{"id":10290,"date":"2012-01-10T23:44:07","date_gmt":"2012-01-11T04:44:07","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/?p=10290"},"modified":"2012-01-10T23:44:07","modified_gmt":"2012-01-11T04:44:07","slug":"the-accidental-bride-by-denise-hunter","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/?p=10290","title":{"rendered":"The Accidental Bride by Denise Hunter"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><a href=\"http:\/\/firstwildcardtours.blogspot.com\/\"><img decoding=\"async\" id=\"BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480264388542368882\" style=\"cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 200px; margin: 0 10px 10px 0; width: 145px;\" src=\"http:\/\/2.bp.blogspot.com\/_cESuxv-WNX8\/TA3PbPpKjHI\/AAAAAAAAEFE\/e9Dq6nSnpCA\/s200\/FIRSTWildCardTours2.jpg\" alt=\"\" border=\"0\" \/><\/a><\/p>\n<p>It is time for a <span style=\"color: #990000;\"><strong><a href=\"http:\/\/firstwildcardtours.blogspot.com\/\">FIRST Wild Card Tour<\/a><\/strong><\/span> 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&#8230;or for somewhere in between! <span style=\"color: #990000;\"><strong>Enjoy your free peek into the book!<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"color: #cc0000;\"><em>You never know when I might play a wild card on you!<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n<div align=\"center\"><\/div>\n<div style=\"text-align: left;\" align=\"center\"><strong>Today&#8217;s Wild Card author is: <\/strong><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div align=\"center\"><strong><span style=\"color: #cc0000; font-size: 180%;\"><a href=\"http:\/\/www.denisehunterbooks.com\/\">Denise Hunter<\/a><\/span><\/strong><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div align=\"center\"><strong><span style=\"color: #cc0000; font-size: 180%;\"><span style=\"color: #cc0000; font-size: 100%;\">and the book:<\/span> <\/span><\/strong><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div align=\"center\"><strong><span style=\"color: #cc0000; font-size: 180%;\"><a href=\"http:\/\/www.amazon.com\/exec\/obidos\/ASIN\/1595548025\">The Accidental Bride<\/a><\/span><\/strong><\/div>\n<div align=\"center\"><span style=\"background-color: white; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; text-align: -webkit-auto;\">Thomas Nelson (January 3, 2012)<\/span><span style=\"background-color: white; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; text-align: -webkit-auto;\"><br \/>\n<\/span><\/div>\n<p>***Special thanks to<br \/>\n<span style=\"background-color: white; font-family: 'Lucida Sans Typewriter', 'Courier New', monospace; font-size: 13px; text-align: left;\">Audra Jennings \u2013 The B&amp;B Media Group \u2013<\/span> for sending me a review copy.***<\/p>\n<div align=\"left\"><strong><span style=\"color: #333399; font-size: 130%;\"><span style=\"color: #cc0000;\">ABOUT THE AUTHOR:<\/span> <\/span><\/strong><\/div>\n<p><a style=\"clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;\" href=\"http:\/\/3.bp.blogspot.com\/-_vXeFv3YGd0\/TwfeLYhDA4I\/AAAAAAAAGmw\/DWXnhZJI3S4\/s1600\/675+Hunter+photo.jpg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"http:\/\/3.bp.blogspot.com\/-_vXeFv3YGd0\/TwfeLYhDA4I\/AAAAAAAAGmw\/DWXnhZJI3S4\/s200\/675+Hunter+photo.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"133\" height=\"200\" border=\"0\" \/><\/a><\/p>\n<p>Denise lives in Indiana with her husband Kevin and their three sons. In 1996, Denise began her first book, a Christian romance novel, writing while her children napped. Two years later it was published, and she&#8217;s been writing ever since. Her books often contain a strong romantic element, and her husband Kevin says he provides all her romantic material, but Denise insists a good imagination helps too!<\/p>\n<p>Visit the author&#8217;s <a href=\"http:\/\/www.denisehunterbooks.com\/\">website<\/a>.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div align=\"left\"><strong><span style=\"color: #333399; font-size: 130%;\"><span style=\"color: #cc0000;\">SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:<\/span> <\/span><\/strong><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div class=\"separator\" style=\"clear: both; text-align: center;\"><a style=\"clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;\" href=\"http:\/\/2.bp.blogspot.com\/-lqY2Civ0Of0\/TwfeiHAm5zI\/AAAAAAAAGm4\/KYyfpsS8OzQ\/s1600\/675+Hunter+cover+hi.jpg\"><span style=\"font-family: inherit;\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"http:\/\/2.bp.blogspot.com\/-lqY2Civ0Of0\/TwfeiHAm5zI\/AAAAAAAAGm4\/KYyfpsS8OzQ\/s200\/675+Hunter+cover+hi.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"131\" height=\"200\" border=\"0\" \/><\/span><\/a><\/div>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: inherit;\"><span style=\"background-color: white; text-align: left;\">Shay Brandenberger has built her entire life on the shifting sands of what others think. Constantly seeking the approval of others, she has struggled through a rocky childhood, a failed marriage and single parenthood. Now it looks like she\u2019s losing the ranch that has been in her family for three generations, a surefire way to mark her as a failure in the eyes of the community. When Travis McCoy, the high school sweetheart who very publicly broke her heart fifteen years before, returns to Moose Creek, she is less than pleased. Not only does his re-appearance dredge up a deluge of painful memories, it also reminds everyone in town that it was he who left her, not the other way around. To make matters worse, Shay and Travis are unwittingly paired to play bride and groom in the annual Founder\u2019s Day wedding re-enactment where, much to her chagrin, she discovers he still has the power to take her breath away.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n<p>Product Details:<\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: inherit;\"><strong>List Price: <\/strong>$15.99<\/span><\/p>\n<ul style=\"background-color: white; list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0px;\">\n<li style=\"margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;\"><span style=\"font-family: inherit;\"><strong>Paperback:<\/strong> 304 pages<\/span><\/li>\n<li style=\"margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;\"><span style=\"font-family: inherit;\"><strong>Publisher:<\/strong> Thomas Nelson (January 3, 2012)<\/span><\/li>\n<li style=\"margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;\"><span style=\"font-family: inherit;\"><strong>Language:<\/strong> English<\/span><\/li>\n<li style=\"margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;\"><span style=\"font-family: inherit;\"><strong>ISBN-10:<\/strong> 1595548025<\/span><\/li>\n<li style=\"margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;\"><span style=\"font-family: inherit;\"><strong>ISBN-13:<\/strong> 978-1595548023<\/span><\/li>\n<\/ul>\n<p><span style=\"color: #cc0000;\"><strong><span style=\"font-size: 180%;\">AND NOW&#8230;THE FIRST CHAPTER:<\/span> <\/strong><br \/>\n<\/span><\/p>\n<div style=\"height: 307px; overflow: auto;\">\n<div class=\"Standard\"><span style=\"font-family: FilosofiaRegular; font-size: 11pt;\">The bell above the diner\u2019s door jingled and\u2014despite her most valiant effort\u2014Shay Brandenberger\u2019s eyes darted toward the entry. An unfamiliar couple entered\u2014tourists. She could tell by their khaki Eddie Bauer vests and spanking-new hiking boots. Look out, Yellowstone.<\/span><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div class=\"Standard\"><span style=\"font-family: FilosofiaRegular; font-size: 11pt;\">When her heart rate returned to normal, she checked her watch and took a sip of coffee. Five minutes till she met Miss Lucy at the Doll House, forty till she met John Oakley at the bank. What if he said no? What would they do then?<\/span><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div class=\"Standard\"><span style=\"font-family: FilosofiaRegular; font-size: 11pt;\">\u201cMom . . . Earth to Mom . . .\u201d Olivia waved her hand too close to Shay\u2019s face, her brown eyes widening.<\/span><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div class=\"Standard\"><span style=\"font-family: FilosofiaRegular; font-size: 11pt;\">\u201cSorry, hon.\u201d The one bright moment of her Saturday was breakfast with her daughter, and she couldn\u2019t enjoy it for the dread. \u201cWhat were you saying?\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n<div class=\"Standard\"><\/div>\n<div class=\"Standard\"><span style=\"font-family: FilosofiaRegular; font-size: 11pt;\">Olivia set her fork on her pancake-sticky plate and heaved a sigh worthy of her twelve-year-old self. \u201cNever mind.\u201d She bounced across the vinyl bench, her thick brown ponytail swinging. \u201cI\u2019m going to meet Maddy.\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div class=\"Standard\"><span style=\"font-family: FilosofiaRegular; font-size: 11pt;\">\u201cRight back here at noon,\u201d Shay called, but Olivia was out the door with the flick of her hand.<\/span><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div class=\"Standard\"><span style=\"font-family: FilosofiaRegular; font-size: 11pt;\">The diner buzzed with idle chatter. Silverware clattered and scraped, and the savory smell of bacon and fried eggs unsettled her stomach. She took a sip of the strong brew from the fat rim of her mug.<\/span><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div class=\"Standard\"><span style=\"font-family: FilosofiaRegular; font-size: 11pt;\">The bell jingled again. <\/span><em><span style=\"font-family: FilosofiaItalic; font-size: 11pt;\">I will not look. I will not look. I will not\u2014<\/span><\/em><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div class=\"Standard\"><span style=\"font-family: FilosofiaRegular; font-size: 11pt;\">The server appeared at her booth, a new girl, and gathered Olivia\u2019s dishes. \u201cOn the house today.\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div class=\"Standard\"><span style=\"font-family: FilosofiaRegular; font-size: 11pt;\">Shay set down her mug, bristling. \u201cWhy?\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div class=\"Standard\"><span style=\"font-family: FilosofiaRegular; font-size: 11pt;\">The woman shrugged. \u201cBoss\u2019s orders,\u201d she said, then made off with the dirty dishes.<\/span><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div class=\"Standard\"><span style=\"font-family: FilosofiaRegular; font-size: 11pt;\">From the rectangular kitchen window, Mabel Franklin gave Shay a pointed look.<\/span><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div class=\"Standard\"><span style=\"font-family: FilosofiaRegular; font-size: 11pt;\">So Shay had helped the couple with their foal the week before. It was the neighborly thing to do.<\/span><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div class=\"Standard\"><span style=\"font-family: FilosofiaRegular; font-size: 11pt;\">Fine. She gave a reluctant smile and a wave. She pulled her wallet from her purse, counted out the tip, and dragged herself from the booth, remembering her daughter\u2019s bouncy exit. Lately her thirty-two years pressed down on her body like a two-ton boulder.<\/span><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div class=\"Standard\"><span style=\"font-family: FilosofiaRegular; font-size: 11pt;\">She opened the diner\u2019s door and peeked both ways before exiting the Tin Roof and turning toward the Doll House. She was only checking sidewalk traffic, not hiding. Nope, she wasn\u2019t hiding from anyone. The boardwalks were busy on Saturdays. That was why she hadn\u2019t come to town for two weeks. Why their pantry was emptier than a water trough at high noon.<\/span><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div class=\"Standard\"><span style=\"font-family: FilosofiaRegular; font-size: 11pt;\">She hurried three shops down and slipped into the cool, welcoming air of Miss Lucy\u2019s shop.<\/span><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div class=\"Standard\"><span style=\"font-family: FilosofiaRegular; font-size: 11pt;\">\u201c \u2019Morning, Miss Lucy.\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div class=\"Standard\"><span style=\"font-family: FilosofiaRegular; font-size: 11pt;\">\u201c \u2019Morning, dear.\u201d The elderly woman, in the middle of helping a customer, called over her rounded shoulder, \u201cIt\u2019s in the back.\u201d Miss Lucy\u2019s brown eyes were big as buckeyes behind her thick glasses, and her white curls glowed under the spotlights.<\/span><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div class=\"Standard\"><span style=\"font-family: FilosofiaRegular; font-size: 11pt;\">\u201cOkeydoke.\u201d Shay forced her feet toward the storeroom.<\/span><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div class=\"Standard\"><span style=\"font-family: FilosofiaRegular; font-size: 11pt;\">A musty smell assaulted her as she entered the back room and flipped on the overhead fluorescents. She scanned the boxes of doll parts and skeins of yarn until she found what she was looking for. She approached the box, lifted the lid, and parted the tissue.<\/span><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div class=\"Standard\"><span style=\"font-family: FilosofiaRegular; font-size: 11pt;\">The wedding gown had been carefully folded and tucked away. Shay ran her fingers over the delicate lace and pearls. Must\u2019ve been crisp white in its day, but time had cast a long shadow over it. Time had a way of doing that.<\/span><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div class=\"Standard\"><span style=\"font-family: FilosofiaRegular; font-size: 11pt;\">Her fingers lingered on the thin fabric. She remembered another time, another dress. A simple white one that hung on her young shoulders, just skimmed the cement of the courthouse steps. The ache that squeezed her heart had faded with time, but it was there all the same. Would it ever go away?<\/span><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div class=\"Standard\"><span style=\"font-family: FilosofiaRegular; font-size: 11pt;\">Shaking her head, Shay turned back to the task at hand. The gown seemed too pretty, too fragile to disturb.<\/span><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div class=\"Standard\"><span style=\"font-family: FilosofiaRegular; font-size: 11pt;\">Oh well. She\u2019d promised.<\/span><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div class=\"Standard\"><span style=\"font-family: FilosofiaRegular; font-size: 11pt;\">She pulled it out and draped it over the box, then shimmied from her jeans. When she was down to the bare necessities, she stepped carefully into the gown. She eased it over her narrow hips and slid her arms into the long sleeves. The neckline was modest, the gathered skirt fuller than anything she ever wore. Here in the air-conditioning it was fine, but she would swelter next Saturday.<\/span><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div class=\"Standard\"><span style=\"font-family: FilosofiaRegular; font-size: 11pt;\">Leaving the button-up back gaping, she hitched the skirt to the top of her cowboy boots and entered the store.<\/span><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div class=\"Standard\"><span style=\"font-family: FilosofiaRegular; font-size: 11pt;\">Miss Lucy was ushering the customer out the door. When she turned, she stopped, her old-lady shoes squeaking on the linoleum. \u201cLand sakes.\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div class=\"Standard\"><span style=\"font-family: FilosofiaRegular; font-size: 11pt;\">Shay took two steps forward and dropped the skirt. It fell to the floor with a whoosh.<\/span><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div class=\"Standard\"><span style=\"font-family: FilosofiaRegular; font-size: 11pt;\">\u201cFits like a glove,\u201d Miss Lucy said. \u201cAnd with some low heels it\u2019ll be the perfect length.\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div class=\"Standard\"><span style=\"font-family: FilosofiaRegular; font-size: 11pt;\">Shay didn\u2019t even own heels. \u201cMy boots\u2019ll have to do. Button the back?\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div class=\"Standard\"><span style=\"font-family: FilosofiaRegular; font-size: 11pt;\">Miss Lucy waddled forward, turned Shay toward a small wall mirror flecked with time, and began working the tiny pearl buttons.<\/span><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div class=\"Standard\"><span style=\"font-family: FilosofiaRegular; font-size: 11pt;\">Shay\u2019s breath caught at her image. She forced its release, then frowned. Wedding gowns were bad luck. She\u2019d sworn she\u2019d never wear another. If someone had told her yesterday she\u2019d be wearing this thing today, she\u2019d have said they were one straw short of a bale.<\/span><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div class=\"Standard\"><span style=\"font-family: FilosofiaRegular; font-size: 11pt;\">Miss Lucy moved up to the buttons between her shoulders, and Shay lifted her hair. The dress did fit, clinging to her torso like it was made for her, wouldn\u2019t you know. Even the color complemented her olive skin.<\/span><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div class=\"Standard\"><span style=\"font-family: FilosofiaRegular; font-size: 11pt;\">Still, there was that whole bad luck thing.<\/span><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div class=\"Standard\"><span style=\"font-family: FilosofiaRegular; font-size: 11pt;\">And what would everyone think of Shay Brandenberger wearing this valuable piece of Moose Creek heritage? A white wedding gown, no less. If she didn\u2019t have the approval of her closest friends and neighbors, what did she have? Not much, to her thinking.<\/span><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div class=\"Standard\"><span style=\"font-family: FilosofiaRegular; font-size: 11pt;\">She wanted to cut and run. Wanted to shimmy right out of the dress, tuck it into that box in the storeroom, slip back into her Levi\u2019s and plaid button-up, and go back to her ranch where she could hole up for the next six months.<\/span><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div class=\"Standard\"><span style=\"font-family: FilosofiaRegular; font-size: 11pt;\">She checked the time and wished Miss Lucy had nimbler fingers. Of all days to do this, a Saturday, when everyone with two legs was in town. And she still had that infernal meeting with John Oakley.<\/span><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div class=\"Standard\"><em><span style=\"font-family: FilosofiaItalic; font-size: 11pt;\">Please, God, I can\u2019t lose our home . <\/span><\/em><span style=\"font-family: FilosofiaRegular; font-size: 11pt;\">. .<\/span><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div class=\"Standard\"><span style=\"font-family: FilosofiaRegular; font-size: 11pt;\">\u201cI\u2019m obliged to you, dear. I completely forgot Jessie was going out of town.\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div class=\"Standard\"><span style=\"font-family: FilosofiaRegular; font-size: 11pt;\">\u201cNo problem.\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div class=\"Standard\"><span style=\"font-family: FilosofiaRegular; font-size: 11pt;\">\u201cBaloney. You\u2019d rather be knee-deep in cow dung.\u201d The woman\u2019s marionette lines at the sides of her mouth deepened.<\/span><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div class=\"Standard\"><span style=\"font-family: FilosofiaRegular; font-size: 11pt;\">\u201cIt\u2019s one hour of my life.\u201d A pittance, after all Miss Lucy had done for her.<\/span><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div class=\"Standard\"><span style=\"font-family: FilosofiaRegular; font-size: 11pt;\">Miss Lucy finished buttoning, and Shay dropped her hair and smoothed the delicate lace at the cuffs.<\/span><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div class=\"Standard\"><span style=\"font-family: FilosofiaRegular; font-size: 11pt;\">\u201cWell, bless you for being willing. God is smiling down on you today for your kindness.\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div class=\"Standard\"><span style=\"font-family: FilosofiaRegular; font-size: 11pt;\">Shay doubted God really cared one way or another. It was her neighbors she worried about.<\/span><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div class=\"Standard\"><span style=\"font-family: FilosofiaRegular; font-size: 11pt;\">\u201cBeautiful, just beautiful. You\u2019ll be the talk of the town on Founders Day.\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div class=\"Standard\"><span style=\"font-family: FilosofiaRegular; font-size: 11pt;\">\u201cNo doubt.\u201d Everyone in Moose Creek would be thinking about the last time she\u2019d worn a wedding gown. And the time before that.<\/span><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div class=\"Standard\"><span style=\"font-family: FilosofiaRegular; font-size: 11pt;\">Especially the time before that.<\/span><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div class=\"Standard\"><em><span style=\"font-family: FilosofiaItalic; font-size: 11pt;\">Third time\u2019s a charm<\/span><\/em><span style=\"font-family: FilosofiaRegular; font-size: 11pt;\">, Shay thought, the corner of her lip turning up.<\/span><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div class=\"Standard\"><span style=\"font-family: FilosofiaRegular; font-size: 11pt;\">\u201cStop fretting,\u201d Miss Lucy said, squeezing her shoulders. \u201cYou look quite fetching, like the gown was made for you. I won\u2019t have to make a single alteration. Why, it fits you better than it ever did Jessie\u2014don\u2019t you tell her I said so.\u201d<\/span><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div class=\"Standard\"><span style=\"font-family: FilosofiaRegular; font-size: 11pt;\">Shay tilted her head. Maybe Miss Lucy was right. The dress did make the most of her figure. And she had as much right to wear it as anyone. Maybe more\u2014she was born and raised here, after all. It was just a silly old reenactment anyway. No one cared who the bride and groom were.<\/span><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div class=\"Standard\"><span style=\"font-family: FilosofiaRegular; font-size: 11pt;\">The bell jingled as the door opened behind her. She glanced in the mirror, over her shoulder, where a hulking silhouette filled the shop\u2019s doorway. There was something familiar in the set of the man\u2019s broad shoulders, in the slow way he reached up and removed his hat.<\/span><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div class=\"Standard\"><span style=\"font-family: FilosofiaRegular; font-size: 11pt;\">The sight of him constricted her rib cage, squeezed the air from her lungs as if she were wearing a corset. But she wasn\u2019t wearing a corset. She was wearing a wedding gown. Just as she had been the last time she\u2019d set eyes on Travis McCoy.<\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<p><strong>MY REVIEW:<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>I always enjoy books by Denise Hunter and The <a title=\"The Accidental Bride by Denise Hunter\" href=\"http:\/\/www.amazon.com\/exec\/obidos\/ASIN\/1595548025\">Accidental Bride<\/a> was no exception. Realistic characters, vivid settings, and attention to such details as regional vernacular and customs combine to create a pleasing reading experience.I thoroughly enjoyed this book.<\/p>\n<p>Shay&#8217;s past experience with marriage and men had left her both cautious and convinced there must be something lacking in her. After all she had been abandoned at the alter by one groom and abandoned after marriage and a child by another. As far as she was concerned, weddings were bad luck. Yet she found herself agreeing to play the part of the bride in Moose Creek&#8217;s annual founder&#8217;s day reenactment. When she arrived at the alter only to find that the groom was none other than Travis McCoy, the very man who had left her at the alter, it took everything Shay had in her to stand her ground for the entire enactment. Days later Travis and Shay are surprised to find that somehow, their old marriage license had surfaced and was signed by the pastor. They had been accidentally married!<\/p>\n<p>With her ranch on the verge of repossession and an injury that made it impossible for her to work, Shay is forced to allow Travis to help her out &#8211; but only for a limited amount of time, then she wants him gone. Travis has other ideas and works hard to convince Shay that their marriage can work. Will Shay give in or is she still so damaged by her experience that she can&#8217;t believe in second chances? Pick up a copy and find out.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>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 [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[8,60,41,44],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-10290","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-books","category-contemporary-fiction","category-romance","category-western"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10290","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=10290"}],"version-history":[{"count":14,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10290\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":10304,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10290\/revisions\/10304"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=10290"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=10290"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=10290"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}