{"id":5958,"date":"2010-10-06T07:25:24","date_gmt":"2010-10-06T12:25:24","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/\/?p=5958"},"modified":"2010-10-04T17:43:00","modified_gmt":"2010-10-04T22:43:00","slug":"5958","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/?p=5958","title":{"rendered":"Surrender the Heart by MaryLu Tyndall – FIRST Wild Card Tour"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a>It is time for a 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…or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n


<\/p>\n

Today’s Wild Card author is: <\/strong><\/div>\n


<\/p>\n

MaryLu Tyndall<\/a><\/span><\/strong><\/div>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

and the book:<\/span> <\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Surrender the Heart<\/a><\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

Barbour Books (August 1, 2010)<\/p>\n

***Special thanks to MaryLu Tyndall and Camy Tang for sending me a review copy.***<\/p>\n

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:<\/span> <\/span><\/strong><\/div>\n

\"\"<\/a>M.L. Tyndall, a Christy Award Finalist, and best-selling author of the Legacy of the King\u2019s Pirates series is known for her adventurous historical romances filled with deep spiritual themes. She holds a degree in Math and worked as a software engineer for fifteen years before testing the waters as a writer. MaryLu currently writes full time and makes her home on the California coast with her husband, six kids, and four cats. Her passion is to write page-turning, romantic adventures that not only entertain but expose Christians to their full potential in Christ. For more information on MaryLu and her upcoming releases, please visit her website or her blog.<\/p>\n

Visit the author’s website<\/a>.
\n Visit the author’s blog<\/a>.<\/p>\n

\n<\/embed><\/object>\n<\/p>\n

Product Details:<\/p>\n

List Price: $12.99
\n Paperback: 368 pages
\n Publisher: Barbour Books (August 1, 2010)
\n Language: English
\n ISBN-10: 1602601658
\n ISBN-13: 978-1602601659<\/p>\n

AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:<\/span> <\/strong>
\n <\/span><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

June 18, 1812, Baltimore, Maryland<\/p>\n


<\/p>\n


<\/p>\n

\u201cI would rather boil in oil than marry Noah Brenin.\u201d Marianne tossed the silver brooch onto her vanity.<\/p>\n

\u201cHold your breath and stay still.\u201d Rose said from behind her. \u201cBesides, it is only an engagement party, not a wedding.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut it is one more step to that horrid destination.\u201d Marianne sucked in her breath as Rose threaded the laces through the eyelets on her stays. \u201cWhy must women wear these contraptions?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTo look our best for the gentlemen in our lives.\u201d Cassandra appeared on Marianne\u2019s left, a lacy petticoat flung over one arm. With shimmering auburn hair and eyes the color of emeralds, Cassandra had no trouble looking her best for anyone.<\/p>\n

Marianne huffed. \u201cI have no care what any gentleman thinks of my appearance.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhich is why you are still unmarried at five and twenty.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThen what is your excuse at three and twenty?\u201d Marianne arched a brow, to which Cassandra responded with a shrug. \u201cI have not yet met a man worthy of me.\u201d She grinned.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhere on earth is your chambermaid?\u201d Rose grunted as she squeezed Marianne\u2019s rounded figure into the stays and tied the final lace tight. \u201cShouldn\u2019t she be doing this?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI dismissed her.\u201d Marianne waved a hand through the air. \u201cI prefer to dress myself.\u201d She hoped they didn\u2019t hear the slight quaver in her voice. If only they knew that her mother had been forced to let the entire staff go and the ones here today were hired just for her betrothal party.<\/p>\n

\u201cThere.\u201d Rose finished her work and stepped back as Marianne took the petticoat from Cassandra and slipped it over her head.<\/p>\n

\u201cTruth is, I do not wish to marry\u2014ever.\u201d Marianne squared her shoulders as Cassandra slid behind her and latched the petticoat hooks.<\/p>\n

Rose put her hands on her waist. \u201cNoah Brenin is a fine man and a good catch.\u201d<\/p>\n

Marianne gazed at her friend and couldn\u2019t help but smile at the motherly reprimand burning in her crystal blue eyes. Tall and slender, with honey blond hair, Rose turned many a head in Baltimore. Just like Cassandra.<\/p>\n

But not like Marianne.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe is a boor.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy so low an opinion of him? Haven\u2019t you and he been friends since childhood?\u201d Rose cocked her head and gave Marianne a look of censure.<\/p>\n

\u201cI wouldn\u2019t call it friendship, more like forced acquaintance. And my knowledge of him is precisely why I know him for the churlish clod he is.\u201d<\/p>\n

Gathering a cream-colored silk-embroidered gown from Marianne\u2019s bed, Rose and Cassandra tossed it over her head and assisted her as she wiggled into it. She adjusted the ruffled lace bordering her neckline and circling her puffy sleeves. Cassandra handed her a jeweled belt which Marianne strapped around her high waist and buckled in front. She pressed down the folds of her gown, admiring the pink lace trailing down the front and trimming the hemline. After slipping on her white satin slippers, Marianne moved to the full length looking glass and paused to eye her reflection.<\/p>\n

Plain. Despite the shimmering, glamorous dress, plain was the first word that came to her mind. Perhaps because that was how she had always been described. Brown hair, brown eyes, average height, a bit plump. Nothing remarkable, nothing to catch an eye.<\/p>\n

Simply plain.<\/p>\n

Which was precisely why, when the other girls her age were being courted, Marianne had preferred to spend her time caring for her ailing mother and younger sister, particularly after their father died. No whirlwind romances, no soirees, no grand adventures lit up the horizon for her. She had resigned herself to lead an ordinary life. An ordinary life for an ordinary girl.<\/p>\n

\u201cCome now, it won\u2019t be so bad.\u201d Rose brushed a lock of hair from Marianne\u2019s forehead and then straightened one of the curls dangling about her neck. \u201cYou look as though you were attending your own funeral.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI dare say I feel as though I am.\u201d Tired of staring into the mirror with the hope her reflection would transform into that of a beautiful woman, Marianne turned aside, picked up her silk gloves from the vanity and sauntered toward the window.<\/p>\n

\u201cI, for one, cannot wait to get married,\u201d Rose said. \u201cTo the right man of course. He must be a good, honest, god-fearing man. A man who stays home, not a seaman. And he must be agreeable in all respects.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat about handsome?\u201d Cassandra asked, and Marianne turned to see a blush creep up Rose\u2019s neck.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, yes, I suppose I would not be opposed to that.\u201d Her blue eyes twinkled.<\/p>\n

Facing the window, Marianne slid the white gloves onto her hands and tugged them up her arms. Shouts echoed from the street below, accompanied by the clip clop of horse hooves and the grating of carriage wheels. She brushed aside the curtain to see people running to and fro darting between carriages. A warm breeze, heavy with moisture and the smells of the sea, stirred the curtains. A bell rang in the distance, drawing Marianne\u2019s attention to the maze of ship\u2019s masts thrusting into the blue sky like iron bars of a prison. A prison that could not constrain the ravenous blue waters from feeding upon the innocent\u2014an innocent like her father.<\/p>\n

Rose and Cassandra joined her at the window as more shouts blasted in with the wind. \u201cWhat is all the commotion about?\u201d Cassandra pushed back the other side of the curtains.<\/p>\n

\u201cThere have been rumors that President Madison will soon declare war on Britain,\u201d Marianne said.<\/p>\n

\u201cI hope it doesn\u2019t come to that.\u201d Rose peered over Marianne\u2019s shoulder. \u201cWar is such horrid business.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut necessary if the British insist on stealing our men from land and sea and impressing them into their Navy.\u201d Marianne felt her ire rising. \u201cNot to mention how they rouse the Indians to attack us on the frontier.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThey want their colonies back, I suppose.\u201d Afternoon sunlight set Cassandra\u2019s red hair aflame in ribbons of liquid fire. \u201cEngland never was good at losing.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell they can\u2019t have them.\u201d Marianne\u2019s voice rose with a determination she felt building within. Though she\u2019d been born after the Revolution, she had heard the stories of oppression and tyranny enforced upon them by a nation across the seas whose king thought he had the right to dictate laws and taxes without giving the people a voice. But no more. \u201cWe won our freedom from them. We are a nation now. A new nation that represents liberty to the entire world.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI couldn\u2019t agree more.\u201d Cassandra nodded with a smile. \u201cPerhaps you should run for mayor?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA woman in public office?\u201d Marianne chuckled. \u201cThat will never happen.\u201d<\/p>\n

The door creaked open, and Marianne turned to see her mother and younger sister slip inside.<\/p>\n

Lizzie\u2019s eyes widened and she rushed toward Marianne. \u201cYou look so beautiful, Marianne!\u201d<\/p>\n

Kneeling, Marianne embraced her sister. She held her tight and took a big whiff of the lavender soap with which their mother always scrubbed the little girl. \u201cThank you, Lizzie. I can always count on you for a compliment.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNow, Lizzie, don\u2019t wrinkle your sister\u2019s dress.\u201d Marianne\u2019s mother sank into one of the chairs by the fireplace and winced. The slight reminder of her mother\u2019s pain caused Marianne\u2019s heart to shrink. She squeezed her little sister again\u2014the one beacon of joy in their house these past three years since Father died\u2014and kissed her on the cheek. \u201cYou look very beautiful too.\u201d<\/p>\n

The little girl clutched her skirt and twirled around. \u201cDo you really think so?\u201d She drew her lips into a pout. \u201cBut when can I wear a dress like yours?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCome now, Lizzie,\u201d Mother said. \u201cYou are only six. When you are a grown woman like Marianne, you may wear more elaborate gowns.\u201d She gestured toward Rose and Cassandra. \u201cLadies, would you take Lizzie downstairs for a moment? I need a word with Marianne.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOf course, Mrs. Denton.\u201d Rose took Lizzie\u2019s hand. \u201cCome along little one.\u201d<\/p>\n

Cassandra followed after them and closed the door.<\/p>\n

Marianne sat in the chair beside her mother and gently grasped her hands. She flinched at how cold and moist they were. \u201cHow are you feeling, Mama?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cVery well today, dear.\u201d She looked down as if hiding something..<\/p>\n

But Marianne didn\u2019t need to look in her mother\u2019s eyes to know she was lying. The sprinkles of perspiration on her forehead, the paleness of her skin, and the tightening of her lips when the pains hit spoke more clearly than any words.<\/p>\n

Marianne squeezed her mother\u2019s hands. \u201cThe medicaments are not working?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThey will work. It takes time.\u201d Her mother attempted a smile. \u201cBut let us not talk of that now. I have something more important to discuss with you.\u201d She released a heavy sigh then lifted her gaze to Marianne\u2019s. Though illness had stolen the glimmer from her eyes, it could not hide the sweet kindness of her soul. \u201cYou don\u2019t have to do this, you know.\u201d<\/p>\n

The truth of her words sliced through Marianne. She stared at the floral pattern woven into the carpet. \u201cYou know I do.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt isn\u2019t fair of me to ask this of you.\u201d Her mother\u2019s voice rang with conviction and deep sorrow.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou didn\u2019t ask, Mama. I want to do this.\u201d A truth followed by a lie. Marianne hoped the good canceled out the bad.<\/p>\n

\u201cCome now. You cannot fool me.\u201d Mama said. \u201cI know this is not the match you would choose.\u201d<\/p>\n

Releasing her mother\u2019s hands, Marianne rose from the chair and sauntered toward the window. The rustle of her gown crackled through the air with conviction. \u201cIn truth, I would choose no match.\u201d She turned and forced a smile. \u201cSo if I must marry, why not this man?\u201d<\/p>\n

Her mother gazed at her with such love and sorrow that Marianne felt her heart would burst. Once considered the most beautiful woman in Baltimore, Jane Denton, now withered away with the sickness that robbed her of her glow and luster and stole the fat from her bones, leaving her but a frail skeleton of what she once had been. The physicians had no idea what ailed her save that without the medicaments they administered, she would die a quicker and more painful death.<\/p>\n

Tearing her gaze from the tragic vision, Marianne glanced out the window where it seemed as though the approaching evening only heightened the citizens\u2019 agitation. \u201cMarrying Noah Brenin will save us. It will save you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut what of saving you?\u201d Her mother\u2019s sweet plea caressed Marianne\u2019s ears, but she forced down the spark of hope that dared to rise at her mother\u2019s question. There was no room for hope now, only necessity.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou know if we continue as is, all that is left of our fortune will be spent in one year on your medicaments. Then what will we do? Without my dowry, no man will look my way, since that and our good name is all that has caught this particular fish upon the hook.\u201d And without a husband to unlock her inheritance, her father had ensured that the seven thousand dollars would remain as far from her reach as if she did not own it at all.<\/p>\n

\u201cPerhaps you will meet another man\u2014someone you love?\u201d Her mother said.<\/p>\n

\u201cMama, I am five and twenty.\u201d Marianne turned and waved her hands over herself. \u201cAnd plain to look at.\u201d She gave a bitter laugh. \u201cDo you see suitors lining up at our door?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou are too beautiful for words, dearest.\u201d Her mother\u2019s eyes beamed in adoration. \u201cYou just don\u2019t know it yet.\u201d<\/p>\n

Shrugging off her mother\u2019s compliment as the obligation of a parent, Marianne stiffened her back before she attempted to rekindle an argument long since put to death. \u201cWe could take what\u2019s left of our money and fund a privateer, Mama.\u201d Marianne glanced out the window at a mob that had formed down the street. \u201cWar is certain and our fledgling navy will need all the help it can get.\u201d<\/p>\n

Her mother\u2019s nervous huff drew Marianne\u2019s gaze. \u201cIt is far too much of a gamble. And gambling destroys lives\u201d\u2014a glaze covered her mother\u2019s eyes as she stared into the room\u2014\u201cand families.\u201d<\/p>\n

Marianne grimaced. \u201cI am not like Papa. I have heard these privateers can make a fortune while helping to defend our country.\u201d<\/p>\n

A breeze stirred a curled wisp of her mother\u2019s hair as she gazed at Marianne with concern.<\/p>\n

Marianne twisted the ring on her finger. \u201cDown at the docks, merchantmen are already outfitted their ships as privateers. The call for investors goes out daily.\u201d If only she could convince her mother, not only would Marianne not have to marry that clod, Noah, but she could do something to help this great nation of hers.<\/p>\n

Her mother\u2019s boney hands perched in her lap began to tremble. \u201cWe could lose everything. And what of Lizzie? I could not bare it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Shame drummed upon Marianne\u2019s hopes. She had upset her mother when the doctor strictly instructed her to keep her calm.<\/p>\n

\u201cPerhaps a trade of some sort?\u201d Mama offered. \u201cI hear that Mrs. Pickersgill makes a decent living sewing ensigns.\u201d<\/p>\n

A blast of warm wind stirred the gauzy curtains and cooled the perspiration forming on Marianne\u2019s neck. \u201cMama you know I have no skills. I\u2019m not like other ladies. The last gown I attempted to sew fell apart. My cooking would drive the hardiest frontiersman back to the woods, and the pianoforte runs when it sees me coming.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mother chuckled. \u201cYou exaggerate, dearest.\u201d<\/p>\n

But Marianne could tell by the look in her mother\u2019s eyes that despite the humorous delivery, her words rang true. Though a governess in her younger years and her mother in her later years had strived to teach Marianne the skills every proper lady should acquire, she had found them nothing but tedious. She possessed no useful skills, no talents. As her father had so often declared before his death. In essence, Marianne had nothing to offer. If her mother would not agree to fund a privateer, Marianne would have to accept her fate in marriage.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m an old woman and will die soon anyway,\u201d Mama said with a sigh. \u201cBut I must ensure you and Lizzie are cared for.\u201d<\/p>\n

Gathering her skirts, Marianne dashed toward her mother and knelt at her feet. \u201cYou must never say such a thing.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDo not soil your beautiful gown.\u201d Her mother smiled and wiped a tear from Marianne\u2019s cheek. \u201cPerhaps we should simply trust God with my health and let His will prevail.\u201d<\/p>\n

Marianne laid her head on her mother\u2019s lap like she used to do as a child. She had trusted her father, she had trusted God.<\/p>\n

And they had both let her down\u2014her and her mother.<\/p>\n

Trust no longer came so easily. \u201cI will not let you die, Mother. I cannot.\u201d Her eyes burned with tears. \u201cAs long as I have my inheritance and a man who is willing to marry me, I promise you will be well cared for. And Lizzie too. That is all that matters, now.\u201d Marianne lifted her gaze to her mother\u2019s, feeling strength surge through her.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd mark my words, Mama. Nothing will stand in my way. Especially not Noah Brenin.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

MY REVIEW:<\/strong><\/p>\n

Surrender the Heart<\/a> is another of Tyndall\u2019s nautical adventures written with such vivid imagery\u00a0 that you would swear you could hear the seagulls and waves and smell the briny sea. (BTW, if you visit her website, you will get the full audio experience.) Set primarily aboard ship on the high seas, the story takes the hero and heroine through danger, discouragement, fear, sacrifice, love, hate, forgiveness, and triumph.<\/p>\n

Both Marianne and Noah have distanced themselves from God because of past circumstances in their lives. Noah\u2019s guilt over his brother\u2019s death and his inability to please his father has caused him to continuously strive to prove himself. The death of Marianne\u2019s father and the lack of provision left for his family has resulted in Marianne\u2019s inability to believe in herself or God\u2019s love for her. As they experience trials and hardship aboard the British warship that holds them hostage, they begin to see themselves and each other in a different light. And as God breaks through their defenses, they each discover the destiny He has in store for them.<\/p>\n

Surrender the Heart<\/a> is a must read for anyone who loves historical fiction, a good adventure story, and a satisfying romance.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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 […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[37,8,53,34,41],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-5958","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-adventure","category-books","category-colonial-america","category-historical","category-romance"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5958"}],"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=5958"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5958\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":5968,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5958\/revisions\/5968"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=5958"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=5958"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=5958"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}