by admin | Jun 10, 2008 | Books
It is time to play a Wild Card! Every now and then, a book that I have chosen to read is going to pop up as a FIRST Wild Card Tour. Get dealt into the game! (Just click the button!) Wild Card Tours feature an author and his/her book’s FIRST chapter!
You never know when I might play a wild card on you!
Today’s Wild Card author is:
and her book:
The Summer of Cotton Candy
Zondervan (May 1, 2008)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Debbie Viguié has been writing for most of her life and holds a degree in creative writing from U. C. Davis. Debbie loves theme parks and has worked at both Knott’s Berry Farm and Disneyland in California. When Debbie is not busy writing, she enjoys traveling with her husband, Scott. Debbie grew up in the San Francisco Bay Area and now lives in Hawaii.
Other Sweet Seasons Novels:
The Fall of Candy Corn
The Winter of Candy Canes
Product Information:
List Price: $9.99
Reading level: Young Adult
Paperback: 224 pages
Publisher: Zondervan (May 1, 2008)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 031071558X
ISBN-13: 978-0310715580
AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:
Chapter One
Candace Thompson wondered where her life had gone wrong. Maybe when she was fourteen, she should have babysat her bratty cousin when her parents asked. Maybe when she was seven, if she hadn’t locked the teacher out of the classroom, this wouldn’t be happening to her. No, maybe her life went all wrong when she was three and she knocked down the girl with the pigtails who had stolen Mr. Huggles, her stuffed bear. Yes, the more she thought about it, that must have been the moment that started her on the path that led to the special punishment she was now suffering.
It was the first day of summer vacation, but for Candace, it might as well have been the last. She sat in a dark dreary office, signing away her freedom. The decree had come down from her father: she had to get a job. No job, no cash. No cash, no movies or hanging with her friends. It didn’t matter to him that if she had a job she wouldn’t have time to do the things she would need the money for.
She took a deep breath as she finished filling out the last form and handed it across the desk to the recruiter, Lloyd Peterson, a strange-looking man in a frumpy brown suit whom she was convinced had to be a perv. Hadn’t she seen him on America’s Most Wanted? She slid down into her seat, willing herself to be invisible, or at least small enough to slip away unnoticed.
“Candace,” he mused, “can I call you Candy?”
“Well …” She was about to say no. She hated that name.
“Great. So, Candy, what makes you want to work for The Zone?”
She didn’t want to work for The Zone, she just wanted to enjoy her summer like everybody else. Her father had put his foot down, though. According to him it was time she learned the value of work and earning her own way. She had chosen to work for The Zone because she had absolutely no skills, and working for a theme park seemed more interesting than flipping burgers.
She sighed and squirmed, refusing to meet the recruiter’s eyes. “I’ve always dreamed of working for The Zone. I want to be part of the excitement and help -people enjoy themselves more.” It was her rehearsed answer, and she held her breath, hoping he would buy it.
He stared at her for a long minute before nodding. Picking up a bright blue folder on his desk, he flipped it open and cleared his throat. “You realize, of course, that if you wanted a summer job, you should have started applying months ago, right?” he asked, staring at her over the tops of his glasses.
She slunk farther down into her chair. She licked her lips when she realized he expected an answer. “No,” she said.
“No? No? Well, you are wrong. In order to get a good summer job, you should start applying at least in March.”
March! All I could think of in March was holding out until spring break without going postal. Her eyes were now nearly level with the edge of his desk. “I just thought, you know, The Zone needs a lot of employees.”
“You are correct, but most of our summer positions have already been filled.”
He stopped and stared at her. She wasn’t sure what he expected her to say, but she was beginning to have the sinking feeling that her summer would consist of asking -people if they wanted fries with their meal.
Just as she was about to get up to leave, sure that the interview had come to an end, he spoke. “We do, however, have two openings.”
She sat up. “What are they?”
“The first is janitorial.”
“You mean those -people who go around sweeping up after everyone?” That might not be so bad. At least I could keep moving, and nobody ever pays attention to them.
He raised an eyebrow. “Some of our janitorial employees do that, but not this position. This one is cleaning up the women’s restrooms.”
Candace’s stomach turned. In her mind she pictured the high-school bathroom by fourth period, and that was only with a few hundred users, not thousands. There was no way she was going there.
“Um, and the other one is …?” she managed to ask as diplomatically as she could.
“Cotton candy operator.”
“I’ll take it!” she exclaimed, more loudly than she had meant to.
“Good!” Lloyd stood up and opened a drawer in one of his many filing cabinets. He pulled out a stack of papers two inches thick and slammed them down on his desk right in front of her. The desk continued to shake for a moment as though there had just been an earthquake. “Fill those out.”
“Now?” she asked, her mind boggling over the enormity of the task. She moved slightly so that she was eye level with the stack, and she could feel her hand begin to cramp up in premature protest.
“Yes, now. You can, however, use the table in the courtyard if you’d be more comfortable.”
The word duh came to mind, but she bit her tongue and kept it to herself.
“Yes, sir, thank you. I’ll do that,” she said instead, scrambling to her feet and grabbing the stack of papers. She made her way out of the room as fast as she could, taking a deep breath once in the hallway.
The hallways around this place are roomier than the offices, she thought to herself as she immediately began to feel less claustrophobic. She turned around, not sure which way the courtyard would be. She hadn’t seen one on her way in, so it must be in the other direction.
She came to a T in the hall and craned her neck to the right. All she could see that way were more offices, so she turned to the left …
… and ran straight into a six-foot wall.
“Umph,” the wall gasped as Candace’s papers went flying in all directions.
“I am so sorry,” Candace said, realizing that the wall she had run into was actually a guy, a big guy, a guy with muscles she could see through his shirt. She looked up and forgot what she was going to say next. She was staring at the Lone Ranger. He stood there, larger than life in pale blue, complete with boots and gun belt. Black wavy hair shone from underneath a white hat pushed far back on his head. A black mask covered part of his face.
All this was not what stopped her in her tracks, though. What took her breath away and caused her to stare like an idiot were his eyes. He had amazing eyes that were bright blue and crackled like lightning. He stared right through her, and her heart began to hammer.
“I—I—”
He smiled at her, and she felt dizzy. “Are you lost, my lady?”
She nodded, still unable to look away from those piercing eyes.
“Here, let me help you,” he said, bending down.
For one dizzying moment his face came close to hers, and she thought he was going to kiss her just like in some movie. Instead of kissing her, though, he knelt down and began picking up her papers.
Idiot, she said to herself, feeling her cheeks burning. Her knees began to buckle, and she covered it by quickly dropping down to her knees and scooping up some of the papers that had managed to spread themselves across the width of the hall.
“I’m such a klutz,” she said.
“Not at all. How could you expect to run into something when you’re not looking where you’re going?”
She glanced up quickly, stunned at the rebuke. Then she noticed that he was grinning from ear to ear. They both burst out laughing.
“That should do it,” he said finally, handing her the last sheet of paper. His fingers brushed hers, and she felt her stomach do a flip-flop.
“Thanks.”
“So, where are you headed?”
“Um, um,” she stammered for a moment, her mind going completely blank.
“I take it you’re filling these out?” he said, tapping the stack of papers.
She nodded, relieved as she remembered, “Something was said about a courtyard that had a table.”
“I’ll show you where it is.”
She fell into step with him, and he led her down the corridor. They made three quick turns in a row and arrived at a door leading out to what truly was a small courtyard.
“There you go,” he said, holding the door open for her. She walked outside into the sun and plunked her papers down onto a table.
“Thanks.”
“I live to serve.”
She couldn’t think of something witty to say, so she just stared at him.
He winked at her. “I’ll see you around.”
Then he turned and left. She sank down into the chair, her knees feeling weak. “Who was that masked man?”
?
Four hours and three phone calls to her father later, Candace finished filling out the application. She stacked up the tax forms, identity forms, nondisclosure forms, noncompetition agreements, and receipt-of-employee-handbook forms. And with a snort, she put the background check and financial disclosure form on top of the whole stack. She was seventeen, and she had no finances to disclose. She’d had a momentary panic about the background check until she realized they were looking for things like a criminal background or drug use and wouldn’t be interested in the fact that she’d had detention twice in seventh grade.
She flipped back through the employee handbook. It was over a hundred pages long. After reading through it, she realized that The Zone had a policy and procedure for absolutely everything. They even had three different emergency-evacuation plans, depending on whether it was fire, weapons problems, or natural disasters. Clearly the -people who worked on the handbook were paranoid, and now, after reading it, so was she.
She dragged herself to her feet, her stomach angrily reminding her that lunch had been hours before and she had missed it. She miraculously made her way back through the maze of corridors to Mr. Peterson’s office. He was speaking on the phone, so she stood in the doorway until he looked up and saw her.
He hung up the phone. “Come in, Candy. I take it you’re done?”
She nodded, handing him the stack.
“Excellent. Well, I’ll take a look at all these. I’m sure they’re in order. Let me just get copies of your driver’s license and social security card.”
She fished them out of her purse and handed them to him. He left the office for a minute and then returned with photocopies. He handed her cards back to her.
“Okay, you’ll start orientation tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” she asked.
“Yes, is there a problem with that?” he asked sharply.
“I just thought I’d have a -couple of days before—”
“Tomorrow’s our last orientation class for the summer. It’s either tomorrow or never.”
Never wasn’t an option, no matter how much she wanted it to be. A vision of a certain masked man flitted briefly through her mind. Then again, maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad after all.
“Tomorrow. Tomorrow is fine for me,” she said.
“Report to the lobby at seven forty a.m.”
There went any hope she had of sleeping in, probably forever. She sighed and nodded.
?
“What do you mean you have to be home early tonight?” Candace’s best friend, Tamara Wilcox, huffed over the phone. “I thought we were hanging out?”
“We can still hang. I just need to get some sleep. I have to start work early in the morning,” Candace explained. She flipped onto her back and braced her legs against the wall next to her bed.
There was only silence on the other end of the phone.
“Tam, you still there?”
“Uh-huh. Meet me at Starbucks.”
“Can’t. I’m getting a job to earn summer spending money, and Dad won’t give me an advance.”
“I’m buying. Just get your butt over here.”
?
Ten minutes later Candace was sitting down at a corner table where Tamara was already waiting for her. Without a word, Tamara slid a grande hot chocolate with a shot of raspberry across the table to her.
Candace blew through the tiny opening in the lid like she always did. Tonight, though, the whistling sound it produced didn’t make her smile. She was too busy trying to avoid looking at the daggers in Tamara’s eyes.
“So, you’re ditching me for the summer?”
“No, just five days a week. I should be free evenings and weekends.”
“Did they guarantee that?”
“Well, no, but they said it would likely be that. They couldn’t expect me to work during church, you know?”
Tamara crossed her arms over her chest, a sure sign she wasn’t buying it. “And what about youth group? Even if they don’t make you work Sunday morning they’re going to make you work Friday nights.”
“I should be free evenings,” Candace said, slinking down into her seat and hating that she was repeating herself. Somehow, it sounded less plausible than it had earlier in the recruiter’s office.
“And if you’re not? It’s bad enough you’re going to be blowing off church and youth group, but what about me? I’m your best friend. What kind of summer am I going to have without you?”
“Come on, no matter what hours I get, it will only be thirty-five a week. We can still do all kinds of stuff. And I’ll have the money to pay for it,” Candace said with a sigh. It was amazing sometimes how Tamara could turn anyone’s pain into her own.
Tamara uncrossed her arms and leaned forward, tapping one perfectly manicured nail on the table. “You know, if money is the issue, I can take care of that.”
Candace stared at her. Tamara was rich. Her whole family was. Her monthly allowance was more than some -people made in a year. Candace knew she was serious, and it was a tempting offer.
“I can’t,” she said at last, tears of frustration filling her eyes. “My dad would kill me.”
Tamara sat back, a disappointed look on her face. “Oh, is he pulling that rite-of-passage, learn-the-value-of-work crap on you?”
Candace nodded and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Yeah, he’d freak if I backed out. And I don’t think you’re prepared to pay for my college tuition.”
Tamara laughed. “Would it get you to bail on this whole Zone thing?”
Candace scowled. “He’s my dad. What can I do?”
“Nothing,” Tamara said, shaking her head. “Parents are so much work.”
by admin | Jun 9, 2008 | Books
It is time to play a Wild Card! Every now and then, a book that I have chosen to read is going to pop up as a FIRST Wild Card Tour. Get dealt into the game! (Just click the button!) Wild Card Tours feature an author and his/her book’s FIRST chapter!
You never know when I might play a wild card on you!
Today’s Wild Card author is:
and her book:
A Sister’s Hope
Barbour Publishing, Inc (July 1, 2008)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Fascinated by the Amish people during the years of visiting her husband’s family in Pennsylvania, WANDA E. BRUNSTETTER combined her interest with her writing and now has eleven novels about the Amish in print, along with numerous other stories and ministry booklets. She lives in Washington State, where her husband is a pastor, but takes every opportunity to visit Amish settlements throughout the states.
Visit her at her website.
AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:
Be of good courage,
and he shall strengthen your heart,
all ye that hope in the LORD.
PSALM 31:24
——
Chapter 1
Ar-ou-ou! Ar-ou-ou!
Piercing howls roused Martha Hostettler from her sleep, and she rolled over in bed.
Ar-ou-ou! Ar-ou-ou!
There it was again. That couldn’t be Polly. The beagle had a high-pitched howl, not deep and penetrating. Polly’s mate, Beau, must be making that awful noise.
Martha turned on the flashlight she kept on the nightstand and pointed the light at her battery-operated clock. It was three o’clock. None of Martha’s dogs ever barked or howled during the night unless something was amiss. Could Heidi have had her pups? The sheltie wasn’t due for another week or so. Maybe Beau had sensed what was going on and wanted to let Martha know.
She shook her head, trying to clear away the cobwebs of sleep. That’s ridiculous. Beau might be able to sense that Heidi’s having a problem, but I doubt he’s smart enough to let me know. Something else must have disturbed the dog.
Martha thought of the day she’d found her sheltie Fritz tied to a tree. One of his legs had also been tied up, and a bowl of water had been placed just out of his reach. Another time, Martha had found one of her puppies in the yard with its neck broken. She had wondered if whoever had been vandalizing her family’s property and attacking them in other ways could have been responsible for the puppy’s death.
A tremor shot through her body. What if someone was in the barn right now? What if they planned to hurt one of her dogs?
She pushed the covers aside and jumped out of bed. Dashing across the room, she slipped into her bathrobe, stepped into her sneakers, grabbed the flashlight, and rushed out of her room.
When Martha stepped outside, she shivered as a chilly breeze rustled the leaves. Martha hurried across the yard. As she approached the barn, she tipped her head and listened. Beau had stopped howling. The dog could have been spooked by one of the horses on the other side of the barn. She was probably worried for nothing.
Holding the flashlight with one hand and grasping the handle of the door with the other, Martha stepped into the barn. Clunk! Splat! Something cool and wet hit the top of her head. The sticky liquid dripped down her face and oozed onto her neck.
Martha aimed the flashlight at the front of her robe and groaned. She was covered in white paint! She flashed a beam of light upward and gasped. A bucket connected to a piece of rope had been suspended above the barn door. Someone had deliberately set this up! Was it a prank by some unruly kids? Or could this be another attack?
She reached for a cardboard box on a nearby shelf and fumbled around until she located a clean rag. She blotted the paint from her face the best she could. The ammonia smell identified the paint as latex. At least it would clean up with soap and warm water.
Martha hurried to her dog kennels in the back of the barn. Relief swept over her when she saw that all of the dogs—Polly, Beau, Fritz, and Heidi—were okay. And Heidi still hadn’t delivered her pups.
When Martha reached through the wire fencing and patted Beau on the head, he looked up at her and whined.
“Go back to sleep, boy. Everything’s fine.”
But it wasn’t fine. Someone had sneaked into their barn and rigged up the bucket. How long ago had it been done? Could they still be in the barn?
Martha swept the barn with her flashlight but saw no one. Satisfied that nothing else seemed to have been disturbed, she hurried outside. Glancing down, she noticed an empty pack of cigarettes on the ground.
Rustling sounded in the distance. She aimed her flashlight toward the field of dried corn behind their house. A man was running through the fields. She sucked in her breath. It was hard to tell much from this distance in the dark, but it looked like he wore a straw hat, the kind Amish men used.
Martha shuddered. If I tell Dad about seeing the man, he’ll think it was Luke. For some time, her father had suspected Luke of attacking their family, but she was convinced Luke was innocent. At least, she hoped he was.
Martha hurried to the house and headed straight for the shower. She needed to get the paint washed off. She needed time to think.
When she stepped out of the bathroom a short time later and saw a man standing in the hallway, her breath caught. “Dad! What are you doing here? I. . .I didn’t think anyone else was up.”
“The sound of the shower running woke me.” He frowned and pointed to her clothes lying on the floor outside the bathroom. “I’ve heard of folks sleepwalking during the night, but I never knew anyone who liked to paint in their sleep.”
“I wasn’t. I—”
“What’s going on?” Mom asked as she joined them in front of the bathroom door.
Martha quickly explained what had happened in the barn.
“Ach!” Mom gasped. “Was this another attack?”
“I. . .I don’t know,” Martha stammered. “It’s hard to say.”
Dad looked over at Martha, his brows furrowing. “Did you see anyone?”
“I. . .uh. . .thought I saw someone running across the field, but
I didn’t get a good enough look to tell who it was.”
Ruth showed up on the scene, rubbing her eyes and yawning. “It’s the middle of the night. What’s everyone doing out of bed?”
Martha recounted her story again and ended by saying, “I’m sorry I woke everyone.”
“We needed to know what happened.” Mom slipped her arm around Martha’s waist. “It’s not safe for you to go to the barn during the night.”
“I just wanted to check on my hund. Besides, it’s not right that we can’t feel safe on our own property.” Martha looked at Dad. “Will you let the sheriff know about this?”
“What’s the point? Sheriff Osborn hasn’t done a thing to prevent any of the attacks from happening. It’s not likely he’ll start now.” Dad shrugged. “What’s done is done. Notifying the sheriff won’t change a thing.”
As Luke Friesen headed down the road in his open buggy, the pungent smell of horseflesh filled his senses. Despite the fact that he owned a pickup truck he kept hidden in the woods because his folks wouldn’t approve of it, Luke preferred horse and buggy transportation. He’d only bought the pickup because some of his Amish friends, who were also going through their running-around years, owned a vehicle. Luke figured it was expected of him. Besides, having the truck gave him the freedom to travel wherever he wanted. And it gave him an in with Rod and Tim, the English fellows he’d been hanging around for a time. Luke’s folks didn’t approve of his rowdy English friends, and they’d been after him to settle down and join the Amish church for some time. But he wasn’t ready. Some things he wanted to do, he couldn’t do as a member of the church. Besides, there was no point in joining the church when he wasn’t ready to get married. He would consider it if and when he found the right woman.
A vision of Martha Hostettler flashed across Luke’s mind. She was spunky and daring—the complete opposite of her sister, Ruth, who never liked to take chances and had seemed so subdued during the time they’d been courting. Under the right circumstances, Luke might consider courting Martha.
Luke gritted his teeth as he thought about the way Martha’s father, Roman, had fired him for being late to work a few years ago, and how, after the Hostettlers had come under attack, Roman had pointed a finger at Luke. Even though Luke had denied having anything to do with the attacks, Roman had given him the cold shoulder ever since. If the man had any idea Luke was interested in his youngest daughter, Luke was sure he and Martha would both be in trouble.
At least I have a job working for John Peterson. Guess that’s something to be grateful for. Luke snapped the reins to get the horse moving faster. If I’m not careful, I’ll end up being late for work because I’m allowing my horse to plod along while I think about someone I can’t have.
The buggy jolted and leaned to the right. “Whoa! Steady, boy.” He pulled back on the reins and grimaced when he saw his left buggy wheel roll onto the opposite side of the road. Good thing there were no cars going by at the moment.
Luke guided the horse and buggy to the shoulder of the road, jumped down, and sprinted over to the buggy wheel. “Great,” he muttered. “Now I will be late for work.”
Luke lugged the wheel over to his buggy and spent the next several minutes looking for the nut that had come off. When he couldn’t find it, he reached into his toolbox in the back of the buggy and took out another nut. He’d just squatted down in front of the buggy to set the wheel in place, when Sheriff Osborn’s car pulled up behind him.
“Looks like you lost a wheel,” the sheriff said as he sauntered over to Luke.
“That’s what happened, all right.” Luke grimaced. “It’s gonna make me late for work.”
“Need any help?”
“Sure, I’d appreciate that.” Luke’s nose twitched as Sheriff Osborn knelt on the ground next to the buggy wheel. The sheriff’s clothes reeked of cigarette smoke, which made Luke think the man was either a heavy smoker or had recently been around someone who smoked.
“Are you still working for John Peterson?” the sheriff asked as he helped Luke lift the wheel and set it in place.
Luke nodded. “Sure am.”
“Do you like working for John better than you did Roman?”
“John’s a good boss—always patient and fair with me,” Luke said without really answering the sheriff’s question. “Of course I don’t know how he’ll react to me being late today.”
“I’m sure he’ll understand when you tell him what happened with your buggy wheel.”
“I appreciate your help,” Luke said once the wheel had been securely fastened.
Sheriff Osborn reached into his pocket, pulled out a pack of gum, and popped a piece into his mouth. “No problem. Glad I came along when I did. If you’d had to fix the wheel yourself, you’d be even later for work.” He turned toward his car. “Guess I’d better get back to the business at hand. I got a report that there have been too many cars going over the speed limit on this stretch of road, so I figured I’d better nip it in the bud.”
Luke shuffled his feet a few times, trying to think of the best way to say what was on his mind.
“You’re looking kind of thoughtful there,” Sheriff Osborn said as he chomped on his wad of gum. “Have you got something on your mind?”
“I. . .uh. . .was wondering if you’ve had any leads on who’s behind the attacks against the Hostettlers.”
“Nope, sure don’t. As far as I know, there haven’t been any more attacks at their place in some time.” The sheriff stuck another piece of gum in his mouth. “I might have caught the culprit responsible for the attacks if Roman had let me know about them sooner.” He kicked a pebble with the toe of his boot. “From what I understand, it’s not against the Amish religion to notify the police, so I can’t figure out why Roman kept quiet about most of those attacks.”
Luke shrugged. “I guess he figured it was best to turn the other cheek and not involve the law unless it became absolutely necessary.”
“You’re probably right.” The sheriff turned toward his car again. “I’d better be on my way and let you get to work. Wouldn’t want to see you lose your job on my account.” He waved as he climbed into his car.
Luke checked the wheel over once more for good measure, gave his horse a quick pat, and stepped into his buggy.
When he arrived at John’s shop, he found John sitting behind his desk, talking on the phone. Figuring it best not to disturb him, Luke hurried to the back room to put away his lunch box. When he returned, John was off the phone.
“Sorry for being late,” Luke apologized. “One of my buggy wheels fell off, and I had to stop and fix it.”
“Of course you did.” John smiled. “Your being late’s not a problem. Some things happen that we can’t control.”
Luke wiped the sweat from his forehead as he drew in a quick breath. “I appreciate your understanding. I was afraid you might fire me the way Roman did when I worked for him.”
A deep wrinkle formed above John’s slightly crooked nose. “No one should be punished for something that isn’t his fault.”
Luke nodded. Working for John was sure easier than working for Roman had been. Nothing had ever seemed to be good enough for that man. Every time Luke had an idea about how something should be done, Roman had vetoed it.
“What would you like me to do this morning?” Luke asked as he moved toward John’s desk.
John motioned to several cabinet doors stacked against the wall. “You can begin sanding those while I go over to Kiem Lumber to pick up some supplies.” He stood. “I shouldn’t be gone long. If any customers show up, go ahead and write up the orders.”
Luke nodded. It felt good to have John’s trust. Roman never trusted him. He grimaced. Why do I keep comparing John to Roman, and why can’t
I stop thinking about how things used to be when I worked for Roman?
When John left the shop, Luke began working on the doors. John’s beagle, Flo, who’d been lying on an old rug near John’s desk, ambled over to Luke with a pathetic whine.
He bent down, and the dog licked his hand. “You don’t miss John already, do you, girl? Are you craving some attention?”
The dog responded with a low whimper then flopped on the floor a few feet from where Luke stood.
As Luke plucked a piece of sandpaper, he thought about Martha and wondered how her dog business was doing. She’d sold Flo to John because the dog was barren, and she’d used the money to buy another dog she hoped to use for breeding purposes.
Luke wished he felt free to stop by the Hostettlers’ to see Martha, but he knew if Roman saw him talking to her, he wouldn’t like it. Luke and Roman would probably end up having words. He thought too highly of Martha to cause trouble between her and her dad. Luke figured it was best if he stayed away from the Hostettler place. Besides, there were other things he needed to do today.
MY REVIEW:
Once again, I enjoyed my journey into Amish country through the pages of a novel written by Wanda Brunstetter. Wanda’s books give us a look into another way of life within our own backyard. Her descriptive prose transports us into the Amish settlements of Ohio and makes us feel as though we are there.
A Sister’s Hope is the story of Martha Hostettler who is secretly in love with Luke Friesen, a young man scorned by her father. As the attacks against her family escalate, Martha and Luke work together undercover to unmask the culprit. A Sister’s Hope contains all the elements I require for a good read – suspense and mystery blended together with a little romance. It is a story of family, loyalty, love, courage, and forgiveness. I would recommend A Sister’s Hope to anyone who enjoys a good positive book.
Chapter One
