Swinging on a Star by Janice Thompson

ABOUT THE BOOK:

Janice Thompson returns with another hilarious tale in the Weddings by Bella series with Swinging on a Star.

In this latest release from Thompson, Bella Rossi’s life is nearing perfection. She’s got the perfect guy, she’s running a successful business, and she’s about to plan her most ambitious wedding yet, a Renaissance-themed fairy tale come true, complete with period costumes and foods, horse-drawn carriages, and even a castle. There’s just one hitch. The best man just happens to be Brock Benson, Hollywood’s hottest and most eligible bachelor. Oh, and did we mention he’s staying at the Rossi house to avoid the paparazzi?

With all the pressure surrounding this wedding, Bella’s not sure she’s going to make it through. Add her starstruck sister, her feuding aunt and uncle, and a trio of large, sequined church ladies with even bigger personalities, and you’ve got a recipe for disaster—and a lot of laughs. This hilarious romantic comedy is sure to delight both fans and new readers alike.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Janice Thompson is a seasoned romance author and native Texan. An experienced wedding coordinator herself, Thompson brings alive in her books the everyday drama and humor of getting married. She is the author of Fools Rush In and lives in Texas.


WHAT OTHERS ARE SAYING ABOUT SWINGING ON A STAR:

“If you enjoy weddings, Italian cuisine, and stories filled with humor and romance, you’re going to love Swinging on a Star.”

–Anita Higman, award-winning author, Love Finds You in Humble, Texas

“Swinging on a Star has more layers of love than Aunt Rosa’s lasagna. A sweet romance that sizzles and simmers on every page.”

–Allison Pittman, author, Stealing Home



MY REVIEW:

I had to make myself wait to read Swinging on a Star until I had read all the books on my blog review schedule before it. I have found that if I read ahead, I will be rushing frantically to meet the blog deadline for one or more books and I try to review all the books sent to me if at all possible. I admit that once in awhile, I have to resort to the cut and paste provided by my blog alliances but I really, really try to read all the books and provide at least a short review. That being said, Swinging on a Star was definitely worth the wait.

I have learned that if I need a book that will brighten my day and make me laugh, anything by Janice Thompson (or Janice Hanna – she also publishes under that name) will fit the bill. Not only that, but her stories are always filled with unexpected bits and pieces of wisdom and faith that make me think.

Swinging on a Star is the perfect follow-up to Fools Rush In. Not only does it have the marvelous Rossi family in all its rowdy glory and some of the delightfully quirky Splendora folks, but a Hollywood hunk and the Food Network get thrown into the mix. Mishaps and misunderstanding abound, surprises are around every corner, and of course romance is key. My only complaint is that I probably gained ten pounds reading about all the wonderful food. How about some recipes next time Janice?

If you are looking for a serious literary novel, look elsewhere. But if you want to mix a fun read with thought provoking content, then Swinging on a Star is for you.

Available January 2010 at your favorite bookseller from Revell, a division of Baker Publishing Group.

This book was provided for review by Revell, a division of Baker Publishing Group.



Spring Breakdown by Melody Carlson

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!


Today’s Wild Card author is:



and the book:


Spring Breakdown (Carter House Girls)

Zondervan (February 1, 2010)

***Special thanks to Bridgette Brooks of ZONDERKIDZ for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Melody Carlson has written more than 200 books for teens, women, and children. Before publishing, Melody traveled around the world, volunteered in teen ministry, taught preschool, raised two sons, and worked briefly in interior design and later in international adoption. “I think real-life experiences inspire the best friction,” she says. Her wide variety of books seems to prove this theory.

Visit the author’s website.


Product Details:

List Price: $9.99
Reading level: Young Adult
Paperback: 208 pages
Publisher: Zondervan (February 1, 2010)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 031071494X
ISBN-13: 978-0310714941

AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER: Just press the button!

MY REVIEW:

Spring Breakdown is the newest installment of the Carter House Girls series. Mrs. Carter and the girls travel to Florida during spring break for a relaxing holiday and a chance for the girls to model again. When all the boys show up, things are not quite as relaxing as Mrs. Carter planned and a crisis upsets the entire crew.  As in previous books, there is the usual rivalry between some of the girls, problems with teen drinking and sex, etc. – pretty much the usual issues teens face every day. But, as always, Melody Carlson has taken the opportunity to illustrate the consequences that follow such behavior. In Spring Breakdown, the girls learn a valuable lesson about loving their enemies.

I may have said this before but I wish this series had been available when my daughter was a teen. The books are easily read with content that interests most teen girls such as fashion, boys, sports, music, etc. When rich spiritual content is added to the mix, what more could a mother ask? I highly recommend Spring Breakdown and the rest of this series. If you have a teen daughter, do both of you a favor and run out and buy the entire series.

Becca By The Book by Laura Jensen Walker

This week, the
Christian Fiction Blog Alliance
is introducing
Becca By The Book
Zondervan (January 1, 2010)
by
Laura Jensen Walker


ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Laura Jensen Walker is an award-winning writer, popular speaker, and breast-cancer survivor who loves to touch readers and audiences with the healing power of laughter.

Born in Racine, Wisconsin (home of Western Printing and Johnson’s Wax—maker of your favorite floor care products) Laura moved to Phoenix, Arizona when she was in high school. But not being a fan of blazing heat and knowing that Uncle Sam was looking for a few good women, she enlisted in the United States Air Force shortly after graduation and spent the next five years flying a typewriter through Europe.

Her lifelong dream of writing fiction came true in Spring 2005 with the release of her first chick lit novel, Dreaming in Black & White which won the Contemporary Fiction Book of the Year from American Christian Fiction Writers. Her sophomore novel, Dreaming in Technicolor was published in Fall 2005.

Laura’s third novel, Reconstructing Natalie, chosen as the Women of Faith Novel of the Year for 2006, is the funny and poignant story of a young, single woman who gets breast cancer and how her life is reconstructed as a result. This book was born out of Laura’s cancer speaking engagements where she started meeting younger and younger women stricken with this disease—some whose husbands had left them, and others who wondered what breast cancer would do to their dating life. She wanted to write a novel that would give voice to those women. Something real. And honest. And funny.

Because although cancer isn’t funny, humor is healing.

To learn more about Laura’s latest novels, please check out her Books page.

A popular speaker and teacher at writing conferences, Laura has also been a guest on hundreds of radio and TV shows around the country including the ABC Weekend News, The 700 Club, and The Jay Thomas Morning Show.

She lives in Northern California with her Renaissance-man husband Michael, and Gracie, their piano playing dog.

ABOUT THE BOOK :

Sales clerk, barista, telemarketer, sign waver…

At twenty-five, free-spirited Becca Daniels is still trying to figure out what she wants to be when she grows up. What Becca doesn’t want to be is bored. She craves the rush of a new experience, whether it’s an extreme sport, a shocking hair color, or a new guy. That’s why she quit her bookstore job, used her last bit of credit to go skydiving, and broke her leg.

And that’s why, grounded and grumpy, Becca bristles when teased by friends for being commitment-phobic. In response, Becca issues an outrageous wager—that she can sustain a three-month or twenty-five date relationship with the next guy who asks her out. When the guy turns out to be “churchy” Ben—definitely not Becca’s type—she gamely embarks on a hilarious series of dates that plunge her purple-haired, free-speaking, commitment-phobic self into the alien world of church potlucks and prayer meetings.

This irrepressible Getaway Girl will have you cheering her on as she “suffers” through her dates, gains perspective on her life’s purpose, and ultimately begins her greatest adventure of all.

If you’d like to read the first chapter of  Becca By The Book, go HERE.

Learn more about Laura and her books on her Website.

MY REVIEW:

Becca By The Book is not the usual Christian fiction novel. For one thing, Becca is NOT a Christian and is resisting all efforts to get her into church. Her attitude is one I have often heard from young people – “I don’t have a problem with Jesus. It’s his people I don’t like.” Unfortunately, many of us have given them good reasons to form that opinion (and I don’t exempt myself). I hope that readers of this book will not take it as an attack on the organized church but as a wake up call about where we are missing it.

Becca’s story is candid with plenty of comic relief. Her character is portrayed realistically. Like many young people today, Becca has a built-in radar for bogus Christianity. Maybe her perceptions are skewed because of her personal history but she believes that if she becomes a Christian her true self will be compromised. As the story progresses, and Becca is exposed to varied Christians and church events, her attitude begins to change and Becca begins to discover who she really is.

The story does end rather abruptly and I was unsatisfied with the conclusion. Hopefully, it will be continued in a sequel. Nevertheless, I enjoyed Becca By The Book and feel that it was well worth my time.


Tidings of Great Boys by Shelley Adina

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!


Today’s Wild Card author is:



and the book:


All About Us #5: Tidings of Great Boys

FaithWords; 1 edition (September 8, 2009)

***Special thanks to Miriam Parker of the Hachette Book Group for sending me a review copy.***

CONTEST! For a chance to win one of two prizes: a Tiffany’s Bracelet OR an All About Us T-shirt, go to Camy Tang’s Blog and leave a comment on her FIRST Wild Card Tour for Tidings of Great Boys, and you will be placed into a drawing for a bracelet or T-shirt that look similar to the pictures below.


ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Award-winning author Shelley Adina wrote her first teen novel when she was 13. It was rejected by the literary publisher to whom she sent it, but he did say she knew how to tell a story. That was enough to keep her going through the rest of her adolescence, a career, a move to another country, a B.A. in Literature, an M.A. in Writing Popular Fiction, and countless manuscript pages. Shelley is a world traveler and pop culture junkie with an incurable addiction to designer handbags. She writes books about fun and faith–with a side of glamour. Between books, Shelley loves traveling, playing the piano and Celtic harp, watching movies, and making period costumes.

Visit the author’s website.

Product Details:

List Price: $9.99
Reading level: Young Adult
Paperback: 256 pages
Publisher: FaithWords; 1 edition (September 8, 2009)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0446179639
ISBN-13: 978-0446179638

AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:

SOME PEOPLE ARE born with the gift of friendship. Some achieve it. And then you have people like me, who have friendship thrust upon them.



Believe me, there’s no one happier about that than I am—in fact, I probably wouldn’t be alive right now without it—but it wasn’t always that way. My name is Lindsay Margaret Eithne MacPhail, and because my dad is a Scottish earl, that makes my mother a countess and me, a lady.

I know. Stop laughing.

To my friends I’m simply Mac. If you call me Lady Lindsay, I’ll think you’re (1) being pretentious or (2) announcing me at a court ball, and since none of my friends are likely to do either, let’s keep it Mac between us, all right?

On the night it all began, I was sitting in the dark, deserted computer lab, waiting for the digital clock on the monitor to click over: 11:00.

“Carrie?” I settled the headphones more comfortably and leaned toward the microphone pickup.

“All right?” Her familiar voice came over Skype and I smiled, even though she couldn’t see it. She sounded like sleepovers and mischief and long walks through the woods and heath. Like rain and mist and Marmite on toast. She sounded like home.

“Yeah.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. I’d chosen to come to Spencer Academy for the fall term instead of going back to St. Cecelia’s. I’d hounded my mother and, when that didn’t work, my dad, so I had no business being homesick. Besides, being all weepy just wasted precious minutes. Carrie had to leave for school, and I had to sneak back up to the third floor without the future Mrs. Milsom, our dorm mistress, catching me after lights-out.

“Only two weeks to go until you’re home,” Carrie said. “I’m already planning all the things we’re goin’ tae do. Anna Grange has a new flat in Edinburgh and she says we can come crash anytime we like. Gordon and Terrell canna wait to see you—they want to take us to a new club. And—”

“Hang on.” How to put this? “I haven’t actually decided what I’m doing over the holidays. There’s a lot going on here.”

Silence crackled in my headset. “Don’t talk rubbish. You always come home. Holidays are the only time I ever get tae see you—not tae mention all your friends. What do you mean, a lot going on?”

“Things to do, people to see,” I said, trying to soften the blow. “Mum wants me in London, of course, since she hasn’t had me for nearly three months. And I have invitations to Los Angeles and New York.”

“From who?”

“A couple of the girls here.”

The quality of the silence changed. “And these girls—they wouldna be the ones splashed all over Hello! last month, would they? At some Hollywood premiere or other?”

“As it happens, yes. I told you all about it when that issue came out.”

She made a noise in her throat that could have been disgust or sheer disparagement of my taste. “That’s fine, then. If you’d rather spend your vay-cay-shun wi’ your Hollywood friends, it’s nowt to do wi’ me.”

“Carrie, I haven’t said I’d go. I just haven’t made up my mind.”

As changeable as a sea wind, her temper veered. “You’ve got tae come. We’re all dying to see you. I saw your dad in the village and he invited all of us over as soon as you got home.”

“Did he?”

“I know. I didna think he’d even remember who I was, but he stopped me in the door of the chip shop and told me I was tae come. He sounded so excited.”

This did not sound like my dad, who wasn’t exactly a recluse, but wasn’t in the habit of accosting random teenagers in chip shops, either, and inviting them up to the house. She was probably having me on. I had a lot of practice in peering behind Carrie’s words for what she really wanted. In this case, it was simple. She was my friend, and friends wanted to be with each other.

The problem was, I had more friends now than I used to. Besides the ones at Strathcairn and in London, there were the ones here at Spencer. And lately, Carly, Shani, Lissa, and Gillian were turning out to be solid—moreso than any friends I’d had before.

Awkward.

“I’ll let you know as soon as I figure out what I’m doing,” I told Carrie. “I’ve got to go. The Iron Maiden stalks the halls.”

Carrie laughed. “Love the pic you sent wi’ yer camera phone. What a horror. Who would marry her?”

“The bio prof, apparently. The wedding’s set for New Year’s Eve to take advantage of some tax benefit or other.”

“How bleedin’ romantic.”

There was another Christmas wedding in the works, but I hadn’t heard much about it lately. Carly Aragon’s mum was supposed to marry some lad she’d met on a cruise ship, much to Carly’s disgust. I could relate, a little. If my mother was going to marry a man who looked like a relic from an eighties pop band, I’d be a little upset, too. So far Carly was refusing to be a bridesmaid, and the big day was sneaking up on her fast.

“I’ll call you over the weekend.”

“I might be busy.”

“Then I’ll call Gordon and Terrell. I know they love me.”

She blew me a raspberry and signed off. Still smiling, I laid the headphones on the desk and got up.

And froze as a thin, dark shape moved in the doorway. The lights flipped on.

I blinked and squinted as Ms. Tobin stared me down. “I thought I heard voices. Is someone here with you?” I shook my head. “You do realize, Lady Lindsay, that lights-out is ten o’clock? And it is now twenty after eleven?”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“What are you doing in here?”

“Calling home.”

She scanned the rows of silent computers. Not a telephone to be seen. “And you can’t do that from the privacy of your own room?”

“It’s eleven twenty and my roommates are asleep,” I pointed out helpfully. “But it’s seven twenty in the morning in Scotland. I use Skype so there are no long distance charges.”

She rolled her eyes up, as if doing the math. “Calling Scotland? Your family?”

If I didn’t actually answer, I wouldn’t be lying. Instead, I let the smile falter. “I get homesick.”

Ms. Tobin pinned me with her gaze like a butterfly on a board. “I sympathize, but you still broke a school rule. A demerit will be added to your record. Again.”

Oh, please. Who cared about demerits when I needed to talk to Carrie? “I’m sorry, Ms. Tobin.”

“Come along. I’ll escort you to your room.”

And she did, like a bad-tempered Dementor floating along beside me. Only compared to that dreadful brown tweed skirt and round-toed oxfords, the Dementors were turned out in haute couture. Did the woman actually have on knee-high stockings?

“Good night, Lady Lindsay.”

I shuddered and shut the door on her, locking it for good measure.

“Mac?” Carly’s sleepy voice came from the direction of her bed, muffled by a quilt. “Who’s that with you?”

“I called home and got caught,” I whispered. “Ms. Tobin marched me up here.”

Carly groaned and subsided.

I undressed and crawled into bed. The three of us had to make do in a room designed for two. I have to admit, it was kind of fun rooming with Carly and Shani Hanna. Since her debacle with the heir to the Lion Throne last month, Shani has lost a little of her attitude. She doesn’t look at people with scornful eyes like she used to, and when she talks, it’s to you and not at you.

Or maybe it’s just me.

I returned to the problem at hand. With two weeks left to go before the holidays, what was I to do? Home or here? Old or new? Family or friends? And really, what was the difference?

I blinked and stiffened on my goosedown pillow.

That was it. There was no difference. My family and my friends all belonged together. With me. At home.

“Carly?” I whispered. “Are you awake?”

“Guhhhm.”

“Do you think everyone would like to come to Scotland with me for Christmas?”

* * *

“DEFINE EVERYONE.” Gillian leaned across her dish of oatmeal and took a tangerine out of the bowl on the table.

I swallowed a spoonful of yogurt before I answered. I hadn’t put a single molecule of porridge near my mouth since I’d arrived in the States. I’d had sixteen years of it, thank you very much, and there was no one here to make me eat the stuff.

Lissa dived into my hesitation. “You don’t really mean that, do you? All of us? At Strathcairn?”

“I do mean it. We have fourteen bedrooms, not counting the old nurseries and the staff floor. Those are closed off, anyway. The beds might be a little dusty, but if I let my dad know right away, he can get some of the ladies from the village to come and tidy things up. There’s plenty of room and tons of things to do.”

“Like what?” Carly put away oatmeal at a scary rate. I shuddered.

“Like skating on the pond and cross-country skiing. And parties.” I saw the Strathcairn of ten years ago, when Mummy had been the most spectacular hostess the old pile had seen in generations. “Lots of parties and balls and live bands and whatever we want.”

“Don’t tell me,” Shani said. “You’re going to teach us Sir Roger de Coverley, aren’t you?”

“No, that’s for babies,” I said scornfully. What did she know about country dances? “I’ll teach you Strip the Willow before we go so you don’t make utter fools of yourselves.”

“Whatever. Doesn’t sound like my thing.” She looked into her fruit cup and fished out the last blueberry.

Something in her face told me what the real problem was. “If you’re worried about the money, don’t. We’ll work it out.”

“How are you gonna do that?” Her dark eyes looked guarded. She may have been dumped by her parents for refusing to go through with an arranged marriage, but her pride wasn’t dented one bit.

“You don’t have to touch your nest egg. My allowance ought to cover a plane ticket. First class, of course.”

“Hmph.” Shani crossed her arms over her chest and looked away.

I knew she had a cool two million socked away in the San Francisco branch of the Formosa-Pacific Bank, and that one of Gillian’s dozens of cousins was her personal investment advisor. But she treated that money like it was two hundred instead of two million, watching over it with sharp eyes that didn’t let a single cent escape without accounting for itself.

Lissa glanced at Carly, who was eating and not talking, like she hoped we wouldn’t notice her. She’s a master of the art of the personal fade. “And mine can cover Carly’s,” she said.

“Let’s throw mine in and split two fares three ways,” Gillian said. “Easy peasy.”

“For you, maybe,” Carly mumbled. “Brett’s already asked me to spend Christmas with his family. Consequently my dad didn’t just blow a fuse. He totally blew out the power grid.”

“What is with your dad?” I demanded. “I’ve never seen anyone so protective. I’d die if I were smothered like that.”

“She isn’t smothered,” Shani said with a glance across the table at Carly. “Between my dad and hers, I’d take hers any day. At least he cares.”

“Is it guilt talking?” Lissa wanted to know. “The whole ‘I’m out of town ninety percent of the time, so we have to spend every minute of the ten percent together’ thing?”

“I guess.” Carly sipped her honey latte. “So if he had that kind of fit about me spending Christmas sixty miles away, guess what he’d say about going to another continent?”

“Good point.” I refused to take no for an answer, though. “But what about you, personally?” Never mind. I answered the obvious myself. “I guess if you had the choice, you’d pick Brett.”

“Not necessarily.” She smiled at me, that warm Carly smile that makes puppies and old people and prickly Scots love her. “His house is nice, but it’s no castle.”

Lissa laughed. “I bet it has central heating, though.”

“Strathcairn has central heating.” I tried not to sound defensive. “In the new part, and the kitchen. And there are fires in every room.”

“I’m not putting wood on a fire and getting smoke in all my clothes.” Lissa held up a “stop it right there” hand.

“Not a wood fire, ye numpty, a gas fire.” I looked at them all. “In the bedrooms, at least. There are real fireplaces downstairs, in the sitting room and library. Honestly, what else has she been telling you?”

“Just that it was cold,” Gillian offered. “Forty degrees, I think she said. Inside.”

I pretended to glare at Lissa, maligning my house behind my back. “If you all came, the place would be at its best—I promise. You’ll love it. And if your parents give you static, tell them to come, too.”

“Ewww.” Gillian looked appalled, and Shani, who has stayed in New York with Gillian’s family before, buried her snort of laughter in her tall glass of pomegranate juice.

“Wait a second.” Lissa looked as if she’d just figured out a new way to ace a bio exam. She flipped out her phone and pressed a button. “Hey, Dad, it’s me. Fine. No, nothing’s wrong and no, I don’t need a favor.” She rolled her eyes at us. “When is the UK premiere of The Middle Window? Yes. Wow, you’re kidding. That’s perfect. So you’re going over.” She mimed smacking her forehead. “Never mind, dumb question. What about Mom? Oh.” She was silent for several seconds, blinking her contacts into place as her eyes filled. She gulped, then cleared her throat. “Well, I doubt it, but I’ll try. Okay. Thanks. Yeah, I’m at breakfast. Finals this week. Need lots of protein and antioxidants and stuff to make the brain retain, you know? Love you two times. ’Bye.”

All round us, the dining room rattled and silverware clashed on plates and people talked incessantly. But at our table, several pairs of eyes watched silently as Lissa tapped her phone off and put it in her glossy Kate Spade tote.

“Are you okay?” Gillian was the only one with the nerve to ask. But then, she and Lissa room together, so they probably share a lot we don’t know about.

Lissa smoothed one hand over her blond hair, making sure her Stacey Lapidus hairband with its little rhinestone love knot was still in place. “Recovering,” she said. “Stand by for reboot.”

Anyone else would have said, “Give me a minute,” but Lissa isn’t like anyone else. None of these girls are. It’s a bit weird that we’ve all found each other here, frankly. Or maybe not weird. Maybe inevitable. There’s the Christian thing, of course. I used to think it wasn’t my cup of tea at all, having quite a horror of Bible-thumpers and mad-eyed conviction. But these girls aren’t like that at all.

I said they were solid, and what they believe is part of it. When I first met them, I used to try to catch them out. Get them to make a mistake, blow up, whatever. But I never could—at least, not that they’d let me see. No matter how badly I treated them—and I can get pretty bad, as anyone will tell you—they didn’t dish it back. Oh, they said a few things. No one is that good, especially considering the provocation. But we slowly became friends, and I slowly got drawn into their circle.

Which isn’t a bad place to be, since they’re what’s considered the A-list round here. Oh, you have your Vanessas and your Danis and your DeLaynes, but they’re more bark than bite. They orbit in a different universe—as a matter of fact, they’ve sort of gone off orbit since Vanessa started going round with the Prince of Yasir. What do you call it when planets lose their center of gravity and start drifting off into space? That clique is like that now.

Lissa took a deep breath and I focused on her. Recovery, evidently, was complete.

“Thing one: Dad says that the UK premiere is on December 19. Term ends on the eighteenth. Thing two: he’s going over for it, and the production team at Leavesden Studios, as well as the people from Scotland, are all invited. Thing three: both your mom and your dad are invited, too, Mac.” I blinked in surprise. Dad hadn’t said a word about it, and I’d gotten an e-mail from him that morning. “And thing four: my mother says she’s not going. Dad wants me to talk her into it. What do you think my chances are?”

The hope in her eyes was almost painful. I knew all about hope. Been there, done that, threw away the T-shirt.

“I guess that means at least you’re coming, then,” I said briskly. “Because of course you’ll talk your mother round. And once you do, your parents are coming to Strathcairn afterward for Christmas. I insist.”

Because if Lissa could talk her mother into coming, then I could talk mine into it as well. For the first time since the divorce.

This was going to be the best, most unforgettable Christmas ever. I’d make certain of it.

MY REVIEW:

See my earlier review dated September 14 at this link.

Pièce de Résistance by Sandra Byrd

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!

Today’s Wild Card author is:

and the book:

Pièce de Résistance

WaterBrook Press (September 15, 2009)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Sandra Byrd is a best-selling author of books for adults, teens, and children. Her notable series include the Friends for a Season series, the Secret Sisters series and the French Twist series, which includes the first two Lexi Stuart novels, the Christy Finalist Let them Eat Cake and its sequel, Bon Appetit. A regular contributor to newspapers and magazines, Sandra lives in Washington state with her husband and two children.

Visit the author’s website.




Product Details:

List Price: $13.99
Paperback: 304 pages
Publisher: WaterBrook Press (September 15, 2009)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1400073294
ISBN-13: 978-1400073290

AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:

Everything you want is out there waiting for you to ask.
Everything you want also wants you.
But you have to take action to get it.
Jules Renard

If I had known exactly where and in what kind of trouble I was about to land, I’d have stayed in Paris.

“Come on, dear.” A wizened woman dragged a shuffling friend past me and down the long carpeted hallway. “We don’t want to get in the way of Rosa’s granddaughter, even if she’s sitting on our couch.” She threw a dirty look over her shoulder.

I started to stand up and get out of her way, but she disdainfully waved me back into my seat.

“WHO?” her friend shouted as I sank back down.

“ROSA’S GRANDDAUGHTER. She’s sprawling on our couch.” I flinched at the vocal hurricane, but no one else seemed to notice. Or maybe they just couldn’t hear it.

For the time being, I was crashing at the guest apartment at my nonna’s retirement community. Where else could I get in on such short notice? It was twenty dollars a night, and only for a week or so…I hoped. “Well, they do have a lot of singles,” I’d told my best friend, Tanya, as she laughed at the news. “And they do love what’s left of life.”

“I think it’s cute,” she’d said. “You can get a personalized pill container and swap horrible doctor stories.”

“Ha ha,” I’d answered. “Be careful, or I’ll hold your bridal shower there on bingo night.”

I’d stayed with my parents on Whidbey Island for the two weeks since I’d been home from France. Yesterday they’d dropped me and my gear off at the retirement community, though most of my stuff was still in storage awaiting my “real” apartment. And now I sat in the common room, not realizing I’d poached what someone considered her personal couch, waiting for the afternoon bus to take me to my new job.

I checked my watch again. To pass the time, I thumbed through the Gideon’s Bible sitting on the side table, flipping by chance to the first chapter of Philippians and scanning the extra large print until my eye caught something that hooked into my heart.

And this is my prayer: that your love may abound more and

more in knowledge and depth of insight, so that you may be

able to discern what is best.

Oh yeah, I thought. Bring on the discernment. I was starting a new job—the job I’d been hoping for all my life and at which I desperately wanted to succeed. And I found myself embroiled in a romantic crisis where I not only didn’t hold all the cards, but the men involved had turned surprisingly poker-faced about their intentions.

Lost in thought, it took me a minute to realize that a kindly looking man had sat down next to me. He tried valiantly, but unsuccessfully, to clear the phlegm from his throat. I scooted over to both accommodate him and to offer us some personal space. He kept looking at me, but as soon as I looked back at him, he glanced away.

Finally he spoke. “Who are you?” he asked quietly. “And what are you doing here?”

That was indeed the question, and not only for my current living situation. I wished I had an answer.

Nonna breezed in through the lobby, snapping her mauve umbrella shut with a force that belied her age. She kissed the cheek of her companion, Stanley Jones, who tottered off to his own apartment, then came to get me.

“Lexi, love,” she said. “I’m glad I got here in time to see you off. Let’s wait by the door. The bus will be here soon.” On the way through the foyer, she whispered, “I thought I’d mentioned, dear—don’t sit on any upholstered furniture in the common areas. When you get to be my age, many of us have incontinence problems.”

Shocked, I reached around and felt my backside, not caring who saw me. Whew. Dry.

Nonna giggled at my distress, taking everything about aging in stride, as she always did, and looped her arm through mine. “I’m glad you’re home.”

I grinned back at her. “Me too, Nonna.”

“Why can’t one of those nice young men drive you to work today?” she asked.

“I don’t want to ask them. It’s…awkward. I’m not sure where I’m going with either of them right now, and they both have their own jobs.”

“Seems to me a man who likes a woman would offer her a ride,” Nonna sniffed.

“I’m sure plenty of men hitched up their buggies and took you to work back in the day,” I teased.

She grinned wickedly and leaned over to kiss my cheek. “So tell me about the Frenchman.”

“His name is Philippe. He’s really nice, a great baker, and has the most adorable daughter named Céline. He’s taking Luc’s place, the one who moved back to France.”

“He’s one of the owners of the bakery?” she asked, checking creds, as always.

“Yes, Nonna,” I said. “He’s an owner. He’s Luc’s cousin, and the whole family owns all the bakeries.”

“What about that lawyer you were seeing before you went to Paris?”

“Dan?” I kept my voice even.

“Mm-hmm.”

“He’s…here still. Of course. I just talked with him a few days ago. It was his suggestion, actually, for the Delacroix Company to lease the space I’ll be working in. The new bakery.”

“That was nice of him. Who’s the better looking of the two?”

“I’m glad to see your values haven’t changed!” I said, but com- pared them in my mind anyway. Philippe was definitely good looking in a continental way, dark blond hair that just touched his shoulders, a bit taller than me. Dan was built bigger, taller, with broad shoulders I loved to see set off by suspenders. His strawberry blond hair perfectly matched his lightly tanned complexion.

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” Nonna poked me out of my daydream. “Gotcha!”

She laughed, and I laughed with her as the rain slid down the outside of the window, my hometown Seattle lights blinking away in the drops. “Thanks for seeing me off today. I won’t be long. Just meeting Margot and getting a quick run-through.”

“Of course I’m seeing you off ! Everyone is jealous that my granddaughter is here. I need to brag.”

I saw the bus rounding the corner about a half mile down the road. Nonna saw it too.

“Go get ’em,” she said. “And bring something home from the bakery. Anything with fruits and nuts will be right at home in this place.” She grinned, but I knew she loved her home and her friends.

I walked out the door and started toward the covered bus stop. Not a moment later, though, a motorcycle pulled up and parked in front of the retirement center door a few feet away. Even with the helmet on, I recognized him immediately.

“Philippe!”

What is he doing here? Quickly followed by, He looks good!

“Good afternoon, mademoiselle.” He hopped off the bike and walked toward me, holding out a helmet. “As your employer, it’s my responsibility to get you to work on your first day at the new job, n’est-ce pas? And I was eager to see you again. Sophie told me where to find you and what bus you were likely to take.”

“Oh, thank you,” I said. I introduced him to Nonna, who’d come running out as soon as she’d seen me talking with a guy. “This is my grandmother, Rosa. Nonna, this is my…friend, Philippe.”

“Enchanté.” Philippe kissed her hand.

“Enchantée,” Nonna responded, pulling back her shoulders and making sure the gathering crowd, their noses pressed against the retirement center’s front windows, witnessed the exchange.

As I got on the back of the bike, I said, “I had no idea you had a motorcycle here. Do you also have a car?”

“Oui,” he said, “I do. Luc left his car for me, and I gave him mine in France. But I thought a motorcycle would be fun too.”

He sped up a little, and as he turned the corner out of the retirement center’s curved driveway, I recognized the truck pulling in.

Dan!

I’d told him I’d be staying with Nonna and had planned to take the bus.

I caught his eye, and he caught mine, and I saw the bouquet of flowers carefully propped in the passenger seat. I had no time to wave before Philippe accelerated and we sped off.

I turned my head and squeezed my eyes shut to avoid seeing Dan’s reaction. Nonna would explain it to him.

Nonna was liable to say anything.

A few minutes later, Philippe pulled the bike up in front of a long, black marble-fronted building in the Fremont district.

“Eh voilà!” he said, parking and then holding a hand out to me. “This is it. Do you like it?”

I took his hand, got off the back of the bike, and looked at the building. There were already two gold fleurs-de-lis over the front door, with the gold-lettered word Bijoux—meaning “jewels,” the name of the bakery—centered over the door. Otherwise, it was a blank slate.

“It’s beautiful!” I walked to the huge picture windows and looked in. The room was mostly empty, holding only a jumble of boxes and supplies, and some tarps left over from a recent paint job. But what lines, what bones. What this place could be!

“I can’t believe I never noticed this building before,” I said. “It’s perfectly perfect.”

Philippe laughed. “It’s been recently restored. That’s one of the reasons Luc was drawn to it…until he found out it couldn’t be used for a restaurant. But, ooh la la, what a bakery, n’est-ce pas? Après toi, mademoiselle,” he said, holding the front door open for me.

I expected to be greeted by the chic calm the exterior promised. Instead, I was blasted by a streak of blue French from the kitchen.

“Margot?” I asked in a small voice.

Philippe grimaced. “Oui. La Margot.”

Philippe’s sister Margot was the one downside to this dream job. Since she was a great baker and a member of the family, she didn’t worry that her attitude might lose her a job. She didn’t bother to sweeten it either.

“Bonjour,” Philippe called in what I recognized as his fake singsong voice. I felt torn between my desire to see my new kitchen and my desire to flee at once. Philippe decided for me, pushing me forward.

“C’est Lexi,” he introduced me to Margot.

“Nice to see you again,” I said in English. It was the polite thing to say, even if I didn’t mean it. She ignored me.

“I’m glad we’ll be working together,” I tried in French, an even graver lie. She didn’t return the favor or grasp my hand, but she grunted. French it was, then.

“Alors.” Philippe led the way toward the back of the kitchen. “This part,” he indicated with his hand, “will be mostly for pastries, which Margot will do. She’ll be here part time and at the other bakeries part time too.” He smiled widely and indicated the largest part of the kitchen. “And this will be for the cakes and catering. That’s you!”

I looked at my part of the kitchen. Marble and stainless counters, and lots of tall glass-fronted cabinets for ingredients. A pair of gleaming industrial mixers. Drawers full of equipment, but not in the easiest-to-reach places. I didn’t know who placed some of the utensils and tools. Maybe the guys who’d brought equipment over from the other bakeries.

“It’s everything I could want,” I said. And it was. My own kitchen. Tiny though it was, it was mine.

Philippe opened an armoire. “Here’s where you’ll store the paperwork and computer, and the phone even fits in there. Will this be enough space for the accounting books?”

I blinked and answered, “I guess so.” He’d be a better judge of that than I would.

Margot slammed a drawer, and when I turned around, I saw her grab her cigarettes and a lighter from the countertop. I wrinkled my nose. They should at least be hidden. As she headed out back, Philippe followed her. “Un moment,” he said, winking.

While they were gone, I turned the radio to a warm, low-key favorites station and began rearranging my work drawers. After ten minutes, I had them just so. I also rearranged my countertops and cake decorating materials so it made sense to me.

When Margot and Philippe came back in, I asked him, “How will the front be decorated? Will there be furniture arriving?”

He took my arm, and we headed to the big front room. I could already envision engaged couples choosing their cakes in a chic, refined, leather-furnished room.

“Hmm,” Philippe said. “I hadn’t thought too much on that topic. I am so busy at L’Esperance…” He shrugged, and I knew the burden of taking over their biggest US bakery. “Would you like to do it?”

“Would I?” I grinned. “I would!” I pictured deep blue drapes framing the windows and subtle gold cording. I’d make an appointment for a window etcher to etch the company name in gold on the glass, just like the Delacroix bakery in Versailles.

It was going to look fantastique.

When we got back to the kitchen, my countertops had been completely rearranged back to the previous nonsensical order. Margot’s back was turned toward me, and she quietly hummed along with the radio—not the station I’d turned on. I looked through my utensil drawers. All returned to the way they’d been before I’d fixed them moments ago. I looked at Philippe. He shrugged. I determined not to escalate things and left everything where it stood—for the moment.

“Lexi?” His voice softened. “I have a few questions about some things for Céline…”

“Oh, yes, when is she coming?” I asked, delighted at the prospect of hugging that sweet little bonbon again.

“She’s at her grandparents’ in London but will be here in a few days,” he said. “I’ve signed her up for the French-American school, but there are some other things…” He opened his briefcase and held out a folder. “Do you know a good doctor? a good dentist? And many other questions I need your help with.”

I found it endearing to see him a little vulnerable for once; he was always so in charge. It made him even more appealing.

“Of course I can help you.”

He smiled. “Perhaps we can talk about it at dinner tonight? Incredibly, I have found a quiet little bistro…”

He must have caught the look on my face, because he stopped mid sentence.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’ve got dinner plans tonight.”

“Ah well.” He shrugged, but looked a little forlorn. “Perhaps another time.”

“Certainly,” I said. “Anytime this week. Stop by for lunch or let me know when it’s convenient.”

With that, he handed me a key and took his leave, and Margot left too. I locked the doors behind them and then sat on one of the bar stools next to the counter. I looked around.

It was all mine, my kitchen. Well, and Margot’s too. But I was no one’s assistant anymore. I was a chef.

I checked my watch, saw I had fifteen minutes to get to the restaurant where I’d agreed to meet Dan for dinner, and went to brush my hair. On the way out of Bijoux, before turning the lights out in the kitchen, I did two things.

I put Margot’s cigarettes and lighters into a drawer near her work station, and I turned the radio station back to the one I liked.

As soon as I walked into the restaurant, I saw him at a corner table. My eye caught his, and then my breath caught too. Dan was a good looking man in any pose, but when he smiled, he was downright divine. Though he’d picked me up at the airport and taken me to my parents’ house when I first got home from France, I hadn’t seen him since.

“The world traveler has returned,” he said, standing to pull my chair out and then scoot me back to the table.

“Do you mean from my travels in Paris or the urban oasis of Whidbey Island?” I grinned.

“Both.” He held out a bottle and a glass. “Wine?”

I nodded, and as the waiter came to take our order, we shared the last few weeks’ happenings, culminating in my announcement that I had been to Bijoux that day.

He nodded. “I left work early to come pick you up, but I arrived just a little too late.”

I knew he would bring that up. I knew it. And yet, we weren’t at the exclusive dating level yet, as far as I understood, so I didn’t have to explain myself to him, right? “Philippe thought it would be good to take me to work on my first day,” I said as casually as I could. “And he had the keys.”

Dan nodded and showed absolutely no emotion. Lawyer’s training, I supposed. A minute later, he loosened up again and asked about the kitchen and the countertops and what kind of oven it had—things nearly no non-baker would think to ask.

“Why are you interested in the ovens?” I teased.

“Because you are,” he said simply and without guile. And that was even more appealing than the dreamy smile.

I asked about his job too, and he regaled me with his latest case, somehow making the law funny, something my brother was never able to do. Then his phone rang.

He looked mortified. “I’m so sorry. I thought I turned it off. It’s new.” He took it from his pocket and fumbled for a minute to locate the Ignore button. Before the backlight went off, I saw the caller ID.

Nancy.

I met his eye and he looked away, and then the waiter brought our salads. While he ground some pepper for Dan, I reminded myself, You’re not at the exclusive dating level yet, as far as he understands, so he doesn’t have to explain himself to you, right?

Right.

MY REVIEW:

Pièce de Résistance is a fitting end to Sandra Byrd’s engaging French Twist series. The final installment finds Lexi back in Seattle working in a newly opened branch of the Delacroix family bakeries. The challenge to make the new bakery a success within a year, strained relationships with coworkers, and  juggling with the two men in her life  keep Lexi’s life in a continual flux.

I thoroughly enjoyed Pièce de Résistance. After all, who could resist a tale set in a bakery, especially one that deliciously describes the wonderful food in such glorious detail. As an added bonus,  recipes for many of the dishes are scattered throughout the book. I can’t wait to try some of them. I enjoyed following Lexi’s journey to both personal and spiritual maturity. I liked the way her quiet time in Philippians helped to guide her daily decision making.

Will the bakery succeed? Will she and Margot ever get along? What about the guys – will Lexi choose Phillipe or Dan? I can’t say. You will just have to get your own copy of Pièce de Résistance to learn the answers.

Three Weddings & a Bar Mitzvah by Melody Carlson

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!

Today’s Wild Card author is:

and the book:

Three Weddings & a Bar Mitzvah

David C. Cook (2009)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Melody Carlson has published more than one hundred books for adults, children, and teens, with many on best-seller lists. Several books have been finalists for, and winners of, various writing awards, including the Gold Medallion and the RITA Award. She and her husband live in the Cascade Mountains in Oregon and have two grown sons.

Visit the author’s website.


Three Weddings and a Bar Mitzvah, by Melody Carlson from David C. Cook on Vimeo.

Product Details:

List Price: $14.99
Format: Paperback
Number of Pages: 320
Vendor: David C. Cook (2009)
ISBN: 1589191080
ISBN-13: 9781589191082

AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:

Megan Abernathy

“Okay, then, how does the second Saturday in June look?” Anna asked her housemates.

Megan frowned down at her date book spread open on the dining room table. She and Anna had been trying to nail a date for Lelani and Gil’s wedding. Megan had already been the spoiler of the first weekend of June, but she’d already promised her mom that she’d go to a family reunion in Washington. Now it seemed she was about to mess things up again. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but I promised Marcus I’d go to his sister’s wedding. It’s been scheduled for almost a year now, and it’s the second Saturday too. But maybe I can get out of it.”

Lelani just shook her head as she quietly rocked Emma in her arms, pacing back and forth between the living room and dining room. The baby was teething and fussy and overdue for her afternoon nap. Megan wasn’t sure if Lelani’s frustrated expression was a result of wedding planning or her baby’s mood.

“Is it possible you could do both weddings in one day?” Anna asked Megan.

“That might work.” Megan picked up her datebook and followed Lelani into the living room, where she continued to rock Emma.

“Or we could look at the third weekend in June,” Anna called from the dining room.

“Shhh.” Megan held a forefinger over her lips to signal Anna that Emma was finally about to nod off. Megan waited and watched as Emma’s eyes fluttered closed and Lelani gently eased the limp baby down into the playpen set up in a corner of the living room. Lelani pushed a dark lock of hair away from Emma’s forehead, tucked a fuzzy pink blanket over her, then finally stood up straight and sighed.

“Looks like she’s down for the count,” Megan whispered.

Lelani nodded. “Now, where were we with dates?”

“If you still want to go with the second Saturday,” Megan spoke quietly, “Anna just suggested that it might be possible for me to attend two weddings in one day.”

“That’s a lot to ask of you,” Lelani said as they returned to the dining room, where Anna and Kendall were waiting expectantly with the calendar in the middle of the table and opened to June.

Megan shrugged as she pulled out a chair. “It’s your wedding, Lelani. You should have it the way you want it. I just want to help.”

Anna pointed to the second Saturday. “Okay, this is the date in question. Is it doable or not?”

Lelani sat down and sighed. “I’m willing to schedule my wedding so that it’s not a conflict with the other one. I mean, if it can even be done. Mostly I just wanted to wait until I finished spring term.”

“What time is Marcus’s sister’s wedding?” asked Anna.

“I’m not positive, but I think he said it was in the evening.” She reached for her phone.

“And you want a sunset wedding,” Kendall reminded Lelani.

“That’s true.” Anna nodded.

“But I also want Megan to be there,” Lelani pointed out.

“That would be helpful, since she’s your maid of honor,” said Anna.

Megan tried not to bristle at the tone of Anna’s voice. She knew that Anna had been put a little out of sorts by Lelani’s choice–especially considering that Anna was the sister of the groom–but to be fair, Megan was a lot closer to Lelani than Anna was. And at least they were all going to be in the wedding.

“Let me ask Marcus about the time,” Megan said as she pressed his speed-dial number and waited. “Hey, Marcus,” she said when he finally answered. “We’re having a scheduling problem here. Do you know what time Hannah’s wedding is going to be?”

“In the evening, I think,” Marcus said. “Do you need the exact time?”

“No, that’s good enough.” Megan gave Lelani a disappointed look. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“You’re not thinking of bailing on me, are you?” He sounded genuinely worried.

“No, but we’re trying to pin down a time and date for Lelani.”

“It’s just that I really want my family to meet you, Megan. I mean all of my family. And I want you to meet them too.”

“I know, and I plan to go with you.”

“Thanks. So, I’ll see you around six thirty tonight?”

“That’s right.” Megan told him good-bye, then turned to Lelani with a sigh. “I’m sorry,” she told her. “That wedding’s at night too. Maybe I should blow off my family reunion so that you–”

“No.” Anna pointed to the calendar. “I just realized that the first Saturday in June is also my mother’s birthday.”

“So?” Kendall shrugged. “What’s wrong with that?”

Megan laughed. “Think about it, Kendall, how would you like to share your wedding anniversary with your mother-in-law’s birthday?”

Kendall grinned. “Oh, yeah. Maybe not.”

“How about a Sunday wedding?” suggested Megan.

“Sunday?” Lelani’s brow creased slightly as she weighed this.

“Sunday might make it easier to book the location,” Kendall said. “I mean, since most weddings are usually on Saturdays, and June is a pretty busy wedding month.”

“That’s true,” agreed Megan.

“And you gotta admit that this is short notice for planning a wedding,” added Kendall. “Some people say you should start planning your wedding a whole year ahead of time.”

“Marcus’s sister has been planning her wedding for more than a year,” Megan admitted. “Marcus says that Hannah is going to be a candidate for the Bridezillas show if she doesn’t lighten up.”

They all laughed.

“Well, there’s no way Gil and I are going to spend a year planning a wedding.” Lelani shook her head. “That’s fine for some people, but we’re more interested in our marriage than we are in our wedding.”

“I hear you.” Kendall laughed and patted her slightly rounded belly. She was in her fifth month of the pregnancy. They all knew that she and her Maui man, Killiki, were corresponding regularly, but despite Kendall’s high hopes there’d been no proposal.

“I really don’t see why it should take a year to plan a wedding,” Megan admitted. “I think that’s just the wedding industry’s way of lining their pockets.”

“So how much planning time do you have now anyway?” Kendall asked Lelani. “Like three months?”

“Not even.” Lelani flipped the calendar pages back. “It’s barely two now.”

“Which is why we need to nail this date today,” Megan said. “Even though it’s a small wedding–”

“And that remains to be seen,” Anna reminded her. “My mother’s list keeps growing and growing and growing.”

“I still think it might be easier to just elope,” Lelani reminded them. “I told Gil that I wouldn’t have a problem with that at all.”

“Yes, that would be brilliant.” Anna firmly shook her head. “You can just imagine how absolutely thrilled Mom would be about that little idea.”

Lelani smiled. “I actually thought she’d be relieved.”

“That might’ve been true a few months ago. But Mom’s changing.” Anna poked Lelani in the arm. “In fact, I’m starting to feel jealous. I think she likes you better than me now.”

Lelani giggled. “In your dreams, Anna. Your mother just puts up with me so she can have access to Emma.”

They all laughed about that. Everyone knew that Mrs. Mendez was crazy about her soon-to-be granddaughter. Already she’d bought Emma all kinds of clothes and toys and seemed totally intent on spoiling the child rotten.

“Speaking of Emma”–Kendall shook her finger–“Mrs. Mendez is certain that she’s supposed to have her on Monday. But I thought it was my day.”

“I’m not sure,” Lelani admitted. “But I’ll call and find out.”

“And while you’ve got Granny on the line,” continued Kendall, “tell her that I do know how to change diapers properly. One more diaper lecture and I might just tape a Pamper over that big mouth of hers. Sheesh!”

They all laughed again. Since coming home from Maui, Kendall had been complaining about how Mrs. Mendez always seemed to find fault with Kendall’s childcare abilities. In fact, Mrs. Mendez had spent the first week “teaching” Kendall the “proper” way to do almost everything.

To be fair, Megan didn’t blame the older woman. Megan had been a little worried about Kendall too. But to everyone’s surprise, Kendall turned out to be rather maternal. Whether it had to do with her own pregnancy or a hidden talent, Megan couldn’t decide, but Kendall’s skill had been a huge relief.

“Now, back to the wedding date,” said Lelani.

“Yes,” agreed Megan. “What about earlier on Saturday?”

“Oh, no,” Anna said. “I just remembered that I promised Edmond I’d go to his brother’s bar mitzvah on that same day–I think it’s in the morning.”

Lelani groaned.

“Edmond’s brother?” Megan frowned. “I thought he was an only child. And since when is he Jewish?”

“Remember, his mom remarried,” Anna told her. “And Philip Goldstein, her new husband, is Jewish, and he has a son named Ben whose bar mitzvah is that Saturday.” She sighed. “I’m sorry, Lelani.”

“So Saturday morning is kaput,” Megan said.

“And Lelani wanted a sunset wedding anyway,” Anna repeated.

“So why can’t you have a sunset wedding on Sunday?” Kendall suggested.

“That’s an idea.” Megan turned back to Lelani. “What do you think?”

Lelani nodded. “I think that could work.”

“And here’s another idea!” Anna exclaimed. “If the wedding was on Sunday night, you could probably have the reception in the restaurant afterward. I’m guessing it would be late by the time the wedding was over, and Sunday’s not exactly a busy night.”

Lelani looked hopeful. “Do you think your parents would mind?”

“Mind? Are you kidding? That’s what my mother lives for.”

“But we still don’t have a place picked for the wedding,” Megan said.

“I have several outdoor locations in mind. I’ll start checking on them tomorrow.”

“We’ll have to pray that it doesn’t rain.” Megan penned ‘Lelani and Gil’s Wedding’ in her date book, then closed it.

“Should there be a backup plan?” asked Anna. “I’m sure my parents could have the wedding at their house.”

“Or here,” suggested Kendall. “You can use this house if you want.”

Anna frowned. “It’s kind of small, don’t you think?”

“I think it’s sweet of Kendall to offer.” Lelani smiled at Kendall.

“I can imagine a bride coming down those stairs,” Kendall nodded toward the staircase. “I mean, if it was a small wedding.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Lelani told her. “And your parents’ house too.”

“It might be tricky getting a church reserved on a Sunday night,” Megan looked at the clock. “And speaking of that, I better get ready. Marcus is picking me up for the evening service in about fifteen minutes.” She turned back to Lelani. “Don’t worry. I’ve got my to-do list and I’ll start checking on some of this stuff tomorrow. My mom will want to help with the flowers.”

“And my aunt wants to make the cake,” Anna reminded them.

“Sounds like you’re in good hands,” Kendall sad a bit wistfully. “I wonder how it would go if I was planning my wedding.”

“You’d be in good hands too,” Lelani assured her.

“Now, let’s start going over that guest list,” Anna said as Megan stood up. “The sooner we get it finished, the less chance my mother will have of adding to it.” Megan was relieved that Anna had offered to handle the invitations. She could have them printed at the publishing company for a fraction of the price that a regular printer would charge, and hopefully she’d get them sent out in the next couple of weeks.

As Megan changed from her weekend sweats into something presentable, she wondered what would happen with Lelani’s parents when it was time for the big event. Although her dad had promised to come and was already committed to paying Lelani’s tuition to finish med school, Lelani’s mom was still giving Lelani the cold shoulder. Make that the ice shoulder. For a woman who lived in the tropics, Mrs. Porter was about as chilly as they come. Still, Lelani had friends to lean on. Maybe that was better than family at times.

“Your prince is here,” Kendall called into Megan’s room.

“Thanks.” Megan was looking for her other loafer and thinking it was time to organize her closet again. “Tell him I’m coming.”

When Megan came out, Marcus was in the dining room, chatting with her housemates like one of the family. He was teasing Anna for having her hair in curlers, then joking with Kendall about whether her Maui man had called her today.

“Not yet,” Kendall told him with a little frown. “But don’t forget the time-zone thing. It’s earlier there.”

“Speaking of time zones,” Lelani said to Marcus. “Did I hear you’re actually thinking about going to Africa?”

Marcus grinned and nodded. “Yeah, Greg Mercer, this guy at our church, is trying to put together a mission trip to Zambia. I might go too.”

“Wow, that’s a long ways away.” Kendall turned to Megan. “How do you feel about that?”

Megan shrugged as she pulled on her denim jacket. “I think it’s cool.”

“Are you coming with us to church tonight, Kendall?” Marcus asked. “Greg is going to show a video about Zambia.”

“Sorry to miss that,” Kendall told him. “But Killiki is supposed to call.”

“Ready to roll?” Megan nodded up to the clock.

He grinned at her. “Yep.” But before they went out, he turned around. “That is, unless anyone else wants to come tonight.”

Lelani and Anna thanked him but said they had plans. Even so, Megan was glad he’d asked. It was nice when Kendall came with them occasionally. And Lelani had come once too. Really, it seemed that God was at work at 86 Bloomberg Place. Things had changed a lot since last fall.

“So are you nervous?” Marcus asked as he drove toward the city.

“Nervous?” Megan frowned. “About church?”

“No. The big interview.”

Megan slapped her forehead. “Wow, I temporarily forgot. We were so obsessed with Lelani’s wedding today, trying to make lists, plan everything, and settle the date … I put the interview totally out of my mind.”

“Hopefully, it won’t be out of your mind by Monday.”

“No, of course not.”

“So … are you nervous?”

Megan considered this. It would be her first interview for a teaching job. And it was a little unsettling. “The truth is, I don’t think I have a chance at the job,” she admitted. “And, yes, I’m nervous. Thanks for reminding me.”

“Sorry. Why don’t you think you’ll get the job?”

“Because I don’t have any actual teaching experience.” She wanted to add duh, but thought it sounded a little juvenile.

“Everyone has to start somewhere.”

“But starting in middle school, just a couple of months before the school year ends? Don’t you think they’ll want someone who knows what they’re doing?”

“Unless they want someone who’s enthusiastic and energetic and smart and creative and who likes kids and had lots of great new ideas and–”

“Wow, any chance you could do the interview in my place?”

“Cross-dress and pretend I’m you?”

She laughed. “Funny.”

“Just have confidence, Megan. Believe in yourself and make them believe too. You’d be great as a middle-school teacher.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because I remember middle school.”

“And?”

“And most of my teachers were old and dull and boring.”

“That’s sad.”

“And I would’ve loved having someone like you for a teacher.”

“Really?”

He chuckled. “Yeah. If I was thirteen, I’d probably sit right in the front row and think about how hot you were, and then I’d start fantasizing about–”

“Marcus Barrett, you’re pathetic.” Just the same, she laughed.

“What can I say? I’m just a normal, warm-blooded, American kid.”

“Give me a break!” She punched him in the arm.

“Is that your phone?” he asked as he was parking outside of the church.

“Oh, yeah, a good reminder to turn it off.” She pulled it out to see it was Kendall. Megan hoped nothing was wrong. “Hey, Kendall,” she said as Marcus set the parking brake. “What’s up?”

“Guess what?” shrieked Kendall.

“I have no idea what, but it sounds like good news.” She stepped out of the car.

“Killiki just called.”

“That’s nice.”

“And he asked me to marry him!”

Megan raised her eyebrows and looked at Marcus as he came around to meet her. “And you said yes?”

“Of course! Do you think I’m crazy?”

“No. Not at all. Congratulations, Kendall. I mean, I guess that’s what you say.”

“So now we have two weddings to plan.”

Megan blinked. She walked with Marcus toward the church entry. “Oh, yeah, I guess we do.”

“And I’m getting married in June too!”

“That’s great, Kendall. I’m really, really happy for you. And Killiki seems like a great guy.”

“He is! Anyway, we just looked at the calendar again. And we finally figured that I should just get married the same day as Lelani, only I’ll get married in the morning. That way we’ll all be able to go to both weddings.”

“Wow, the same day?”

“Otherwise, you’ll be at your reunion or Marcus’s sister’s wedding. Or Anna will be at the bar mitzvah. Or Lelani and Gil will be on their honeymoon.”

“Oh, that’s right.”

“And I want all of you there!”

“Yes, I suppose that makes sense.”

“It’ll be busy, but fun.”

“Definitely.” Then Megan thanked Kendall for telling her, and they said good-bye. Megan closed her phone and just shook her head. “Wow.”

“Kendall’s getting married?” asked Marcus as he held the church door open for her.

“Yes. Can you believe it?”

“Good for her.”

“And her wedding will be the same weekend as your sister’s and the same day as Lelani’s.”

Marcus held up three fingers and wore a perplexed expression. “Three weddings in one weekend? That’s crazy.”

“Yep.” Megan nodded. “Three weddings and a bar mitzvah.”

“Huh?” Marcus looked confused, but they were in the sanctuary, and Megan knew she’d have to explain later.

©2009 Cook Communications Ministries. Three Weddings and a Bar Mitzvah by Melody Carlson. Used with permission. May not be further reproduced. All rights reserved.

MY REVIEW:
Although I reviewed the first book in the 86 Bloomberg Place series over a year ago, I missed the two following books and was just a little lost when I began reading Three Weddings and a Bar Mitzvah. Fortunately there were sufficient details given for me to quickly catch up with the characters well enough to understand the plot.

In this final installment, the girls of Bloomberg Place are frantically trying to plan two weddings in June without conflicting with other previous plans that include another wedding and a bar mitzvah. Complicating matters are an interfering mother and future mother-in-law, romantic misunderstandings, job stress, and the death of a family member. Three Weddings and a Bar Mitzvah neatly wrapped up the series with a look at the positive changes that had taken place in each character and the close ties that had knit them together as a family.