Thanks to all who entered! And don't forget, tomorrow, I'll be drawing a name to win my Sea-Faring Basketfrom the list of everyone who entered this month to win The Blue Enchantress. This is your last day to enter the drawing by scrolling down to my last entry and entering your name!
No matter how many times you entered or whether you already won a book, your name is in the hat. So, check back tomorrow!
And have a blessed, restful, happy weekend, everyone!
The winner of last week's drawing is Casey! Libraryhelper.
Wow, this month has gone by fast, hasn't it? I'm so thankful to everyone who has left such nice comments during this contest. You have one more time to win a free copy of The Blue Enchantress. I'll draw a name next week on Wednesday (August 5th) AND I'll draw a name from all the names who have entered this month, on Saturday (August 1st) to win the Sea-faring basket (pictured below). So drop by on Saturday to see if it's you!
And now, the video trailer for The Blue Enchantress. Many of you have probably seen this already but if you'd watch it and then leave a comment about anything in the trailer that intrigued you or caught your interest. Anything that really made you want to read the story, I'd appreciate it. I'm always trying to make these trailers better and better.
And the Sea-faring basket! I'll post the winner this Saturday, August 1st
My pirate trilogy (The Redemption, The Reliance, The Restitution)
It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!
You never know when I might play a wild card on you!
MaryLu here: Okay, I'll admit that I haven't had time to read this wonderful book! But, I know Mary's work and she is an outstanding author. I know you'll enjoy her lively and funny style of writing. If you'd like to be entered into a drawing to win a free copy of this book, just leave a comment.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
An award-winning author, Mary Connealy lives on a Nebraska farm with her husband and is the mother of four grown daughters. She writes plays and shorts stories, and is the author of two other novels, Petticoat Ranch and Calico Canyon. Also an avid blogger, Mary is a GED instructor by day and an author by night.
List Price: $10.97 Paperback: 320 pages Publisher: Barbour Publishing, Inc (July 1, 2009) Language: English ISBN-10: 1602601429 ISBN-13: 978-1602601420
AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:
Montana Territory, 1875
Cassie wanted to scream, “Put down that shovel!”
As if yelling at the red-headed gravedigger would bring Griff back to life. A gust of wind blew Cassie Griffin’s dark hair across her face, blinding her.
For one sightless moment it was as if the wind showed her perfectly what the future held for her.
Darkness.
Hovering in a wooded area, concealed behind a clump of quaking aspens that had gone yellow in the fall weather, she watched the hole grow as the man dug his way down into the rocky Montana earth.
Muriel, the kind storekeeper who had taken Cassie in, stood beside the ever-deepening grave. If Cassie started yelling, Muriel would start her motherly clucking again and force Cassie to return to town and go back to bed. She’d been so kind since Cassie had ridden in shouting for help.
In a detached sort of way, Cassie knew Muriel had been caring for her, coddling Cassie to get her through the day. But Cassie had gone numb since Muriel’s husband, Seth, had come back in with the news that Griff was dead. Cassie listened and answered and obeyed, but she hadn’t been able to feel anything. Until now. Now she could feel rage aimed straight at that man preparing the hole for her beloved Griff.
“I’m sorry, little one.” Cassie ran her hand over her rounded stomach. “You’ll never know your daddy now.” Her belly moved as if the baby heard Cassie and understood.
The fact that her husband was dead was Cassie’s fault. She should have gone for the doctor sooner. Griff ordered her not to, but first Griff had been worried about the cost. He’d shocked Cassie by telling her they couldn’t afford to send for the doctor. Griff had scolded Cassie if she ever asked questions about money. So she’d learned it wasn’t a wife’s place. But she’d known her parents were wealthy. Cassie had brought all their wealth into the marriage. How could they not afford a few bits for a doctor? Even as he lay sick, she’d known better than to question him about it.
Later, Griff had been out of his head with fever. She stayed with him as he’d ordered, but she should have doctored Griff better. She should have saved him somehow. Instead she’d stood by and watched her husband die inch by inch while she did nothing.
Cassie stepped closer. Another few steps and she’d be in the open. She could stop them. She could make them stop digging. Refuse to allow such a travesty when it couldn’t be true that Griff was dead.
Don’t put him in the ground! Inside her head she was screaming, denying, terrified. She had to stop this.
Before she could move she heard Muriel.
“In the West, nothing’ll get you killed faster’n stupid.” Whipcord lean, with a weathered face from long years in the harsh Montana weather, Muriel plunked her fists on her nonexistent hips.
Seth, clean-shaven once a week and overdue, stood alongside his wife, watching the proceedings, his arms crossed over his paunchy stomach. “How ’bout lazy? In the West, lazy’ll do you in faster’n stupid every time.”
“Well, I reckon Lester Griffin was both, right enough.” Muriel nodded her head.
Cassie understood the words, “lazy” and “stupid.” They were talking about Griff? She was too shocked to take in their meaning.
“Now, Muriel.” Red, the gravedigger, shoveled as he talked. “Don’t speak ill of the dead.”
On a day when Cassie didn’t feel like she knew anything, she remembered the gravedigger’s name because of his bright red hair.
One of the last coherent orders Griff had given her was, “Pay Red two bits to dig my grave, and not a penny more.”
Griff had known he was dying. Mostly delirious with fever, his mind would clear occasionally and he’d give orders: about the funeral, what he was to be buried in, what Cassie was to wear, strict orders not to be her usual foolish self and overpay for the grave digging. And not to shame him with her public behavior.
“Well honestly, it’s a wonder he wasn’t dead long before this.” Muriel crossed her arms and dared either man to disagree.
“It’s not Christian to see the bad in others.” Red dug relentlessly, the gritty slice of the shovel making a hole to swallow up Cassie’s husband. “And especially not at a time like this.”
It was just after noon on Sunday, and the funeral would be held as soon as the grave was dug.
Cassie looked down at her dress, her dark blue silk. It was a mess. She’d worn it all week, not giving herself a second to change while she cared for Griff. Then she’d left it on as she rode for town. She’d even slept in it last night. . .or rather she’d lain in bed with it on. She hadn’t slept, more than snatches, in a week. Ever since Griff’s fever started.
She needed to change to her black silk for the funeral.
Cassie wanted to hate Muriel for her words, but Muriel had mothered her, filling such a desperate void in Cassie that she couldn’t bear to blame Muriel for this rage whipping inside of Cassie’s head, pushing her to scream.
“Well, he was a poor excuse for a man and no amount of Christian charity’ll change that.” Muriel clucked and shook her head. “He lived on the labor of others ’n spent money he didn’t have.”
“It’s that snooty, fancy-dressed wife of his who drove him to an early grave,” Seth humphed. Cassie saw Seth’s shoulders quiver as he chuckled. “Of course, many’s the man who’d gladly die trying to keep that pretty little China Doll happy.”
Cassie heard Griff’s nickname for her. She ran her hands down her blue silk that lay modestly loose over her round belly. Fancy-dressed was right. Cassie admitted that. But she hadn’t needed all new dresses just because of the baby. Griff had insisted it was proper that the dresses be ordered. But however she’d come to dress so beautifully in silks and satins, there was no denying she dressed more expensively than anyone she’d met in Montana Territory. Not that she’d met many people.
But snooty? How could Seth say that? They were slandering her and, far worse, insulting Griff. She needed to defend her husband, but Griff hated emotional displays. How could she fight them without showing all the rage that boiled inside her? As the hole grew, something started to grow in Cassie that overcame her grief and fear.
Rage. Hate.
That shovel rose and fell. Dirt flew in a tidy pile and she hated Red for keeping to the task. She wanted to run at Red, screaming and clawing, and force Red to give Griff back to her. But she feared unleashing the anger roiling inside her. Griff had taught her to control all those childish impulses. Right now though, her control slipped.
[insert line break]
“A time or two I’ve seen someone who looks to be snooty who was really just shy. . .or scared,” Muriel said.
Red kept digging, determined not to join in with this gossip. But not joining in wasn’t enough. He needed to make them stop. Instead, he kept digging as he thought about poor Cassie. She’d already been tucked into Muriel’s back room when he’d come to town yesterday, but he’d seen Seth bring Lester Griffin’s body in. He couldn’t imagine what that little woman had been through.
“When’s the last time she came into our store?” Seth asked. “Most times she didn’t even come to town. She was too good to soil her feet in Divide. And you can’t argue about fancy-dressed. Griff ordered all her dresses ready-made, sent out from the East.”
Everything about Cassie Griffin made Red think of the more civilized East. She never had a hair out of place or a speck of dirt under her fingernails. Red had seen their home, too. The fanciest building in Montana, some said. Board siding instead of logs. Three floors and so many frills and flourishes the building alone had made Lester Griffin a laughingstock. The Griffins came into the area with a fortune, but they’d gone through it fast.
“That’s right,” Muriel snipped. “Griff ordered them. A spoiled woman would pick out her own dresses and shoes and finery, not leave it to her man.”
Seth shook his head. “I declare, Muriel, you could find the good in a rattlesnake.”
Red’s shovel slammed deep in the rocky soil. “Cassie isn’t a rattlesnake.” He stood up straight and glared at Seth.
His reaction surprised him. Red didn’t let much upset him. But calling Cassie a snake made Red mad to the bone. He glanced over and saw Muriel focusing on him as she brushed back wisps of gray hair that the wind had scattered from her usual tidy bun. She stared at him, taking a good long look.
Seth, a tough old mule-skinner with a marshmallow heart, didn’t seem to notice. “This funeral’ll draw trouble. You just see if it don’t. Every man in the territory’ll come a’running to marry with such a pretty widow woman. Any woman would bring men down on her as hard and fast as a Montana blizzard, but one as pretty as Cassie Griffin?” Seth blew a tuneless whistle through his teeth. “There’ll be a stampede for sure, and none of ’em are gonna wait no decent length of time to ask for her hand.”
Red looked away from Muriel because he didn’t like what was in her eyes. He was through the tough layer of sod and the hole was getting deep fast. He tried to sound casual even though he felt a sharp pang of regret—and not just a little bit of jealousy—when he said, “Doubt she’ll still be single by the time the sun sets.”
Muriel had a strange lilt to her voice when she said, “A woman is rare out here, but a young, beautiful woman like Cassie is a prize indeed.”
Red looked up at her, trying to figure out why saying that made her so all-fired cheerful.
Seth slung his beefy arm around Muriel with rough affection. “I’ve seen the loneliness that drives these men to want a wife. It’s a rugged life, Muriel. Having you with me makes all the difference.”
Red understood the loneliness. He lived with it every day.
“She’s a fragile little thing. Tiny even with Griff’s child in her belly. She needs a man to take care of her.” Muriel’s concern sounded just the littlest bit false. Not that Muriel wasn’t genuinely concerned. Just that there was a sly tone to it, aimed straight at Red.
Red thought of Cassie’s flawless white skin and shining black hair. She had huge, remote brown eyes, with lashes long enough to wave in the breeze, and the sweetest pink lips that never curved in a smile nor opened to wish a man good day.
Red thought on what he’d say to draw a smile and a kind word from her. Such thoughts could keep a man lying awake at night. Red knew that for a fact. Oh yes, Cassie was a living, breathing test from the devil himself.
“China Doll’s the perfect name for her,” Muriel added.
Red had heard that Griff called his wife China Doll. Griff never said that in front of anyone. He always called her Mrs. Griffin, real proper and formal-like. But he’d been overheard speaking to her in private, and he’d called her China Doll. The whole town had taken to calling her that.
Red had seen such a doll in a store window when he was a youngster in Indiana. That doll, even to a roughhousing little boy, was so beautiful it always earned a long, careful look. But the white glass face was cold. and her expression serious, rather than giving the poor toy a painted on smile. It was frighteningly fragile. Rather than being fun, Red thought a China doll would be a sad thing to own and, in the end, a burden to keep unbroken and clean. All of those things described Cassandra Griffin right down to the ground. Knowing all of that didn’t stop him from wanting her.
Cassie got to him. She had ever since the first time he’d seen her nearly two years ago. And now she was available. Someone would have to marry her to keep her alive. Women didn’t live without men in the unsettled West. Life was too hard. The only unattached women around worked above the Golden Butte Saloon and, although they survived, Red didn’t consider their sad existence living.
“You’re established on the ranch these days, Red. Your bank account’s healthy.” Muriel crouched down so she was eye level with Red, who was digging himself down fast. “Maybe it’s time you took a wife.”
Red froze and looked up at his friend. Muriel was a motherly woman, though she had no children. And like a mother, she seemed comfortable meddling in his life.
Red realized he was staring and went back to the grave, tempted to toss a shovel full of dirt on Muriel’s wily face. He wouldn’t throw it hard. He just wanted to distract her.
When he was sure his voice would work, he said, “Cassie isn’t for me, Muriel. And it isn’t because of what it would cost to keep her. If she was my wife, she’d live within my means and that would be that.”
Red had already imagined—in his unruly mind—how stern he’d be when she asked for finery. “You’ll have to sew it yourself or go without.” He even pictured himself shaking a scolding finger right under her turned-up nose. She’d mind him.
He’d imagined it many times, many, many times. And long before Griff died, which was so improper Red felt shame. He’d tried to control his willful thoughts. But a man couldn’t stop himself from thinking a thought until he’d started, now could he? So he’d started a thousand times and then he stopped himself. . .mostly. He’d be kind and patient but he wouldn’t bend. He’d say, “Cass honey, you—”
Red jerked his thoughts away from the old, sinful daydream about another man’s wife. Calmly, he answered Muriel, “She isn’t for me because I would never marry a non-believer.”
With a wry smile, Seth caught on and threw in on Muriel’s side—the traitor. “A woman is a mighty scarce critter out here, Red. It don’t make sense to put too many conditions on the ones there are.”
“I know.” Red talked to himself as much as to them. He hung on to right and wrong. He clung to God’s will. “But one point I’ll never compromise on is marrying a woman who doesn’t share my faith.”
“Now, Red,” Muriel chided, “you shouldn’t judge that little girl like that. How do you know she’s not a believer?”
“I’m not judging her, Muriel.” Which Red realized was absolutely not true. “Okay, I don’t know what faith she holds. But I do know that the Griffins have never darkened the doorstep of my church.”
Neither Seth nor Muriel could argue with that, although Muriel had a mulish look that told him she wanted to.
“We’d best get back.” Seth laid a beefy hand on Muriel’s strong shoulder. “I think Mrs. Griffin is going to need some help getting ready for the funeral.”
“She’s in shock, I reckon,” Muriel said. “She hasn’t spoken more’n a dozen words since she rode in yesterday.”
“She was clear enough on what dress I needed to fetch.” Seth shook his head in disgust. “And she knew the reticule she wanted and the shoes and hairpins. I felt like a lady’s maid.”
“I’ve never seen a woman so shaken.” Muriel’s eyes softened. “The bridle was on wrong. She was riding bareback. It’s a wonder she was able to stick on that horse.”
Red didn’t want to hear anymore about how desperately in need of help Cassie was.
Muriel had been teasing him up until now, but suddenly she was dead serious. “You know what the men around here are like, Red. You know the kind of life she’s got ahead of her. There are just some things a decent man can’t let happen to a woman. Libby’s boys are off hauling freight or I’d talk to them. They’d make good husbands.”
Muriel was right, they would be good. Something burned hot and angry inside of Red when he thought of those decent, Christian men claiming Cassie.
It was even worse when Red thought of her marrying one of the rough and ready men who lived in the rugged mountains and valleys around the little town of Divide, which rested up against the great peaks of the Montana Rockies. It was almost more than he could stand to imagine her with one of them.
But, he also knew a sin when he saw it tempting him, and he refused to let Muriel change his mind. She badgered him a while longer but finally gave up.
He was glad when Seth and Muriel left him alone to finish his digging. Until he looked up and saw Cassie as if he’d conjured her with his daydreams.
But this was no sweet, fragile China Doll. She charged straight toward him, her hands fisted, her eyes on fire.
“Uh. . .hi, Miz Griffin.” He vaulted out of the shoulder-deep hole and faced her. The look on her face was enough to make him want to turn tail and run.
She swept toward him, a low sound coming from her throat that a wildcat might make just before it pounced.
She’d heard it. All of it.
God forgive me for being part of that gossip, hurting her when she’s already so badly hurt.
Whatever she wanted to say, whatever pain she wanted to inflict, he vowed to God that he’d stand here and take it as his due. Her eyes were so alive with fury and focused right on him. How many times had his unruly mind conjured up the image of Cassie focusing on him? But this wasn’t the look he’d imagined in his daydreams. In fact, a tremor of fear ran up his backbone.
His grip tightened on his shovel, not to use as a weapon to defend himself but to keep her from grabbing it and taking a swing.
“Stop it.” Her fists were clenched as if to beat on him. “Stop saying those awful things.” Red saw more life in her eyes than he ever had before. She was always quiet and reserved and distant. “Give him back. I want him back!” She moved so fast toward him that, just as she reached his side, she tripped over her skirt and fell. A terrified shriek cut off her irate words.
“Cassie!” Red dropped the shovel and caught her just as she’d have tumbled into the open grave.
She swung and landed a fist right on his chin.
His head snapped back. She had pretty good power behind her fists for a little thing. Figuring he deserved it, he held on, stepping well away from the hole in the ground. He pulled her against him as she pummeled and emitted short, sharp, frenzied screams of rage. Punching his shoulders, chest, face. He took his beating like a man. He’d earned this by causing her more pain when she’d already been dealt more than she could bear. Of course he’d tried to stop it. But he’d failed now, hadn’t he?
“I’m sorry.” He spoke low, hoping to penetrate her anger. He could barely hear himself over her shouting. “I’m so sorry about Griff, Cassie. And I’m sorry you heard us speaking ill. We were wrong. So wrong. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” His voice kept crooning as he held her, letting her wale away on him until her squeaks and her harmless blows slowed and then ceased, most likely from exhaustion, not because she’d quit hating him.
Her hands dropped suddenly. Her head fell against his chest. Her knees buckled and Red swung her up into his arms.
He looked down at her, wondering if she’d fainted dead away.
In his arms, he held perfection.
She fit against him as if his body and his heart had been created just for her. A soul-deep ache nearly buckled his own knees as he looked at her now-closed eyes. Those lashes so long they’d tangle in a breeze rested on her ashen face, tinged with one bright spot of fury raised red on her cheeks.
“I’m so sorry I hurt you. Please forgive me.” His words were both a prayer to God and a request to poor, sweet Cassie. He held her close, murmuring, apologizing.
At last her eyes fluttered open. The anger was there but not the violence. “Let me go!”
He slowly lowered her feet to the ground, keeping an arm around her waist until he was sure her legs would hold her. She stepped out of his arms as quickly as possible and gave him a look of such hatred it was more painful than the blows she’d landed. Far more painful.
“I’m so sorry for your loss, Cassie honey.” Red wanted to kick himself. He shouldn’t have called her such. It was improper.
She didn’t seem to notice he was even alive. Instead, her gaze slid to that grave, that open rectangle waiting to receive Cassie’s husband. . .or what was left of him. And the hatred faded to misery, agony, and worst of all, fear.
A suppressed cry of pain told Red, as if Cassie had spoken aloud, that she wished she could join her husband in that awful hole.
Her head hanging low, her shoulders slumped, both arms wrapped around her rounded belly, she turned and walked back the way she came. Each step seemed to take all her effort as if her feet weighed a hundred pounds each.
Wondering if he should accompany her back to Muriel’s, instead he did nothing but watch. There was nothing really he could do. That worthless husband of hers was dead and he’d left his wife with one nasty mess to clean up. And Red couldn’t be the one to step in and fix it. Not if he wanted to live the life God had planned for him.
She walked into the swaying stand of aspens. They were thin enough that if he moved a bit to the side, he could keep his eye on her. Stepping farther and farther sideways to look around the trees—because he was physically unable to take his eyes off her—he saw her get safely to the store.
Just then his foot slipped off the edge of the grave. He caught himself before he fell headlong into the six feet of missing earth.
Red heard the door of Bates General Store close with a sharp bang, and Cassie went inside and left him alone in the sun and wind with a deep hole to dig and too much time to think. He grabbed his shovel and jumped down, getting back at it.
He knew he was doing the right thing by refusing to marry Cassie Griffin.
A sudden gust caught a shovelful of dirt and blew it in Red’s face. Along with the dirt that now coated him, he caught a strong whiff of the stable he’d cleaned last night. Cassie would think Red and the Western men he wanted to protect her from were one and the same. And she’d be right, up to a point. The dirt and the smell, the humble clothes, and the sod house—this was who he was, and he didn’t apologize for that to any man. . .or any woman.
Red knew there was only one way for him to serve God in this matter. He had to keep clear of Cassie Griffin.
There are 6 times in the New Testament where the writer warns us not to be ignorant of certain things. When someone says to me they want me to know something and not miss something important, especially when it comes from the Holy Scriptures, then I want to pay attention. So, I thought I'd pass these 6 admonitions onto you for you to think about this week.
1. Don't be ignorant about the Lord's second coming and that those who have died before He arrives will meet those of us still alive in the air where we will go be with the Lord forever! 1 Thess 4:13-18 Yet how much controversy this very topic causes among Christians! So much so, that we are afraid to discuss it. I've even heard some people say that if you don't believe in a certain timing of the rapture, then you're not a Christian.
2. Don't be ignorant about the gifts of the Holy Spirit: Wisdom, knowledge, Prophecy, Healing, Tongues, Interpretation of Tongues, Faith, Miracles, and Discernment 1 Cor 12: 1-11 Another controversial topic that you rarely hear a sermon on unless you go to a Charismatic or Pentecostal church. Yet Paul warns us not to be ignorant about these gifts.
3. Do not be ignorant of Satan's tricks. 2 Cor 2:11 In other words, don't be ignorant that we have an arch enemy whose mission it is to kill, steal and destroy,( John 10:10) and that He hates followers of Jesus and will do anything he can to make you ineffective for God's Kingdom. Yet, when is the last time you heard a sermon on this?
4. Do not be ignorant about God's chosen people, Israel. that they were blinded on purpose so gentiles could be saved and that when all the gentiles come in, then Israel will be saved. Romans 11: 25-26 God still has a plan for Israel. He has not forgotten His Holy people and we had better align ourselves with God's purposes for Israel or we will be left out.
5. Do not be ignorant about what happened to the Israelites, even though God saved them from Egypt and they passed through the Red Sea and drank water in the desert, when they did evil in God's sight, when they tempted Him, worshipped Idols and complained and behaved immorally, God destroyed them. 1 Corinthians 10:1-11 Don't forget that even though God is Love and He is extremely merciful and filled with grace, He will not always tolerate those who continually reject Him and His law. To me, this is one of the most important things we need to remember. We always hear about God's love and mercy, but how often do you hear about God's judgement and wrath?
6. The Lord is not slow in keeping His promises for to Him a thousand years are like a day. 2 Peter 3: 8-9 Paul starts out in this chapter talking about how we've been warned that in the last days scoffers will make fun of us, but he goes on to say that we can trust the Lord. He is waiting for everyone to have a chance to come to Him, but when that's done, He'll be here in a second!
Wow. It occurred to me as I read through these 6 things that these are the very things that Satan has tried to cause trouble and dissension with in the church. The rapture, Israel, Satan, the gifts of the Spirit, God is only a God of love and mercy, not wrath, and that God isn't coming again. Theses are hot topics, aren't they? And obviously all very important for us to know, to understand and remember. I pray you take some time to read over these scriptures in context and ask God to help you understand them, keep them in the forefront of your thoughts, and most of all, live them.
The winner of last week's drawing for The Blue Enchantress is Laura Michelle Counts! who left a comment on my Facebook version of this post. Thank you so much for entering, but today you have another chance, and one more chance next week!
The Blue Enchantress is a story very dear to my heart because I used to be just like Hope, the heroine. Because of a difficult childhood and growing up without a father, I was searching for value and love in any place I could find it. I used my feminine charms and outward beauty to attract the wrong type of attention, and I paid dearly for it. It wasn't until God pulled me up from the pit I had dug for myself, washed me off, and told me He loved me, that I finally found what I was looking for. Only in Him can any of us find true love and value.
What concerns me is the culture that surrounds us today, and in particular what message it is giving young ladies. Since my youth, that message has gone from a low whisper to a very loud shout, telling women that they have no value unless they "look" a certain way. Just glance over the magazines or flip on the TV and you'll be bombarded with ads for girls telling them how to lose weight, how to apply makeup, how to wear their hair, their clothes, etc. Beautiful women are flaunted across the TV screen in order to sell any product from cars to underwear. TV shows and movies are filled with gorgeous women. Where are all the normal looking women?
Women are used as objects intended for men's pleasure and the message rings loud and clear. "If you aren't beautiful, no one will love you." As a consequence, young girls who don't fit the bill are depressed. Many commit suicide, while others become bulimic or resort to plastic surgery. I know women in their 20's who are getting plastic surgery. $18.7 million dollars a year are spent in this country on surgeries trying to be beautiful.
That is why I wrote Hope's story. I want to show how valuable all women are in the eyes of God. I want to show women that they don't have to cheapen themselves and throw themselves at men. I want to show that type of life can only lead to agony and self-loathing. I want to show that true love looks on the inside and not on the outside. So, if you know some young women who struggle with this issue, I encourage you to give them a copy of The Blue Enchantress.
So, what about you? What are your thoughts on the topic? Do you struggle with this yourself? Do you know someone who does. Can we change the culture or is it too late? What can we do to help women today, and in particular young girls? Leave a comment and I'll enter your name in a drawing for a free copy of the book!
I'm postponing my post and giveaway for The Blue Enchantress to Friday, so come back then! But today, I have a special guest, my good friend and excellent author, Camy Tang! Leave a comment on this post and I'll enter your name for a free copy of her new release, Deadly Intent!
And now, Camy Tang!
I’m so excited to be on my friend MaryLu’s blog today!
MaryLu asked me to write about how being a published Christian author has impacted my walk with God. I have to admit that it’s stretched me in ways I never expected. Most especially, I am daily learning to surrender to God.
This is a theme I visit over and over again in my books, simply because it’s something I struggle with over and over again. The process of becoming a published author and writing my books has forced me to rely completely on God—in His timing, on His providing, in His hands.
I had to rely on His timing as I wrote manuscript after manuscript, hoping the next one would be contracted by a publishing house. It was completely out of my control, and I had to trust that He knew my heart and my desires, and that He knew best when or even if I would ever be published. Patience does not come easilyto me, so I had to daily ask for help to be patient, to keep persevering, to trust in Him.
Now that I am published, I continue to have to rely on Him to provide for my family. My wonderful husband allowed me to quit my lucrative job as a biologist researcher in order to write full time, and it’s been very humbling to suddenly have my personal income reduced by three-quarters. My prayers each day are for trust in Him to know our needs and to guide me in my work and in our finances.
In everything, I try to keep myself in His hands, to remind myself that He alone is sovereign. If I forget it, I start trying to do things my own way, trying to solve my own problems—much like my heroine Naomi in Deadly Intent. A lot of her spiritual struggles were taken directly from my prayer journal.
I hope you enjoy Naomi’s story, and that her struggles—which are my own struggles—will encourage your own walk with the Lord.
Thanks for having me here, MaryLu!
Camy
Thank you, Camy! I just finished Deadly Intent last night. If you love a good suspense story with some romance sprinkled in, then you're going to love this book! The location is a beautiful Spa in Sonoma, California (wine country) where a series of horrific murders take place. With Camy's usual spunky style of writing and real-to-life characters, she takes you on a page-turning ride you won't forget!
DEADLY INTENT
SCENE OF THE CRIME
The Grant family’s exclusive Sonoma spa is a place for rest andrelaxation—not murder! Then Naomi Grant finds her client Jessica Ortiz bleeding to death in her massage room, and everything falls apart. The salon’s reputation is at stake...and so is Naomi’s freedom when she discovers that she is one of the main suspects! Her only solace is found with the other suspect—Dr. Devon Knightley, the victim’s ex-husband. But Devon is hiding secrets of his own. When they come to light, where can Naomi turn...and whom can she trust?
Camy Tang writes romance with a kick of wasabi. She used to be a biologist, but now she is a staff worker for her church youth group and leads a worship team for Sunday service. She also runs the Story Sensei fiction critique service. On her blog, she gives away Christian novels every week, and she ponders frivolous things like dumb dogs (namely, hers), coffee-geek husbands (no resemblance to her own...), the writing journey, Asiana, and anything else that comes to mind.
Visit her at Camy's website for a huge website contest going on right now, giving away fourteen boxes of books and 30 copies of her latest release, DEADLY INTENT.
Do you know someone who makes you feel uncomfortable? Perhaps it's because that person intimidates you in some way. Maybe you believe they are smarter than you, or better than you at something, or maybe you think they are just a better person than you are. Maybe they know how to handle themselves in a crowd and make people laugh, while you tend to cower in the background. Maybe they are more attractive, more appealing physically than you are. And deep down you think they know it and are always looking down their noses at you. That could all be true. I know there are people like that in the world who try to make themselves feel better by putting others down. Or it could just be something you've made up out of your own insecurities.
Do you enjoy hanging out with this person? Probably not. In fact, you probably do your best to avoid him or her.
What about the people whose company you enjoy? Aren't they the people who love you for who you are, people who you trust with your secrets, people who encourage you and lift you up? Don't you love hanging out with them?
Now, ask yourself this important question. What do you think God thinks of you? If you believe that He's more like the first person who is always disappointed with you and looking down His nose at you and wishing you were different or better, than chances are you probably don't enjoy His company very much. You probably have a hard time praying and don't really look forward to spending time with God.
I know I felt this way for years, and I still struggle with this. After all, He's God. He knows ALL my faults, every bad thought and bad motive. Everything. Yikes. He must think I'm a complete loser! But when I thought this way, it really inhibited my relationship with Him. I didn't allow myself to be myself with Him. I avoided spending time with God. I always felt in the back of my mind that He must be displeased with me.
Quess what? I couldn't have been farther from the truth! Listen to what God says about you and me (His Children)
The LORD your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delightin you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing. Zephania 3:17
How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! 1 John 3:1
Have you ever thought of God rejoicing over you? Singing and dancing over you? Taking great delight in you???? Well He does! And it has nothing to do with your performance. It only matters that you are His child.
The next time you think about spending time with God, picture Him sitting on the edge of his seat (or throne) anxiously waiting to talk with you, gazing at you with a sparkle in His eyes, hoping you'll turn His way and talk to Him. He loves you. He wants to spend time with you. He doesn't look at your faults because they are all washed away by the blood of His Son. He simply adores you and wants to help you and be there for you and listen to you. Try to think of Him like that and I guarantee, it will revolutionize your time with Him and increase your knowlege of Him and bring you more joy than you thought possible!
The winner of Kaye Dacus's new book, Ransome's Honor is Julianna! Thank you all for entering, but don't despair, you can order this book online or find it at your local bookstore. It's well worth the price!
Just a personal update. Last weekend, my husband and I traveled to Denver for the yearly ICRS conference (International Christian Retailers Show) This is my 4th time going to this event and it's always so much fun! Producers of all sorts of fun Christian merchandise descended upon the Denver convention center last Saturday to set up booths across a huge show floor and display their wares. These wares include anything you might see in a Christian book store across the nation, including books! Hence, my reason for being there. My publisher (Barbour) sets up a very nice booth where they promote their author's latest releases. They organize book signings for me and other events that will introduce me and my books to the mass of bookstore owners who attend the show. For me, it's a privilege to be able to chat with bookstore owners from all over the world and hear about how the industry is surviving our unstable economy. And it gives me a chance to tell them why I write and what I hope to accomplish with my writing and my books.
I always feel like such a little fish in a huge pond when I attend this show as there are so many big names and far more important people than me walking the isles. To name a few that I happened to see: Marie Osmond, Terri Blackstock, Karen Kingsbury, Randy Alcorn, Phillip Yancy. My husband and I were also able to hear the Sunday message given by Anne Graham Lotz.
I wish I'd thought to take some pictures for you, but alas, I NEVER remember my camera. Denver is a gorgeous city and we were able to take a day and drive to Boulder and go up into the Rocky Mountains. It was breathtaking! God certainly can create some beautiful scenery!
Anyway, I pray you have a wonderful and relaxing weekend! Stay tuned next week for more Blue Enchantress giveaways!
The winner of last week's drawing for a free copy of The Blue Enchantress is: Tori!Tori, please contact me with your email address so I can get your information! (I forgot to tell everyone to please put your email address in your comment so I can get ahold of you) But don't despair! If you didn't win, your name automatically went into a much larger bucket to win the sea-faring gift basket at the end of the month. AND I'm giving away another free copy of The Blue Enchantress this week! Just leave a comment on this post about Nathaniel. And every time you leave a comment this week, your name will AGAIN be entered into the drawing for the sea-faring basket, even if it's already in there. And now, Nathaniel Mason.
Brief Description: Nathaniel Mason is a working man—a ship builder by trade and the captain of his own fleet of merchant ships. At age 25, tall and muscular, with dark brown wavy hair, tanned skin, and walnut colored eyes, he often smells of the wood and tar he uses to build ships. He is hard worker who has spent years working and building the two ships he now owns and operates on the Caribbean. Though he values morality, integrity, and decency, he hides a shameful heritage behind a façade of success, hoping to erase the stain of his mother’s occupation and elevate himself to a position of respect among the citizens of Charles Towne. But in so doing, he is ignoring the call of God on his life to preach while battling an overwhelming attraction to Hope, a woman who reminds him too much of his mother. But Hope has a thing or two to teach this man who thinks he has it all together!
Quirks: You’ll often hear Nathaniel say “Fire and thunder” whenever he is upset or angry. A jagged blue scar mars his left side where he was stabbed as a young boy trying to protect his mother. The wound burns whenever he is threatened or feeling uneasy and he often reaches up to rub it during those times.
Inspiration: Nathaniel Mason is a godly man with exceptional morals and a strong desire to do the will of God, save for one tiny flaw—formed from a difficult past—that causes him to deviate from that perfect path. I love Nathaniel. He is such a good example for everyone around him and so capable and resourceful. As a natural leader, people are drawn to him, rely on him and look up to him. The amazing thing is, he doesn’t even recognize the gifts God has given him. He is the type of man who so much wants to do the right thing, that sometimes he is trying too hard on his own power and needs to let go and let God.
Nathaniel's biggest flaw is that he values the opinions of man over the opinions of God. And because of that, he tries to become successful by the world's standards and not by God's. I think all of us are guilty of this at one time or another in our lives, don't you? Who doesn't want to be successful and be praised by our friends and family and by our society? I don't think that this feeling in and of itself is necessarily wrong. But it becomes wrong when we put this desire above seeking God and His will first.
If you belong to God, He's not going to let you get away with this for very long! He will pursue you and manipulate the circumstances in your life until you follow His will for your life. I often get asked how do you know what God's will is for your life? The answer is so simple. Do you think God doesn't wants you to know His will for your life? Do you think He likes being sneaky and playing tricks or 20 questions with you? NO. He's a loving Father. The key is putting Him first above everything else in your life and then waiting for Him to show you.
Leave a comment about your thoughts on Nathaniel or anything in this post and you'll be entered not only in this week's contest for a free copy of The Blue Enchantress, but also in a drawing for the gift basket below! (Don't forget to include your email address where I can reach you)
Contrite is a word you don't hear too often today. Here's what it means:
Contrite: showing sincere remorse; filled with a sense of guilt and the desire for atonement; penitent.
How often do we see someone who's willing to admit a fault or a mistake and is really sorry for what they've done? Any politicians come to mind? Any movie stars? How about your friends or family? Most ot the time people want to make excuses for their behavior or try to make it out to be "no big deal" or "everyone does it". Usually we will only see remorse when someone in the public eye gets caught and their popularity is at stake. Even then, is it true remorse?
Sad to say, even among most Christians I know, true repentance and remorse are a rarity. People tend to hold onto certain sins which they think are not a big deal, sins they've convinced themselves are "acceptable". (Such as pornography, lying, gossiping, slander, hatred, wicked thoughts, lust, jealousy, envy, rage) Some people rationalize that as long as they aren't hurting anyone else, it's okay and besides, God can't expect them to be perfect!
What tiny sins are you holding onto today? Anything that you know is wrong but that you continue to do on a daily or weekly basis? I'm not talking about weaknesses you struggle with and are trying to get better with God's help. I'm talking about purposeful sinful acts and thoughts. Think it's no big deal? Listen to what God says:
Listen! The Lord’s arm is not too weak to save you, nor is his ear too deaf to hear you call? It’s your sins that have cut you off from God. Because of your sins, he has turned away and will not listen anymore. Isaiah 59:1-2
Having trouble hearing from God? Wondering if He's hearing your prayers?
What happens when you repent and have a truly contrite heart?
I will bless those who have humble and contrite hearts, who tremble at my word. Isaiah 66:2
The high and lofty one who lives in eternity, the Holy One, says this:I live in the high and holy placewith those whose spirits are contrite and humble.I restore the crushed spirit of the humbleand revive the courage of those with repentant hearts. Isaiah 57:15
The LORD is near to those who have a broken heart, and saves such as have a contrite spirit Psalm 34:18
What we need more in this country and in the church is true repentance, humility and remorse. If we don't learn to do this, my fear is God will turn away from us and no longer hear our prayers.
I am priviledged to be hosting Kaye Dacus today and her latest release, Ransome's Honor. Read throught the post, make a comment to enter to win a free copy! (To be announced next Saturday, July 18th) I'm about halfway through this book and I've come to a part where I can hardly put it down! Kaye's words have a grand flow of eloquence, and her exquisite research shines on every page. I find myself cheering for the main characters and sneering at the villain. You won't want to miss this exciting regency romance/adventure!
It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!
You never know when I might play a wild card on you!
Kaye Dacus has a Bachelor of Arts in English, with a minor in history, and a Master of Arts in Writing Popular Fiction. Her love of the Regency era started with Jane Austen. Her passion for literature and for history come together to shape her creative, well-researched, and engaging writing.
List Price: $13.99 Paperback: 352 pages Publisher: Harvest House Publishers (July 1, 2009) Language: English ISBN-10: 0736927530 ISBN-13: 978-0736927536
AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:
Portsmouth, England July 18, 1814
William Ransome pulled the collar of his oilskin higher, trying to stop the rain from dribbling down the back of his neck. He checked the address once more and then tucked the slip of paper safely into his pocket.
He took the four steps up to the front door of the townhouse in two strides and knocked. The rain intensified, the afternoon sky growing prematurely dark. After a minute or two, William raised his hand to knock again, but the door swung open to reveal a warm light.
A wizened man in standard black livery eyed William, bushy white brows rising in interest at William’s hat, bearing the gold braid and black cockade of his rank. “Good evening, Captain. How may I assist you?”
“Good evening. Is this the home of Captain Collin Yates?”
The butler smiled but then frowned. “Yes, sir, it is. However, I’m sorry to say Captain Yates is at sea, sir.”
“Is Mrs. Yates home?”
“Yes, sir. Please come in.”
“Thank you.” William stepped into the black-and-white tiled entry, water forming a puddle under him as it ran from his outer garments.
“May I tell Mrs. Yates who is calling?” The butler reached for William’s soaked hat and coat.
“Captain William Ransome.”
A glimmer of recognition sparkled in the butler’s hazy blue eyes. In the dim light of the hall, he appeared even older than William originally thought. “The Captain William Ransome who is the master’s oldest and closest friend?”
William nodded. “You must be Fawkes. Collin always said he would have you with him one day.”
“The earl put up quite a fight, sir, but the lad needed me more.” Fawkes shuffled toward the stairs and waved for William to join him. “Mrs. Yates is in the sitting room. I’m certain she will be pleased to see you.”
William turned his attention to his uniform—checking it for lint, straightening the jacket with a swift tug at the waist—and followed the butler up the stairs.
Fawkes knocked on the double doors leading to a room at the back of the house. A soft, muffled voice invited entry. The butler motioned toward the door. It took a moment for William to understand the man was not going to announce him, but rather allow him to surprise Susan. He turned the knob and slowly pushed the door open.
Susan Yates sat on a settee with her back to him. “What is it, Fawkes—?” She turned to look over her shoulder and let out a strangled cry. “William!”
He met her halfway around the sofa and accepted her hands in greeting. “Susan. You’re looking well.”
Her reddish-blonde curls bounced as she looked him over. “I did not expect you until tomorrow!” She pulled him farther into the room. “So—tell me everything. When did you arrive? Why has it been two months since your last proper letter?” Susan sounded more like the girl of fifteen he’d met a dozen years ago than the long-married wife of his best friend. “Can you stay for dinner?”
“We docked late yesterday. I spent the whole of today at the port Admiralty, else I would have been here earlier. And I am sorry to disappoint you, but I cannot stay long.” He sat in an overstuffed chair and started to relax for the first time in weeks. “Where is Collin? Last I heard, he returned home more than a month ago.”
Susan retrieved an extra cup and saucer from the sideboard and poured steaming black coffee into it. “The admiral asked for men to sail south to ferry troops home, and naturally my dear Collin volunteered—anything to be at sea. He is supposed to be back within the week.” She handed him the cup. “Now, on to your news.”
“No news, in all honesty. I’ve been doing the same thing Collin has—returning soldiers and sailors home. I only received orders to Portsmouth a week ago—thus the reason I sent the note express, rather than a full letter.”
“But you’re here now. For how long?”
“Five weeks. I’ve received a new assignment for Alexandra.”
“What will you do until your new duty begins?”
“My crew and I are on leave for three weeks.” And it could not have come at a better time. After two years away from home, his crew needed some time apart from each other.
“Are you going to travel north to see your family?”
“At the same time I sent the express to you announcing my return to Portsmouth, I sent word to my mother telling her of my sojourn here. When I arrived ashore earlier today, I received a letter that she and Charlotte will arrive next Tuesday.”
“How lovely. Of course, you will all stay with us. No—I will brook no opposition. We have three empty bedchambers. I could not abide the thought of your staying at an inn when you could be with us.”
“I thank you, and on behalf of my mother and sister.”
“Think nothing of it. But you were telling me of your assignment. Your crew is not to be decommissioned?” Susan asked.
“No. I believe Admiral Witherington understands my desire to keep my crew together. They have been with me for two years and need no training.”
“Understands?” Susan let out a soft laugh. “Was it not he who taught you the importance of an experienced crew?”
William sipped the coffee—not nearly as strong as his steward made it, but it served to rid him of the remaining chill from the rain. “Yes, I suppose Collin and I did learn that from him…along with everything else we know about commanding a ship.”
Susan sighed. “I wish you could stay so that I could get out of my engagement for the evening. Card parties have become all the fashion lately, but I have no skill for any of the games. If it weren’t for Julia, I would probably decline every invitation.”
“Julia—not Julia Witherington?” William set his cup down on the reading table beside him. He’d heard she had returned to Portsmouth following her mother’s death, but he’d hoped to avoid her.
“Yes. She returned to England about eight months ago and has become the darling of Portsmouth society, even if they do whisper about her being a ‘right old maid’ behind her back. Although recently, Julia’s presence always means Lady Pembroke—her aunt—is also in attendance.” The tone of Susan’s voice and wrinkling of her small nose left no doubt as to her feelings toward the aunt.
“Does Admiral Witherington attend many functions?”
“About half those his daughter does. Julia says she would attend fewer if she thought her aunt would allow. I have told her many times she should exert her position as a woman of independent means; after all, she is almost thir—of course it is not proper to reveal a woman’s age.” Susan blushed. “But Julia refuses to cross the old dragon.”
“So you have renewed your acquaintance with Miss Witherington, then?” The thought of Miss Julia Witherington captured William’s curiosity. He had not seen her since the Peace of Amiens twelve years ago…and the memory of his behavior toward her flooded him with guilt. His own flattered pride was to blame for leading her, and the rest of Portsmouth, to believe he would propose marriage. And for leading him to go so far as to speak to Sir Edward of the possibility.
“Julia and I have kept up a steady correspondence since she returned to Jamaica.” The slight narrowing of Susan’s blue eyes proved she remembered his actions of a dozen years ago all too well. “She was very hurt, William. She believes the attentions you paid her then were because you wished nothing more than to draw closer to her father.”
William rose, clasped his hands behind his back, and crossed to the floor-to-ceiling window beside the crackling fireplace. His reflection wavered against the darkness outside as the rain ran in rivulets down the paned glass. “I did not mean to mislead her. I thought she understood why I, a poor lieutenant with seeming no potential for future fortune, could not make her an offer.”
“Oh, William, she would have accepted your proposal despite your situation. And her father would have supported the marriage. You are his favorite—or so my dear Collin complains all the time.” Silence fell and Susan’s teasing smile faltered a bit. “She tells the most fascinating tales of life in Jamaica—she runs her father’s sugar plantation there. Collin cannot keep up with her in discussions of politics. She knows everything about the Royal Navy—but of course she would, as the daughter of an admiral.”
A high-pitched voice reciting ships’ ratings rang in William’s memory, and he couldn’t suppress a slight smile. Julia Witherington had known more about the navy at age ten than most lifelong sailors.
“William?”
“My apologies, Susan.” He snapped out of his reverie and returned to his seat. “Did Collin ever tell you how competitive we were? Always trying to out-do the other in our studies or in our duty assignments.” He recalled a few incidents for his best friend’s wife, much safer mooring than thinking about the young beauty with the cascade of coppery hair he hadn’t been able to forget since the first time he met her, almost twenty years ago.
Julia Witherington lifted her head and rubbed the back of her neck. The columns of numbers in the ledgers weren’t adding properly, which made no sense.
An unmistakable sound clattered below; Julia crossed to the windows. A figure in a dark cloak and high-domed hat edged in gold stepped out of the carriage at the gate and into the rain-drenched front garden. Her mood brightened; she smoothed her gray muslin gown and stretched away the stiffness of inactivity.
She did not hear any movement across the hall. Slipping into her father’s dressing room, she found the valet asleep on the stool beside the wardrobe. She rapped on the mahogany paneled door of the tall cabinet.
The young man rubbed his eyes and then leapt to his feet. “Miss Witherington?”
She adopted a soft but authoritative tone. “The admiral’s home, Jim.”
He rushed to see to his duty, just as Julia had seen sailors do at the least word from her father. Admiral Sir Edward Witherington’s position demanded obedience, but his character earned his men’s respect. The valet grabbed his master’s housecoat and dry shoes. He tripped twice in his haste before tossing the hem of the dressing gown over his shoulder.
She smothered a smile and followed him down the marble staircase at a more sedate pace. The young man had yet to learn her father’s gentle nature.
Admiral Sir Edward Witherington submitted himself to his valet’s ministrations, a scowl etching his still-handsome face, broken only by the wink he gave Julia. She returned the gesture with a smile, though with some effort to stifle the yawn that wanted to escape.
He reached toward her. “You look tired. Did you rest at all today?”
She placed her hand in his. “The plantation’s books arrived from Jamaica in this morning’s post. I’ve spent most of the day trying to keep my head above the flotsam of numbers.”
Sir Edward’s chuckle rumbled in his chest as he kissed her forehead. He turned to the butler, who hovered nearby. “Creighton, inform cook we will be one more for dinner tonight.”
“Aye, sir,” the former sailor answered, a furrow between his dark brows.
That her father had invited one of his friends from the port Admiralty came as no surprise. Julia started toward the study, ready for the best time of the day—when she had her father to herself.
“Is that in addition to the extra place Lady Pembroke asked to have set?” Creighton asked.
Julia stopped and turned. “My aunt asked…?” She bit off the rest of the question. The butler did not need to be drawn into the discord between Julia and her aunt.
The admiral looked equally consternated. “I quite imagine she has somebody else entirely in mind, as I have not communicated my invitation with my sister-in-law. So I suppose we will have two guests for dinner this evening. Come, Julia.”
Once in her father’s study, Julia settled into her favorite winged armchair. A cheery fire danced on the hearth, fighting off the rainy day’s chill. Flickering light trickled across the volumes lining the walls, books primarily about history and naval warfare. She alone knew where he hid the novels.
He dropped a packet of correspondence on his desk, drawing her attention. She wondered if she should share her concern over the seeming inaccuracy of the plantation’s ledgers with her father. But a relaxed haziness started to settle over her mind, and the stiffness of hours spent hunched over the plantation’s books began to ease. Perhaps the new steward’s accounting methods were different from her own. No need to raise an alarm until she looked at them again with a clearer mind.
She loved this time alone with her father in the evenings, hearing of his duties, of the officers, politicians, and government officials he dealt with on a daily basis while deciding which ships to decommission and which to keep in service.
The sound of a door and footsteps in the hallway roused her. “Papa, how long will Lady Pembroke stay?”
Sir Edward crossed to the fireplace and stoked it with the poker. “You wish your aunt to leave? I do not like the thought of you without a female companion. You spend so much time on your own as it is.”
“I do not mean to sound ungrateful. I appreciate the fact that Aunt Augusta has offered her services to me, that she wants to…help me secure my status in Portsmouth society.” Julia stared at her twined fingers in her lap.
“It seems to have worked. Every day when I come home, there are more calling cards and invitations on the receiving table than I can count.” Going around behind his desk, he opened one of the cabinets and withdrew a small, ironbound chest. With an ornate brass key, he unlocked it, placed his coin purse inside, secured it again, and put it away.
“Yes. I have met so many people since she came to stay three months ago. And I am grateful to her for that. But she is so…” Julia struggled for words that would not cast aspersions.
The admiral’s forehead creased deeply when he raised his brows. “She is what?”
“She is…so different from Mama.”
“As she was your mother’s sister by marriage only, that is to be expected.”
Julia nodded. To say anything more would be to sound plaintive, and she did not want to spoil whatever time her father could spare for her with complaints about his sister-in-law, who had been kind enough to come stay.
Sir Edward sat at his desk, slipped on a pair of spectacles, and fingered through the stack of correspondence from the day’s post. He grunted and tossed the letters back on the desk.
“What is it, Papa?”
He rubbed his chin. “It has been nearly a year…yet every night, I look through the post hoping to see something addressed in your mother’s hand.”
Sorrow wrapped its cold fingers around Julia’s throat. “I started writing a letter to her today, forgetting she is not just back home in Jamaica.”
“Are you sorry I asked you to return to England?”
“No…” And yes. She did not want her father to think her ungrateful for all he had done for her. “I miss home, but I am happy to have had this time with you—to see you and be able to talk with you daily.” Memories slipped in with the warmth of the Jamaica sun. “On Tuesdays and Fridays, when Jeremiah would leave Tierra Dulce and go into town for the post, as soon as I saw the wagon return, I would run down the road to meet him—praying for a letter from you.”
His worried expression eased. “You looked forward to my missives filled with nothing more than life aboard ship and the accomplishments of those under my command?”
“Yes. I loved feeling as if I were there with you, walking Indomitable’s decks once again.”
His sea-green eyes faded into nostalgia. “Ah, the good old Indy.” His gaze refocused and snapped to Julia. “That reminds me. An old friend made berth in Spithead yesterday. Captain William Ransome.”
Julia bit back sharp words. William Ransome—the man she’d sworn she’d never forgive. The man whose name she’d grown to despise from its frequent mention in her father’s letters. He had always reported on William Ransome’s triumphs and promotions, even after William disappointed all Julia’s hopes twelve years ago. He wrote of William as if William had been born to him, seeming to forget his own son, lost at sea.
Her stomach clenched at the idea of seeing William Ransome again. “He’s here, in Portsmouth?”
“Aye. But not for long. He came back at my request to receive new orders.”
“And where are you sending him, now that we’re at peace with France?” Please, Lord, let it be some distant port.
Sir Edward smiled. “His ship is to be in drydock several weeks. Once repairs are finished, he will make sail for Jamaica.”
Julia’s heart surged and then dropped. “Jamaica?” Home. She was ready to go back, to sink her bare toes into the hot sand on the beach, to see all her friends.
“Ransome will escort a supply convoy to Kingston. Then he will take on his new assignment: to hunt for pirates and privateers—and if the American war continues much longer, possibly for blockade- runners trying to escape through the Gulf of Mexico. He’ll weigh anchor in five weeks, barring foul weather.”
Five weeks was no time at all. Julia relaxed a bit—but she started at the thump of a knock on the front door below.
“Ah, that must be him now.” Sir Edward glanced at his pocket watch. “Though he is half an hour early.”
“Him?”
“Aye. Did not I tell you? Captain Ransome is joining us for dinner.”
I thought we'd take an indepth look at the two main characters in The Blue Enchantress. First, Hope Westcott, the heroine. You may remember her as the flirtatious sister in The Red Siren.
Brief Description: Hope Westcott is a rare beauty. Trouble is, she knows it. At 22 years of age, petite, shapely, with long golden hair and crystal blue eyes, she is not ignorant of the attention she receives from every man who crosses her path. But before you become jealous, let me explain that Hope believes her looks are her only worthy attribute. Inside, she is empty, insecure, and despite her name, desperately hopeless that she will ever be worthy of true love. She carries around with her the weight of a shameful past and the scorn of proper society, yet she continues down the same road, seeking value, meaning, and love by throwing herself into the arms of men who only use and abuse her. Until, of course, she meets Nathaniel Mason—the only man she’s ever know to be able to resist her charms. Despite these failings, Hope is a kind, loving lady who has a heart for the downtrodden and in particular for orphans and any child who is neglected and unloved.
Strengths: Trusting, Kind, Sensitive, Smart, Good listener, Loves kids Weaknesses: Insecure, Impulsive, Spoiled, Dreamer, People pleaser, Craves attention
Quirks: Hope tugs at her hair when she’s nervous or uncomfortable. This stems from her past when a man she trusted used her hair to entrap her.
Inspiration: Dare I admit it, but Hope’s inspiration came from my own past and from my observation of many young girls in today’s world. What does every girl (or boy for that matter) dream of, but to be truly loved and truly valued, but when that girl comes from a family where she did not receive love and approval and when that girl has been abused by those she trusted, she often ends up giving herself away cheaply to any man who’ll have her, just to fill that need in her heart. It is my hope to show through Hope’s story that only God can provide the love and value we are all seeking. And not only that, He is the only one who can cleanse us from our pasts, and give us the courage and hope to move forward.
Personally, I see so many young ladies today using their bodies to attract male attention. All you have to do is go to the mall and watch the young girls go by. Observe what they are wearing and how they behave. Or better yet, turn on the TV and watch nearly any show geared toward young people and you'll see where they get the idea that they are only as valuable as what they look like. Who are the people our generation praises? The gorgeous Hollywood stars! Pick up any teen or women's magazine and it is filled with articles about how to look better and how to catch a man. The problem with focusing only on our outsides and only valuing people who look a certain way is that MOST people will never fit that image. The 2nd problem with this is that the kind of "love" and attention you receive from people who only "love" you for your appearance, is shallow, meaningless, and temporary.
As Hope finds out in this book, that kind of love will leave you empty, guilty, and miserable.
What do you think of Hope? If you read The Red Siren, did you find her unlikeable? Do you think she's someone you could befiriend? Do you know anyone like her?
Leave a comment and your name will be entered in a drawing for a free copy of The Blue Enchantress as well as the drawing for the gift basket I mentioned in my post on July 3rd. (pictured below)
Taken from 2 Kings 18, the following passage describes King Hezekiah and I think we all can learn a huge lesson from his life!
He did right in the sight of the LORD, according to all that his father David had done.
He removed the high places and broke down the sacred pillars and cut down the Asherah.
He also broke in pieces the bronze serpent that Moses had made, for until those days the sons of Israel burned incense to it; and it was called Nehushtan.
He trusted in the LORD, the God of Israel; so that after him there was none like him among all the kings of Judah, nor among those who were before him. For he clung to the LORD; he did not depart from following Him,
but kept His commandments, which the LORD had commanded Moses.
And the LORD was with him; wherever he went he prospered
What are the high places in your life? A high place is anything or anyone you put above God in importance. Here's some modern day examples: TV, Cars, Clothing, Jewelry, A boyfriend or girlfriend, husband or wife, A house, youth, beauty, alcohol, drugs, sex, money, partying, movie stars, etc... (Just ask yourself what do you think about most of the time?)
What is the bronze serpent in your life? Anything that is a substitute for God. Anything or anyone you depend on instead of God. The thing or the person you run to when you have a problem. The thing or person in whom you put your security and you depend on and rely on the most. Here's some modern day examples: bank account, stock market, relationships, fame, your personality, your looks, etc.. (Just ask yourself what or who do you run to when you are in trouble? What do you do to get yourself out of trouble?)
If you answered the above questions with anything but God, I encourage you to do what Hezekiah did and remove the high places in your life and break apart the serpent. They are a lie from the pit of hell. They can't help you. They can't save you. They will only cause you grief.
Then...
Trust in the Lord
Cling to the Lord
Obey His commandments
Then you'll prosper wherever you go. It's so simple, isn't it?
I love the word Cling. (To stick to, to hold tight by grasping or embracing; to cleave, to be or remain close)
Recently some issues in my family have really brought me down. Have you ever felt battle-weary, confused, discouraged about a particular situation? Something you've been praying about for years? Sometimes all you can do is Cling to God and trust in Him. At those times, I picture myself on my knees grabbing onto His cloak and never letting go. And usually it's when I do that that I hear His voice all the more clearly saying, "Trust me", and a magnificent peace covers me.
I know that I know that I know that if I tear down the high places in my life and break apart the serpent and put my trust in God and obey Him, and then just cling to Him because at that point I simply don't know what else to do, then He will prosper me. He will come through for me! Turn to Him, try it out, and see!
In honor of the release of my next book, The Blue Enchantress, I'll be giving away 2 free copies of the book for the next four weeks! (That's 10 copies!) Each week, I'll be posting something about the story or the characters, etc... and everyone who enters a comment will be entered to win. I hope to post on Wednesdays if my schedule permits so look for the first post next Wednesday. In addition, I'm giving away a gift basket you see below. It's what I call my seafaring basket.
My pirate trilogy (The Redemption, The Reliance, The Restitution)
The Red Siren
The Blue Enchantress
Ile de Tahiti Moana Body wash (Coconut Vanilla)
Ile de Tahiti Bora Bora sand scrub
An ocean-scented candle
Echoes of Nature CD - Ocean Waves
A rubber ducky
So if you need to escape to a tropical paradise this summer, and can't afford to go to the Caribbean, this is your ticket. Just step into your warm bath, scrub yourself with some coconut vanilla body wash, light your candle, turn on your ocean wave CD, and read one of my books!
Everytime you enter a comment on any Blue Enchantress post, your name will go into a basket and I'll draw a winner from there on July 31st.
So, tell all your friends to drop by my blog this month and check it out.
And I hope everyone has a wonderful July 4th!! We live in a great country founded on Godly principles taken from Scriptures. But we live in an age when those values and liberties are being stripped away from us. I pray that we all take some time on Saturday to humble ourselves before God and repent and ask His blessing to fall once again on this great nation!
The winner of last week's drawing is Casey! Libraryhelper.
It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book! 
An award-winning author, Mary Connealy lives on a Nebraska farm with her husband and is the mother of four grown daughters. She writes plays and shorts stories, and is the author of two other novels, Petticoat Ranch and Calico Canyon. Also an avid blogger, Mary is a GED instructor by day and an author by night.
The winner of last week's drawing for The Blue Enchantress is Laura Michelle Counts! who left a comment on my Facebook version of this post.
scription: Nathaniel Mason is a working man—a ship builder by trade and the captain of his own fleet of merchant ships. At age 25, tall and muscular, with dark brown wavy hair, tanned skin, and walnut colored eyes, he often smells of the wood and tar he uses to build ships. He is hard worker who has spent years working and building the two ships he now owns and operates on the 
for the gift basket below! (Don't forget to include your email address where I can reach you)
Kaye Dacus has a Bachelor of Arts in English, with a minor in history, and a Master of Arts in Writing Popular Fiction. Her love of the Regency era started with Jane Austen. Her passion for literature and for history come together to shape her creative, well-researched, and engaging writing.
