Thursday, July 26, 2012

The Gifted

By
Ann H. Gabhart






Gabhart's Shaker series continues with more of the same impeccable research and moving characters who are searching for their place in the world and learning to let God guide them. – RT Book Reviews

 



Jessamine Brady has been in the Shaker Village for half her young life, but in spite of how she loves her sisters there, she struggled to conform to the strict rules. Instead she entertains dreams of the world outside. When Tristan Cooper seems to step out of those dreams to entice her into the forbidden realm beyond the shaker Village, her life turns upside down. Will Jessamine be able to survive the storms of the world? Or will she retreat back to the peace of Harmony Hill?















Excerpt from The Gifted















Jessamine was ready to turn back when she caught sight of a boot up ahead of her. A boot that was connected to a man lying in a deep rut. She hardly dared breathe as she stepped closer to the man who was lying much too still. Blood oozed from an angry looking wound on the side of his head, and his right arm was bent in an unnatural angle.















With relief, she noted his closed eyes. That could be a hopeful sign. Much better than open and staring at nothing but the beyond side of death, she decided as she peered at his chest. Yea, he was definitely breathing, but she couldn't see the least bit of flutter to his eyelids. The fall must have knocked him senseless.















Jessamine had no idea what to do next. Go for help of course, but how without leaving the man there alone? That seemed wrong. She moved another step closer to him. His felt hat had spilled off and dark brown hair tumbled down over his forehead.















She shut her eyes and opened them again. He was definitely there. Still as stone, but definitely there. Dark whiskers were beginning to shadow his clean shaven cheeks. She stooped down beside him and reached her hand toward his face. She couldn't remember ever touching a man's face. Her granny had no use for men other than the old preacher and the princes who populated her stories.















"Make them up," her granny would say as she rocked back and forth in the chair on the porch. "That's the only kind to have truck with, my sweet little Jessamine. You keep that in mind when you get older, child. Wait for your prince. The good Lord will send one."















Of course, the Believers thought the Lord had changed his mind about men and women marrying and having families. The believed marriage was a sin a person did well to repent of and set aside. To keep back the normal temptations of the flesh, the Shakers made sure no touching went on between the sisters and brothers with their separate doorways and staircases. They feared even a slight brush against one of the opposite sex might plummet a Believer into sin.















So it could be with her touching this man's cheek. Her hand hovered in the air over him. The warmth of his skin rose up to her and she told herself she should put her hand behind her. What was that Bible verse where the Lord said it was better to chop off one's hand instead of letting it pull one into sin? But what was so sinful about a touch? No one would have to know. She wouldn't have to admit her sin of curiosity to Sister Sophrena. While the good sister claimed unconfessed sin was a burden on the soul, so far Jessamine hadn't felt all that burdened when she kept a lapse of obedience to herself. She rather thought it was a favor to Sister Sophrena not admitting all her wayward thoughts.















For years, the good sister had tried to get Jessamine to embrace the Shaker way, but Jessamine couldn't stop her wondering. She wanted to know things. And it would be good to know exactly how a man's face might feel under her hand instead of just imagining it.















"Is he dead?"















Jessamine was so startled by the voice she almost fell on top the man. She caught her balance and jerked back her hand as she scrambled to her feet. With her hand over her heart and a bit out of breath, she turned to stare at Sister Annie behind her. "You startled me, Sister Annie. I didn't know you followed me."















"I didn't want to. Believe me. But we are sisters and if there's danger, it's my duty to share it with you."















Jessamine turned back to the man in front of her. "I don't think he is a danger to us."















"Perhaps not in his current state, but what about the gunshot? You keep forgetting that there was gunfire." Sister Annie leaned forward to peer around Jessamine toward the man. "Does he have a gun?"















Jessamine let her eyes sweep down the man's slender body. He wore a coat something like the brothers wore to meeting, but of a richer looking cloth and his shirt was very white. The coat lay open and revealing the belt around the waist of his trousers. "No gun that I can see."















"Well, somebody had one. If not him, then somebody else." Sister Annie looked around. Her voice trembled as she went on. "Somebody who could be watching us right now. May our Eternal Father up in heaven protect us."















"Do you think he was shot?" Jessamine knelt down beside the man again. She thought of pulling her handkerchief out of her apron pocket to wipe away the blood on the side of his face. That could not be sinful even in Sister Annie's eyes. "We have to help him."















Sister Annie surprised her by agreeing. "Yea, but how?"















"You can go to the village and get help while I wait here with him."















"Nay. I won't leave you alone with a man of the world and besides I would get lost a dozen times trying to get back to the village. That would be no help to him or us either. By the time the elders sent out people to search for us, the man might be dead."















Jessamine's heart jumped up in her throat. "We can't let him die."















"God holds the number of our days."















"But I don't want him to die." Jessamine kept her eyes on the man's face.















"You don't even know him, Sister Jessamine. You are only imagining one of your stories in your head that get you into nothing but troubling fixes." Sister Annie's voice was cross again. "This man is not one of the princes in the fairytales your grandmother told you."















"Yea, Sister Annie. You are right, but even so, we must take him back to the village where Brother Benjamin can treat him for his injuries."















"That might be a proper plan, but how?"















"Perhaps on his horse." Jessamine suggested. The horse might still be nearby.















"The man's arm appears to be broken. He could have other bones broken as well. Even if we were strong enough to do so, we might make his injuries worse putting him on a horse."















"Well, if we can't move him and we can't leave him, what can we do?" Jessamine looked at his face with the blood trickling down toward his ear from the angry gash on his head. She did take out her handkerchief then and dabbed it against the wound. She waited to see if Sister Annie would condemn her actions, but when she did not, Jessamine reached out with her other hand to take hold of the handkerchief.















With great care to make her movement look totally unplanned, she gingerly laid her hand down on the man's cheek. The emerging whiskers were prickly under her fingers. She forgot about Sister Annie watching her and ran her fingers up his cheek toward his eye. There his skin was smooth and his lashes soft as downy feathers. Quite without thinking she dropped the handkerchief and touched her own eyelashes with her other hand. His felt much the same as hers.















"Whatever are you doing, Sister Jessamine?"















"Just wiping the blood from the gash on his head," she said quickly.















"I might be more apt to believe that if the handkerchief were in your hand instead of forgotten on the ground."















A flush rose up into Jessamine's cheeks as she snatched up the handkerchief and began dabbing at the bloody gash again. "Forgive me, Sister. But I had never touched a man's face before. I have continually wondered about their whiskers. How they might feel."















"Sister Sophrena often says your curiosity may be the death of you, but whether or not that is true, I am beginning to fear it will be the death of me." Sister Annie let out a long sigh. "And we are not one iota nearer a solution to our dilemma than we were. We have no choice. We must leave him here and go back to the village. Elder Joseph will know what to do."















"I suppose you are right."















Reluctantly Jessamine lifted her hand away from the man's face and started to stand. But before she could get to her feet the man's eyes popped open and he grabbed her wrist. She sucked in a startled breath as Sister Annie let out a frightened yelp behind her. She jerked to free herself but the man's grip was strong. She was caught as surely as a rabbit in a snare. So she went still and stared down into eyes the brown of butternut.















After a moment, she said, "Hello." Her voice carried hardly any tremble at all.















The Gifted is available online at ChristianBook.com, www.bn.com, Amazon.com or other on-line booksellers and at bookstores everywhere.











Visit Ann's website - http://www.annhgabhart.com.











Copyright ©2012 by Ann H. Gabhart



Published by Revell, a division of Baker Publishing Group



ISBN: 978-0-8007-3455-8



All rights reserved. Do not reproduce without permission.







Monday, July 16, 2012

Oregon Outback

by Elizabeth Goddard
A four-in-one novella collection featuring A Love Remembered, A Love Kindled, A Love Risked, and a Love Recovered.
The harsh, yet peaceful Oregon Outback molds the lives of four rugged brothers who stumble into love.
FBI agent Jonas Love has brought trouble back home, endangering his life and that of an old flame. Cattle rancher Carver Love finds himself falling for the sheriff in the midst of chasing down modern-day rustlers. Thrill-seeker Lucas Love fears nothing—until he meets a beautiful bookkeeper. Justin Love is trailing a fugitive who's heading too close to home—and one particular lodge keeper. How will God protect these men as they risk their lives to defend the ones they love?  

A Love Remembered
Chapter 1

Newton's Law of Gravity: What goes up must come down.


She took five running steps and leapt from Tague's Butte.


The force that countered gravity? Lift.


Wind rushed under the nylon fabric of the hang-glider and carried Darcy Nichols forward. She was an eagle, soaring through the sky thousands of feet above the ground. Riding the wind, she savored the freedom of flight.


No matter how many times she'd launched from the six thousand foot knob across from Albert's Rim—the largest fault lift in the US—the view always left her breathless.


Exhilarated.


Leaning her hips to the right, she turned the hang-glider toward the northeast into the straight line for her flight, maintaining a constant speed.


As she pushed her arms straight, forcing the control bar forward, the wing above her stalled. Then she caught the lift band, the thermal that would carry her higher.
Rising high into the wide open air space she craved, Darcy could see miles of the Oregon backcountry. She collided with molecules as she moved through the air, creating friction, or drag—another invisible force in the equation.


How high she could fly, how far she could go and how long she could stay in the air depended on balancing the three forces of gravity, lift, and drag. Maybe she could make it forty or fifty miles. Someone made it over eighty miles a few years ago.


It all came down to balancing invisible forces. They carried her through the air, allowing her to fly. But invisible forces were at work in her life too, never ceasing. They ushered her through the days, weeks, months. . .through a lifetime.


A balancing act that left her exhausted.


Eventually, she'd need to radio Emily, her best friend, when she knew where she'd land. A few of Darcy's friends had been heading to Lakeview and agreed to drop her off at the jump-off point on the way.


 With perfect conditions for hang-gliders and extraordinary views, the region had earned the title, The Hang-gliding Capital of the West.


Darcy let the wind carry her away from her thoughts. She absorbed the view and took pictures as she swept over Albert's Lake, the water reflecting the blue sky filled with cumulus clouds.  From directly above, the lake was indescribable—but she'd catch the image with her camera. 


Her photographs ended up in her gift shop that targeted tourists traveling along Oregon's scenic byways. In the distance, she could make out Fort Rock, and on the horizon, the Christmas Valley sand dunes. A few miles east of Christmas Valley was Carnegie, the small town where she'd grown up. The views were spectacular but the population was lean in Oregon's high desert, or the Oregon Outback as some called it.


The arid loneliness contradicted the beauty at times, making the land seem forgotten.  Darcy shared that with the land—her father died just over a week ago.


On Thursday, June 26th, he'd left her behind and alone. 


She'd been preparing for his death these last nine months since he'd received the poor prognosis. Though he'd only been gone a week, after remaining by his side for months, Darcy needed today. She needed to feel lifted above it all.


In the sky, she could soar above the earth and all the problems of the world appeared small. It wasn't all about her.


"Oh, Daddy." There was so much she'd wanted to say to him but it was pointless saying it now. All she'd ever wanted was what every child wanted—a father's approval. Why had it been so hard for him to give?


And now, that chapter of her life was gone forever.


A gust caught the delta wing, threatening to take her off course. In the sling, she leaned her body to the left.


North by northwest. Emily wouldn't be happy if she had to drive too far to pick Darcy up. An experienced pilot, she built altitude so that on her final glide she could go as far as possible, making it somewhere in the vicinity of Carnegie.


But even at thousands of feet above the ground, images accosted her mind. Her daddy's funeral in the pouring down rain. And then. . .


The familiar silhouette leaning next to the centuries old juniper tree.


 A hood protected him from the rain, hiding his face. Darcy's pulse had raced. Was it Jonas?


 No. Jonas Love had left town years ago thanks to her father, Pastor Jeremy Nichols', counseling.


Jonas was the man she would have married, if it hadn't been for her father. In the end, Jonas was the one who'd hurt her the most. The best thing she could do now was start a new life elsewhere.


With only ten or fifteen minutes remaining in her flight, she fumbled with her radio and hailed Emily.


"What do you want?" Emily's voice barked over the radio.


Darcy's friend knew the drill. They'd done this for years. "I'm about ten minutes out. You could probably see me to the south."


"Come again?"


"Really?"


Emily laughed. "I'm on it. And, there's something else."


The wind whipped in Darcy's ears, nearly drowning Emily out. "What?"


"I'll tell you later."


Darcy shut off her radio. "I hate it when you do that."


An eagle again, Darcy lost herself in flight, savoring those last few minutes. Finally, she soared over the small two-lane highway that Emily would take to meet her. McFarlane's ranch was across the way, a small swath of earth where she was permitted to land. Too soon, her time in the sky was over, like the ending of a well-loved book.


Grass and earth came at her fast. She pushed the bar forward and stretched her arms, tipping the nose up and stalling the glider until it began to slow. . .slower. . .Darcy stuck her feet out and landed upright, running through the sagebrush and bunchgrass until she stopped.  The wing dropped behind her.


Grounded, the exhilaration of flight slowly dissipated. She unharnessed from the contraption.  When she looked up, Emily was jogging across the property. Breathing hard, she slowed as she approached, her dark blond hair bouncing in a ponytail.
"You didn't have to run," Darcy said.

"Didn't I?" Emily leaned over her thighs.


"On second thought, you probably need the exercise," Darcy teased.


"Are you prepared to walk home?" Emily raised her eyebrows.


"No, not really."


"Didn't think so." Emily drew in a long breath. "Let me help you with that."


"No. I have to fold it just right. It'll last longer. You know that."


"Yes, but I always have to ask, don't I?"


"Maybe. You can tell me whatever it was you were going to tell me later."


"Now?" Emily sounded cautious.


Darcy glanced up from packing the glider. "What is it?"


With an unreadable expression, Emily pinned Darcy with her sage-green eyes. "Jonas Love is back in town."


Invisible forces.

Oregon Outback is available anywhere books are sold: www.amazon.com, www.christianbook.com, Wal-Mart and at your local Christian bookstore
Copyright © 2012 by Elizabeth Goddard. Do Not Reproduce without  permission.

Tuesday, July 10, 2012


 

THE GIFTED


By


Ann H. Gabhart

Gabhart's Shaker series continues with more of the same impeccable research and moving characters who are searching for their place in the world and learning to let God guide them.  – RT Book Reviews


Jessamine Brady has been in the Shaker Village for half her young life, but in spite of how she loves her sisters there, she struggled to conform to the strict rules. Instead she entertains dreams of the world outside. When Tristan Cooper seems to step out of those dreams to entice her into the forbidden realm beyond the shaker Village, her life turns upside down. Will Jessamine be able to survive the storms of the world? Or will she retreat back to the peace of Harmony Hill?



Excerpt from The Gifted



Jessamine was ready to turn back when she caught sight of a boot up ahead of her. A boot that was connected to a man lying in a deep rut. She hardly dared breathe as she stepped closer to the man who was lying much too still. Blood oozed from an angry looking wound on the side of his head, and his right arm was bent in an unnatural angle.



            With relief, she noted his closed eyes. That could be a hopeful sign. Much better than open and staring at nothing but the beyond side of death, she decided as she peered at his chest. Yea, he was definitely breathing, but she couldn't see the least bit of flutter to his eyelids. The fall must have knocked him senseless.



            Jessamine had no idea what to do next. Go for help of course, but how without leaving the man there alone? That seemed wrong. She moved another step closer to him. His felt hat had spilled off and dark brown hair tumbled down over his forehead.



            She shut her eyes and opened them again. He was definitely there. Still as stone, but definitely there. Dark whiskers were beginning to shadow his clean shaven cheeks. She stooped down beside him and reached her hand toward his face. She couldn't remember ever touching a man's face. Her granny had no use for men other than the old preacher and the princes who populated her stories.



            "Make them up," her granny would say as she rocked back and forth in the chair on the porch. "That's the only kind to have truck with, my sweet little Jessamine. You keep that in mind when you get older, child. Wait for your prince. The good Lord will send one."



            Of course, the Believers thought the Lord had changed his mind about men and women marrying and having families. The believed marriage was a sin a person did well to repent of and set aside. To keep back the normal temptations of the flesh, the Shakers made sure no touching went on between the sisters and brothers with their separate doorways and staircases. They feared even a slight brush against one of the opposite sex might plummet a Believer into sin.



            So it could be with her touching this man's cheek. Her hand hovered in the air over him. The warmth of his skin rose up to her and she told herself she should put her hand behind her. What was that Bible verse where the Lord said it was better to chop off one's hand instead of letting it pull one into sin? But what was so sinful about a touch? No one would have to know. She wouldn't have to admit her sin of curiosity to Sister Sophrena. While the good sister claimed unconfessed sin was a burden on the soul, so far Jessamine hadn't felt all that burdened when she kept a lapse of obedience to herself. She rather thought it was a favor to Sister Sophrena not admitting all her wayward thoughts.



For years, the good sister had tried to get Jessamine to embrace the Shaker way, but Jessamine couldn't stop her wondering. She wanted to know things. And it would be good to know exactly how a man's face might feel under her hand instead of just imagining it.



"Is he dead?"



Jessamine was so startled by the voice she almost fell on top the man. She caught her balance and jerked back her hand as she scrambled to her feet. With her hand over her heart and a bit out of breath, she turned to stare at Sister Annie behind her. "You startled me, Sister Annie. I didn't know you followed me."



"I didn't want to. Believe me. But we are sisters and if there's danger, it's my duty to share it with you."



Jessamine turned back to the man in front of her. "I don't think he is a danger to us."



"Perhaps not in his current state, but what about the gunshot? You keep forgetting that there was gunfire." Sister Annie leaned forward to peer around Jessamine toward the man. "Does he have a gun?"



Jessamine let her eyes sweep down the man's slender body. He wore a coat something like the brothers wore to meeting, but of a richer looking cloth and his shirt was very white. The coat lay open and revealing the belt around the waist of his trousers. "No gun that I can see."



"Well, somebody had one. If not him, then somebody else." Sister Annie looked around. Her voice trembled as she went on. "Somebody who could be watching us right now. May our Eternal Father up in heaven protect us."



"Do you think he was shot?" Jessamine knelt down beside the man again. She thought of pulling her handkerchief out of her apron pocket to wipe away the blood on the side of his face. That could not be sinful even in Sister Annie's eyes. "We have to help him."



Sister Annie surprised her by agreeing. "Yea, but how?"



"You can go to the village and get help while I wait here with him."



"Nay. I won't leave you alone with a man of the world and besides I would get lost a dozen times trying to get back to the village. That would be no help to him or us either. By the time the elders sent out people to search for us, the man might be dead."



Jessamine's heart jumped up in her throat. "We can't let him die."



"God holds the number of our days."



"But I don't want him to die." Jessamine kept her eyes on the man's face. 



"You don't even know him, Sister Jessamine. You are only imagining one of your stories in your head that get you into nothing but troubling fixes." Sister Annie's voice was cross again. "This man is not one of the princes in the fairytales your grandmother told you."



"Yea, Sister Annie. You are right, but even so, we must take him back to the village where Brother Benjamin can treat him for his injuries."



"That might be a proper plan, but how?"



"Perhaps on his horse." Jessamine suggested. The horse might still be nearby.



"The man's arm appears to be broken. He could have other bones broken as well. Even if we were strong enough to do so, we might make his injuries worse putting him on a horse."
           


"Well, if we can't move him and we can't leave him, what can we do?" Jessamine looked at his face with the blood trickling down toward his ear from the angry gash on his head. She did take out her handkerchief then and dabbed it against the wound. She waited to see if Sister Annie would condemn her actions, but when she did not, Jessamine reached out with her other hand to take hold of the handkerchief.



With great care to make her movement look totally unplanned, she gingerly laid her hand down on the man's cheek. The emerging whiskers were prickly under her fingers. She forgot about Sister Annie watching her and ran her fingers up his cheek toward his eye. There his skin was smooth and his lashes soft as downy feathers. Quite without thinking she dropped the handkerchief and touched her own eyelashes with her other hand. His felt much the same as hers.
           


"Whatever are you doing, Sister Jessamine?"
           


"Just wiping the blood from the gash on his head," she said quickly.



"I might be more apt to believe that if the handkerchief were in your hand instead of forgotten on the ground."



A flush rose up into Jessamine's cheeks as she snatched up the handkerchief and began dabbing at the bloody gash again. "Forgive me, Sister. But I had never touched a man's face before. I have continually wondered about their whiskers. How they might feel."



"Sister Sophrena often says your curiosity may be the death of you, but whether or not that is true, I am beginning to fear it will be the death of me." Sister Annie let out a long sigh. "And we are not one iota nearer a solution to our dilemma than we were. We have no choice. We must leave him here and go back to the village. Elder Joseph will know what to do."



"I suppose you are right."



Reluctantly Jessamine lifted her hand away from the man's face and started to stand. But before she could get to her feet the man's eyes popped open and he grabbed her wrist. She sucked in a startled breath as Sister Annie let out a frightened yelp behind her. She jerked to free herself but the man's grip was strong. She was caught as surely as a rabbit in a snare. So she went still and stared down into eyes the brown of butternut.



After a moment, she said, "Hello." Her voice carried hardly any tremble at all.



The Gifted is available online at ChristianBook.com, www.bn.com, Amazon.com or other on-line booksellers and at bookstores everywhere.


Visit Ann's website - http://www.annhgabhart.com.


Copyright ©2012 by Ann H. Gabhart
Published by Revell, a division of Baker Publishing Group
ISBN: 978-0-8007-3455-8
All rights reserved. Do not reproduce without permission.

Monday, July 09, 2012

The Secret Keeper: A Novel of Kateryn Parr

Sandra Byrd

The author of To Die For returns to the court of Henry VIII as a young woman is caught between love and honor.


Juliana St. John is the daughter of a prosperous knight. Though her family wants her to marry the son of her father's business partner, circumstances set her on a course toward the court of Henry VIII and his last wife, Kateryn Parr. For she knows a secret. She has been given the gift of prophecy, and in one of her visions she has seen Sir Thomas shredding the dress of the king's daughter, the lady Elizabeth, to perilous consequence.


As Juliana learns the secrets of King Henry VIII's court, she faces threats and opposition, learning truths about her own life that will undo everything she holds dear.


"Rich in historical detail, full of intrigue, and starring a memorable heroine, Sandra Byrd's The Secret Keeper kept me completely engrossed in the tumultuous court of Henry VIII. I felt a part of the times, thanks to the author's skillful storytelling, vivid descriptions, and inspiring characters. Readers are in for a special treat with this remarkable novel." —Francine Rivers, New York Times bestselling author



Chapter One Excerpt


Once I began to read out The Acts of the Apostles, I quit, for the moment, of my fears and lost myself in the resonant words of Saint Paul and the upturned faces of the crofters, the millers, and the goodwives, breathing heavily in their mean woolen garb. Sir Thomas remained for the reading but left afore the townsfolk did. Afterward, Father Gregory called me back to a quiet closet shut off from hungry eyes and thirsty ears.

"And now, Juliana. Unburden yourself."

"You know of my dream." I spoke immediately.

He nodded. " I know a little. Would you like to share its entirety?"

"About a year ago, shortly after my father died, I began to have a dream. 'Twas not an ordinary dream, but it was powerful and left me in a sweat and fever with my senses vexed," I said. "My maid, Lucy, would calm me afterward though she was frightened, too." I forced my hands from twisting ropes of my fine skirts and continued.

"I saw a barn, a large barn, filled with wheat and livestock of all kinds. And of course the husbandmen and others who tended the flocks and fields. At night, something kindled within the barn and within minutes the barn was aflame. The livestock and grains were all burnt and the building was too."

"Yes?" His voice was gentle but prodded me to continue.

"At first I had the dream only once, and then six months later it came back. Then after a month, and then a week. Each time the dream would grow more fervent. The heat peeled my skin like parchment and I my ears could not refused the desperate bleating of the animals and the screams of men. One night, I noticed that the doors to the barn looked exactly like the doors to my father's warehouses. And then, 'twas pressed upon my heart, for this reason you have been shown the fire. After some nights I knew I must tell my mother. 'Twas not a choice but a compulsion."

He grimaced, as though swallowing bitter ale. "And she ..."

"Disbelieved me at first. But I was insistent. As you know I am wont to be. My Lady mother has said no more. But lately, I ... dreamt. And I know she heard me call out, though my maid sought to wake and still me as soon as she heard my unrest."

"Is this another of the same kind of dream?"

"Yes."

"Have you told your mother?"
"I have told no one." My voice made it clear that I would not be forthcoming, even to him, with the contents of this dream. "But she came to my chamber and saw my countenance. After my maid had left us she declared me a witch." I swallowed roughly. "Is it true? Am I a witch?"

I looked at my hands, not wanting to see his face, and nor how he might now view me, afore I heard his answer. I desperately wanted to keep his good opinion of me.

"No," he said gently. "You are not a witch. Do not let that trouble you again."

I sighed with relief, perhaps too soon, and looked up as he spoke. "But others could claim that you are one if they hear of your dreams or do not like the content of them. The penalty for witchcraft is death and forfeiture of all material wealth, no matter how highly born. Wait here." He rose and left the room, his long black clerical robes sweeping the fine dust beneath them whilst I tried to quiet the worries that newly beset me.

When he returned, he handed me a book. "Tyndale," I said, tracing my finger over the lettering.

He took the book from me and opened it up to the Acts of the Apostles, just a few pages on from that morning's reading. "It shall be in the last days, saith God: I will pour out of my spirit upon all flesh: and your sons and daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams. And on my servants, and on my handmaidens I will pour out my spirit in those days and they shall prophesy."

We sat there, time marked by a hundred quiet breaths. Then he took the book from me and slipped threads that he pulled from his vestments between various of the pages before handing it back to me.

"My dreams ... they are prophecy?" I whispered, suddenly understanding why he'd chosen that passage.

"'Tis your gift." His drawn face showed me that he knew it to be a heavy burden.
I stood up. "An unsolicited gift! An unwarranted trouble!" I pushed my hair back from my head and when I took my hand away it was wet with the evidence of fear and despair.

"Woe to the pot who tells the potter how she should be fashioned," he rebuked me.

I sat down again, shamed. "I know it well. I am afraid."

"God has specially chosen you, and He will be with you, Juliana."

Cold seeped from the church walls and into my bones, which now felt very like those buried in the plot outside must feel.

"You must take care. There are laws against prophecies, too, if those in power or are noble or highborn are not pleased with the predicted outcome. The prophet or prophetess may be thrown into the Tower for such - and worse."

He took my hand in his own again and I readily yielded it. "God Himself has opened your eyes. Many of the things you foresee shall be difficult and unwelcome and the temptation will be to remain silent or run away. Some you must act upon in faith but may not learn the reason why during this lifetime. I shall pray for you," he said gravely. "That you may be able to resist in the evil days which will surely come. And to stand."


Please visit Sandra at http://www.sandrabyrd.com/; the book is available for purchase at fine bookstores everywhere.

Do Not Reproduce without permission

Monday, July 02, 2012

A Doctor's Vow

by Cheryl Wyatt
ABOUT THE BOOK:
· Publisher: Love Inspired (June 19, 2012)
· ISBN-10: 0373877544
· ISBN-13: 978-0373877546
A Doctor’s Vow--When he fled Eagle Point years ago, former
air force trauma surgeon Mitch Wellington left
only broken dreams behind. Now he’s back with
a new dream—opening a trauma center in the
rural area and saving lives. He hopes to hire the
quick-thinking nurse who impressed him during
an emergency. But Lauren Bates lost her faith
and doesn’t believe she deserves to help anyone.
Mitch knows firsthand what loss feels like. And
it’ll take all his devotion to show Lauren that
sometimes the best medicine is a combination
of faith, community—and love.
Eagle Point Emergency Series:
Saving lives—and losing their hearts—in a small Illinois town.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Born Valentine’s Day on a Navy base, Cheryl Wyatt writes military romance. Her debuts earned RT Top Picks plus #1 and #4 on Harlequin's Top 10 Most-Blogged-About-Books, lists which included NYT Bestsellers. Cheryl loves interacting with readers. Sign up for her newsletter for yummy story recipes and other fun stuff exclusive to newsletter subscribers at www.cherylwyatt.com. Cheryl loves interacting with readers and can often be found plotting mayhem with them on her Facebook page, dedicated to readers: http://www.facebook.com/CherylWyattAuthor
BOOK PURCHASE LINKS:
FIRST CHAPTER EXCERPT LINK:
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On Sun, Jul 1, 2012 at 8:29 PM, Cheryl Wyatt <anavim4him@gmail.com> wrote:
[Attachment(s) from Cheryl Wyatt included below]
Hey all! Attached is the cover art and content for The Doctor's Devotion. The excerpt link is also the blog where I post all of your CLBB book info, but I've been forgetful of sending the link individually to authors as I post the CLBB each week one goes up. Sorry about that!
Thanks so much to all of you who have time to post this info. The book released in stores a couple of weeks ago and is available online now as well. Please let me know if you need any other info.
Blessings,
Cheryl Wyatt

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Writing as Worship www.cherylwyatt.com
Wings of Refuge Series (Love Inspired) available in digital format at all online booksellers.
The Doctor's Devotion (July Love Inspired) on sale for pre-order now!





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Writing as Worship www.cherylwyatt.com

Wings of Refuge Series (Love Inspired) available in digital format at all online booksellers.

The Doctor's Devotion (July Love Inspired) on sale for pre-order now!