The Hesitant Heiress by Dawn Crandall, © 2014

The Everstone Chronicles, Book One

   “There’s no contest when it comes to my judging the truth of this letter. You are a young woman with an unknown past, no relatives, and now a very trustworthy account from Bram Everstone against you.”
   It took only a moment to understand what was happening. The professor would, because of some slanderous letter, believe the worst of me.
   Me—Amaryllis Brigham, whose most fervent desire was to be good.
   --The Hesitant Heiress, 6

After being unjustly expelled from the Boston Conservatory of Music, Amaryllis Brigham sees her dreams of founding a music academy in her hometown of Seattle, Washington, disappearing before her very eyes. Now, the only way to achieve her goal comes with high stakes for someone set on avoiding men as much as possible: Marry within the year to inherit the immense fortune of her estranged grandmother.
   Amaryllis reluctantly moves into her aunt’s Boston home and rubs shoulders with fashionable society. Despite her own misgivings, she soon finds herself quickly falling in love with the most unlikely of men—Nathan Everstone, the envy of every eligible female, whose father has haunted her dreams for the decade following her mother’s tragic death. However, Nathan turns out to be much more than he seems…and everything she never knew she wanted. But can she ever really trust an Everstone man?

I was drawn by her name ~* Amaryllis *~



Author Dawn Crandall ~ A graduate from Taylor University with a degree in Christian Education, and former bookseller at Barnes & Noble, Dawn Crandall didn’t begin writing until after she was married, and her husband found out about her long-buried dream of writing a book.
   Without a second thought about her someday becoming published, he let her quit her job to focus on writing. When Dawn signed with Joyce Hart of Hartline Literary Agency less than two years later (in 2011) before her first manuscript was even finished, it didn't take her long to realize that writing books was what she was made to do.

Book Two

Book Three

Author contact: e-mail, Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest.

Enjoy this excerpt of Chapter One ~ The Hesitant Heiress by Dawn Crandall

CHAPTER ONE

CLAUDINE ABERNATHY'S BOSTON

“Beauty is not only a terrible thing, it is a mysterious thing.

There God and the Devil strive for mastery,

and the battleground is the heart of man.”

—Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov

February 16, 1890
Boston, Massachusetts
   “Miss Brigham, may I have a word with you?” Professor Silvious strolled down the aisle toward the stage of The Boston Conservatory of Music’s auditorium.
   I’d just finished playing Chopin’s Raindrop, a favorite of mine. I’d long been in the habit of taking every chance I could get to play the grand piano at the center of the stage in the auditorium, but I never could rid myself of the nerves that doing so created in the pit of my stomach.
   “Yes, sir.”
   Professor Silvious always had a frown on his face, ever since the moment I’d met him over three years before, so it didn’t surprise me to see it there now.
   He stopped short, evidently deciding that the central aisle of the empty auditorium was as good a place as any to tell me what was on his mind.
   “Miss Brigham, I received a letter today concerning you.” The tone of his voice was sharp, as if I’d somehow offended him by forcing him to receive said letter. He stood stoically, both hands behind his back, as I walked the remainder of the way to stand before him.
   “Was it from my Aunt Claudine?” I could not imagine who else would have bothered. She was the only one who wrote me anymore, the only person who seemed to care I even existed. My cousin Lawry had been a faithful correspondent for a few years, but after his graduation from Dartmouth, his letters had stopped.
   “No, it was not from your Aunt Claudine. If you indeed have an Aunt Claudine, that is.”
   “Claudine Aberna—”
   “Yes, I know who Claudine Abernathy is, Miss Brigham—it’s her connection to you I highly doubt. And the letters you say you’ve received from her while she’s been conveniently out of the country these last three years.”
   “I have every one of them, if you’d like to see them.” I’d saved them all, rolled up and tied together with a black ribbon, hidden in my hollowed-out version of Great Expectations.
   “This letter is the only one I need to see, Miss Brigham. And from what it tells me, you are not the kind of young woman we at The Boston Conservatory wish to be affiliated with…no matter your talent.”
   I swallowed hard. “Whoever sent the letter is obviously lying.” It was unheard of to speak back to a professor in such a manner, but who else would defend me if I did not defend myself? There was no one.
   “There’s no contest when it comes to my judging the truth of this letter. You are a young woman with an unknown past, no relatives, and now a very trustworthy account from Bram Everstone against you.”
   It took only a moment to understand what was happening. The professor would, because of some slanderous letter, believe the worst of me.
   Me—Amaryllis Brigham, whose most fervent desire was to be good.
   “I am the epitome of self-control and perseverance, Professor Silvious. There can be no truth—”
   “So says you. But we know absolutely nothing of your life before the age of fourteen. You seem to have appeared out of the woodwork, which is where you will return. We cannot have someone of your ilk contaminating the good standing of our institution.”
   “You mean—”
   “I mean, Miss Brigham, from this moment on, consider yourself expelled from The Boston Conservatory without references.”
   “But I—”
   “It matters very little what you think or what you say. The decision is final.”

~~~

March 14, 1890
Back Bay, Boston, Massachusetts
    My stomach churned with anxiety as I stood just inside the formidable leaded-glass doors of one of the largest mansions in Back Bay—Hilldreth Manor—waiting.
   Within the hour I would meet the closest relative I had—a great-aunt.
   Claudine Abernathy.
   Her letters from Europe over the last three years had made mention of my coming to live with her once I finished my extensive schooling. Little did either of us know back then that it would turn out to be the other way around.
   I watched as a couple walked slowly down the Pedestrian Mall at the center of Commonwealth Avenue.
   Commonwealth.
   Such a strange name, but it was fitting for the street where I’d been sequestered for weeks on end. I’d never been one to notice all of the intricate architectural designs upon the buildings in Boston before, not until I’d found myself tucked away and hidden in the virtual castle built by my Landreth grandparents. All I’d been able to think about for years was my dream and how I would accomplish it.
   With the piano.
   In all the years since leaving Washington, it was all that had mattered.
   And what had it all come to?
   A month of solitude piled directly atop a mountain of questions. In that last month, not once had I been outside to walk down the street. Not once had I even taken my horse, Truelove, out for a ride. And not once had I ventured past the front door since seeking the comfort of having it close behind me, shutting out the world.
   Until now.
   I emerged onto the front portico, knowing my time had come. With Claudine back from Europe, there was little hope of being able to stay hidden for long. I would be stuck with her and her life of social affairs and Boston Brahmins as much as she was stuck with me.
   When a smart black carriage drove up and parked in front of the house, I hid in the corner of the porch, peeking around the edge of the massive brick wall. A fashionably dressed elderly woman climbed out and strode up the cobblestone walkway. Right away, I noticed the tautness of her face, much like the way my mother had always looked…so solemn. But then, when Aunt Claudine saw me, she charged straight toward me, exclaiming indistinct words disguised in high squeals.
   I came out from my hiding place but halted before descending the steps. Was this gregarious old woman indeed my somber mother’s aunt Claudine?
   “Amaryllis!” Her light brown eyes took me in, and at once, all my fears of being hated and rejected vanished.
   I nodded, and the woman raced up the steps, reaching her arms out to me and taking me in a surprisingly strong embrace. I wasn’t used to hugging anyone, especially virtual strangers, so I hardly knew what to do but stand there and awkwardly endure it.
   “Amaryllis! Amaryllis! Oh, that’s the coat I sent you from Paris, isn’t it?”
   There was no doubt she was happy I’d decided to stay.
   And suddenly, so was I.
   “It is.” I smiled. “And thank you. You really didn’t need to do such a thing.”
   I’d never had a coat like it—brown velvet with strands of black braided silk loops down the front to fasten the buttons. I still couldn’t believe she’d bought it for me without having first met me. It must have cost a fortune.
   “Buying you a coat was only the beginning, Amaryllis!” She took hold of my jaw and turned my face toward hers for inspection. “You do have the Abernathy nose, just like your cousin Lawry…and your dear mother, of course.”
   My smile faded a bit, despite the fact I’d grown into my nose over the years.
   “And your father’s bluish-green eyes….”
   I was about to ask how she knew what my father’s eyes looked like when I recalled the many times I’d been told as a young child that Aunt Claudine had been the one to escort Mother on her Grand Tour, where they’d met my father and his family.
   “How has Higgins been treating you? I don’t call him the Keeper of Hilldreth for nothing, you know.” Claudine pulled me through the front door into the house, all the way to the back parlor, disregarding that we were still in our coats.
   She took a seat on the settee and motioned for me to sit beside her.
   “Have you heard anything from your father’s lawyer?”
   “No.”
   Claudine responded with a wide-eyed stare. Obviously she, too, thought this odd. And it was. My father had been dead for three weeks, burned in his home during a fire that had ultimately taken out his entire horse farm in Maine only a week after I’d arrived at Hilldreth.
   A loud thud announced the arrival of Aunt Claudine’s trunks being unloaded into the house through the back door.
   “Well, regardless of what happens with your father’s land, I have news of another matter that I’m certain will lift your spirits. You see, Mr. Harden has been rather strict concerning everything, dear, and I wasn’t allowed to mention a single word until now. Are you ready?”
   “Of course.” I liked the way she spoke with such honesty. Not a common attribute in most women I’d met, no matter their age.
   “Amaryllis, I wanted to tell you years ago, but your grandmother’s will strictly stipulated I wait until you were finished with your schooling. And what young lady, besides you, would rather attend college twice than be presented to society?”
   “I didn’t dare pass up the scholarship to attend The Boston Conservatory, Aunt Clau—”
   “Simply call me Claudine, Amaryllis. We’re both adults, are we not? And, dear, none of that matters now.” She kneaded her hands together in her lap. “What I mean to say is that you’ve been cited as the sole inheritor of the Landreth fortune.”
   Shock tingled from the back of my neck all the way to my toes.
   “Was I not disowned along with Mother?” I asked. “I never even knew them. How—”
   “Your grandparents were good people, Amaryllis. Your great-grandfather, Jasper Landreth the Third, was a shipping merchant and an early investor in Back Bay land. He purchased large areas of the undeveloped tidal flats prior to the district’s being filled and developed. He built this house during the Civil War—a mansion among town houses.” She took my hand in hers. “Your inheritance is a great sum of money and includes both Hilldreth Manor and Truesdale Cottage on Mount Desert Island. You’ll be set for life.”
   I sat back against the plush cushions and stared evenly at her. “You must be jesting.”
   “No, I’m not.” She stared at me blankly and seemed genuinely confused by my reaction.
   “Do you know what this means?”
   It meant it didn’t matter that I’d been expelled from The Boston Conservatory with no references. And it meant absolutely nothing stood between me and my desire to return to Washington. I would have the freedom to found my own academy of music.
   For with that much money, anything was possible, wasn’t it?
   “I know it means you’ll be provided with a sizable dowry.”
   That awful word hung in the air between us as I comprehended just what all those two syllables entailed. “A dowry?”
   “Yes, a dowry, Amaryllis.” She gave me a sideways smile. “Your grandmother made the will very specific, dear. In order to claim the inheritance, you must be married within the year of finishing your schooling. Which means you’ll have until February sixteenth of next year to find a suitable husband.”
   “Husband?” I practically stumbled over the distasteful word. “Is that the only way?”
   “It will hardly be difficult, Amaryllis. You’re even more beautiful than your mother, and that’s saying something. You do have a photograph of her, don’t you?”
   “No, I don’t.”
   She rummaged through the reticule still in her hand and passed me a close-up photograph of two women. They stood on a rocky beach, barefoot.
   “That’s her with her friend Grace. Those two were almost like sisters once….”
   I really did look just like my mother. We shared the slight bump at the bridge of our nose, thick black hair, and small stature. Was that the reason Father had abandoned me after her funeral? Had it simply been too much for him to look at me?
   On the back of the photograph was scribbled, “Elinorah and Grace, Bar Harbor.”
   “Lawry will be here soon and will be of some help, dear. I’m so happy you’ve decided to quit The Boston Conservatory. I wrote to him as soon as your plans were confirmed.”
   “Is he using his law degree alongside Uncle Edward in Bar Harbor?”
   “He does work for his father—only here in Boston. But he also travels for his father, in the name of research. He’s on his way back from an extensive trip, primarily to Washington State.”
   I forgot all about the photograph in my hand as the deep longing to return to the West Coast burned in my chest.
   “How long has he been gone?”
   “Oh, let me see…I suppose it’s been nearly two years. He’s always insisted that he’d eventually return home. Never mind that it took having you and me in Boston at the same time to make him follow through with it. You see, Lawry never forgot how much you loved the West Coast, Amaryllis. He told me all about your letters full of plans to go back someday to build a music school, if I remember correctly.” By the tone in her voice, I could tell she thought such an idea to be silly and perhaps even childish.
   Though the short and often funny letters Lawry and I had exchanged throughout the years had begun to dwindle about seven years earlier, I could not blame him. He was four years older than I and surely had better things to do than write letters to me. It seemed odd, though, that he’d never informed me he planned to someday head west. Surely he knew I would have been thrilled for him. Perhaps he thought I would have given up my opportunity at The Boston Conservatory to join him.
   If only I had.
   “Nathan Everstone has been traveling with him, of course.”
   Everything about that particular gentleman’s father rushed to mind—the vindictive letter, his hatred for me and my mother, and the nightmares I’d had since the day I’d met him almost eleven years earlier.
   “And a gentleman named Mr. Crawford, whom I don’t think I’ve had the privilege of meeting. He was recently acquired by the Boston Inland Mission Society and is in search of a wife to take back to Washington with him.”
   “Is that what Lawry and Mr. Everstone were doing in Washington? Mission work?”
   “Heavens, no! Lawry’s interested enough in attending church, but I daresay he has little interest in becoming a missionary. And Nathan? Absolutely not. He would be a very sad candidate, indeed. Lawry likely had to persuade him to let Mr. Crawford aboard his private railcar. Can you imagine a poor missionary being escorted across the continent in such style, and in the company of an Everstone?”
   “Are the Everstones so entirely wealthy?” I tried to seem as uninterested as possible. For all I knew, Claudine might expect me to be friends with him.
   “My dear, Nathan Everstone’s father owns a massive chain of resorts and hotels that extends from Maine to Florida, as well as the Greaghan Lumber Company. They’re one of the wealthiest families in the region.”
   “Oh.” A shudder ran down my spine.
   “Now, Amaryllis, about Nathan—he’ll likely still want to spend much of his time with Lawry. He visits us quite often, you know.”
   “How often is ‘quite often’?” I dreaded the answer.
   “Almost on a daily basis. It is surprising, is it not? One of New England’s most eligible bachelors choosing to spend his evenings at Hilldreth instead of at the endless supply of parties and dinners to which I’m certain he’s always invited.”
   The more I learned, the less happy I became. With every additional word, I realized I’d placed myself in the very heart of the Marriage Market of Boston’s most elite society.
   Was all this part of God’s will for my life? Did He care about my inheriting the Landreth fortune? My thoughts again dwelt upon the horse farm on Whidbey Island where I’d spent the first fourteen years of my life. Wanting to begin again after my mother had died, I’d long supposed that Father had sold it, permanently robbing me of the only home I’d ever known.
   It was my stubborn belief that God would make a way for me to return to Washington, even if I wouldn’t be able to have my Brigham Shires of Bruckerdale on Whidbey Island again. God knew my heart better than anyone and knew that my being trapped in the gilded cage of Claudine Abernathy’s world was not what I wanted…or needed. Especially in light of how closely she seemed to be associated with Bram Everstone and his family.
   “It is best you know from the outset, Amaryllis, that Nathan’s as charming as God ever made a man, even when he’s being disagreeable. I’m certain he could have any young woman he wanted, and at times, he acts as if he has no qualms about flirting with all of them. You’ll have to take care with that one. He—”
   “Oh, have no fear, Aunt Clau—Claudine. Inconsistent men hold no appeal for me whatsoever.” The mere fact that he was Bram Everstone’s son was more than enough reason for me to steer clear of him.
   “Such a smart girl, but don’t think for one minute I say these things because you couldn’t snag such a man’s attention. You could, without a doubt. Just look at you. However, Nathan claims, much as Lawry does, that he’s hard-pressed to find any young female truly worth being serious about. Both of them insist that most of the young ladies they know are merely done-up packages of ribbon and silk, full of nothing more than fluff and manners.”
   “I cannot blame them,” I muttered under my breath. Most of them were indeed.
   “And the man barely gives a girl the chance to prove herself otherwise. Though, I must say, it did seem that before he left in such a hurry all those years ago, he was on the verge of forming an engagement with Nicholette Fairbanks. But everyone knows it was his father who desired the match.”
   I unbuttoned my coat. I was getting rather warm.
   “You see, Amaryllis, Nathan stands to inherit his share of the Everstone’s twenty-million-dollar inheritance upon his thirtieth birthday next February. And rumor has it that Bram threatened to withhold it from him until he marries her.”
   “Twenty million dollars!” I tried my best not to get involved in the love triangles Claudine was obsessed with, but it proved to be far too engrossing.
   “And if you ask me, Nathan can hardly tolerate the girl.”
   “Would his father do such a thing? Would he leave his own flesh and blood penniless, for the sake of—”
   “There’s no telling what Bram will do, Amaryllis, though I doubt there’s any danger of Nathan ever being left penniless, no matter what the outcome of this forced engagement is.” She shook her head. “Fortunately for Nathan, his father is still in Europe and will not be back for some time.”
   That tidbit of information was the best news I’d heard from her yet.

~~~

   I sat up with a start, still shaken, my knees bent and my face in my hands. The nightmare always played out the same, no matter how long it had been since the last time I’d dreamt it.
   All of the excitement and, yes, even the joy from meeting Claudine was gone.
   My eyes adjusted to the dim moonlight, and I took in my surroundings—my mother’s bedchamber at the end of the hall on the second floor at Hilldreth. As soon as my feet hit the thick, carpeted floor, I was again reminded of the drastic turn my life had taken in the last month. Anyone else in my predicament probably would have considered such a turn of events to be a blessing.
   I stood and walked around the massive cherry four-poster bed and across the room to the oversized bay window overlooking the corner of Commonwealth Avenue and Berkeley Street. I sat upon the burgundy velvet sofa and ran my fingers over the intricate detail of the lace covering the windows as the moon shone through.
   Turning my attention back toward the chamber, I again marveled at the size of the room and wondered what my grandmother could have been thinking to will everything to me after treating me as if I didn’t exist the one and only time I’d ever seen her—at my mother’s funeral. Had I been her last, delusional hope of restoring what was left of her family to Boston’s most prestigious aristocratic circles? Or had she truly regretted disowning my mother all those years ago?
   Whatever the reason, I already knew it wouldn’t work. I was certain my inheritance would only attract the most desperate of opportunists. Who was I compared to the elegant young debutantes who’d circulated through the balls and banquets of Boston already this year?
   But no matter how much I could use the inheritance, I could not use a husband. Unless perhaps the missionary was interested….
   I put a stop to that illogical thought immediately.
   What did I know of men? They were controlling. Insensitive. Undependable. Inconsistent. And liars. Just like my father—and just like Bram Everstone.
   But surely a missionary wouldn’t have such irredeemable qualities—would he?
   With those two little words, I realized I’d actually allowed myself to consider something I had never imagined I would.
   Marriage.
   But even that unpleasant subject wasn’t enough to fully take my mind off the nightmare. I stared for a long time at the moon’s reflection upon the now-familiar flourishing crimson swirls of the silken wallpaper, trying to forget the pain the nightmare had trudged up.
   For eleven long, lonely years, I’d taught myself to fight against the unwanted feelings it produced, but my efforts always proved pointless. In the midst of the dreams, I always remembered my mother.
   And the reason she was gone.

So... Amaryllis starts off on her own journey, not of her own making. And she indeed has a relative! Great-Aunt Claudine ~ nothing like her stuffy niece, Amaryllis' mother.

At the introduction of the gentlemen in the story, I take note that one has a private railcar!

Can you imagine the luxury of having your own home on rails to couple to the end of a train heading in your destination? That would be one Nathan Everstone, whom Amaryllis has yet to meet. Humph ~ a relative of the letter writer that got her expelled from The Boston Conservatory, no less. A close relative at that ~ his despicable father, Bram Everstone, being the author of the unsound fallacy. Nathan is on the list before he has even started, it would seem.

Has Amaryllis come to an impasse? Trapped in her remembrances that lead her in fear without being able to go forward? Measuring her responses or lack of by what she has always known keeps her locked in without a way of escape. This story is so well written in showing how a life can be turned from self-doubt and repression to be able to hear truth and reception. Dawn Crandall has expressed a life capable of freedom from lies of the enemy of our soul. The deception can stop by a love greater than we have ever known.

Nathan pursues Amaryllis devotedly overlooking what she doesn't yet see. She is protected. She is viewed by others so differently than she sees herself. Weaknesses are pried upon by those weaker yet than Amaryllis. She is determined to go it alone regardless of the outcome, being strengthened by her aim to follow her gift of music. Wait until she finds the music of her soul! Her heart awaits her patiently, opening the small crevices that form the shell enclosing it. How beautiful is the revealing and the hope presented in the pursuit of a love beyond measure. Freed by the very person she feels entombs her, guilt is set aside and flooded with joy and release for all generations to come.

***Thank you to author Dawn Crandall and Whitaker House for this copy of Book One in the Everstone Chronicles for review. This review was written in my own words. No other compensation was received.***

The Secret Keeper: A Novel of Kateryn Parr by Sandra Byrd, ©2012

Ladies in Waiting, Book 2

Kateryn Parr (b.1512-d.1548)

Sir Thomas Seymour seeks Hugh St. John to settle some business and comes upon his daughter, Juliana, as a lector at the church. Assured she would be just the one to serve as a confidante lady-in-waiting for his beloved Kateryn, her mother initially agrees to one year's service at court for her daughter.
   Kateryn Parr has long been in love with Thomas, brother of late Queen Jane Seymour. Getting rid of his wives at whim, the King seeks to have Kate Parr as his next wife. Unknown to Henry VIII, she will be his last wife. King Henry VIII in failing health, the Court goes on without him ~ until he hears about it and has them beheaded. To the Tower is a command that doesn't return many. Desirous of keeping all the power himself, he is not overly pleased with the influx of reformers entering and promoting influences amid his reign. If only he had realized the true Queen he had, he would have had a much better outcome. He was swayed by opinion and pompous self-pride, on again ~ off again allegiance to Kate.
    For all of his misleading, Thomas does indeed do a great service for Kate when bringing Juliana to court for her. She is a faithful friend and continues at court for the duration of Kate's life. Kate, in turn, is the mother figure Juliana unknowingly sought. Benevolence on both parts, they are valuable to each other's lives. Juliana has prophetic dreams that forewarn of coming events, even before she knew she was to be a part of the outcome.
   Juliana tells the story as an observer and participant in the life of Queen Kateryn. She gives the Queen her complete attendance beyond a life of her own. Juliana is my very favorite character and I was overwhelmed with the acceptance she receives as she leaves court after the death of the Queen. Very satisfactory and a beloved friend. As a believer, she realizes she was never alone nor forsaken.
   This Tudor story is very thorough and well-written of hidden times revealed within the private chambers. Although Juliana is fictional among the actual happenings portrayed, she stands out as the very needed member. Enjoy the rich stories told in the Ladies in Waiting series by Sandra Byrd. Further historical readings of Principal Works of Reference are included in the back of the novel. Also included is a Reading Group Guide and Author Q&A.

Author 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.

What she sees in secret, she may not tell.
Mistress Juliana St. John is the lovely, forthright daughter of a prosperous knight’s family. Though all expect her to marry the son of her late father’s business partner, time and chance interrupt, sending her to the sumptuous but deceptive court of Henry VIII.
Sir Thomas Seymour, brother of the late Queen Jane, returns to Wiltshire to conclude his affairs with Juliana’s father’s estate and chances upon her reading as lector in the local church. He sees instantly that she would fit into the household of the woman he loves and wants most to please, Kateryn Parr. Juliana’s mother agrees to have her placed with Parr for a season and Juliana goes, though reluctantly.
For she keeps a secret.
As Juliana accompanies Kateryn Parr to court, Henry’s devout sixth queen raises the stakes for all reformers. Support of firebrand Anne Askew puts the queen and her ladies in life-threatening jeopardy, as does the queen’s desire to influence her husband’s—and the realm’s—direction and beliefs. Later, without Henry’s strong arm, the court devolves to competition, duplicity, and betrayal. The risks could not be higher as Juliana must choose between love and honor, personal fulfillment and sacrifice. Ultimately, her course is driven by a final kept secret, one that undoes everything she thought she knew. - See more at: http://books.simonandschuster.com/Secret-Keeper/Sandra-Byrd/9781439183144#sthash.6Ug6aQYp.dpuf

Kateryn Parr, Queen of England from 1543 until 1547, as the last of the six wives of King Henry VIII.

 

***Thank you to Author Sandra Byrd for this story and the opportunity to read and review The Secret Keeper. This review was written in my own words. No other compensation was received.***

The Blessings of Friendship Treasury by Mary Engelbreit, © 2014

This beautiful book by Mary Engelbreit will endear you and your children to it. With the many festive drawings within, your little ones will want to search for the bunny again, and find all the delightful characters. I am reminded of "A Friend Is Someone Who Likes You" by Joan Walsh Anglund and Tomie dePaoli's stories ~ books without words. Each of Mary Engelbreit's drawings capture a story your child can tell you by looking at the activities in the picture. But, indeed ... there are words. Beautiful poems, quotes, and Scriptures are threaded through The Blessings of Friendship Treasury.

One page I especially love, two little girls are having a tea party outdoors. One girl is handing the other girl a double-portion slice of cake. The girl says, "FOR ME??!!" On the other girl's plate is a tiny sliver piece of cake. "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you." I love the borders she puts around her drawings.

Another has three little boys in their apple tree lookout with two little girls peeking up from below ~ "We have been friends together in sunshine and in shade." --Caroline Norton quote

   
The Blessings of Friendship Treasury, created by New York Times bestselling author and artist Mary Engelbreit, is a playful and poignant treasury of poetry, Bible verses, and quotes that celebrate the joy of friendship. Children will learn from timeless sayings and poems what it means to be a friend - helping, encouraging, listening, sharing with, and loving one another. Colorful and whimsical illustrations bring these words to life, as children learn the value of friendship. Verses from the Bible give us instruction on putting others above ourselves, loving each other, and being kind to one another. This book will make you smile with each turn of the page, remembering old friends and new friends alike.

Mary Engelbreit grew up studying the illustrations in the vintage storybooks of her mother’s own childhood, and she developed a unique style that harkens back to those simpler times. Mary’s distinctive images have made her a celebrity to millions, who eagerly snap up gift items, calendars, books, fabrics, and more. Mary’s dearest wish has always been to illustrate for children. Her New York Times bestselling The Night Before Christmas is already part of the holiday tradition for families across the country.

What medium do you use to create your art?
I use mostly colored markers. Before that, I did only black-and-white drawings because I was terrified I would ruin them if I used color. I moved on to colored pencils, and then I discovered markers. I'd do pen-and-ink outlines, follow that with markers, and then colored pencils to shade and highlight. Now I use colored pencils to completely color over the markers, which preserves the markers. Everybody thinks it's paint, but I actually can't paint, though someday I'd like to learn. http://www.maryengelbreit.com/q-and-a.html

This will be a keepsake book your whole family will enjoy.

***Thank you to BookLook Bloggers for the offer of Mary Engelbreit's delightful The Blessings of Friendship Treasury to review. This review was written in my own words. No other compensation was received.***

Prelude for a Lord by Camille Elliot, © 2014

Banished from the only home she has known, will her title be stripped from her too? Lady Alethea Sutherton is removed from Trittonstone Park, Somerset, England, by the new Earl of Trittonstone, her cousin whom has taken the title following the death of her father and brother. Displaced. Given a week to pack her lifetime of memories and few belongings that are truly hers, Alethea (al-EE-thea) readies for her move to her Aunt Ebena Garen's residence in the city, far from her country home.

Bath, England 1810
It is early morning. Alethea is returning from the market way before the fashionable hour of elites stroll the streets and parks. What a morning it is turning out to be. First, catching eyes of a remembered occupant of a carriage reminding her of her beloved music; stopped on the street by a man quite aware she has a violin his employer would like to possess, and then... arriving at Aunt Ebena's, her young cousin by marriage is in attendance. Upon their first meeting, Alethea is uncertain of Miss Margaret Garen as she is idly sitting by enduring the transfer from her Aunt Nancy to Aunt Ebena. An interesting day, at best.

The introductions are done very well, and I am appreciative of the overview of the primary characters in the front of the novel. Alethea is gifted in the violin and looked down upon by society for her lack of interest in the pianoforte and harp, which she also plays, but prefers her violin bequeathed to her by her beloved mother figure, a childhood Italian neighbor. The occupants of the carriage are three of a Quartet highly musically sought and admired before war took them apart.

Prelude for a Lord shares a story of heartfelt character qualities of Bayard Terralton (Baron Dommick) and Lady Alethea Sutherton in the care and protection of his sister, Clare, and her sister, Lucy. This endeared me to them. Also, that both had been shunned and gossiped about at soirees. By lowering their esteem, those speaking lower theirs instead. The love of countryside and music is enhanced between them. I liked how Bayard's friends are so supportive of him. A Regency Era novel of inner thoughts that far outweigh the turbulence without. Very well-written and I am looking forward to other writings from this author.

Back Cover:
An awkward young woman. A haunted young man. A forbidden instrument. Can the love of music bring them together . . . or will it tear them apart? ~* Bath, England – 1810 *~ At twenty-eight, Alethea Sutherton is past her prime for courtship; but social mores have never been her forté. She might be a lady, but she is first and foremost a musician. In Regency England, however, the violin is considered an inappropriate instrument for a lady. Ostracized by society for her passion, Alethea practices in secret and waits for her chance to flee to the Continent, where she can play without scandal. But when a thief’s interest in her violin endangers her and her family, Alethea is determined to discover the enigmatic origins of her instrument . . . with the help of the dark, brooding Lord Dommick. Scarred by war, Dommick finds solace only in playing his violin. He is persuaded to help Alethea, and discovers an entirely new yearning in his soul. Alethea finds her reluctant heart drawn to Dommick in the sweetest of duets . . . just as the thief’s desperation builds to a tragic crescendo . . .


http://blog.camytang.com/2014/08/terralton-abbey-from-prelude-for-lord.html

Camy Tang writes romantic suspense under her real name and Regency romance under her pen name, Camille Elliot. Her first Regency, Prelude for a Lord, releases August 5, 2014. She is a staff worker for her church youth group and leads one of the Sunday worship teams. Visit her website at camytang.com to read free short stories and subscribe to her quarterly newsletter. camilleelliot.com


***Thank you to BookLook Bloggers for Camille Elliot's Prelude for a Lord historical novel to review. This review was written in my own words. No other compensation was received.***

A Grand Design by Amber Stockton, © 2014 ~ A Quilts of Love story

author Amber Stockton

Alyssa Denham's best friend, Libby Duncan, instigates her entering a contest in Bride magazine. The destination of the all-expense-paid-trip for two is to Mackinac Island. Alyssa wins. Inviting Libby to come along with her, they leave Grand Rapids for a 14-day excursion to quietness, or... so it seems. Alyssa has history with the island. She and her father visited her grandmother there every summer until her early teen years. Libby enjoyed memories shared of Alyssa's summers and is excited to go with her. Alyssa is not so joyful to return to a past left behind. She calls her grandmother and is warmly welcomed. They are invited to join in a project her grandmother would like to complete ~ gathering quilt blocks from each lady who was once part of her quilting circle to form a special quilt. There is more to the outcome as requests are asked to be passed on for her grandmother to renew friendships.

Grandmother Edith has more in mind, it seems. She has hired her favorite young carriage driver, Scott Whitman, to escort Alyssa and Libby for these excursions to island cottages beyond tourist locations.

I liked this story in the Quilts of Love series. It was beyond being tourists and visiting a celebrated location, but rather a reacquainting of family from a different perspective. Both older and reflective, Alyssa and her grandmother are able to be open with each other and receptive for a future. As her friend, Libby, is more outgoing and there for a vacation, Alyssa is able to meet her past and move forward. This was an important turning point for her life. Because of the respect and relationship her grandmother had with other islanders, Alyssa, in turn, was remembered by those she visited to collect the quilt blocks. It brought a good remembrance of her youth and meeting those who knew her family. I would be interested in a second book by this author, picking up where this one leaves off.

~*~

Tiffany Amber Stockton has been writing stories since childhood. She is an award-winning author, a speaker, and a director with a relationship marketing company. She and her husband, author Stuart Vaughn Stockton, live in Colorado. They have a daughter and son, and their dog, Roxie. Author Amber Stockton website.

***Thank you to Litfuse Publicity Group for inviting me to be part of the blog tour for Amber Stockton's novel ~ A Grand Design. This review was written in my own words. No other compensation was received.***

Enjoy an excerpt of Chapter One and a bonus from Amber Stockton's A Grand Design ~

Quilts of Love Series
A Grand Design
Amber Stockton

1

“I hate the month of June!”
   Alyssa Denham shouldered her way through the revolving door to her office building and onto the concrete sidewalk, her arms laden with bridal shower grab-bag gifts. She should have tossed most of the stuff, or found an unsuspecting coworker and bestowed the gifts on her as a random act of kindness. Three office bridal showers in the first three weeks of April. It had to be a record. The predictable wedding invitations arrive in her inbox, and she still didn’t have a date for the events. Some of it was her fault. It shouldn’t bother her, but it did.
   I don’t have a date, period.
   Every year for the past five years, whenever a wedding occurred for someone she knew, it happened in June. And this year was no different. If June was her least favorite month, then April followed as a close second. As Alyssa stepped out from under the overhang, the light drizzle falling most of the day changed to a steady rain.
   “Perfect,” she muttered, looking up and down the street for a taxi to the train station. She usually walked, but the gift bags and little wrapped items she carried made the idea impossible. The six blocks would feel more like sixty.
   Alyssa straightened when she saw a yellow cab round the corner. She stepped forward and tried to free one arm to signal it. When the driver maneuvered toward the curb, relief coursed through her. Just as she reached for the door handle, a Tom Cruise look-alike in a dark gray tailored suit stepped in front of her. He opened the door and held it for a young blonde who could easily pass for a magazine model.
   Recognizing the girl as the latest bride-to-be from her office, Alyssa rolled her eyes and sighed. The pretty girls always get the guys—and the cabs. So what if the girl was also in a jam. The young woman and her fiancé might be late for dinner reservations, but Alyssa had an armful of packages—thanks to the two who had just stolen her ride. The cab pulled away from the curb and the rear wheels sent a spray of water in her direction.
   Her favorite cream slacks now sporting a dirty rainwater splatter, Alyssa headed for the corner to catch the city bus. It arrived just as she reached the stop. Balancing her bags on one arm, she managed to withdraw enough loose change from the purse dangling on her arm for the fare, then turned to find a seat. Sandwiched between a woman in a black business suit and stiletto heels with a cell phone pressed to her ear and a fifty-something gentleman with a rounded middle and gray-speckled hair, Alyssa couldn’t wait to get home.
   If you don’t do something besides work and stay at home, you’ll never meet Mr. Right. Live a little, Alyssa!
   The admonishment from her best friend floated through her mind as she surveyed the other riders. From the shabbily-dressed, college-age crowd to the handful of silver-haired men headed for retirement, there wasn’t a prospect in the bunch—unless she counted the Don Juan type with the slicked back hair and gold-capped smile who eyed her from across the aisle. At only twenty-nine, she wasn’t that desperate yet.
   Well, Lord, I would live a little. But on my salary, this is about as social as it gets.
   Thankfully, the ride to the train station wasn’t long, and Alyssa stepped off the bus. Grateful to be under shelter, she smiled and thanked the man who held the door for her and headed inside to catch her train.
   Forty minutes later, she walked through the door to her comfortable two-bedroom apartment. She deposited her armload onto the maple dining room table her grandmother had given her and breathed a sigh of relief. Alyssa flipped through the stack of mail. Nothing but bills and advertisements. She sighed. The usual. Suddenly, a bold word on the front of one envelope caught her attention.
   WINNER!
   Alyssa stared at the return address. Oh, no! How in the world had this happened? She’d entered the magazine contest on a dare. And now, she’d won? She’d never won anything before in her life. Was this God’s answer to her current solitary life, or was He pulling her leg? Alyssa smiled. It had to be a God-thing.
   But why this? And why Mackinac Island of all places?
   Curious, Alyssa slit the envelope and pulled out the full-color, tri-fold brochure along with a letter. She kicked off her pumps, padded over to her favorite burgundy recliner, and extended the footrest. The one lone accent piece in her otherwise neutral décor. Settled into the cozy comfort of the soft velour, Alyssa scanned the enticing images and well-written descriptions. Just the way the mind of her youth remembered it. As if nothing had changed in all these years. The image of a lighthouse and a few seagulls reminded her of her father and the walks they used to take along the beach. Speculating on the types of people who had walked the beach leaving prints behind had been a favorite pastime for both of them.
   Every written description in the brochure promised an unforgettable time. And each picture included a happy couple enjoying the boating activities, horseback riding, rafting, and tennis, not to mention the horse-drawn carriage rides and scrumptious dinner selections. She’d done it all at one point many years ago. Advertising the island as a romantic getaway made sense. But it didn’t make her current status any easier to swallow.
   Couples, couples, couples! Didn’t singles go anywhere anymore? Just once she’d like to see a vacation spot showing someone having a grand old time alone. But as she unfolded the brochure, each new page revealed another toothy twosome, caught up in euphoric delight. And she was a “onesome”—an unsmiling “onesome” at that. Blotting out the images of the couples, she focused on the swimming, boating, and nature walks—things she loved to do and hadn’t done since she was a kid. And she hadn’t taken her vacation yet this year. Why not throw out the romance and do a getaway for one?
   But just the thought of going alone dampened her excitement. She’d played the odd-woman-out too many times. Not her idea of fun. She stared at the word two in the letter as if it were a death sentence. Two. Then, a flash of enlightenment tugged at the corners of her mouth. Not a couple. Just two.
   Alyssa snapped the recliner into its upright position and reached for the phone on the end table next to the chair. After dialing, she waited for her best friend to pick up. One . . . two . . .
   Alyssa straightened as the third ring stopped midway through and planted her feet on the carpeted floor. “Libby, you’ll never guess what’s happened.”
   “What?” Libby’s excitement transcended the distance between them.
   “Remember the contest the girls dared me to enter in the latest Bride magazine?” Alyssa twirled the phone cord around her fingers and leaned back. “The one promising a chance to win an all-expense paid trip for two and touted it as a ‘honeymoon in heaven’?”
   “How could I forget? You almost wouldn’t complete the thing,” Libby complained. “And I had to dare you to mail it.” Her friend’s breath hitched. “Wait, don’t tell me.”
   “Yep. I have the notification right here in my hand.” Alyssa held the phone away to avoid being deafened by Libby’s shriek. “There’s only one snag,” she said when it was safe. Tucking a strand of her cinnamon-colored hair behind her ear, she pivoted and propped her feet on the edge of the end table. “The getaway is for two.”
   “Now you listen to me, Alyssa Denham . . .” Libby predictably launched into attack mode. “This is not a problem. We’ll figure something out. I mean, you are always looking for some excuse to get out of changing your dull routine. If you can find any reason whatsoever not to do something, you will use it. This is just the kind of thing—”
   “I want you to come with me,” Alyssa interrupted, grinning.
   “—you do all the time. And frankly, I’m . . .” Silence filled the line, followed by an incredulous, “What?”
   Alyssa smiled. “I said I’m going, and I want you to go with me.”
   “Alright. Who are you? And what have you done with my best friend? Alyssa would not agree to do something like this so easily.”
   Alyssa laughed. “It’s me, Libby.”
   “Well, you sure don’t sound like the Alyssa I know and love. She would die before she’d make up her mind this quickly. I mean, this is the girl who waited a year before getting her hair cut in the latest style. She got her ears pierced ten years after all her friends did. And she waits until styles go out of season before she decides she likes them enough to buy them. So this can’t be Alyssa.”
   Alyssa crossed her ankles and picked imaginary lint off her cable-knit sweater. “Well, God and I had a little chat about my life on the bus ride home. And when I walked in the door, this letter was waiting. Seemed like a quick answer to me, so I decided to go.” Glancing back at the brochure on her lap, Alyssa sighed. “Just maybe, that friend you know is changing. Maybe she’s looking for a little excitement in her life.”
   “Wow. I always said it would take an act of God to get you to break out of the rut you call a life, but who knew He’d take me seriously.”
   Alyssa shook her head. Leave it to Libby to be sarcastic. They’d been best friends for almost twenty years. Libby’s rather boisterous style and brand of wit is what attracted Alyssa. Inwardly, she hoped some of it would rub off on her.
   “Come on, Libby. Cut me some slack here. You’re the one who’s always telling me to live a little. So are you in or out? Answer quickly before I have time to talk myself out of it.”
   “In,” Libby exclaimed. “Just bear with me. I’m still in shock.” She paused and took a breath. “And it’s free? No catches, no time-share spiels to listen to?”
   Alyssa picked up the letter of confirmation, reading it again, barely believing it herself. “It says so right here. And I have the letter to prove it.” She reclined the chair back and stared at the stucco finish on the ceiling, the white speckled design resembling the intricate patterns on the sand-washed rocks she had on the shelf in her bathroom. Another reminder of the life she’d lived as a child.
   “You seriously want me to come along?”
   “Well, who else would I take? I don’t exactly have a long line of suitors waiting at my door.”
   Libby’s grin came through the phone line. “No, I mean wouldn’t you want to take this trip alone? You never know. Mr. Right could be waiting for you. Speaking of which, where is this place?”
   “Mackinac Island in Lake Huron.” Alyssa examined the brochure again. “There’s even something here about it being named ‘Turtle Island’ by the local Chippewa Indians who discovered it.”
   “Turtle Island?” Incredulity laced Libby’s words.
   Alyssa shrugged. “Hey, I don’t write the descriptions.” She read further. “Anyway, the brochure says it’s a great getaway with lots to do and the perfect place for some excitement.” Raising one eyebrow, she pursed her lips. “Somehow, I think the ‘excitement’ they promise has more to do with their billing this island as a romantic getaway than the kind of adventure you and I could have.”
   “Do tell.”
   “There’s boating, horseback riding, cycling, parasailing—”
   “Parasailing?” Libby latched onto the word. “I can see it now. A skimpy little number with a drop-dead gorgeous instructor standing behind me as I fumble with the sail and play the dimwitted damsel who can’t tell which end is up.”
   Alyssa laughed and shook her head. Her friend’s flare for the extreme is what made their friendship work. “And what if the instructor’s a woman?”
   “Then I’ll give her to you while I scout out the Baywatch guy.”
   “Gee, thanks. Some friend you are.”
   “You know you love me.”
   “Only the Lord knows why.” But Alyssa did know.
   Life was an adventure to Libby, and she wanted her best friend to take part in it. Libby usually managed to pull her from her staid and simple existence to create memories far exceeding her wildest imagination.
   “So other than the obvious, tell me a little more about this place.”
   A big ball of fur jumped up into Alyssa’s lap. She waited for Kalani to find a comfortable position, then stroked the dark gray Persian’s ears, earning a rumbling purr in response. “The brochure says the main hotel was built around the turn of the century, and they don’t allow cars on the island.”
   “No cars? How do you get around?”
   “Bicycles, horse-drawn carriages, and your own two legs.”
   “Sounds like your kind of place. No modern conveniences.” Sarcasm dripped from Libby’s words. “Wonder if they have indoor plumbing.”
   Alyssa planted her fist on one hip, startling Kalani. “I appreciate my modernized lifestyle, thank you very much.” She gently coaxed the cat to relax. “But, I admit, a part of me would like to get a feel for a bygone era.”
   “Looks like you’ll get your chance.” Libby made a sound like snapping her fingers. “Hey, wait a second. Doesn’t your grandmother live on the island? And isn’t it the same island where you used to spend all your summers as a kid?”
   “I was wondering if you’d actually remember.”
   “As if I could forget. It was all you used to talk about when we first met. I always wished I could go with you just once.”
   “Well, it looks like you’ll get your wish,” Alyssa replied, throwing her friend’s words back at her.
   “Guess so.” She paused. “It’s been a while for you, hasn’t it?” came the soft words.
   Libby knew all about what had happened—all except for the real reason Alyssa hadn’t returned.
   Though her friend couldn’t see her, Alyssa nodded. “Nearly fifteen years.” Even now, moisture gathered in her eyes. She blinked several times and looked toward the ceiling. No. She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. It would spoil the elation she should be feeling.
   “It’s been a long time.”
   “Yes.” Alyssa snatched a tissue from the box next to her and held it to the corners of her eyes. “In some ways, it feels like yesterday. In others, like forever.”
   “Well, experiences and memories don’t just go away. You and your dad had a lot of fun there for many years.”
   Alyssa sniffed. “And then Dad got sick, and well, somehow the joys of going didn’t hold as much enticement anymore.”
   “Because your mom never cared much for the island. Though I’m not sure why.”
   “Like you, she preferred the more modern conveniences and easy access to an abundance of stores, outlets, and entertainment options.” Alyssa shrugged. “The island just didn’t suit her as well as it did Dad and me.”
   “Probably the lack of cars,” Libby intoned. “Still, I think it’s been far too long for you, and it’s high time you returned. Guess God had the same idea.”
   Obviously He did. “Well, we’ve talked about taking a vacation together. And you said you had two weeks coming to you. I can take off as well. It’s the perfect opportunity.”
   “When are we supposed to fly off to our land of adventure?”
   Alyssa reached for the letter and scanned the page. “Umm, July seventh.” She kicked her feet against the table and swung the chair around, squinting to see the calendar on the wall behind her desk in the corner. “It’s a Monday.”
   Libby rustled some paper. “It gives us a little more than two months to plan. We can have an amazing two weeks, stop in and visit your grandmother, and get into all sorts of trouble. I can’t believe this is happening.”
   “Me, either.” Alyssa was almost tempted to pinch herself. She’d wanted a change for a while. This was just the opportunity to help her make it. And it followed all those weddings she’d been invited to attend. After being present to witness three more women she knew being joined in eternal wedded bliss, she’d need a vacation. Winning this trip sealed the deal. “We’ll have a blast, whether Prince Charming is there or not.”
   “You’re on, girlfriend,” Libby chimed in, obviously infected by Alyssa’s enthusiasm. “Mackinac Island, here we come!
   Well, almost. Alyssa had another phone call to make.

* * * * *

   “Oh, Alyssa dear, are you really coming back to our island?”
   “Yes, Grandma, I am.”
   “Praise be to Jesus. My little girl is coming home.” Her sniffle was like a knife in Alyssa’s gut. “Oh, how I have prayed and prayed for this day to come. I’d almost given up hoping you’d ever return, dear.”
   “I know, Grandma, and I’m sorry.” She shouldn’t have stayed away so long. But the days had become weeks, and the weeks had become months, and the months had become years, and before she knew it, fifteen years had passed. “I should have made more of an effort to come see you. What with school, and my summer jobs, and planning for college, then a career, it’s hard to imagine it’s been as long as it has.”
   “Child, there is no need to apologize, though I certainly do forgive you. Your mama needed you after my Richard passed away. It isn’t easy losing your soul mate, the love of your life.”
   Grandma knew it all too well, even if Alyssa could only imagine. First, Grandpa, and then five years later, Dad. And Alyssa had stopped her annual visits, only keeping in touch through cards or the occasional phone call.
   “No.” Alyssa sighed. “But it wasn’t fair to you to be left all alone up there. I mean it wasn’t just us. You lost Dad, too.”
   “Oh, child, I’m never alone on this little island. You should know that. I’ve lived here all my life and made a lot of friends over the years.” The faint sound of Wheel of Fortune came through the phone. One of Grandma’s favorite TV programs. Hers, too. “Then, there are all the tourists. Some of them provide a great deal of entertainment for me, and I only have to watch or listen to them for ten minutes or so. Now, you stop the line of thought leading you down a path of guilt right this instant, young lady.”
   Alyssa could almost see Grandma wagging a finger in her direction. She straightened, as if Grandma could see her and would tell her to stop slouching in the next breath. “Yes, ma’am,” she replied.
   “I am doing just fine, I assure you, my dear.” Her voice held all the conviction needed to make Alyssa believe it. “But to tell you the truth, your call and announcement couldn’t have come at a better time.”
   “Oh?” Just how orchestrated was this trip? “What’s happening?”
   “Tell me again, how long is this little vacation going to be?”
   “Two weeks,” Alyssa replied. “Why?”
   “And dear Libby is going to be joining you?”
   “Yes.” She sighed. “Grandma, what’s all this about?”
   “I have a little project for you while you’re here.”
   “A project?” It sounded ominous. Even though Grandma couldn’t see her, she narrowed her eyes and scrunched up her brows. “What kind of project?”
   “Oh, just a little something to keep you busy in the midst of all the parasailing, horseback riding, and boating I know you just love to do.”
   Yeah, right. Alyssa loved all of the adrenaline-inducing activity most of the tourists sought out as much as she loved the thought of going to three weddings as a solo act. Libby might live for it, but not her. Not in this lifetime. “Now, Grandma, you know me better than that.”
   “Yes, child, I do. And it’s why I know you’ll be excited to learn of a little something I’ve been meaning to do for over a year now, but I simply haven’t had the opportunity, or the ability.”
   Why was Grandma being so mysterious? Why not just come right out and say what she wanted Alyssa to do? It’s not like she’d have any say in the matter, not where Grandma was concerned. As sweet as she was, Grandma usually managed to persuade everyone to do her bidding and make them think it was their idea in the first place.
   “And I suppose Libby and I coming will now give you the opportunity?”
   “Yes, dear, it will. You see, I’ve started a special quilt. One to unite the decades and bring together many different families. But I can’t do it alone. It’s going to take you and Libby helping me to make it work.”
   A quilt? Alyssa swallowed. As in pieces of fabric sewn together in some semblance of a pattern? Her throat constricted. She didn’t know anything about quilting. She could barely sew on a button, much less attempt to make something as big as a quilt actually look good.
   “Um, Grandma?” She swallowed again. “Are you certain you want me helping with this? I mean, are you sure I won’t ruin whatever work you’ve already begun?”
   “Oh, pish-posh, Alyssa dear.” She could just see Grandma’s hand waving off her concerns. “I know your skill set doesn’t exactly involve the fine art of sewing. You leave that part to me.” A chuckle. “Though I can’t promise I won’t attempt to teach you a little while you’re here.” The background sounds of the TV muted. “No, what I have in mind for you and Libby is to help me collect the various blocks to make up the larger quilt. My old body doesn’t get around as easy as it once did, and your strong legs will take you all around the island.”
   “So, we’re going to be collecting quilt blocks from other people?”
   “Yes. From each lady who was once part of my quilting circle. I’ve lost touch with two or three of them, so reaching them might not be so easy. And two have since passed on, but their daughters or sons still live here on the island.”
   Oh, Libby was going to love this. It had adventure and challenge written all over it. Just the sort of thing to make Libby’s day.
   “You met most of them when you were a girl,” Grandma continued. “So, I’m sure it won’t take up much of your time. But it will mean a great deal to me to have your help.”
   “Of course, Grandma. You can count on Libby and me. We’d be glad to help you.”
   What sounded like a hand slapping a table came through the phone. “Splendid! I shall begin preparing the list of ladies’ names and addresses to the best of my knowledge, and it will be ready when you arrive.” She paused. “And Alyssa, dear?”
   “Yes, Grandma?”
   “I’m pleased to know you’re coming for a visit, more so than seeing this project finished. You know I do, don’t you, dear?”
   “Of course, Grandma.” How could she doubt her?
   “Very good. We shall be seeing each other soon. Between now and then, you make sure you pack your prettiest clothes and get a fresh haircut. There are quite a few handsome gentlemen on this island, and you never know who you might meet.”
   Alyssa rolled her eyes. First Libby, and now her grandmother. Was everyone going to try to pair her up? Libby and Grandma were both single, too. Besides, she wasn’t taking this vacation to meet men. Not even to meet one man. Now, she just had to convince everyone else of it.

***

Bonus ~

   “Lys, can you believe it? We’re actually here!” Libby spun in a circle, her arms outstretched. When she stumbled over her own makeup case, Alyssa laughed.
   “Well, we’re not there yet. We still have to cross part of the lake.” She pointed to where a lone motorboat sped toward them, the white-capped spray behind it diminishing as the boat drew closer to the dock. From what she could see, the name and logo for the Grand Hotel sparkled in pristine, bold colors on the side of the craft. “And it looks like our transportation is just arriving.”
   Libby shielded her eyes with one hand and looked across the water. “Mmm, and what a welcome wagon it is!” She fluffed her wavy, blonde hair and reached into her designer handbag for her ever-present favorite shade of lipstick, deftly swiping the glossy blend across her lips and stashing the tube in one fluid motion.
   Alyssa reached into her own functional purse for her colored lip gloss and did the same. Somehow, Libby gave the mundane action much more flair. After slipping her stick into the designated zippered compartment and clicking closed the faulty snap of her purse, Alyssa brushed her layered hair away from her face and looked up. Two bronzed men in pressed khaki shorts and polo shirts with the hotel and island logos emblazoned on the front disembarked from the motorboat. The lead man immediately made a beeline in Libby’s direction. Alyssa sighed as the man offered his arm to Libby and flashed his pearly whites. Typical. Libby always got the attention and the men first.
   “Now, this is what I call service with a smile!” Libby glanced back at Alyssa and tossed her a saucy grin, then focused again on her escort.
   Alyssa chuckled and shook her head. She should be used to this by now. Being overlooked when she stood in Libby’s shadow had pretty much become a way of life. But accepting it didn’t make it hurt any less. She bent to pick up her small carry-on and head for the boat.
   “Allow me,” a low voice said from right beside her.
   Alyssa straightened so fast, she lost her balance. Her purse dropped, and several items escaped the confines of the bag. Her left leg flailed and her arms waved, but two strong hands grasped her waist and held her upright.
   “Easy there,” the baritone soothed.
   “Swooning already, Lys?” Libby called out from the boat. “We haven’t even gotten to the island yet.”
   Heat rushed to her cheeks at Libby’s teasing assessment of her predicament. She didn’t dare look up at her rescuer. Instead, she regained her footing and stepped away. Perfect. The first day of vacation, and she was already off to a klutzy start.
   Keeping her head ducked and her warm cheeks hidden, Alyssa freed herself from her rescuer’s hands and bent down to replace the spilled contents of her purse. Acute awareness of the man beside her made it almost impossible to think clearly. As she stepped onto the dock and walked toward the boat, the man grabbed an armload of luggage and hastened after her. They encountered the other escort who went to retrieve the rest of the luggage.
   When they reached the edge of the dock, the man set down the bags he carried and extended his hand to assist Alyssa into the boat. She hesitated and caught Libby’s grin as amusement danced across her friend’s face. Alyssa swallowed her pride and accepted his assistance. She placed her left hand in the strong grip of her escort and held on to the side of the boat with her right. A tingle shot up her arm at the strength and assurance of his touch.
   Careful to maintain her balance, she put one foot onto the block positioned to create steps to the floor of the boat. With both feet firmly planted, Alyssa tried to pull her hand free, but her escort held firm. Captive and with no other alternative, she looked up and met his dark gaze.
   With a twinkle in his eye and a charming but lazy smile on his face, he spoke again. “Scott Whitman, at your service.”
   Alyssa swallowed, unable to respond. This was foolish. She shouldn’t be tongue-tied at the first handsome man they met. The playboy where she worked presented a greater risk than this employee. The office Casanova was always stopping by her desk for one reason or another. Libby’s nudge from behind brought her back to her senses.
   “Alyssa Denham. Pleased to meet you.”
   The other man stood at the edge of dock. “And I’m the Pied Piper, and your friend here is Little Miss Tuffet.” He nodded toward Libby as he shifted his load and waited to stow the luggage on the boat. “Now that the introductions are out of the way, let’s get this show on the road!”
   Libby laughed out loud, and the awkward moment was broken. Scott released Alyssa’s hand. She expelled the breath she’d been holding and found her seat next to her friend.
   “Aw, knock it off, Ben.” Scott hopped down into the boat with the agility of a mountain lion and reached up for the bags Ben handed down to him. “These ladies don’t need to be tortured by your self-proclaimed wit and humor.”
   “Au contraire, mon ami, I believe my sense of humor will only add to our adventure.” He flashed a broad smile in Libby’s direction. “Don’t you agree?”
   Libby’s expression danced with mischief. “Wholeheartedly.”
   “And how about our little damsel in distress?” Ben jumped into the boat and shifted his gaze to Alyssa.
   Her cheeks warmed again. Maybe she could help erase the first impression of her stumble moments ago. Here goes nothing. She grinned. “It all depends on if your jokes are good or not.”
   Scott guffawed and thumped Ben on the back. “Busted.”
   Seemingly unaffected, Ben winked at Alyssa. “Looks like the lady has a quick wit hidden beneath her shy exterior.”
   Libby looped her arm through Alyssa’s and grinned. “Oh, you have no idea!”

Quilts of Love | A GRAND DESIGN – Kindle HDX Giveaway & “Fall into Fall” Facebook Party!

Don’t miss this month’s Quilts of Love book, A Grand Design by Amber Stockton. Who hasn't struggled to let painful memories go and move into God's healing? You’ll be sure to love this heartfelt and encouraging tale set on historic Mackinac Island.

Celebrate August’s release by entering to win a Kindle from Quilts of Love and RSVPing for the "Fall into Fall" Facebook auth chat party.

  One winner will receive:

• A Kindle HDX
• A Grand Design by Amber Stockton
• Hidden in the Stars by Robin Caroll

Enter today by clicking one of the icons below. But hurry, the giveaway ends on September 16th. Winner will be announced at the "Fall into Fall" Facebook party with Amber Stockton and Robin Caroll. RSVP for an evening of book chat, quilting tips and tricks, prizes, and more!

RSVP today and spread the word—tell your friends about the giveaway via FACEBOOK or TWITTER and increase your chances of winning. Hope to see you on the 16th!

Home to Chicory Lane by Deborah Raney, © 2014

Chicory Inn Novel series, Book 1



Being newly empty-nesters six months earlier, Grant and Audrey Whitman have reconditioned their family home in southeast Missouri to become The Chicory Inn. Their open house generates new bookings and the excitement of having their children home welcoming the guests on the inn tours. With only one mishap, their neighbor fainting amid visitors, success seems on the way. Their youngest daughter has plans of staying beyond the weekend, however, inviting her married siblings to give their sisterly advise.

With dreams invested, reading the first chapters, I thought the story would be about the new bed and breakfast. This first book centers on the youngest daughter, Landyn, and her husband, Chase. They share idea suggestions to consider in decision-making. Given room to grow, Landyn and Chase are listened to and not judged. There is opportunity for important dreams to be realized and trust built. Book Two, Two Roads Home, begins with their oldest daughter, Corinne, her husband Jesse. Come and join this family as they look to the Lord for guidance through their days and you become acquainted with them. Introductions to the other adult children are Danae and husband Dallas; son Link; and their deceased son Tim's widow, Bree. Included is family dog, Huckleberry. He manages well, especially down at the creek bed and his favorite dip in bringing back muddy paws.



A peek at Book 2, Two Roads Home
    

***Thank you to Litfuse Publicity Group for inviting me to be part of the blog tour for Deborah Raney's novel ~ Home to Chicory Lane. This review was written in my own words. No other compensation was received.***

Enjoy the first chapter excerpt of Deborah Raney's Home to Chicory Lane ~

1

So, Mrs. Whitman, is everything ready?” Grant stood under the archway dividing the formal dining room from the parlor, smiling that cat-that-swallowed-the-canary grin Audrey adored. And had for nearly thirty-five years.
   She went to lean on the column opposite him. She loved this view of the house—no, the inn. She must remember to refer to it as such. This wonderful house where they’d raised their five kids and where she’d played as a little girl had finally become The Chicory Inn. The stately home just a mile outside of Langhorne, Missouri, had been built by her maternal grandparents on a wooded fifty acres with a clearwater creek running through it. Now it was her fifty-five hundred square-foot dream fulfilled. Or at least that was the plan.
   Audrey gave her husband a tight smile. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. I just know I’m forgetting something.”
   “Come here.” He opened his arms to her.
   She stepped into his embrace, desperately needing the strength of him.
   “Everything looks wonderful, and anything you forgot can’t be too important. Just look at the weather God supplied—sunshine, cool October breeze, and the trees are at their autumn peak. Even the chicory is still in bloom in the ditches. Made to order, I’d say.”
   She nodded, feeling as if she might burst into tears any minute.
   Grant pulled her closer. “Can’t you just enjoy this weekend? It’s no fun if you’re in knots the whole time.”
   “Were we crazy to invite the kids home for this?”
   He kissed the top of her head. “We were crazy to have kids, never mind five of them. But hey, look how that turned out.”
   “I wish your mom could’ve been here.”
   He cleared his throat. “Trust me, it’s better this way. Besides, you know she’ll find a way to get in her two cents, even from the wilds of Oregon. What do you want to bet she’ll call, just as guests are arriving, to make sure you didn’t forget anything?”
   She loved Grant’s mother dearly, but the woman did have a way of trying to run the show—even when it wasn’t her show to run. Grant was probably right. Cecelia—or CeeCee, as the kids called their grandmother—had timed her trip to visit Grant’s brother perfectly.
   Audrey’s cell phone chimed, signaling a text message.
   “See?” Grant gave her an I-told-you-so grin. “There she is.”
   She checked her phone. “Your mother barely knows how to make a call on a cell phone, let alone send a text. Oh, it’s Link. He’s running late.” She texted a quick reply to their son.
   “Link late? Well, there’s a huge surprise.”
   She laughed, grateful for the distraction. Their son was notoriously tardy. But after she put her phone back in her pocket, Audrey turned serious. “Oh, Grant . . . What if this whole thing is a big fat flop?”
   “And why, sweet woman, would it be a flop, when you’ve poured your heart and soul and passion into it for the last eight months?”
   “And most of your retirement funds, don’t forget.” The thought made her positively queasy. It wasn’t as if he could just return to his contractor job tomorrow and get back his 401K. “Not to mention a lot of sweat equity.”
   “And don’t forget the blood and tears.” He winked.
   “And your blood pressure,” she said with a look of warning. “How can you joke about this, Grant? What if we—”
   “Shh.” He tipped her chin and silenced her with a kiss.
   She knew Grant had been relieved to get out of the rat race his job had become. In fact, his doctor had prescribed retirement along with the blood pressure meds he’d put Grant on last fall. The past year of renovations had been anything but relaxing, but things would settle down now that the remodel was finished. Maybe this was all a sort of blessing in disguise. She let that thought soothe her. For the moment anyway.
   The doorbell rang.
   “That’ll be Corinne.” She pushed away from him. “She promised to help me with the hors d’oeuvres.”
   “I don’t see why we couldn’t just have chips and salsa or pretzels or—”
   “And don’t forget your tie.” Audrey scooped the despised noose, as Grant had dubbed it, off the end of the hall tree and tossed it at him.
   He caught it and dangled it by two fingers as if it were a poisonous snake. “You’re not really serious about that?”
   “Serious as a heart attack.”
   Grant’s grumbling faded behind her as she hurried to answer the door.
   Their eldest daughter stood on the wraparound veranda with almost-two-year-old Simone propped on one hip.
   “Corinne?” Audrey sagged. “I thought Jesse was going to watch the kids?”
   “He is, but I think Simone’s cutting teeth, and I didn’t want Jesse to have to deal with that, too. You know how he gets when—” Corinne stopped mid-sentence and eyed her mother. “It’ll be fine, Mom. Dad can watch Simone if we need him to.”
   “No, your dad has a whole list of things he’s in charge of. I need him.” She pushed down the resentment that threatened. “Never mind. You’re right . . . it’ll be fine.” She reached for her youngest granddaughter and ushered Corinne into the foyer.
   Corinne walked through to the parlor, her eyes widening. “Wow! It looks gorgeous, Mom. You’ve been busy.”
   “I just want everything to be perfect. Just this one time.” She didn’t have to look at her daughter to know Corinne was rolling her eyes.
   “Just this once, huh?”
   She ignored the sarcasm and tweaked little Simone’s cheek. “Are those new toofers giving you trouble, sweetie?”
   The baby gave her a snaggletoothed grin and wiped her turned-up nose on the shoulder of Audrey’s apple green linen jacket.
   “Simone!” Corinne’s shrug didn’t match the grimace she gave Audrey. “Well, at least it matches.”
   Audrey did not find that amusing.
   Corinne swooped in with a tissue, which made Simone screech like a banshee. Which made Huckleberry come running, barking as if he’d just cornered a squirrel.
   Great. Just great. “Can somebody please take this dog outside? How did he even get in here?” Audrey hated raising her voice to her family, but she knew too well that the playful Lab could undo in two minutes everything they’d spent a week preparing. “I want him outside until the last guest leaves.”
   “Come here, Huck,” Corinne coaxed, stroking the sleek chocolate-colored coat. “You bad boy.”
   “It’s okay. I’ll take him out.” Audrey handed the baby off to Corinne, put Huck outside, and came back to the sink. Grabbing a damp dishcloth from the basin, she scrubbed at her jacket, exchanging the toddler’s snot stain for a dark wet spot. She prayed it would dry before the first guests started arriving.
   The clock in the foyer struck eleven, and a frisson of panic went through her. They had less than two hours and so much still to do. She heard Link’s voice at the front door. Maybe she could enlist him to watch Simone for a few minutes. Like his brother Tim, Link had always had a way with kids.
   “Hey, Mom. Dad said to report in.” Tall and rugged-looking like his father, Link appeared beneath the arch of the kitchen doorway. “Smells good in here.” He gave Audrey a quick hug before snatching a bacon-wrapped canapé from a silver tray. He popped it in his mouth before Audrey could protest.
    She placed herself between her son and the gleaming marble counter full of food. “There are snacks out in the garage for you kids, but I’m not joking; this stuff is off limits until we see how many people show.”
   “Got it, Mom. Off limits.” In one smooth motion, Link gave her a half-salute and reached behind her for a sausage ball.
   “Cut that out! Shoo! Out of my kitchen!”
   “Place looks good, Ma.”
   Grant appeared in the doorway. “Reporting for duty.”
   Link shot his dad a conspiratorial grin but obediently backed into the entryway. Audrey wondered for the thousandth time why some sweet young girl hadn’t snapped up this handsome son of hers. But that was a worry for another day.
   “Hey guys,” Audrey said, “can you bring in some folding chairs from the garage? Maybe just half a dozen or so. I don’t want to set up more than we need.”
   “You’ll need more than six.” Grant sounded so sure the day would be a success. “Bring a dozen, Link.”
   She hoped he was right. But if not . . . Well, there would be no problem getting rid of all the food she’d made. The good ol’ Whitman family reunion they’d planned for the rest of the week-end would take care of that. The thought brought a pang of longing with it. It was wonderful to have most of her family together, but it wouldn’t be the same without Landyn and Chase.
   And Tim. Nothing would ever be the same without Timothy.

~*~

Landyn Spencer craned her neck to check the Interstate traffic behind her in the rearview mirror, but all she could see was the U-Haul trailer she was pulling. The extended mirrors on the behemoth were smeared with a dozen hours of rain and dust.
   New York was thirteen hours behind her, and with the sun finally coming up, she realized she was in familiar territory.
   She’d left the city after ten last night, starting out on only four hours of sleep. She’d been watching the lit-up Empire State Building fade into the skyline in her rearview mirror, and not until she’d passed through the Lincoln Tunnel and come out on the New Jersey side had she finally allowed herself tears.
   That was a mistake. She’d been crying ever since. But enough. She had to get hold of herself before she got home. She swiped at damp cheeks, took a deep breath, and steadied her gaze on the road in front of her. If her eyes got any more swollen, she’d have to pull the Honda over. And if she did that, chances were good the stupid thing wouldn’t start again. Then she’d really be up the Hudson without a paddle. Besides, right now, she just wanted to put the past—and Chase Spencer—as far behind her as she could.
   She still couldn’t believe that her husband of six months had gone so far off the deep end. Without even discussing it with her, he’d let their great, albeit small, apartment on the Upper West Side go—sublet their home to a stranger—and rented a fleabag excuse for a studio apartment in Brooklyn. What was he thinking?
   He wasn’t. That was the problem. He’d let his art rep convince him that living in Bedford-Stuyvesant near some stupid gallery that was supposedly the next hot thing would jumpstart his career. The agent had told Chase the studio would pay for itself in a matter of months—and probably herald in world peace too.
   Well, fine. Chase had made his choice. But they were newly-weds. She should have been his choice. Oh, he claimed he wasn’t forcing her hand. But if she did what he wanted and followed him to Brooklyn, it meant an almost two-hour commute for her every day. They saw each other little enough as it was! Had he thought any of this through? No, he had not. And despite what Chase said, leaving Fineman and Justus, and a marketing position she loved, didn’t leave her with many options. Especially not now . . .
   The tears started again and she shook her head. She couldn’t even let herself think about that right now.
   She attempted to distract her maudlin thoughts with the stunning colors October had painted on either side of the Interstate. She thought she’d crossed over into Kentucky, though she didn’t remember seeing a sign. If Chase were here, he’d no doubt be sketching the trees or shooting photos in a vain attempt to capture the vivid colors. Then he’d complain that the pictures didn’t even come close, and she’d have to—
   A horn blared behind her. She checked the mirror and then the speedometer. She was barely going fifty in the left-hand lane. Stupid cruise control had quit working again. Heart pounding, she accelerated and tried to whip back into the right lane only to have the trailer tug her over the line into the passing lane. She finally managed to maneuver to the proper lane, and she glared hard at the driver as he passed her.
   It was a stupid, childish thing to do. She was the one in the wrong. But the guy had almost scared her into having a wreck. It would serve Chase right if she had an accident. She quickly checked the thought. He wasn’t the only one she had to think about. Mom and Dad had already lost one child. Her throat tightened at the thought of her brother. If they had to go through that again, she wasn’t sure they’d ever recover. Besides, Mom and Dad didn’t know she was on her way home. If she had a wreck, no one would know why she was on a road all alone, miles from New York.
   It did make her smile to think about what her parents’ reaction would be when she pulled into the driveway. She hadn’t seen Mom and Dad since her wedding in April, and it would be fun to surprise them. Suddenly she missed them the way she had that first summer she’d gone away to church camp and learned the meaning of “homesick.”
   But how could she tell them she was leaving Chase? After only six months of marriage. She could hear her dad now. “Landyn Rebekah Whitman,” he’d say (somehow forgetting she was now a Spencer), “you get in that car and you drive yourself right back to New York.” He’d be mad at Chase, too, but she’d be the one who’d get the talking-to.
   Well, they didn’t know the details. And they wouldn’t. Chase had fought hard to win her parents over, and she wasn’t going to make him out to be the bad guy now—even though he was. One hundred percent, he was. It still made her furious.
   No . . . worse than that. It broke her heart.
   She was beginning to understand why her parents had been skeptical about Chase in the first place. He was letting this . . . delusion of getting rich and famous selling his art sidetrack him. Not that he wasn’t good. He was. He had a ton of talent, but that didn’t mean he could make a living at it. And their finances didn’t exactly allow for risky investments right now.
   Chase had landed a job in New York right out of college, working in the art department for a small local magazine. It was a job that used his art skills, and one with room to grow.
   But then this nut job art rep had seen Chase’s work and gotten him all wired with delusions of grandeur. In a way, she understood. Chase hadn’t received much encouragement growing up. His dad left when he was five, and he’d been raised by a single mom who seemed to have a new boyfriend every other week. The minute Chase graduated high school, Mona Spencer had followed some guy out to California. She’d come back for their wedding on the arm of yet another flavor of the week, but Landyn didn’t expect to see her again unless she and Chase took the initiative to make a trip out West someday.
   Still, despite his rough childhood, and a couple of wild years in high school, Chase had defied the odds and turned into a good guy. A really good guy. Their youth pastor from Langhorne Community Fellowship took Chase under his wing, and by the time Landyn was old enough to date, he was toeing a pretty straight line. Well, except for that tattoo. Dad had come completely unglued when he heard Chase had gotten inked. She’d finally calmed him down by explaining that Chase’s Celtic cross—on his collarbone, so it was hidden under most of his shirts—was a symbol of his faith and of the permanence of God’s love for him. Landyn had always loved her husband’s tat—one he’d designed himself. She’d even toyed with the idea of getting one to match. But so far the fear of her father’s reaction and the lack of cash had prevented her—not to mention the disturbing image of herself as a grandma with a shriveled tat on her chest.
   After Chase proposed, Mom and Dad insisted they go to counseling before getting married—more intensive than the required premarital counseling—with Pastor Simmons. And though she’d balked big-time at the suggestion, Chase had been willing. And when their sessions were over, she was certain Chase Spencer was ready to be the husband of her dreams—even if her parents weren’t convinced.
   Maybe she should have listened to them.
   Because now he’d quit his job and all but forced her to quit hers. Forced her to run home to Missouri. Except she didn’t have a home in Missouri anymore either. Her parents had turned their house into a bed-and-breakfast, and her room was now a guest room at the Chicory Inn. Real original, Mom. From what her sisters said—and from the photos Mom had e-mailed her of the finished renovation—Landyn wouldn’t even recognize the place.
   Sometime this week was the big open house for the inn, too. She’d told her parents she and Chase couldn’t get away—which was true at the time. But now she had no choice. She’d stayed with a friend from work for three days, but if she’d stayed there one more day, she’d have had one less friend. So she’d loaded up what little furniture Chase didn’t take with him, and she was headed back to Langhorne.
   At least in Missouri she wouldn’t be shelling out two thousand dollars a month in rent for some roach-infested studio. And she’d be a world away from New York. And him.

$200 B&B Weekend Getaway Giveaway & 9/9 Facebook Party with Deborah Raney!

The first book in Deborah Raney's new Chicory Inn series, Home to Chicory Lane, introduces us to Audrey Whitman, a mother who has launched all her children into life and now looks forward to fulfilling some of her own dreams during her empty-nest years. However, not all of her children are ready to stay out of the nest quite yet.

Deborah is celebrating the release of her new series with a $200 B&B Weekend Getaway and a Facebook author chat party.

 
  One winner will receive:

• A B&B Weekend Getaway (via a $200 Visa cash card)
• Home to Chicory Lane by Deborah Raney

Enter today by clicking one of the icons below. But hurry, the giveaway ends on September 9th. Winner will be announced at the Home to Chicory Lane Author Chat Party on 9/9. Deborah will be hosting a heartfelt book chat, giving away prizes, and answering questions from readers. She will also share an exclusive sneak peek at the next book in the Chicory Inn series!

So grab your copy of Home to Chicory Lane and join Deborah on the evening of September 9th for a chance to connect and make some new friends. (If you haven't read the book, don't let that stop you from coming!)

Don't miss a moment of the fun; RSVP today. Tell your friends via FACEBOOK or TWITTER and increase your chances of winning. Hope to see you on the 9th!