes behind him.</span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=17875082" name="0.1__GoBack"></a></div>
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M. C. Pearsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13777325241098466381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17875082.post-89479258077418718622012-09-18T22:38:00.000-04:002012-09-18T22:38:00.823-04:00Publish Like the Pros: A Brief Guide to Quality Self-Publishing and an Insider's Look at a Misunderstood Industry by Michele DeFilippo <b style="font-style: italic;">WHAT I THOUGHT: </b>I want to tell anyone that is looking to self-publish: READ<i> </i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Publish-Like-Pros-Self-Publishing-Misunderstood/dp/0985489901/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1348021205&sr=1-1&keywords=publish+like+the+pros" style="font-style: italic;">Publish Like the Pros: A Brief Guide to Quality Self-Publishing and an Insider's Look at a Misunderstood Industry </a>by Michele DeFilippo. Seriously. It gives some great pointers, especially about things that vanity press leaves out. For example: Interior Layout...Most self-published books that I've seen never ever think about this aspect. It looks like they just copied and pasted it out of a Word document. In <i>Publish Like the Pros</i>, Michele gives advise on finding typesetting designers. There are so many great tips inside this little book. Do yourself a favor if you are planning on self-publishing, buy this book first and read it. You'll be glad that you did. Seriously glad.<br />
<br />
<b>ABOUT THE BOOK: </b><br />
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Publish Like the Pros: A Brief Guide to Quality Self-Publishing is a must-read for new authors who want to get it right when self-publishing their books. Self-publishing is a perplexing and ever-shifting landscape; it's easy for authors to get taken in by self-publishing companies that promise the moon but don't deliver. In just 88 pages, Publish Like the Pros takes the confusion out of self-publishing and gives authors the six steps to publishing quality professional books that don't scream "I'm self-published!!" The self-publishing author will find everything he or she needs to get started, including cover design, book titles, typesetting, editing, and proofreading, and a special chapter on book distribution, pricing and marketing.<br />
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Written by a book designer with years of experience working with both first-time authors and seasoned publishers, Publish Like the Pros speaks directly to new authors who want to publish a book that they can feel proud of and that sells!<br />
<br />
...Industry leaders praise "Publish Like the Pros":<br />
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DeFilippo has written a complete overview of the book industry and the publishing process that will allow both authors and self-publishers to make their way through the self-publishing process quickly and successfully. I was amazed at the up-to-date insights and money-saving advice in this book! Want to do it right? Want to avoid a lot of the mistakes that plague first time self-publishers? Read Publish Like the Pros and call 1106 Design.<br />
—Amy Collins, owner of The Cadence Group and New Shelves Distribution, http://ww.thecadencegrp.com/distribution<br />
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Traditional self-publishing has been hijacked (I should know!). Authors who follow the “do-it-yourself” approach recommended by self-serving POD publishers soon discover that plain covers do not attract buyers. In Publish Like the Pros: A Brief Guide to Quality Self-Publishing, Michele DeFilippo explains how quality books have always been created—with an eye to the future. Armed with this advice, authors can take full advantage of today’s unprecedented opportunity to distribute and promote their books without middlemen, and successfully compete in the book publishing industry.<br />
—Dan Poynter, author of The Self-Publishing Manual<br />
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As a book shepherd who turns unpublished writers into well-published authors, I'm constantly guiding authors away from cheap junk and toward choices that create a book that looks and sounds as good as or better than anything coming out of the big publishers. DeFilippo's pleas for professionalism will be very helpful in convincing my clients that it's much better to self-publish the right way—if you want to create a book that will sell copies and influence people.<br />
—Shel Horowitz, book shepherd and book marketing specialist, http://shelhorowitz.com<br />
M. C. Pearsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13777325241098466381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17875082.post-55795147833021673672012-09-01T00:23:00.001-04:002012-09-01T00:37:13.832-04:00Bronze Award!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I'm an award winning author! I received the Bronze award for Christian Fantasy-Sci-Fi from Reader's Favorite: <a href="http://readersfavorite.com/2012-award-contest-winners.htm">http://readersfavorite.com/2012-award-contest-winners.htm</a></div>
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<br />
<b>Here's the 5-Star Review:</b><br />
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Book Review</div>
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma, Arial;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">Reviewed by Linda W. for Readers Favorite</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma, Arial;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">This is a fantasy tale of good versus evil through the eyes of a young teenage girl, Mellie. Running from her sisters’ taunts, she finds herself caught up in the world of the F.A.I.R.I.E.S, where she will learn the world of spiritual warfare against the I.M.P.S. as she attends the F.A.I.R.I.E.S. academy and learns of the One–the light who always overcomes the darkness.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma, Arial;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">The unbelievable characters become a part of your life, as you learn of their ways. The military academy is tough, yet most of the classes are enjoyable and instructive. Plenty of humor is there, though some is lost in interpretation! I enjoyed the characters of Mellie, Spike, Lizzy, GroBe, and many others. They are rich, descriptive and eccentric. They are truly fantastical beings! What a super delightful book with deep spiritual meaning. The spiritual aspect is what makes the book so great, as it pertains to each of the characters and to us as well. I loved it. Your kids will, too!</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma, Arial;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">This would make one extra-special birthday, Christmas, or any special occasion gift for some young girl or boy! Your child(ren) will learn truths that are pertinent to their lives. Pick one up today! Superb, intricate writing. Christian fantasy at its best! I am rating this a 5 out of 5!</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma, Arial;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">I’m so excited as I never used to like books like this, let alone loving this one! This should become a classic for years to come!</span></span>M. C. Pearsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13777325241098466381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17875082.post-47777674011693266452012-06-30T21:58:00.000-04:002012-06-30T21:58:20.458-04:00Finalist!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_3Fnh8FHllnmcAnyh9IrHu_p0sRuA_PcErkqdZYoUoib_qgIR-XR-8Tv9JZxFWQOBCE0qFvogFJXelRYAJI_IgPkIfamHYlcdmJickohyoJSY5AaT103VNHTNSLl3NidXk61llQ/s1600/header-2012-contest.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="118" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_3Fnh8FHllnmcAnyh9IrHu_p0sRuA_PcErkqdZYoUoib_qgIR-XR-8Tv9JZxFWQOBCE0qFvogFJXelRYAJI_IgPkIfamHYlcdmJickohyoJSY5AaT103VNHTNSLl3NidXk61llQ/s320/header-2012-contest.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
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Wahoo! My book is a finalist in the Reader's Favorite 2012 Award Contest! Go <a href="http://readersfavorite.com/2012-award-contest-winners.htm">here </a>to see the list. Winners will be announced on September 1st. (My book, F.A.I.R.I.E.S. is listed under Christian - Fantasy/Sci-Fi.)<br />
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<br />M. C. Pearsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13777325241098466381noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17875082.post-7768212743190530462012-06-15T12:44:00.001-04:002012-06-15T12:44:23.316-04:00The Blood Sugar Solution: The UltraHealthy Program for Losing Weight, Preventing Disease, and Feeling Great Now!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9wqrdwSX_u2P108nEuvtPVWXb79gjyDCUVIv-_6UOy0b80v-E9tGE91R4ZwF7TJd1co6Yg42vyriXC2_en4z3PKM5sTJCOYWorkmiI2s-4lKbDRpJM27M91XDBudISkhxsCol/s1600/FIRSTWildCardTours2.jpg"></a><a href="http://firstwildcardtours.blogspot.com/"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480264388542368882" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9wqrdwSX_u2P108nEuvtPVWXb79gjyDCUVIv-_6UOy0b80v-E9tGE91R4ZwF7TJd1co6Yg42vyriXC2_en4z3PKM5sTJCOYWorkmiI2s-4lKbDRpJM27M91XDBudISkhxsCol/s200/FIRSTWildCardTours2.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 200px; margin: 0 10px 10px 0; width: 145px;" /></a>It is time for a <span style="color: #990000;"><strong><a href="http://firstwildcardtours.blogspot.com/">FIRST Wild Card Tour</a></strong></span> 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! <span style="color: #990000;"><strong>Enjoy your free peek into the book!</strong></span>
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"><em>You never know when I might play a wild card on you!</em></span>
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<strong>Today's Wild Card author is: </strong>
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<strong><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: 180%;"><a href="http://www.bloodsugarsolution.com/">Mark Hyman, M.D.</a></span></strong>
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<strong><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: 180%;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: 100%;">and the book:</span> </span></strong>
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<strong><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: 180%;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/031612737X">The Blood Sugar Solution: The UltraHealthy Program for Losing Weight, Preventing Disease, and Feeling Great Now!</a></span></strong>
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<span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"> Little, Brown and Company; 1 edition (February 28, 2012)</span>
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***Special thanks to Rick Roberson The B&B Media Group for sending me a review copy.***
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<strong><span style="color: #333399; font-size: 130%;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">ABOUT THE AUTHOR:</span> </span></strong></div>
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An internationally respected physician, researcher, educator, activist, and five-time New York Times best-selling author, including The Blood Sugar Solution (also a PBS special), The UltraMind Solution (also a PBS special), The UltraSimple Diet, UltraMetabolism, and UltraPrevention (winner of the Books for a Better Life Award), Dr. Hyman has dedicated his life and career to ensuring optimal health - UltraWellness - for all individuals. His new book and PBS special, The Blood Sugar Solution, will be released March 2012 to address the global epidemic of obesity, diabetes, and cardiovascular and other related diseases.<br />
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His revolutionary "secret" to achieving UltraWellness? Dr. Hyman is the world's leading pioneer and practitioner of a ground-breaking and emerging approach to medicine that treats our system, not our symptoms. This new health paradigm is a systems-based, patient-centered method (called Functional Medicine) to preventing and treating disease and promoting health that works on two intertwined platforms: identifying and addressing the underlying causes of disease instead of just managing and masking symptoms and employing emerging trends in science and medicine, and integrative medicine.<br />
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Visit the author's <a href="http://www.bloodsugarsolution.com/">website</a>.
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<strong><span style="color: #333399; font-size: 130%;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:</span> </span></strong><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuH3OXjSgEYP3AyX32feZk_jKrYV24CFCyzm57DSrQNY-b9fwnlYTjPJ42blgc3WqqT96RelCzCHp2f5CvtQ_6JuZv4Y1ure8syeepYiKDLQtLE32jN49cF78b9i1R5oTKWzGv/s1600/Hyman_BloodSugarSolution_HC%5B1%5D_web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuH3OXjSgEYP3AyX32feZk_jKrYV24CFCyzm57DSrQNY-b9fwnlYTjPJ42blgc3WqqT96RelCzCHp2f5CvtQ_6JuZv4Y1ure8syeepYiKDLQtLE32jN49cF78b9i1R5oTKWzGv/s200/Hyman_BloodSugarSolution_HC%5B1%5D_web.jpg" width="129" /></a>In the new #1 New York Times bestseller, <a href="http://www.bloodsugarsolution.com/">The Blood Sugar Solution</a> (Little, Brown and Company February, 2012), Dr. Mark Hyman - Chairman of the Institute for Functional Medicine and founder and medical director of The UltraWellness Center - reveals the secret to losing weight and preventing diabesity. According to Dr. Hyman, a staggering one in two Americans suffers from diabesity, the condition of metabolic imbalance and disease that ranges from mild blood sugar imbalance to full-blown diabetes. Diabesity is one of the leading causes of chronic disease in the 21st century, including heart disease, stroke, dementia, and cancer, and the numbers of sick people keep growing. One in three children born today will have diabetes. We are now raising the first generation of Americans to live sicker and die younger than their parents.</div>
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Genre: Health & Fitness</div>
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Product Details:<br />
List Price: $27.99<br />
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Hardcover: 448 pages<br />
Publisher: Little, Brown and Company; 1 edition (February 28, 2012)<br />
Language: English<br />
ISBN-10: 031612737X<br />
ISBN-13: 978-0316127370<br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:</span> </strong>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-family: Agenda, Arial; font-size: 13pt;">Introduction</span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-family: Agenda, Arial; font-size: 27pt;">Diabesity: What You Don't Know May Kill You</span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-size: 11pt;">What's in a name: insulin resistance, metabolic syndrome, syndrome X, obesity, pre-diabetes, adult-onset diabetes, type 2 diabetes. These are all essentially one problem; some vary by severity but <span style="font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">all </span><span style="font-size: 11pt;">can have deadly consequences. The diagnosis and treatment of the underlying causes that drive all these conditions are actually the same.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-size: 11pt;">Diabesity is a more comprehensive term to describe the continuum from optimal blood sugar balance toward insulin resistance and full-blown diabetes. If you answered yes to any of the questions in the quiz on page xxi, you may already have diabesity.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-size: 11pt;">Nearly all people who are overweight (over 70 percent of adult Americans) already have “pre-diabetes” and have significant risks of disease and death. They just don't know it. Even worse, while the word “diabesity” is made up of the concepts of obesity and diabetes, even those who aren't overweight can have this problem. These are the “skinny fat” people. They are “underlean” (not enough muscle) instead of “overweight” and have a little extra weight around the middle, or “belly fat.” Currently there are no national screening recommendations, no treatment guidelines, no approved medications, and no reimbursement to health care providers for diagnosing and treating anything other than full-blown diabetes. Think about that. <span style="font-size: 11pt; font-weight: bold;">Doctors are not expected, trained, or paid to diagnose and treat the single biggest chronic disease in America, </span><span style="font-size: 11pt;">which, along with smoking, causes nearly all the major health care burdens of the twenty-first century, including heart disease, stroke, dementia, and even cancer. But here is the good news--there is a scientifically proven solution that I have mapped out for you in this book.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-size: 11pt;">Our current medical practice has not caught up with our knowledge. In 2008, the American College of Endocrinology and the American Association of Clinical Endocrinologists gathered twenty-two experts and reviewed all the scientific data on pre-diabetes and diabetes. They heralded a wake-up clarion call for individuals, the health care community, and governments around the world.<sup>1 </sup>Their conclusions were as follows:</span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-size: 11pt;">The diagnosis of pre-diabetes and diabetes is arbitrary. A fasting blood sugar over 100 mg/dl is considered pre-diabetes, and a blood sugar over 126 mg/dl is considered diabetes. <span style="font-size: 11pt; font-weight: bold;">However, they found these cutoffs don't reflect the whole spectrum of risk-- including heart disease, cancer, dementia, stroke, and even kidneyand nervedamage--whichstartsat <span style="font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">much </span><span style="font-size: 11pt;">lower numbers, numbers most people consider normal.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-size: 11pt;">The DECODE study of 22,000 people<sup>2 </sup>examined the continuum of risk measured not by fasting blood sugar, but by blood sugar after a big sugar drink (the best way to diagnose the problem). The study found that even starting at blood sugar levels that were perfectly normal (95 mg/dl), there was a steady and significant risk of heart disease and complications well below the accepted abnormal of less than 140 mg/dl for pre-diabetes and long before people reached the diabetic cutoff of 200 mg/dl.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-size: 11pt;">Bottom line: Even if you have perfectly normal blood sugar, you may be sitting on a hidden time bomb of disease called diabesity, which prevents you from losing weight and living a long healthy life. Insulin resistance is the major cause of aging and death in the developed and most of the developing world. This book will help you identify and reverse this explosive situation for yourself. It also lays out a comprehensive action plan for greater collective action to solve this problem individually and collectively by getting healthy together.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #949698; font-family: Agenda, Arial; font-size: 16pt; font-weight: bold;">Part I</span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-family: Agenda, Arial; font-size: 37pt;">Understanding The Modern Plague</span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic;">For this we must make automatic and habitual, as early as possible, as many useful actions as we can, and guard against the growing into ways that are likely to be disadvantageous to us, as we should guard against the plague.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-family: Agenda, Arial; font-size: 9pt;">-- William James,</span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-family: Agenda, Arial; font-size: 9pt;">“The Laws of Habit,” <span style="font-size: 9pt; font-style: italic;">The Popular Science Monthly </span><span style="font-size: 9pt;">(February 1887)</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic;">It ain't what you don't know that gets you into trouble. It's what you know for sure that just ain't so.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-family: Agenda, Arial; font-size: 9pt;">-- Mark Twain</span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-family: Agenda, Arial; font-size: 34pt;">1</span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-family: Agenda, Arial; font-size: 27pt;">a Hidden epidemic: The United States of Diabetes</span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-size: 11pt;">Diabesity, the continuum of health problems ranging from mild insulin resistance and overweight to obesity and diabetes<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-weight: bold;">, </span><span style="font-size: 11pt;">is the single biggest global health epidemic of our time. It is one of the leading causes of heart disease, dementia, cancer, and premature death in the world and is almost entirely caused by environmental and lifestyle factors. This means that it is almost 100 percent preventable and curable.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-size: 11pt;">Diabesity affects over 1.7 billion people worldwide. Scientists conservatively estimate it will affect 1 in 2 Americans by 2020, 90 percent of whom <span style="font-size: 11pt; font-weight: bold;">will not be diagnosed. </span><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I believe it <span style="font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">already </span><span style="font-size: 11pt;">affects more than 1 in 2 Americans and up to 70-80 percent of some populations.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-size: 11pt;">Obesity (almost always related to diabesity) is the leading cause of preventable death in the United States and around the world. Gaining just 11-16 pounds doubles the risk of type 2 diabetes, while gaining 17-24 pounds triples the risk. </span><span style="color: #221e1f; font-size: 11pt; font-weight: bold;">Despite this, there are no national recommendations from government or key organizations advising screening or treatment for pre-diabetes. </span><span style="color: #221e1f; font-size: 11pt;">We are becoming the United States of Diabetes.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-size: 11pt;">The prevalence of type 2 diabetes in America has tripled since the 1980s. In 2010 there were 27 million Americans with diabetes (25 percent of whom were not diagnosed) and 67 million with pre-diabetes (90 percent of whom were not diagnosed). African-Americans, Latin Americans, and Asians have dramatically higher rates of diabesity than Caucasians do.<sup>1 </sup>By 2015, 2.3 billion people worldwide will be overweight and 700 million will be obese. The number of diabetics will increase from 1 in 10 Americans today to 1 in 3 by the middle of this century.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-family: Agenda, Arial; font-size: 15pt;">A Childhood Problem</span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-size: 11pt;">Perhaps most disturbing, our children are increasingly affected by this epidemic. We are raising the first generation of Americans to live sicker and die younger than their parents. Life expectancy is actually declining for the first time in human history.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-size: 11pt;">Here are some startling statistics:</span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-size: 11pt;">One in three children is overweight in America.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-size: 11pt;">Childhood obesity has tripled from 1980 to 2010.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-size: 11pt;">There are now more than 2 million morbidly obese children above the 99th percentile in weight.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-size: 11pt;">In New York City, 40 percent of the children are overweight or obese.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-size: 11pt;">One in three children born today will have diabetes in their lifetime.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-size: 11pt;">Childhood obesity will have more impact on the life expectancy of children than all childhood cancers combined.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-family: Agenda, Arial; font-size: 15pt;">A Global Problem</span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-size: 11pt;">Diabetes is just as widespread in other parts of the world: In 2007, it was estimated that 240 million people worldwide had diabetes. It is projected to affect 380 million by the year 2030, about 10 times the number of people affected by HIV/AIDS.<sup>2 </sup>Sadly this is a gross underestimate. Estimates in 2011 put the worldwide total at 350 million. In China alone, rates of diabetes were almost zero 25 years ago. In 2007, there were 24 million diabetics in China, and scientists projected that by 2030 there would be 42 million diabetics in China. However, by 2010, there were 93 million diabetics and 148 million pre-diabetics in China,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic;">Special Note: Childhood Obesity and Diabetes --The Blood Sugar Solution for Children</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt;">The biggest tragedy is the global spread of childhood obesity and “adult”onset or type 2 diabetes in little children. We are now seeing eight-year-old children with diabetes, fifteen-year-olds with strokes, and twenty-five-yearolds who need cardiac bypass. While </span><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic;">The Blood Sugar Solution </span><span style="font-size: 10pt;">is a program mostly for adults, it is also powerful and effective for children. The whole family must be part of the solution, and we have to make our homes, communities, and schools safe for our children.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic;">The Blood Sugar Solution </span><span style="font-size: 10pt;">includes many child-friendly recipes. And when it comes to supplements, there is something for everyone, even infants and children. In fact, any child over twelve years of age with diabesity can follow the basic Blood Sugar Solution plan. Children younger than twelve or those who qualify for the Advanced Plan should work with an experienced functional medicine practitioner. See <a href="http://www.bloodsugarsolution.com/" target="_blank">www.bloodsugarsolution.com</a> for how best to support your children's health if they are overweight or have type 2 diabetes.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-size: 11pt;">almost all of whom were previously undiagnosed. Imagine if we had 148 million new cases of AIDS overnight in one country.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-size: 11pt;">Sixty percent of the world's diabetics will eventually come from Asia because it is the world's most populous region. The number of individuals with impaired glucose tolerance or pre-diabetes will increase substantially because of increased genetic susceptibility to the harmful effects of sugar and processed foods. Interestingly, people in this Asian population (who are uniquely susceptible to diabetes even though they may not be obese) are increasingly affected as they adopt a more Western diet. Weaker environmental laws and regulations also expose them to increasing levels of toxins, which, as we will see later, are a significant cause of diabesity.<sup>3</sup></span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-size: 11pt;">Ponder this: From 1983 to 2008, the number of people in the world with diabetes increased sevenfold, from 35 to 240 million. In just three years, from 2008 to 2011, we added another 110 million diabetics to our global population. Shouldn't the main question we ask be <span style="font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">why is this happening? </span><span style="font-size: 11pt;">instead of </span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">what new drug can we find to treat it? </span><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Our approach must be novel, innovative, and widely applicable at low cost across all borders. Billions and billions have been wasted trying to find the “drug cure,” while the solution lies right under our nose. This is a lifestyle and environmental disease and won't be cured by a medication.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-family: Agenda, Arial; font-size: 15pt;">Diabesity: The major cause of chronic disease and decreased life expectancy.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-size: 11pt;">Diabesity is one of the leading causes of chronic disease in the twenty-first century, including heart disease, stroke, dementia, and cancer.<sup>4</sup></span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-size: 11pt;">Consider the following:</span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-size: 11pt;">One-third of all diabetics have documented heart disease.<sup>5</sup></span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-size: 11pt;">It is estimated that nearly everyone else with type 2 diabetes has undiagnosed cardiovascular disease.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-size: 11pt;">People with diabetes are four times more likely to die from heart disease, and the rate of stroke is three to four times higher in this population.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-size: 11pt;">Those with pre-diabetes are also four times more likely to die of heart disease.<sup>6 </sup>So having pre-diabetes isn't really “pre” anything in terms of risk.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-size: 11pt;">There is a fourfold increased risk for dementia in diabetics.</span><span style="color: #221e1f; font-size: 7pt;"><sup>7 </sup></span><span style="color: #221e1f; font-size: 11pt;">And pre-diabetes is a leading cause of “pre-dementia,” also known as mild cognitive impairment.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-size: 11pt;">The link between obesity and cancer is well documented and is driven by insulin resistance.<sup>8</sup></span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-size: 11pt;">Diabesity is the leading cause of high blood pressure in our society. Seventy-five percent of those with diabetes have high blood pressure.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-size: 11pt;">Diabesity is also the leading cause of liver failure from NASH (nonalcoholic steatohepatitis), also known as fatty liver. It affects 30 percent of our general population (about 90 million) and 70-90 percent of those who have diabesity. Those with fatty liver are at much greater risk of heart attack and death.<sup>9</sup></span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-size: 11pt;">Diabesity is an important cause of depression and mood disorders. Women with diabetes are 29 percent more likely to develop depression, and women who took insulin are 53 percent more likely to develop depression.<sup>10</sup></span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-size: 11pt;">Nervous system damage affects 60-70 percent of people with diabetes, leading to a loss of sensation in the hands and feet, slow digestion, carpal tunnel syndrome, sexual dysfunction, and other problems. Almost 30 percent of people age forty or older with diabetes have impaired sensation in their feet, and this frequently leads to amputations.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-size: 11pt;">Diabesity is also the leading cause of blindness among people ages twenty to seventy-four.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-size: 11pt;">Diabesity is the leading cause of kidney failure --accounting for 44 percent of new cases each year.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-size: 11pt;">People with poorly controlled diabetes are three times more likely to have periodontal or severe gum disease.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-size: 11pt;">A recent remarkable study published in the <span style="font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">New England Journal of Medicine </span><span style="font-size: 11pt;">examining 123,205 deaths in 820,900 people found that diabetics died an average of six years earlier than nondiabetics and 40 percent of those did not die from heart disease or the usual diabetes-related causes.<sup>11 </sup>They died from other complications not obviously related to diabetes, complications most wouldn't necessarily correlate with the disease. Yet it makes perfect sense given that diabesity is the underlying cause that drives most chronic illnesses.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-family: Agenda, Arial; font-size: 15pt;">Diabesity: A major global threat to economic development.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-size: 11pt;">Direct health care costs in the United States over the next decade attributable to diabetes and pre-diabetes will be $3.4 trillion, or one in every ten health care dollars spent. Obese citizens cost the U.S. health care system 40 percent more than normal-weight citizens. In a sample of 10 million commercial health plan members, those without diabetes cost $4,000 a year compared to $11,700 for those with diabetes, and $20,700 for those with complications from diabetes.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-size: 11pt;">Diabesity places a large economic burden on our society. The direct and indirect costs of diabetes in America in 2007 amounted to $174 billion. The cost of obesity is also significant, and amounts to $113 billion every year. From 2000 to 2010, these two conditions have already cost us a total of $3 trillion. That's three times the estimated cost of fixing our entire health care system!<sup>12</sup></span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-size: 11pt;">Are we getting our money's worth? Is our current approach winning the battle against these completely preventable and curable diseases? Clearly the answer is <span style="font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">no!</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-family: Agenda, Arial; font-size: 13pt; font-style: italic;">The Impact of Diabesity on Developing Nations</span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-size: 11pt;">Diabetes is not just a problem for rich countries with too much food; it is also a disease of poverty<sup>13 </sup>that is increasing in developing countries as well.<sup>14 </sup>In India, diabetes carries a greater risk of death than infectious disease. In the Middle East, nearly 20-25 percent of the population is diabetic. When I helped in Haiti (the poorest country in the Western hemisphere) after the earthquake in 2010, I asked the director of Haiti's main public hospital what the major medical problems were prior to the earthquake. His answer surprised me: heart disease, high blood pressure, and diabetes--all caused by diabesity.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-size: 11pt;">By 2020, there will be fewer than 20 million deaths worldwide from infectious disease, but more than 50 million deaths from chronic preventable lifestyle diseases--heart disease, diabetes, and cancer. These are all fueled by the same preventable risk factors: high blood pressure, overweight, physical inactivity, high blood sugar, high cholesterol, and smoking. But strikingly, 95 percent of private and public efforts and funding focus almost exclusively on combating communicable or infectious disease.<sup>15</sup></span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-family: Agenda, Arial; font-size: 11pt;">The Solution: Take Back Our Health</span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-size: 11pt;">There is a solution available, one that is accessible and scalable, one that is available to everyone and prevents, treats, and reverses diabesity at a fraction of the cost. This book provides that solution for individuals, communities, and nations. It will require significant change at all levels, but each of us has the power to transform this problem.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-size: 11pt;">In addition to curing diabesity on an individual level, we need a movement. I call it <span style="font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">Take Back Our Health, </span><span style="font-size: 11pt;">and in Part V, I explain how we can all join this movement so we can get healthy together. It starts with the individual, but moves into families, communities, workplaces, schools, and faith-based organizations and filters through us to government and corporations.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #221e1f; font-size: 11pt;">In the next chapter, we will look at the true causes of diabesity, and why current treatments aren't working.</span></div>
</div>M. C. Pearsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13777325241098466381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17875082.post-75231852554743965332012-04-15T00:54:00.001-04:002012-04-15T00:54:10.652-04:00Replication: The Jason Experiment by Jill Williamson<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEwM8szF5BCIsAAe6IIHZ2aHpXUSj-BB5fXwOKAAm95AmYqrD7lLPtOtLfIgeASH0-FoqkOUGs7rBfvNAayP7yUTFcTy1DHWCJ0kf_DVK5t3li1Q3h-6cKPBYAWOyogKx8vrRHBw/s1600/the+jason+experiment.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEwM8szF5BCIsAAe6IIHZ2aHpXUSj-BB5fXwOKAAm95AmYqrD7lLPtOtLfIgeASH0-FoqkOUGs7rBfvNAayP7yUTFcTy1DHWCJ0kf_DVK5t3li1Q3h-6cKPBYAWOyogKx8vrRHBw/s200/the+jason+experiment.jpg" width="136" /></a></div>
I love Jill Williamson's fantasy series. I am a big fan of fantasy and science-fiction. That said, although I did enjoy reading her sci-fi book, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Replication-Jason-Experiment-Jill-Williamson/dp/0310727588/ref=cm_cr_pr_product_top">Replication: The Jason Experiment</a>, I didn't find it as well thought out or presented as her Blood of Kings trilogy.<br />
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The idea of clones in an underground facility intrigued me. What a great concept! The question about clones being 'real people' (should they have rights?) also made me excited to read this book.<br />
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The main clone character, Martyr, had me pulling for him every step of the way. He had a great depth, and Jill wrote him well. On the other hand, the main girl character (I cannot recall her name--probably because I want to forget her as fast as I can), made me want to pull out my hair and run screaming from the book. She drove me nuts. Her 'pros' and 'cons' lists just about made me stop reading. I didn't like her at all. I didn't care if she got caught or punished, except that I didn't want Martyr to be hurt in the process. She was a judgmental snob and never changed.<br />
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The ending was also too Disney for me...as well as a tiny bit confusing.<br />
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I give the story itself a 4/5 star rating...the male character a 5/5 star rating, but because of the girl (whom I believe was supposed to be the over-all main character), I have to rate this a 3/5.<br />
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Product Details:<br />
Cost: $15.99<br />
Reading level: Ages 13 and up<br />
Hardcover: 304 pages<br />
Publisher: Zonderkidz (December 27, 2011)<br />
Language: English<br />
ISBN-10: 0310727588<br />
ISBN-13: 978-0310727583<br />
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*A review copy was provided to me by Zondervan in exchange for my honest opinion.<br />
<br />M. C. Pearsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13777325241098466381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17875082.post-45569681777698310032012-04-04T00:32:00.000-04:002012-04-04T00:32:13.992-04:00NIV Boys Bible<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i><b>What I Thought: </b></i></blockquote>
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<i>Here's the counterpart to the faithgirlz! bible...one for boys! This was also very well done. I had my 11 year old look through it, and he loved the 'Grossology' parts the most. Since I received this bible free, as well as the girls one, I gave this to the brother of the girl that I gave the faithgirlz! one to. I see him carry it around on Wednesdays and Sundays. Looks like he adores it! Yay! So, here is a great Easter present for your little mister!</i></blockquote>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9wqrdwSX_u2P108nEuvtPVWXb79gjyDCUVIv-_6UOy0b80v-E9tGE91R4ZwF7TJd1co6Yg42vyriXC2_en4z3PKM5sTJCOYWorkmiI2s-4lKbDRpJM27M91XDBudISkhxsCol/s1600/FIRSTWildCardTours2.jpg"></a><a href="http://firstwildcardtours.blogspot.com/"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480264388542368882" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9wqrdwSX_u2P108nEuvtPVWXb79gjyDCUVIv-_6UOy0b80v-E9tGE91R4ZwF7TJd1co6Yg42vyriXC2_en4z3PKM5sTJCOYWorkmiI2s-4lKbDRpJM27M91XDBudISkhxsCol/s200/FIRSTWildCardTours2.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 200px; margin: 0 10px 10px 0; width: 145px;" /></a>It is time for a <span style="color: #990000;"><strong><a href="http://firstwildcardtours.blogspot.com/">FIRST Wild Card Tour</a></strong></span> 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! <span style="color: #990000;"><strong>Enjoy your free peek into the book!</strong></span>
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"><em>You never know when I might play a wild card on you!</em></span>
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<strong>Today's Wild Card is: </strong>
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<strong><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: 180%;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0310723086">NIV Boys Bible</a></span></strong>
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<span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">Zonderkidz; Special edition (March 6, 2012)</span>
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***Special thanks to Rick Roberson of The B&B Media Group for sending me a review copy.***<br />
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<strong><span style="color: #333399; font-size: 130%;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:</span> </span></strong></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Getting into a routine of reading the Bible can be challenging for anyone, but trying to keep the attention of pre-teen boys is especially difficult. So now there is a Bible especially developed for them. The NIV Boys Bible is designed with boys ages 9 to 12 in mind. Fun in-text features help boys dig deep into the Word and learn about amazing people, facts and stories of the Bible. The NIV Boys Bible will help boys grow into the young men God wants them to be. It will appeal to boys and cause them to desire to spend time in the Word with its unique features such as:</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">* Introductions to each book of the Bible</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">* Hundreds of highlighted verses worth memorizing</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">* What's the Big Deal?-Need-to-know biblical stories and people</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">* Check It Out-Interesting and fun facts about Bible times and characters</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">* Grossology-Gross and gory stuff they never knew was in the Bible</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">* Makin' It Real-Help for applying Bible stories to their everyday lives</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">This Bible includes the full text of the New International Version, the most popular Bible translation in the world, and 12 color tip-in pages introducing content that shows boys how they can grow to be like Jesus. Each book of the Bible has activities that make God's Word more relevant than ever. It is jam-packed with customized content and artwork that really makes the Bible stand out.</span>
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Product Details:<br />
List Price: $27.99<br />
Reading level: Ages 9 and up<br />
Hardcover: 1504 pages<br />
Publisher: Zonderkidz; Special edition (March 6, 2012)<br />
Language: English<br />
ISBN-10: 0310723086<br />
ISBN-13: 978-0310723080:<br />
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<strong style="background-color: white; color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">AND NOW...A SAMPLE. PLEASE CLICK ON THE PICTURES TO VIEW THEM LARGER:</span> </strong>
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<br /></div>M. C. Pearsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13777325241098466381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17875082.post-43794096727441380882012-04-01T22:28:00.000-04:002012-04-01T22:28:57.222-04:00NIV Faithgirlz! Bible (Revised Edition)<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i><b>My Thoughts: </b></i></blockquote>
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<i>I looked through this bible and wished that I had one as a young girl. Such great features! I especially loved the Oh, I get it! sections. Really well thought out and timely. I was able to give a copy to a ten year old at our church's youth group. She immediately sat down and started reading! If you are looking for a great Easter gift for a young girl, here it is!</i></blockquote>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9wqrdwSX_u2P108nEuvtPVWXb79gjyDCUVIv-_6UOy0b80v-E9tGE91R4ZwF7TJd1co6Yg42vyriXC2_en4z3PKM5sTJCOYWorkmiI2s-4lKbDRpJM27M91XDBudISkhxsCol/s1600/FIRSTWildCardTours2.jpg"></a><a href="http://firstwildcardtours.blogspot.com/"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480264388542368882" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9wqrdwSX_u2P108nEuvtPVWXb79gjyDCUVIv-_6UOy0b80v-E9tGE91R4ZwF7TJd1co6Yg42vyriXC2_en4z3PKM5sTJCOYWorkmiI2s-4lKbDRpJM27M91XDBudISkhxsCol/s200/FIRSTWildCardTours2.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 200px; margin: 0 10px 10px 0; width: 145px;" /></a>It is time for a <span style="color: #990000;"><strong><a href="http://firstwildcardtours.blogspot.com/">FIRST Wild Card Tour</a></strong></span> 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! <span style="color: #990000;"><strong>Enjoy your free peek into the book!</strong></span>
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"><em>You never know when I might play a wild card on you!</em></span>
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<strong>Today's Wild Card contributor is: </strong>
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<strong><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: 180%;"><a href="http://www.faithgirlz.com/">Nancy Rue</a></span></strong>
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<strong><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: 180%;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: 100%;">and the book:</span> </span></strong>
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<strong><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: 180%;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0310722365">NIV Faithgirlz! Bible (Revised Edition)</a></span></strong>
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<span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">Zonderkidz; Rev Spl edition (March 6, 2012)</span>
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***Special thanks to Rick Roberson of The B&B Media Group for sending me a review copy.***
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<strong><span style="color: #333399; font-size: 130%;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">ABOUT THE CONTRIBUTOR:</span> </span></strong></div>
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Nancy Rue has worked as a public school teacher, church youth director, theater workshop developer and camp director. She has written more than eighty books for young people, including the beloved Faithgirlz! Sophie series, The Skin You're In and Everybody Tells Me to Be Myself but I Don't Know Who I Am. Nancy lives with her husband and two dogs in Lebanon, TN.<br />
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About Faithgirlz!: Faithgirlz! is a collection of books, Bibles and resources designed to provide transformational Christian experiences for tween girls. Faithgirlz! encourages honest tween-girl empowerment by providing engaging, relevant, high-quality offerings, helping tween girls understand their world, learn biblical teachings, become closer to God and grow into godly teenagers. Faithgirlz! offers excellent content and contributions from leading Christian tween writers and spokespeople including Nancy Rue, Melody Carlson, Kristi Holl, Naomi Kinsman and more. Faithgirlz! is also supported with a website (<a href="http://www.faithgirlz.com/">www.Faithgirlz.com</a>), Facebook page and mother and daughter live events across the country.<br />
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<strong><span style="color: #333399; font-size: 130%;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:</span></span></strong><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiALLJVlBIRnEphvzDE31xenVv3B2HWgJ8jWaXV7uVJFoJTbKZ8XcG1a47InWs0Lzb6nbI3uFuKz7b_RfzMQ9_sJL5mdVV4Bdnf5n0Rua3MTxEdGTu6To2rhUbPlFyB_iOkVrhD/s1600/677+Rue+Cover_web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiALLJVlBIRnEphvzDE31xenVv3B2HWgJ8jWaXV7uVJFoJTbKZ8XcG1a47InWs0Lzb6nbI3uFuKz7b_RfzMQ9_sJL5mdVV4Bdnf5n0Rua3MTxEdGTu6To2rhUbPlFyB_iOkVrhD/s200/677+Rue+Cover_web.jpg" width="130" /></a>Every girl wants to know she’s totally unique and special, and contributor Nancy Rue helps them do just that in the revised edition of the NIV Faithgirlz! Bible. As a leading tween expert, Rue teaches girls that the Bible is real and relevant and, best of all, that the story of God and His people is also their story. Girls can now grow closer to God as they discover the journey of a lifetime, in their language, for their world.<br />
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The new Faithgirlz! Bible was developed especially for girls ages 9 to 12. Everything in it is written with a tween girl’s experience in mind, and it features the most popular Bible translation in the world, the New International Version. The features explain hard-to-understand things in the Bible and guide girls to put the Scripture to work in their own lives. The Faithgirlz! Bible focuses on sharing faith with friends and gives real ways for girls to do that.<br />
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Each book of the Bible has activities that make God’s Word more relevant than ever. And, of course, because it was developed for Faithgirlz! readers, they can expect to find it jam-packed with customized content and artwork that really makes the Bible stand out. Girls will love the cool design, the interactive features and the feeling of knowing that God’s Word is there for them whenever they need it. Some of the features included are:<br />
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· Book Introductions—Girls will read the who, when, where and what of each book of the Bible.<br />
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· Dream Girl—Girls will use their imaginations to put themselves in the story.<br />
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· Is There a Little (Eve, Ruth, Isaiah) in You?—Girls will see for themselves what they have in common with women of the Bible.<br />
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· Words to Live By—Girls will discover great Bible verses for memorizing.<br />
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· Oh, I Get It!—Girls will find answers to Bible questions they’ve wondered about.<br />
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Nancy Rue says, “I hope the Faithgirlz! Bible will help girls grow a friendship with the Bible, their own relationship. It asks questions, asks them to think and challenges them to apply what they’re learning. That’s how they’ll find a deep, personal relationship with God, rather than just by following rules or saying what they’ve been told without really thinking about it. Rules are important, of course, but they only make sense when they really believe the message of the Scriptures. That’s what this Bible is about.” The Faithgirlz! Bible is the perfect Bible to support girls in their journey into the “beauty of believing.”<br />
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The main edition of the Faithgirlz! Bible is hardcover, but it is also available in two Italian Duo-Tone designs. For better portability, there is also an NIV Faithgirlz! Backpack Bible. This compact edition does not include the in-text features that the full-size edition has, but it does have twelve full-color pages of Faithgirlz! fun, the words of Christ in red and a ribbon marker. An ebook version is also planned for electronic use. <br />
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Product Details:<br />
List Price: $27.99<br />
Reading level: Ages 9 and up<br />
Hardcover: 1504 pages<br />
Publisher: Zonderkidz; Rev Spl edition (March 6, 2012)<br />
Language: English<br />
ISBN-10: 0310722365<br />
ISBN-13: 978-0310722366<br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">AND NOW...A SAMPLE. PLEASE CLICK ON THE PICTURES TO VIEW THEM LARGER:</span> </strong>
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<br />M. C. Pearsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13777325241098466381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17875082.post-85452654690469552482012-03-28T23:12:00.000-04:002012-03-28T23:13:50.409-04:00Review by Mimi of Woven by Words<br />
Here's a review from Mimi (not me!) on her blog, <a href="http://wovenbywords.blogspot.com/2012/02/fairies-baptism-by-fire-by-mc-pearson.html">Woven by Words</a>:<br />
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My Review:<br />
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I have only read a few "fantasy" Christian genre books. I'm always a bit hesitant because I think it's a fine line between the "fantastical" and faith. Well, let me say for the record, F.A.R.I.E.S. combines both in a spectacular way.<br />
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When M.C. sent me her book and told me to be brutally honest, can you imagine my first thought? Oh boy, this isn't going to be that great if she wants my "honest" opinions! I proceeded with caution and was immediately swept into a new world following the journey of Mellie.<br />
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We're introduced to numerous creatures that all live below the earth.Each of these characters factor into Mellie's immersion into this new world. She learns about "fantastical" beings and that she has been "chosen", but she has no clue what that means or what's expected of her. Thankfully she makes friends with creatures of different shapes, sized and abilities.<br />
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Mellie is 12 and so is my son. I can't picture him acting as "mature" as she is so I kept imagining her more like a 17yr old. That was probably the hardest thing for me to wrap my mind around. Mellie has a lot of learning to do and her group of friends each add an element to her learning. She also has a lot of growing up to do and learning about putting others first and not being so selfish. Being young, you can forgive her lack of maturity.<br />
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It's wonderful that her instructors see her gifts of being the Chosen by the One (God). The One has given her abilities that stand out from others and with the help of her instructors and her friends she is able to hone those talents. I loved that part of this story. Her friends love her no matter what. They accept her just the way she is. There are so many wonderful underlying messages!<br />
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One of my favorite parts of this whole book is how M.C. adds scripture into conversation that sounds like it fits so well. It's not preachy, but encouraging. The scriptures are perfectly placed and directs the characters and the reader to Him.<br />
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The adventures in F.A.I.R.I.E.S. will appeal to adults and youth alike. I was excited to get to my reading every night and as I'd read, my thoughts would go to my boys and how much they would enjoy this. That's a great appeal for me, a book I can share with my kids. They don't like boring books and my 12yo wants to be taken on an adventure. M.C. definitely provides that throughout the entire story!<br />
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I also enjoyed the illustrations provided by M.C. I liked seeing what year she did each one and would look for those. I didn't see them in every single one, but you can tell she had this book in her head for a very long time!<br />
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Like I told M.C., the only part I didn't like was the ending because I have to wait for the second book! =) Don't you hate it when you finish a book you've thoroughly enjoyed and know you have to wait at LEAST a year before the next one comes out? LOL<br />
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If you're looking to go on an adventure, this would be the perfect book. If you're looking for a book that is family friendly and you can read with your tween or older, I would highly suggest grabbing this book and adding it to your reading list this year!<br />
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I want to thank M.C. for sending me her book for review. She knows I've been looking forward to reading her debut novel since she announced it at F.I.R.S.T.!<br />M. C. Pearsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13777325241098466381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17875082.post-62661469967173402242012-02-23T04:55:00.001-05:002012-02-23T05:02:27.597-05:00Asenath by Anna Patricio<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b>What I Thought: </b> </blockquote>
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<i>Currently, I am in the middle of reading this novel. I am impressed with the way Anna has placed herself into the head of Kiya (Asenath) and brought the character to life. This is written in first person, so you hear her thoughts as if she were telling them to you. The biblical historical description is wonderful as well. The only thing negative I can say is that there are a few grammatical problems. One of my pet peeves is getting the 'I' and 'me' words confused, and I have caught it more than once already. Other than that, which is very minor (I'm just freakishly aware of things like that), this is a very well written novel. Check out the first chapter and see if you'd like to read it too.</i></blockquote>
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<a href="http://firstwildcardtours.blogspot.com/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480264388542368882" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9wqrdwSX_u2P108nEuvtPVWXb79gjyDCUVIv-_6UOy0b80v-E9tGE91R4ZwF7TJd1co6Yg42vyriXC2_en4z3PKM5sTJCOYWorkmiI2s-4lKbDRpJM27M91XDBudISkhxsCol/s200/FIRSTWildCardTours2.jpg" style="float: left; height: 200px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-top: 0px; width: 145px;" /></a>It is time for a <span style="color: #990000;"><strong><a href="http://firstwildcardtours.blogspot.com/">FIRST Wild Card Tour</a></strong></span> 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! <span style="color: #990000;"><strong>Enjoy your free peek into the book!</strong></span>
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"><em>You never know when I might play a wild card on you!</em></span>
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<strong>Today's Wild Card author is: </strong>
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<strong><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: 180%;"><a href="http://www.annapatricio.blogspot.com/">Anna Patricio</a></span></strong>
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<strong><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: 180%;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: 100%;">and the book:</span> </span></strong>
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<strong><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: 180%;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/1926997263">Asenath</a></span></strong>
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<span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">Imajin Books (September 24, 2011)</span>
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***Special thanks to Anna Patricio for sending me a review copy.***
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<strong><span style="color: #333399; font-size: 130%;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">ABOUT THE AUTHOR:</span></span></strong></div>
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Anna Patricio is a lover of ancient history, with a particular interest in Egypt, Israel, Greece, and Rome. She is also intrigued by the Ancient Near East, though she has not delved too much into it but hopes to one day.<br />
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She undertook formal studies in Ancient History at Macquarie University. She focused mostly on Egyptology and Jewish-Christian Studies, alongside a couple of Greco-Roman units, and one on Archaeology. Though she knew there were very limited job openings for ancient history graduates, she pursued her degree anyway as it was something she had always been passionate about.<br />
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Then, about a year after her graduation, the idea to tackle historical fiction appeared in her head, and she began happily pounding away on her laptop. ASENATH is her first novel.<br />
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Recently, she traveled to Lower Egypt (specifically Cairo and the Sinai), Israel, and Jordan. She plans to return to Egypt soon, and see more of it. In the past, she has also been to Athens and Rome.<br />
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Anna is currently working on a second novel, which still takes place in Ancient Egypt, but hundreds of years after ASENATH.<br />
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Visit the author's <a href="http://www.annapatricio.blogspot.com/">website</a>.
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<strong><span style="color: #333399; font-size: 130%;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:</span></span></strong></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFNn1owslfnoEFW3zxDC2mFf_2xdGnJRx-f1HmemiNwMNDRSb4QD1ScuMoXFLEAf1MTRhv-uEPRqHx8kOe8t8Sh2VXVWFdG070daul__JOTVVj0BPSEJ0Y8N7NFHKWlsc1adDq/s1600/ASENATH+Front.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFNn1owslfnoEFW3zxDC2mFf_2xdGnJRx-f1HmemiNwMNDRSb4QD1ScuMoXFLEAf1MTRhv-uEPRqHx8kOe8t8Sh2VXVWFdG070daul__JOTVVj0BPSEJ0Y8N7NFHKWlsc1adDq/s200/ASENATH+Front.jpg" width="132" /></a>Two Destinies...One Journey of Love<br />
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In a humble fishing village on the shores of the Nile lives Asenath, a fisherman's daughter who has everything she could want. Until her perfect world is shattered.<br />
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When a warring jungle tribe ransacks the village and kidnaps her, separating her from her parents, she is forced to live as a slave. And she begins a journey that will culminate in the meeting of a handsome and kind steward named Joseph.<br />
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Like her, Joseph was taken away from his home, and it is in him that Asenath comes to find solace...and love. But just as they are beginning to form a bond, Joseph is betrayed by his master's wife and thrown into prison.<br />
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Is Asenath doomed to a lifetime of losing everything and everyone she loves?<br />
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Product Details:<br />
List Price: $13.99<br />
Paperback: 222 pages<br />
Publisher: Imajin Books (September 24, 2011)<br />
Language: English<br />
ISBN-10: 1926997263<br />
ISBN-13: 978-1926997261<br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:</span> </strong>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;"><i>Egypt 1554 B.C.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">The Nile had just flooded, leaving the ground moist, rich and black. The children of our riverside village, I among them, frolicked about in the cool, gooey earth. In the distance, the ancient river circled the land, glittering with a thousand tiny dancing lights from the sun-god's Boat of a Million Years. A breeze blew, rustling the branches of the palm trees that surrounded our home.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">"Kiya!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">No sooner had I looked than a mud ball pelted me hard across the stomach.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">"I'll get you for that, Menah." I bent down to gather mud in my hands when another ball landed on my back. He was a quick one, my best friend.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">I had just formed a mud ball and was about to raise my arm when Menah suddenly charged forward and pounced on me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">"Now you'll get the tickle torture," he said in a mock evil voice.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">"No, Menah. Please, no." But I was overcome by uncontrollable laughter.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">"Menah! Kiya!" voices called out, interrupting our playful wrestling.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">Our mothers approached.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">"Come out now," my mother called. "It is time to prepare for the Feast of Hapi."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">Covered in mud from head to toe, Menah and I scrambled toward them.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">Mama shook her head, smiling. "You're such a mess."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">She led me back to our hut.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">"What is going to happen tonight, Mama?" I asked. "I mean, after we pray to Hapi? Will there be games?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">Mama's blue eyes twinkled against her brown skin. "I see no reason why there shouldn't be."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">"And lots of food?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">"All the food you could ever want."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">"May I wear my lotus necklace today?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">Years ago, when I was very young, Mama had given me a beautiful carved lapis lazuli lotus pendant strung on a simple piece of coarse rope. She told me it had been in her family for many generations and that her grandmother had received it from Hapi himself.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">She ruffled my hair. "Of course. Today is, after all, a special day."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">As we entered our mud hut, which had been my home since birth, I saw my father mending one of his fisherman's nets. When he saw me, he pretended to cower in fear.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">"A mud monster has entered our house."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">I laughed. "It's just me, Papa."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">He leaned forward and squinted, as if trying to get a good look, though the gesture was comically exaggerated. "Is it? Let me see. Ah yes, it's my little Kiya."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">He leapt to his feet, picked me up and swung me around, ignoring the mud that soiled his hands. I squealed with delight.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">"Nakhti," Mama said. "I have to get her ready."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">"Yes." Papa set me down. He gave me a gentle slap across the back, motioning for me to return to Mama.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">"I get to wear the lotus today, Papa."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">He smiled. "I am sure you will look very pretty."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">Later that afternoon, four priests from a nearby town passed by our village. They shouldered on poles our patron god's idol, which nestled upon a bed of water lilies. A ray of sunlight bounced off the golden image and it flashed with brilliance. Behind the god was a small train of dancing priestesses. They rattled sistrums and twirled around, their white dresses billowing out like clouds.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">My fellow villagers and I were assembled outside our village, awaiting the god's arrival. When he appeared, we fell to our knees and touched our foreheads to the sandy ground.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">"Glorious Hapi," my father intoned. "We thank you for once again allowing your water to flow and give life. We thank you for nourishing our land and our people. We pray your sacred pitchers never cease to flow. We thank you, great god of the Nile."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">My heart swelled with pride. Papa was the most renowned fisherman in our village. Though he was quite an old man - many years older than my mother - he possessed skills and strength that surpassed even those of the younger generations. Everyone thus hailed him as the favoured of the river god.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">"Praise be to you, Hapi," I echoed along with the rest of my fellow villagers.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">As the idol trailed away, we rose to our feet and gathered up the amulets and flowers, which we would be tossing into the Nile as offerings. It was sunset now and sheer red-orange skies cast a fiery glow upon the river's rippling surface. From a distance, we heard the warbling of river fowl and the screeching of monkeys.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">We approached the riverbank. It was still soft and muddy from the inundation. We tossed our offerings in. All the while, Papa chanted hymns of praise. Afterward, we returned to the village for what we children had been anticipating the most - the games.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">A kind, respectable widow named Mekten, whom everyone called "Village Mother", held a game called the "statue dance." She played a reed flute while we danced and would stop at random moments without warning. We had to freeze as soon as the music stopped. Those who were still dancing were out of the game.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">My friends and I loved it so much that Mekten held several rounds of it. Unfortunately, I always lost, as I always got so caught up in the liveliness of the game. However, she awarded me a small spinning top as a prize for being the best dancer.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">I danced so much that I could barely keep my eyes open as we later sat down to the feast. Papa picked me up and carried me back to our hut. I was too tired to protest. As soon as he lay me down, I fell into a deep sleep.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">That night, I dreamt I was on a great winged barque sailing along the Nile. It was a bright day, with the white-golden Egyptian sun shining gloriously and flocks of ibises and herons gleaming against the clear blue sky. A group of friendly monkeys, like those who usually wandered near my family's hut, kept me company on the deck, entertaining me with their hilarious antics.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">Suddenly, the skies darkened and the water began to thrash against the barque. The monkeys leapt up and down, screeching frantically. I grabbed onto the rail.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">Thunder rumbled. Fierce white waves threatened to haul us overboard. The barque tipped to a dangerous level and I began to scream.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">Waking, I placed my hand over my heart, which was pounding fiercely. I was about to heave a sigh of relief when I heard the rumbling from my dream. I sat up, my chest constricting in fear once more. The noise sounded like it was coming from outside our hut.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">The rumbling stopped.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">I heard a strange voice shouting in a language I could not understand.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">My father appeared beside me. In the dim light, I could see the outline of his bony profile as he knelt by my side.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">"What's that noise, Papa?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">He put his arms around me and before he could answer, a chilling scream sliced through the air. Other screams followed. Soon, the air was filled with a frightening cacophony - screams, cries and more shouts in that strange language.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">Papa's grip on me tightened. "Come, Kiya. We must hide you."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">The door of our hut flew open.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">Two enormous, fearsome-looking warriors towered like the tallest trees. Their faces were thickly painted in bright, garish colours. They wore loincloths made of animal skin and peculiar pointed headdresses that emphasised their unusual height. In their hands were spears that glinted threateningly.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">Mama screamed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">One of the warriors shouted something, while waving toward us. Another dashed forward and snatched me out of Papa's protective hold.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">"Papa!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">The monster hauled me outside.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">I kicked and flailed. "Papa!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">"Kiya!" Papa hurried after me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">Alas, though he was strong and agile, he was no match for these giants. They ran with such enormous strides that in no time he was out of sight.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">"Papa?" I writhed about in the warrior's iron grip. "Papa!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">I felt a blow to the back of my head and the world turned black.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">Cold water slapped my face. When I opened my eyes, I was staring into the massive painted face of my captor.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">"Get up," he snarled. His breath was fouler than rotten fish.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">I struggled to my feet. Though I was still in a daze, I dared not disobey.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">The warrior grabbed my arm and led me through pitch-black darkness. I was certain he was going to kill me. My chest tightened with fear.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">He led me out into a brightly lit clearing. It looked like we were in the midst of a dense jungle. A campfire crackled at the centre where the warrior's comrades sat feasting and talking.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">Relief washed over me when I noticed my fellow villagers huddled together at the far end. Menah was with them.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">I smiled. "Menah!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">The warrior slapped me hard across the face. "You are not to speak. If you do so again, we will kill you."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">I shuddered, though I was less frightened than before now that I knew I was not alone.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">The warrior dragged me over to the villagers and shoved me amongst them. "Stay with them. No talking and no trying to escape." He glared at us, then went to the fire to join the others.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">Menah took my hand.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">"Where are my parents?" I asked in a bare whisper.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">He looked at me sadly and shook his head.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">I knew what that meant. They were not there.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">I suddenly threw up.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">In a flash, the warrior was before us. "What's going on here?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">No one answered.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">"She felt sick and vomited," our village mother Mekten said finally.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">The warrior turned to his comrades and said something in their language. They laughed boisterously. He shook his head and returned to them.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">Tears spilled from my eyes. Menah held me and rocked me, comforting me. I sobbed for a long time, eventually crying myself to sleep.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">What followed was an arduous journey through the jungle. The scorching sun was merciless and mosquitoes bit my arms, legs and face. The entire time, our captors threatened to murder us and I might have actually died with despair had it not been for the familiar faces around me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">I do not know how far we travelled, but just as I thought we would perish, one of the warriors announced we had reached our destination.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">It was early evening. We were led toward a tribal encampment illuminated by a towering bonfire. Drumbeats pounded in my ears as we drew nearer. When we entered the camp, I saw tents made of dyed animal hides, as well as poles topped with the decapitated heads of people and animals. I averted my eyes, trying to erase the horrific images from my head.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">The drums were deafening as the tribespeople surrounded us. Like our captors, they were wrapped in animal skins. Their bodies were pierced in just about every part and painted in bright colours. I shuddered when a small child with painted teeth and a pierced nose came over and poked at my face.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">My fellow villagers and I were lined up in front of the bonfire. I thought for sure they would murder us. I whimpered as one of the warriors strode up to us. I recognised him. He had entered my family's hut.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">The warrior paced the length of our row. "Do you know why you are all here?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">No one answered.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">He glared at us. "Many years ago, your Pharaoh murdered our chieftain. I am that chieftain's son and will now avenge my father's death. Until your king makes amends, we will continue to destroy your wretched country. If he does not, we will fight until Egypt is no more."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">As he reached me, he stopped pacing and smiled, revealing crooked yellow teeth. "What is your name, little girl?" His voice was gentle.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">"K-Kiya," I squeaked.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">"What a beautiful girl you are. Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">I did not answer.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">"How old are you?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">"Nine."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">"Ah. Perfect." His hideous grin widened. "You will be my slave, Kiya. And when your red moon comes, you will become my bride."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">I stared at him, too horrified to speak.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">He stepped forward. "That flower around your neck goes very well with your lovely face." He fingered the lotus pendant and I pulled back.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">"Where are my parents?" I blurted.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">"We left them behind, little one. We have no use for them." He laughed cruelly.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">My fear was replaced by rage. "I want my parents. Bring me back to my parents."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">One of the warriors rushed toward me, but the chieftain held up his hand. He stared into space for a moment. "Very well. If you work hard, I will send for your parents by the time you and I are ready to marry."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">My anger began to abate. "You mean that?" I looked into his dark eyes, which were surrounded by a strange painted pattern of dots.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">"Yes. So what do you say, little Kiya? Are you going to work hard?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">I hated that he called me "little Kiya." It sounded like he was trying to replace Papa. But I knew that if I wanted to see my parents again, I had to be obedient and silent.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">I nodded.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">"Good," he said, turning away.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">"What is a red moon?" I asked.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">Some of my fellow villagers stared at me, aghast, while the tribespeople roared with laughter.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">The chieftain approached Mekten. "Be Kiya's advisor and explain to her what a red moon is. I am sure you know full well." He winked at her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">I felt sick at that gesture, even though I did not understand what it meant.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">Mekten nodded in submission.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">The chieftain waved his arm, inviting his people to pick slaves from among us.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">A tall, thin woman with large bone earrings and a cold expression led Mekten and I to the chieftain's large tent. When we stepped inside, I nearly screamed. The place was festooned with more disembodied animal heads, as well as enormous wooden masks with frightening expressions. The dim light from torches cast shadows on the eerie things, making them look almost alive.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">The tribeswoman pointed to a dirty mat at the far end of the tent. "You will sleep there. Go now." Mekten and I headed for the mat, but the tribeswoman grabbed Mekten's arm. "Not you. You will stay here."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">I stared at them, confused, and the woman glared at me. "Go!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">I hurried over to the mat as the tribeswoman extinguished the torch, plunging the tent into complete darkness.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">All was silent. Then the tent's flap rose, revealing the bulky profile of the chieftain. He shuffled inside and the flap swung closed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">Not long after, I heard Mekten crying out in fear and pain. Heavy breathing followed. The louder Mekten screamed, the heavier the breathing grew.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">Though I had no idea what was happening, I knew I was hearing something bad. I covered my ears, but it was no use. Similar screams rose from the neighbouring tents. I slept amongst nightmares, waking at times to the sound of terrified cries and heartbreaking sobbing.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">The following morning, Mekten acted scared of everything and everyone, which wasn't like her. I wanted to make her feel better, but I didn't know how. Even the most trivial things I did frightened her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">Throughout the day, I kept a distance from her. But at times, I tried to reach out to her. She was, after all, one of our dearest family friends.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">"Mekten," I said in a timid voice. "What is a red moon?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">Mekten looked at me with sad eyes. Finally, she took a deep breath and explained everything in a shaky voice before breaking down.</span></div>
<br />M. C. Pearsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13777325241098466381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17875082.post-91968695125605786922012-02-20T23:52:00.001-05:002012-02-20T23:52:14.869-05:00The Qur'an Dilemma English (The Qur'an Dilemma English, Volume 1)<br />
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When the book, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Quran-Dilemma-English/dp/1935577034/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1329799356&sr=1-1">The Qur'an Dilemma English (The Qur'an Dilemma English, Volume 1)</a>, came in the mail, I was immediately impressed by the cover and the workmanship involved in its making. Gorgeous, with full color! My husband and son grabbed it up and fought for dibs on who was to read it first. They are still going at it. I believe there are to be 3 volumes in this collection. We will have to buy the others. Very informative, this is written by former Muslims.<br />
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Here's what the PR Specialist told me when she sent out the query for a blog tour:<br />
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqnORGEcAhZQA03HqMoqMfyDztTLE4kh69Xq3D-tT5eBIkkEZiDk-JhSHB8BITKgvwDwwNjYHJpvdf3ym_igwMlLVsmtg3puJbSi9RR0bj1khgacgv8SJKGWGAvfsXDolMWUAhXQ/s1600/the+quaran+dilemma.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqnORGEcAhZQA03HqMoqMfyDztTLE4kh69Xq3D-tT5eBIkkEZiDk-JhSHB8BITKgvwDwwNjYHJpvdf3ym_igwMlLVsmtg3puJbSi9RR0bj1khgacgv8SJKGWGAvfsXDolMWUAhXQ/s200/the+quaran+dilemma.jpg" width="166" /></a>We know that the Muslim population is growing in the U.S. And we know that Jesus can save a Muslim as easily as He can save anyone who comes to Him. And we know that we have as much responsibility as Christians to reach Muslims with the saving Truth of the Gospel as we do anyone else walking this earth.<br />But what do Muslims believe? How can we know--really know--that what we are told about Islam is true? How can we even begin a conversation with someone whose way of life and religion we know nothing of...and may even be fearful of?<br />For the first time in history, we can know exactly what The Quran says. A group of former Muslims who became Christians several years ago decided to take on an enormous task: go through the Quran, sura by sura (sura is akin to chapter) and share it in Arabic and English. The result is Volume I of The Quran Dilemma.<br />Unlike Christianity, Islam doesn't encourage its believers to own a copy of the Quran and read it for themselves. They are dependent on the imam (something like the local preacher, in Christianity) to read from the Quran and interpret it.<br />But now it is accessible. You can read it for yourself, along with articles about what Islam says regarding certain topics, whether that verse's directive was later changed when Mohammed claimed to get a new revelation, and more.<br />And you can know that you are reading something created by people who love Jesus for who He says He was and is.<br />These books are hard cover, full color. We have a limited supply. If you'd like to join the tour and review a copy of The Quran Dilemma, please reply quickly and we'll get you on the list. </blockquote>
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"This book has the potential of destroying the concept that the Quran is perfect. But it says it in a scholarly fashion that strangely is not offensive." <br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
GEORGE HOUSSNEY, Founder and Director, </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
Horizons International, Boulder, CO</div>
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"I consider this book to be a clear reference that would help me as a minister in dialoguing with my Muslim brothers. Every Christian minister interested in communicating the gospel message to a Muslim brother needs a copy of this book."<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
SAMUEL FAWZI, Elder, Kasr El Dobarah Evangelical Church, </div>
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Healing Channel Television Host, Cairo, Egypt </div>
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Book Description:<br />
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The Qur'an is the very foundation of Islam. It is the source of all laws and practices, religious or otherwise, in Islamic countries and societies. The Qur'an itself is divided into 114 chapters, or suras, of different lengths. This first volume of the The Qur'an Dilemma investigates the first nine of these suras. Each sura contains the text of the Qur'an complemented with these well-annotated elements: * Introduction, outlining the major subjects * Critical analysis of key verses, focusing on their historical accounts, scientific information, logic, and literary structure. * Variant readings of certain verses, highlighting how the Arabic text has been read by others in ways that differ from the current common readings. Emphasis is given to the variation in the text itself, especially by those who do not agree with the codification made by 'Uthman's committee * Abrogated verses with analytical comments, explaining how the authority and understanding of such verses are impacted by other verses. (Abrogation is a phenomenon peculiar to the Qur'an, in which hundreds of verses have been annulled or replaced by other verses.....<br />
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Product Details:<br />
Price: $39.95<br />
Hardcover<br />
Publisher: Water Life Publishing (2011)<br />
ISBN-10: 1935577034<br />
ISBN-13: 978-1935577034<br />M. C. Pearsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13777325241098466381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17875082.post-35576098884146642592012-02-07T02:30:00.000-05:002012-02-07T02:30:38.929-05:00Review of FAIRIES from Nora St. Laurent<br />
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<span style="background-color: #444444; color: white; font-family: inherit;"><span class="reviewer"><a class="userReview" href="http://www.goodreads.com/user/show/1100689-nora" itemprop="author" style="text-decoration: none;">Nora Stlaurent</a></span>'s review </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #444444; color: white; font-family: inherit;"><span itemprop="publishDate">Jan 26, 12</span><span class="value-title" title="2012-01-26"></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #444444; color: white; font-family: inherit;"><span class="value-title" title="4"></span><img alt="4 of 5 stars" height="15" src="http://d2cnulzsnzwz8f.cloudfront.net/images/layout/stars/red_star_4_of_5.png?1328509155" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-image: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px;" title="4 of 5 stars, really liked it" width="75" /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #444444; color: white; font-family: inherit;">Read in December, 2011</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhLet4C4YfOhcM8xBngUyq6EgJ-WKYq7NplhCdGlxNyuKV8o7vdDiyU4OJKpv0bctxG0sdePmLdreF9H4QckLPz-kO_m27I992DGywY7EdcOJIOR9utxpptDgsrsSn-OWSklZe/s1600/nora.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: #444444; color: white; font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhLet4C4YfOhcM8xBngUyq6EgJ-WKYq7NplhCdGlxNyuKV8o7vdDiyU4OJKpv0bctxG0sdePmLdreF9H4QckLPz-kO_m27I992DGywY7EdcOJIOR9utxpptDgsrsSn-OWSklZe/s200/nora.jpg" width="161" /></span></a><span style="background-color: #444444; color: white; font-family: inherit;">Review: Have you seen the movie Tooth Fairy or The S.A.N.T.A. Clause? Read the book Hinds Feet in High Places? F.A.I.R.I.E.S. reminded me of parts of these movies and book. I’m thankful to have received a review copy of such an imaginative book. This author combines fantasy with reality like the two movies I mentioned and is an allegory like the book Hinds Feet in High Places. Mellie is the only human in the story. She is surrounded with mystical characters like Lord of the Rings has with fairies, elves, gnomes, gremlins, dragons, dwarfs just to name a few and she’s trying to make sense of this new world she has just entered, like Lucy in C.S. Lewis’s book Narnia.<br /><br />M.C. Pearsons is not only the author of this youth fantasy but she is the illustrator as well. Her pictures are scattered throughout the book. They illustrate for the reader her imaginative characters<br /><br />Mellie is a disgruntled human who wishes to escape the home life she has with her dreadful sisters. “Just once she wanted to do something that would make her sisters see that she wasn’t stupid, awkward, ugly, and a little baby.” She wanted to live in a family where she was loved and accepted. Maybe she could runaway and find a better place to live.<br /><br />Suddenly Mellis finds herself deep into the forest unsure of where to go next, then she runs into the strangest sight, a walking stick that talks.<br /><br />Is this a dream she wonders? Then suddenly the walking stick ushers her into the labyrinth of the F.A.I.R.I.E.S. She doesn’t know what to think. Everything was quite magical. Just like in the Santa Clause and Tooth Fairy movies she sees everyone working together as a team for a common goal, she’ll learn later.<br /><br />The walking stick finally introduces himself to her, his name is Regnans. He says, Welcome to the F.A.I.R.I.E.S. it stands for<br />F – Fantastical<br />A – Aerial<br />I – International<br />R- Reasonably<br />I- Inconspicious<br />E- Emancepation<br />S – Squads<br /><br />They have accepted her into their organization. Regnans goes on to tell she has been “chosen” by the One. He tells her, “You made a choice to run away from a miserable life and asked to be set free?..... Right? You asked – we answered – you are accepted.”<br /><br />Mellie is surprised and says, “But I don’t believe in fairies….”<br /><br />“Follow-Me. I’ll enroll you for training. We are at war.” Move quickly.<br /><br />She replies, “I’m not at war with anyone”<br /><br />Regnan says, “You are at war. The darone wants to stamp out the light.”<br /><br />This is where the story reminded me of the Tooth Fairy and how he goes into training. He learns all he can and then makes the mission his own.<br /><br />Mellie embarks on a magical adventure as “chosen” by the One to be trained as a soldier of the light to fight the shadow whose set on fighting humans.<br /><br />She also is in search of the One who truly loves and accepts her for who she is and was created to be.<br /><br />I enjoyed this journey into the F.A.I.R.I.E.S. training and beyond!! It was fun, entertaining and yet there was a depth to this story I enjoyed. I also like the surprising twists and turns Mellie takes in her search to find the One and her mission in life.<br /><br />Are you looking for a story that will whisk you into a magical land and help you not think about the worries of this world; at the same time bring comfort and joy to your soul? Then search no more F.A.I.R.I.E.S. is the book for you and the young people in your life. It will spark great conversation for you and any book clubs that would like to read it.<br /><br />Nora St.Laurent<br />The Book Club Network<br /><a href="http://www.bookfun.org/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">www.bookfun.org</a> </span></div>M. C. Pearsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13777325241098466381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17875082.post-67364485525272045932012-01-27T14:18:00.000-05:002012-01-27T14:18:31.536-05:00#37 F.A.I.R.I.E.S.: Baptism by Fire Blog Tour!<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">This is what Rachelle Sperling of <a href="http://landofmysojourn.net/blog/">Sojourner's Journey</a> had to say about <i>F.A.I.R.I.E.S.</i>:</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghoi05IpCk-k2ACLlddqONJ96_EUJ3WeJLq93hPZ75R9e51Kre19WgRlBSvVfvFuQLfS6QK9UTyKtmYT9MqDsnZOGrk7UZdMheinQddWeJ7mafZHLq4Tgi56EHqnF3UdwacFXy7Q/s1600/Prayer-Card-green2-166x225.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghoi05IpCk-k2ACLlddqONJ96_EUJ3WeJLq93hPZ75R9e51Kre19WgRlBSvVfvFuQLfS6QK9UTyKtmYT9MqDsnZOGrk7UZdMheinQddWeJ7mafZHLq4Tgi56EHqnF3UdwacFXy7Q/s200/Prayer-Card-green2-166x225.jpg" width="147" /></a>Geared primarily for children and pre-teens, <i>F.A.I.R.E.S.</i> (Fantastical, Aerial, International, Reasonably Inconspicuous, Emancipation Squads) is the story of Mellie (12 going on 13) and her adventure of being chosen and choosing to serve the One.<br />
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While I love fantasy and read a fair amount of children's and young adult fiction, I had a difficult time getting into this book. In order to show the growth of her character Mellie, the author starts with a self-centered, whiny young girl. Maybe Pearson did a bit too thorough a job in showing Mellie's unflattering side, because I just couldn't find anything about Mellie's character to connect with until well into the story. Mellie's character development reminded me a bit of both Edmund and Eustace from C.S. Lewis' Narnia, but when Mellie was introduced there were no other (more noble) characters to help me stay connected to the story.<br />
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Still, I'm glad that I kept reading. About a quarter of the way into the book Mellie's character started to take on a more rounded personality and I enjoyed the development of the relationships within her squad of fantastical being friends. Though I must admit that it seemed odd how Mellie went from being a self-centered twelve year old to acting like a mature sixteen or seventeen year old in the span of four months, the changes in Mellie moved the story along in a way that helped me connect to the lessons she was learning.<br />
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Despite the fact that it took some time for me to feel involved in the storyline, Mimi's imagination knows no bounds. As I read I became immersed in a world of strange and fascinating creatures exploring the riddles of dragons and the representation of the One.<br />
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Once I settled in to the story I enjoyed it and I look forward to seeing more from Mimi Pearson and her tales of the realm. Her grand imagination will no doubt continue to spark the interest of her target audience as she weaves tales of light, darkness and the One who is above it all.<br />
Thanks to the author for sending me a digital copy of the book in exchange for my honest opinion.</blockquote>M. C. Pearsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13777325241098466381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17875082.post-37899535133360204872012-01-25T00:24:00.001-05:002012-01-25T00:24:15.488-05:00Aloisius by Jonathon Charlap (Cover Design by FIRST Wild Card Press)FIRST Wild Card Press was asked to help redesign the cover for <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Aloisius-The-Trilogy-ebook/dp/B006PNB5CS/ref=ntt_at_ep_dpt_1">Aloisius </a>by <a href="http://jonathoncharlap.tumblr.com/">Jonathon Charlap</a>.<br />
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Here's the original cover:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYA74cLOe7EXGjS9c_pChFjGA2S5Shq-BvgJtWGmj8U8wTfXwKv_-K4KGwLQf9fkGP_HVWMe8sRYp-rm3DkBFikQqU-HoViQLm7sl23Ewz-cixKefkroWwZVBtdP_x2K49IQMA9A/s1600/original+Aloisius+cover.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYA74cLOe7EXGjS9c_pChFjGA2S5Shq-BvgJtWGmj8U8wTfXwKv_-K4KGwLQf9fkGP_HVWMe8sRYp-rm3DkBFikQqU-HoViQLm7sl23Ewz-cixKefkroWwZVBtdP_x2K49IQMA9A/s320/original+Aloisius+cover.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Here's the new and improved version of the cover by <a href="http://fantasticalsquads.blogspot.com/">M. C. Pearson</a>:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrHnb3TBi6VUkZ4E6geX8rwVh1BgfFkxZ98yzne6To6aK3gYUqA2W_NLKATHgh3bMwkkniwI00_GvEV5nAFEG8PXQ7hnOlk6k-7LpBWm7dZGW-Fuh1YV3kSD8WwRS8QE6spiNM-Q/s1600/Aloisius+Final+Cover+Cropped.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="231" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrHnb3TBi6VUkZ4E6geX8rwVh1BgfFkxZ98yzne6To6aK3gYUqA2W_NLKATHgh3bMwkkniwI00_GvEV5nAFEG8PXQ7hnOlk6k-7LpBWm7dZGW-Fuh1YV3kSD8WwRS8QE6spiNM-Q/s320/Aloisius+Final+Cover+Cropped.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Love to hear your feedback! Soon, <a href="http://firstwildcardpress.blogspot.com/">FIRST Wild Card Press</a> will open services for cover art and book set up/design.M. C. Pearsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13777325241098466381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17875082.post-62923427771053469402012-01-22T17:20:00.001-05:002012-01-22T17:24:00.601-05:00Firethorn by Ronie Kendig<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i><b>My Thoughts: </b>Although I have not yet read this, I've heard a lot of great things about it. Read the first chapter below to see if you'd be interested!
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<a href="http://firstwildcardtours.blogspot.com/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480264388542368882" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9wqrdwSX_u2P108nEuvtPVWXb79gjyDCUVIv-_6UOy0b80v-E9tGE91R4ZwF7TJd1co6Yg42vyriXC2_en4z3PKM5sTJCOYWorkmiI2s-4lKbDRpJM27M91XDBudISkhxsCol/s200/FIRSTWildCardTours2.jpg" style="float: left; height: 200px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-top: 0px; width: 145px;" /></a>It is time for a <span style="color: #990000;"><strong><a href="http://firstwildcardtours.blogspot.com/">FIRST Wild Card Tour</a></strong></span> 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! <span style="color: #990000;"><strong>Enjoy your free peek into the book!</strong></span>
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"><em>You never know when I might play a wild card on you!</em></span>
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<strong>Today's Wild Card author is: </strong>
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<strong><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: 180%;"><a href="http://www.roniekendig.com/">Ronie Kendig</a></span></strong>
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<strong><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: 180%;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: 100%;">and the book:</span> </span></strong>
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<strong><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: 180%;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/1602607850">Firethorn, Discarded Heroes #4</a></span></strong>
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<span style="background-color: #444444; color: white; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; text-align: -webkit-auto;">Barbour Books; Discarded Heroes edition (2012)</span>
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***Special thanks to Ronie Kendig for sending me a review copy.***
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<strong><span style="color: #333399; font-size: 130%;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">ABOUT THE AUTHOR:</span> </span></strong></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfNfRKhgRFzH3UqUNy5stGx6eaM6_1Rx90fP3en_IlZY6NxpgRAF6KwrmPjq5L9jF1Wm65KXoH9oKGpvXWnkWWaeqX-JcTSzTciQloV-yTA6AQ6cwDr_85NY0BedEKSJDiBjCF/s1600/Ronie+graffiti.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfNfRKhgRFzH3UqUNy5stGx6eaM6_1Rx90fP3en_IlZY6NxpgRAF6KwrmPjq5L9jF1Wm65KXoH9oKGpvXWnkWWaeqX-JcTSzTciQloV-yTA6AQ6cwDr_85NY0BedEKSJDiBjCF/s200/Ronie+graffiti.jpg" width="133" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: #444444; color: white;">An Army brat, Ronie Kendig grew up in the classic military family, with her father often TDY and her mother holding down the proverbial fort. Their family moved often, which left Ronie attending six schools by the time she’d entered fourth grade. Her only respite and “friends” during this time were the characters she created.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #444444; color: white;">It was no surprise when she married a military veteran—her real-life hero—in June 1990. Married more than twenty years, Ronie and her husband, Brian, homeschool their four children, the first of whom graduated in 2011. Despite the craziness of life, Ronie finds balance and peace with her faith, family and their three dogs in Dallas, TX.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #444444; color: white;">Ronie has a deep love and passion for people, especially hurting people, which is why she pursued and obtained a B.S. in Psychology from Liberty University. Ronie is an active member of the American Christian Fiction Writers (ACFW) and has volunteered extensively, serving in a variety of capacities from coordinator of a national contest to appointment assistant at the national annual conference.</span></div>
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<img align="left" alt="" height="163" src="http://rkendig.com/wp-content/themes/tekemedesign/images/ronfam.png" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-image: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 15px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" width="200" /></div>
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<span style="background-color: #444444; color: white;">Since launching onto the publishing scene in 2010, Ronie and her books have been gained critical acclaim and national attention, including:</span></div>
<ul style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-image: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: Georgia, 'Bitstream Charter', serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; list-style-image: initial; list-style-position: initial; list-style-type: square; margin-bottom: 18px; margin-left: 1.5em; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><ul style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-image: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; list-style-image: initial; list-style-position: initial; list-style-type: square; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 1.5em; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<li style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-image: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: #444444; color: white;">Finalist in Christian Retailing’s 2011 Readers’ Choice Awards (<em style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-image: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Nightshade</em>)</span></li>
<li style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-image: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: #444444; color: white;">RWA’s Faith, Hope, & Love’s 2011 Inspirational Readers’ Choice Awards in Romantic Suspense (<em style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-image: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Nightshade</em>)</span></li>
<li style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-image: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: #444444; color: white;">Named one of the Top 25 Christian Fiction Suspense, Mystery, and Thriller Writers by FamilyFiction (Sept 2011)</span></li>
<li style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-image: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: #444444; color: white;">2011 FamilyFiction Readers’ Choice Awards – 3<sup style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-image: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; bottom: 1ex; font-size: 10px; height: 0px; line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: relative; vertical-align: baseline;">rd</sup> place as New Favorite Author, 8<sup style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-image: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; bottom: 1ex; font-size: 10px; height: 0px; line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: relative; vertical-align: baseline;">th</sup> place with <em style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-image: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Nightshade </em>for Novel of the Year.</span></li>
<li style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-image: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: #444444; color: white;">INSPY Award Shortlist final in Mystery/Thriller (<em style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-image: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Dead Reckoning</em>)</span></li>
<li style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-image: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: #444444; color: white;">The Christian Manifesto’s 2010 Lime Award for Excellence in Christian Fiction (<em style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-image: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Nightshade</em>)</span></li>
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Visit the author's <a href="http://www.roniekendig.com/">website</a>.<br />
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<strong><span style="color: #333399; font-size: 130%;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:</span></span></strong></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeVtq6zYErRpvTUolaAm8TPxQCewtFOHjXd5myA-8ja64wviFAOXUI7w5HZM3frY7BC2WtVcsGZdvYZjTkJPpM2QENSk-iPMqynaOSmo-4rwYKIloTZ-8FpLpbI42htcfULZe5/s1600/Firethorn+cover_FINAL_color+shift.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeVtq6zYErRpvTUolaAm8TPxQCewtFOHjXd5myA-8ja64wviFAOXUI7w5HZM3frY7BC2WtVcsGZdvYZjTkJPpM2QENSk-iPMqynaOSmo-4rwYKIloTZ-8FpLpbI42htcfULZe5/s200/Firethorn+cover_FINAL_color+shift.jpg" width="131" /></a>Blown and dismantled, Nightshade is ready to repay the favor.<br />
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Former Marine and current Nightshade team member Griffin "Legend" Riddell is comfortable. So comfortable he never sees the set up that lands him in a maximum security prison, charged with murder. How can he prove his innocence behind bars?<br />
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Covert operative Kazi Faron is tasked with reassembling Nightshade—the black ops team someone dissected. Breaking Griffin out of a federal penitentiary amid explosive confusion may turn out to be her last assignment. What will it take to convince the fugitive that whoever set him up has also dissected the Nightshade team? As Kazi and Griffin race to rescue the others and discover the traitor,<br />
love begins to awaken in their hearts.<br />
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Can a covert operative and the felon she's freed overcome their mutual distrust long enough to save Nightshade? Will anything prepare them for who—or what is coming?<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="233" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/38BgfvYD3io" width="400"></iframe>
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Product Details:
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<li style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;"><b>List Price:</b> $12.99</li>
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<li style="margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;"><span style="background-color: #444444;"><span style="color: white;"><b>Paperback:</b> 352 pages</span></span></li>
<li style="margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;"><span style="background-color: #444444;"><span style="color: white;"><b>Publisher:</b> Barbour Books; Discarded Heroes edition (2012)</span></span></li>
<li style="margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;"><span style="background-color: #444444;"><span style="color: white;"><b>Language:</b> English</span></span></li>
<li style="margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;"><span style="background-color: #444444;"><span style="color: white;"><b>ISBN-10:</b> 1602607850</span></span></li>
<li style="margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;"><span style="background-color: #444444;"><span style="color: white;"><b>ISBN-13:</b> 978-1602607859</span></span></li>
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"><strong><span style="font-size: 180%;">AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:</span> </strong>
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<b> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;"> To all American military heroes</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">At home and abroad,</span></h2>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Those who have gone before</span></h2>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">and those serving today—</span></h2>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">THANK YOU!</span></h2>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Because of you, we are FREE!</span></h2>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><b></b></span><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">RECON CREED</span></div>
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;"><b>R</b>ealizing it is my choice and my choice alone to be a Reconnaissance Marine, I accept all challenges involved with this profession. Forever shall I strive to maintain the tremendous reputation of those who went before me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;"><b>E</b>xceeding beyond the limitations set down by others shall be my goal. Sacrificing personal comforts and dedicating myself to the completion of the reconnaissance mission shall be my life. Physical fitness, mental attitude, and high ethics—The title of Recon Marine is my honor.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;"><b>C</b>onquering all obstacles, both large and small, I shall never quit. To quit, to surrender, to give up is to fail. To be a Recon Marine is to surpass failure; To overcome, to adapt and to do whatever it takes to complete the mission.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;"><b>O</b>n the battlefield, as in all areas of life, I shall stand tall above the competition. Through professional pride, integrity, and teamwork, I shall be the example for all Marines to emulate.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;"><b>N</b>ever shall I forget the principles I accepted to become a Recon Marine. Honor, Perseverance, Spirit, and Heart.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">A Recon Marine can speak without saying a word and achieve what others can only imagine.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;"><i>Swift, Silent, Deadly</i></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Chapter 1</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;"><i>The Shack</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">“It’s sad, really.” Marshall “The Kid” Vaughn trudged away from the thumping rotors of the helo that had deposited them back at the Shack, his pack almost dragging the ground. “Ya don’t realize how much a person adds until he’s gone.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">“Legend’s not gone.” Max “Frogman” Jacobs hoisted his rucksack into a better group, his mind locked on Sydney and their two sons waiting for him at home. Poor woman had to be going out of her mind with two of his Mini-Me’s running around.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">“Yeah.” John “Squirt” Dighton hit the light breaker, then waited for the six-man team to clear the door. “He’s just temporarily detained.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Lights sizzled and popped to life. Groaning bounced off the grimy windows as he hauled the door closed, locked it, then started toward the showers.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">The Kid grunted. “Forty-years-to-life temporary.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">In the locker room, a depressive gloom hung over the team. They’d been on countless missions, hit just about every terrain and environment imaginable, but none had taken the toll the last couple had. And there was one reason—they were down a man. Griffin “Legend” Riddell. If Max could write the playbook, they wouldn’t do another mission without the guy. But with the man in federal prison for murdering a congressman, it’d be a long wait.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">It was quiet. Too quiet. Max looked around the Spartan room. Walls of lockers, most unused. A few benches. A giant once-white bin for dirty duds. And the team. Six men, now. All very skilled. Good men. Even the one missing. Every man here knew Legend had been set up—he didn’t murder that congressman. But nobody could prove it. The evidence was damning. Justice—<i>injustice </i>was more like it—came swiftly. Lambert, ever the puppeteer, couldn’t pull the right strings to get Legend off.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">“I’m heading up to visit him tomorrow. Anyone game?” Colton “Cowboy” Neeley slumped on a bench and ran a hand over his short, dark hair. His blue eyes probed the group.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">“Nah, man. I’ve got a date,” the Kid said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Squirt beaned him with a towel. “What girl would go out with you, mate?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">The Kid snapped the terry cloth back at the former Navy SEAL. “Your sister.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Squirt froze. His jaw went slack. Then his eyes darkened.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Laughing, Canyon “Midas” Metcalfe rose to his feet from the corner. “You just proved his point by thinking your sister would actually go out with him.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Squirt swallowed, his face drained of color. “I introduced them at a New Year’s party.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Midas laughed harder. “Your mistake, <i>mate.</i>”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Shuffling closer, Squirt pointed a finger at the Kid. “I swear, you touch her, I’ll shove a fist full of witchety grubs down your gullet.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">“Give me credit, dude.” The Kid raised his hands. “I’m a gentleman.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Max grunted. “Right.” As he strode around the lockers to the shower well, he heard more threats and much more laughter from the Kid. Max shook his head. Would the Kid ever grow up, learn when to leave things alone?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">As he tossed his oily, grimy duds on the bench, Max paused, thinking maybe he should send his report to Lambert now so he wouldn’t have to mess with it tomorrow. The mission had been simple enough, a snatch-n-grab of an Iranian doctor. It’d been nice and clean, in and out. The report wouldn’t take long. Then he could shower, bug out, and know he had the whole weekend with Syd and the boys.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Max jogged up the iron stairs, which creaked and groaned beneath his weight. Down the hall to the right. He punched in the code and entered the secure hub, the door hissing shut behind him. The most high-tech part of this dump-of-a-warehouse.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Shouts drew his attention to the blinds. He jabbed two fingers between a couple and spread them to peeked down into the main area. Squirt and the Kid raced into the bay and back the way they came. Squirt looked ready to kill. The Kid’s face revealed his fear. Max shook his head again. Man, he wanted Griffin back. The guy seemed to bring balance to the team. Badly needed balance.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Max powered up the computer. Hand propped on the warped wood, he waited for the system to boot.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">More shouts. Loud thuds.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">He pinched the bridge of his nose. Would they never—?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;"><i>Tat-a-tat! Tat-tat-a-tat!</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Instinct drove Max to his knee at the sound of gunfire. He scrambled to the window. Through the slanted blinds, he peered down into the slab of cement. His brain wouldn’t assemble what he saw. Gunmen. A dozen or more. Rushing into the Shack from the parking bay. Moving swiftly, as if. . .</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;"><i>They know the layout.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Max darted to the door and jerked it open. He sprinted down the hall toward the stairs. As his boot hit steel, he froze. A shadow emerged. Floated into the hall.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Too late.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Max jerked back. Pressed his spine against the wall.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">By the showers, the Kid looked up. Max signaled to him. Then made his best and loudest Nightshade whistle, hoping it would penetrate the building, give the men warning to take cover.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">The Kid threw himself back into the locker room.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Men swarmed the corner. One looked to his left, one right. His weapon slowly rose as he traced the stairs with his M16.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Max leapt backward into the darkness and into office. He closed the door. As the lock clicked, darkness dropped like an anchor over the entire building. Behind him, a glow screamed his location. The monitor!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Max spun. Lunged across the desk. Stabbed the power button. And paused with his hand still near the monitor. If someone was coming after them. . .accessing this computer. . .</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">On his knees, Max yanked the cords free. With the box, he moved to the window and reassessed the parking bay. Another van with a half-dozen men with AK-47s. They streamed into the warehouse.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Max’s gut wound into a dozen knots. They were screwed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;"><i>Think! </i>Hand on the door, he considered going back downstairs. But that would get him captured. Killed. Yet he’d rather be with his guys than running like a chicken.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">No, not running. Considering options, gaining the advantage. Planning. The invasion force was armed to the teeth. They knew who they were coming after. They’d brought weapons. And those guys moved with precision. Swift, deadly precision.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Though Nightshade had a stellar ops record, perhaps they had finally met their match. Still. . .two to one? Nightshade had faced worse.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">A large black Suburban screeched to a halt in the middle of the parking bay. Two men emerged, both wearing trench coats.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Max cursed his luck to be up here, away from his gear, his weapons. Up here, without firepower. Thus, powerless.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Okay, enough. He was going down there. He eased the door open and slid across the hall. Bathed in darkness, he crouched at edge of the landing, using the wall for cover. A dozen men so far, rushing here and there. Quick, quiet chatter between the men.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">A smirk slid into Max’s face. His team had taken cover and these goons couldn’t find them. If he could just get a weapon. . .</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">“Can’t find them.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">“They’re here. I saw them go in,” the man nearest the SUV shouted. “Find them! Lights!”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Light rushed through the building as headlamps from the vehicles stabbed the dusty, damp building. Max yanked back, out of sight. He needed to get down there, defend his men. His boot hit the landing.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Shouts erupted. A shot bounced off the steel rafters, taunting as it echoed through the Shack. Stilled, Max waited. More shouts. The sound of a scuffle. The half-dozen men waiting by the SUV lifted their weapons to the ready.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">The locker room door swung open. A man walked backward, his AK-47 aimed at a large form filling the doorway. Cowboy. Arms raised, dressed only in his jeans, he stalked forward. Someone shoved him from behind, which barely moved the big lug.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Spine pressed against the wood, Max peered down into the bay.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">“You move one wrong muscle,” the one in front of Cowboy growled, “and so help me God, I’ll kill you.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">“No you won’t.” Cowboy lowered his hands. “If you wanted me dead, I wouldn’t be out here.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;"><i>Ride ’em, Cowboy.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">From the side entrance to the showers, three men dragged a shouting, cursing Kid into the bay. Max smirked that it took three tangos to wrangle the Kid.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Hand clenched, Max’s mind went into overdrive. What could he do? <i>God. . .I need. . .something. </i>What could he pray for? Intercepting the team was impossible. Twelve, fifteen armed tangos against one unarmed man?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">He latched on to the hope that they’d only found Cowboy and the Kid. No Midas, Squirt, or Aladdin. Good. Maybe they could regroup and—</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">A man flew through the bay door from the showers and landed with a thud a yard from the others. Midas flipped over, scissored his legs, and swept the thug off his feet. The Kid seized the confusion to attack the men guarding him. And impressively. With a hard right, he dropped the first and used that weapon to disable the second.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Cowboy took a step back and rammed his elbow into the gut of the nearest guard. The gunman bent forward—straight into Cowboy’s meaty fist. The big guy pivoted, slapped the interior of the gunman’s wrist, effectively seizing the weapon and flipping the muzzle around. He fired at the guy.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;"><i>Crack!</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">In the split second it took for Max to realize the sonic boom that rent the air wasn’t the report of Cowboy’s .45 MEU but of a rifle, Max saw the man in the black trench coat drop to the ground. A circle spread out like a dark halo.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">“Sniper!” someone shouted.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">The dead guy had fallen backward. Most likely shot from the front. Which meant. . . Max’s gaze rose to the rafters. With no light, it’d be the perfect hiding spot. But. . .who? Squirt? Aladdin?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;"><i>Crack!</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">The man guarding Colton stumbled forward, then went to his knees before hitting the cement.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">The man in the black trench coat nearest the SUV dropped. A pool of blood spilled out.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">“There!” One guard swung and fired his fully automatic at the ceiling. Four others followed suit, firing at the bank of grimy windows on the southeast wall of the building.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Max followed their direction and watched. Waited, his breath caught at the back of his throat. Cracks and shattering glass blended with the staccato punches of the guns to create a wild cacophony of noise. Max tuned it out, praying whoever—Aladdin or Squirt—wouldn’t be hit.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">But then he saw it. A shift of a shadow. Like someone rolling. . .</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">The gunfire petered out as a body plummeted the eight feet to the ground.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">The thud seemed to have supernatural powers as it pounded Max’s chest and pushed him back. Away from the window but not far enough that he lost line of sight.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Silence dropped on the Shack.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">“Where’s Max Jacobs?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">As the question streaked through the warehouse, Max registered a red glow in the far corner. Even as he noticed it, he heard a beep. Another. His gaze darted to the source of the noise. Two men were walking the perimeter, their M16s dangling as they raised their arms and pressed something against the supports. Arms lowered and the men stepped back revealing gray bricks with wires.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Explosives.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;"><i>Gotta stop this. Do something.</i> His gaze collided with Cowboy’s. The big lug gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Max’s nostrils flared as he wrestled with what to do.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">“Where’s Dighton?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;"><i>How do they know our names?</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">“Dead,” someone answered.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Pulled back into the shadows, Max clenched his eyes and bit down on his tongue. Dighton was dead. What about Aladdin—had he survived the fall?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Sirens wailed in the distance.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">“Load ’em up.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">“What about Jacobs?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">“Outta time.” The leader left as the gunmen dragged the team out of the building.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Stealthily, Max held on to the box and sprinted the length of the hall to the side of the Shack. In the conference room, he plunged toward the window. Craned his neck to peek out. Three vehicles—twin white vans and a black town car.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">The guys were loaded into the van and one into the car.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">The leader shifted, held something out, then it wavered.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Detonator.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Max spun around, searching for an out. Doors. Only one way down—the stairs. But they led to the bay, which would be engulfed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Windows. Overlooked the dock. The canal. It was January. The water would be brutal cold. His split-second assessment told him no matter what route he took, it’d be deadly. Despite his training, if he didn’t find shelter out of the water once he broke surface, he’d die an ice cube. If he stayed, he’d die a fireball.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;"><i>Good thing SEALs are insulated against cold water.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Max vaulted toward the window, hurtling the computer through the window. The glass shattered as a violent force blasted through the air. It lifted him. Up. . .up. . . Flipped him. Searing pain sliced through his arm. Heat stroked his back and legs. Fire chased him out of the building. Into the night.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;"><i>Boom!</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Another wave slammed into him. Threw him backward. Toward the water.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Something punched his gut. Knocked the breath from his lungs.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Bright white lit the night. Blinded him. Then—almost instantaneously—black. Pure black. And he was falling. . .down. . .down. . .</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: NeutrafaceText-Demi;">Ro n i e K e n d i g</span><br /> </b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Roadkill;"><i><b>Firethorn</b></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: NeutrafaceText-Demi;"><b>Discarded Heroes # 4</b></span></div>
<span style="font-family: NeutrafaceText-Demi; font-size: x-small;"></span><br />
<h2 align="center">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">OTHER BOOKS BY RONIE KENDIG</span></h2>
<h2 align="center">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;"><i>Nightshade</i> (Discarded Heroes #1)</span></h2>
<h2 align="center">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;"><i>Digitalis</i> (Discarded Heroes #2)</span></h2>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;"><i>Wolfsbane</i> (Discarded Heroes #3)</span></h2>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">© 2011 by Ronie Kendig</span></h2>
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">ISBN 978-1-60260-0785-9</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®. NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan Publishing House. All rights reserved.</span><br />
<h2>
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the publisher.</span></h2>
<h2>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.</span></span></h2>
<h2>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">For more information about Ronie Kendig, please access the author</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">’s Web site at the following Internet address: </span><a href="http://www.roniekendig.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><b><u>www.roniekendig.com</u></b></span></a></span></h2>
<h2>
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;">Published by Barbour Publishing, Inc., P.O. Box 719, Uhrichsville, OH 44683,</span></h2>
<h2>
<a href="http://www.barbourbooks.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;"><b><u>www.barbourbooks.com</u></b></span></a></h2>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;"><i>Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses.</i></span></h2>
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<span style="font-size: small;">
Printed in the United States of America.</span></h2>M. C. Pearsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13777325241098466381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17875082.post-86909857381623380642012-01-20T02:52:00.001-05:002012-01-20T02:52:15.528-05:00Coming Soon! Kindle Book Giveaway Party!During my birthday week, Feb. 21-25, I am giving you a gift! Download <span style="font-style: italic;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/F-I-R-I-S-Baptism-ebook/dp/B0068MYW3K/ref=tmm_kin_title_0?ie=UTF8&m=AG56TWVU5XWC2">F.A.I.R.I.E.S.: Baptism by Fire</a></span> on your Kindle for free!
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<a href="http://mycountdown.org/fullpage.php?cp3_Hex=0F0200&cp2_Hex=7F0312&cp1_Hex=F7C259&ham=0&img=&hbg=0&hfg=0&sid=0&fwdt=150&lab=1&text1=Free%20Kindle%20Download%20of%20F.A.I.R.I.E.S.&text2=M.%20C.%20Pearson's%20Internet%20Birthday%20Bash&group=My%20Countdown&countdown=My%20Countdown&widget_number=3010&event_time=1329782400&timezone=UTC" style="display: inline;" target="_blank" title=" get my Free Kindle Download of F.A.I.R.I.E.S. countdown "><img alt="get my countdown" src="http://mycountdown.org/images/get_widget_button.png" style="border: none;" /></a> </div>M. C. Pearsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13777325241098466381noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17875082.post-79787307881694854292012-01-18T00:58:00.001-05:002012-01-18T01:05:12.498-05:00F.A.I.R.I.E.S. Giveaway Contest!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDGbsWh9tnL1cZtKovBHqVj6a5Q_K7eA-Ofzq7PseeKyHt41EybR29DjV7x9kzJJaBCT3rIHFMvxI8c9mhJaBuBsdYPhLt9b7WtJXoi2L2ycY9fO1NEcE5vYXEbrqLauGMdGHR/s1600/9780615530222-frontcover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: #444444;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDGbsWh9tnL1cZtKovBHqVj6a5Q_K7eA-Ofzq7PseeKyHt41EybR29DjV7x9kzJJaBCT3rIHFMvxI8c9mhJaBuBsdYPhLt9b7WtJXoi2L2ycY9fO1NEcE5vYXEbrqLauGMdGHR/s200/9780615530222-frontcover.jpg" width="130" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: #444444; color: white; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">My friend, Melanie, is having a F.A.I.R.I.E.S. Giveaway Contest! Go <a href="http://christianbookshelfreviews.blogspot.com/2012/01/interview-book-giveaway-mc-pearson.html">HERE </a>to see my interview and enter the contest. There are several ways to enter, so remember to press 'I did it' after the things you do. Also, you may enter each day in different ways. I am not in charge</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: #444444;"><span style="color: white;"> of this contest, but I will let you know who wins!<br /><br />Open for 20 more days!<br /><br />Here is how this giveaway works. If you win and live in the US or Canada, you will receive a print copy; but if you live anywhere else, you will receive a Kindle copy. In your comment, please mention what country you live in. Open Internationally!</span></span></span></span>M. C. Pearsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13777325241098466381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17875082.post-75463945513489474012012-01-18T00:51:00.000-05:002012-01-18T01:05:42.219-05:00#36 F.A.I.R.I.E.S.: Baptism by Fire Blog Tour!This is what MJ Chind had to say on her blog, <a href="http://creativemadnessmama.com/blog/2011/12/05/f-a-i-r-i-e-s-baptism-by-fire/">Creative Madness</a>:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibwF9BcL9WWX6s715KwRA_EgvsAMZliKpt6hw035zIif1kfnOJgQaNNwcwPtlH1Pu90FLUFTVBqfSIdzOji2EKxONSK9lTaAvONtj7ES01iNymR6IJs5LejkOWqG7q3EQv7V66jQ/s1600/CreativeMadness.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibwF9BcL9WWX6s715KwRA_EgvsAMZliKpt6hw035zIif1kfnOJgQaNNwcwPtlH1Pu90FLUFTVBqfSIdzOji2EKxONSK9lTaAvONtj7ES01iNymR6IJs5LejkOWqG7q3EQv7V66jQ/s1600/CreativeMadness.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: #444444; color: white; font-family: inherit;">It was a few years ago when I first started to read Mimi’s book and I was captivated. I was reading unedited versions and sending in opinions. I absolutely love starting with the foretelling of Gnome Dig Deep (see below) and the whit and whimsy of all the characters was soon to follow. At that time I have to admit that I did not finish reading, because it was before I had an ereader and then having a baby I was not able to sit at the computer to read much. Now that the real book is finally here, I’m so excited again!!</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #444444; color: white; font-family: inherit;">*Thanks to Mimi for providing a copy for review</span></div>
</div>M. C. Pearsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13777325241098466381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17875082.post-37254760078846899362012-01-12T00:48:00.001-05:002012-01-12T00:56:32.332-05:00#35 F.A.I.R.I.E.S.: Baptism by Fire Blog Tour!Here's what Lesley has to say about <a href="http://www.amazon.com/F-I-R-I-S-Baptism-Fire/dp/0615530222/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1321288142&sr=8-1">F.A.I.R.I.E.S.: Baptism by Fire </a>on her blog, <a href="http://www.lesleypeck.com/2011/12/fairies-baptism-by-fire-book-review.html">Dragonflies 'n Daydreams</a>.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO6UYgm-uMUZ6N6NfPaKREjF4aXWrLimOnZzXZnchsWJtq3lP1WykFKDH3nqvSvNPQFVwA5kjnvdD_dj6PA14mJoMA-HzzPE0g7xsoaITxYNP8UanpFDmesqwTARF6RNQ2HUWtZA/s1600/Lesley.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO6UYgm-uMUZ6N6NfPaKREjF4aXWrLimOnZzXZnchsWJtq3lP1WykFKDH3nqvSvNPQFVwA5kjnvdD_dj6PA14mJoMA-HzzPE0g7xsoaITxYNP8UanpFDmesqwTARF6RNQ2HUWtZA/s200/Lesley.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
<span style="color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><b style="background-color: #444444;">My thoughts:</b></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: white;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;" /></b></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">What an interesting book! This story is full of imagination and tells a wonderful story. You'll find yourself smiling and feeling intrigued by the characters and fictitious land. Full of fantasy you will enjoy every moment of the fight against good and evil. With illustrations that capture your eye you will want to share this book with your young friends. </span></span>M. C. Pearsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13777325241098466381noreply@blogger.com0