{"id":7578,"date":"2011-04-27T01:57:45","date_gmt":"2011-04-27T06:57:45","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/\/?p=7578"},"modified":"2011-04-26T13:01:58","modified_gmt":"2011-04-26T18:01:58","slug":"mine-is-the-night-by-liz-curtis-higgs","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/?p=7578","title":{"rendered":"Mine is the Night by Liz Curtis Higgs"},"content":{"rendered":"

<\/a>\"\"<\/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

Liz Curtis Higgs<\/a><\/span><\/strong><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

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

 <\/p>\n

Mine Is the Night<\/a><\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

WaterBrook Press (March 15, 2011)<\/p>\n

***Special thanks to Cindy Brovsky of Random House Inc. for sending me a review copy.***<\/p>\n

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

\"\"<\/a>Liz Curtis Higgs is the author of 28 books with three million copies in print, including: her best-selling historical novels, Here Burns My Candle, Thorn in My Heart, Fair Is the Rose, Christy Award-winner Whence Came a Prince, Grace in Thine Eyes, a Christy Award finalist, and Here Burns My Candle, a RT Book Reviews Award finalist; My Heart\u2019s in the Lowlands: Ten Days in Bonny Scotland, an armchair travel guide to Galloway; and her contemporary novels, Mixed Signals, a Rita Award finalist, and Bookends, a Christy Award finalist.<\/p>\n

Visit the author’s website<\/a>. You\u2019ll also find her on Facebook and Twitter.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:<\/span> <\/span><\/strong><\/div>\n

\"\"<\/a>The emotional and spiritual journey that began with Here Burns My Candle (WaterBrook Press, 2010) soars to a triumphant finish in Mine Is the Night (WaterBrook Press, March 15, 2011) a dramatic and decidedly Scottish retelling of the biblical love story of Boaz and Ruth. A compelling tale of redemption and restoration, the latest novel from best-selling author Liz Curtis Higgs transports both story and reader to 18th century Scotland, where two widows are forced to begin anew.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Product Details:<\/p>\n

List Price: $14.99
\nPaperback: 464 pages
\nPublisher: WaterBrook Press (March 15, 2011)
\nLanguage: English
\nISBN-10: 1400070023
\nISBN-13: 978-1400070022<\/p>\n

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

\n

Foul whisperings are abroad.<\/p>\n

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE<\/p>\n

Selkirkshire<\/p>\n

26 April 1746<\/p>\n

The distant hoofbeats were growing louder.<\/p>\n

Elisabeth Kerr quickly pushed aside the curtain and leaned out the carriage window. A cool spring rain, borne on a blustery wind, stung her cheeks. She could not see the riders on horseback, hidden by the steep hill behind her. But she could hear them galloping hard, closing the gap.<\/p>\n

Her mother-in-law seemed unconcerned, her attention drawn to the puddle forming at their feet. A frown creased her brow. \u201cDo you mean for us to arrive in Selkirk even more disheveled than we already are?\u201d Three long days of being jostled about in a cramped and dirty coach had left Marjory Kerr in a mood as foul as the weather.<\/p>\n

\u201c\u2019Tis not the rain that concerns me.\u201d Elisabeth resumed her seat, feeling a bit unsteady. \u201cNo ordinary traveling party would ride with such haste.\u201d<\/p>\n

Marjory\u2019s breath caught. \u201cSurely you do not think\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI do.\u201d<\/p>\n

Had they not heard the rumors at every inn and coaching halt? King George\u2019s men were scouring the countryside for anyone who\u2019d aided bonny Prince Charlie in his disastrous bid to reclaim the British throne for the long-deposed Stuarts. Each whispered account was worse than the last. Wounded rebel soldiers clubbed to death. Houses burned with entire families inside. Wives and daughters ravished by British dragoons.<\/p>\n

Help us, Lord. Please. Elisabeth slipped her arm round her mother-in-law\u2019s shoulders as she heard the riders crest the hill and bear down on them.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe were almost home,\u201d Marjory fretted.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe Lord will rescue us,\u201d Elisabeth said firmly, and then they were overtaken. A male voice cut through the rain-soaked air, and the carriage jarred to a halt.<\/p>\n

Mr. Dewar, their round-bellied coachman, dropped from his perch and landed by the window with a grunt. He rocked back on his heels until he found his balance, then yanked open the carriage door without ceremony. \u201cBeg yer pardon, leddies. The captain here would have a wird with ye.\u201d<\/p>\n

Marjory\u2019s temper flared. \u201cHe cannot expect us to stand in the rain.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOn the contrary, madam.\u201d A British dragoon dismounted and rolled into view like a loaded cannon. His shoulders were broad, his legs short, his neck invisible. \u201cI insist upon it. At once, if you please.\u201d<\/p>\n

With a silent prayer for strength, Elisabeth gathered her hoops and maneuvered through the narrow carriage doorway. She was grateful for Mr. Dewar\u2019s hand as she stepped down, trying not to drag her skirts through the mud. Despite the evening gloom, her eyes traced the outline of a hillside town not far south. Almost home.<\/p>\n

The captain, whom Elisabeth guessed to be about five-and-forty years, watched in stony silence as Marjory disembarked. His scarlet coat was drenched, his cuffed, black boots were covered with filth, and the soggy brim of his cocked hat bore a noticeable wave.<\/p>\n

He was also shorter than Elisabeth had first imagined. When she lifted her head, making the most of her long neck, she was fully two inches taller than he. Some days she bemoaned her height but not this day.<\/p>\n

By the time Marjory joined her on the roadside, a half-dozen uniformed men had crowded round. Broadswords hung at their sides, yet their scowls were far more menacing.<\/p>\n

\u201cCome now,\u201d Mr. Dewar said gruffly. \u201cYe\u2019ve nae need to frighten my passengers. State yer business, and be done with it. We\u2019ve little daylight left and less than a mile to travel.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSelkirk is your destination?\u201d The captain seemed disappointed. \u201cNot many Highland rebels to be found there.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201c\u2019Tis a royal burgh,\u201d Marjory told him, her irritation showing. \u201cOur townsfolk have been loyal to the crown for centuries.\u201d<\/p>\n

Elisabeth shot her a guarded look. Have a care, dear Marjory.<\/p>\n

The captain ignored her mother-in-law\u2019s comments, all the while studying their plain black gowns, a curious light in his eyes. \u201cIn mourning, are we? For husbands, I\u2019ll wager.\u201d He took a brazen step toward Elisabeth, standing entirely too close. \u201cTell me, lass. Did your men give their lives in service to King George? At Falkirk perhaps? Or Culloden?\u201d<\/p>\n

She could not risk a lie. Yet she could not speak the truth.<\/p>\n

Please, Lord, give me the right words.<\/p>\n

Elisabeth took a long, slow breath, then spoke from her heart. \u201cOur brave men died at Falkirk honoring the King who has no equal.\u201d<\/p>\n

He cocked one eyebrow. \u201cDid they now?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAye.\u201d She met the captain\u2019s gaze without flinching, well aware of which sovereign she had in mind. I am God, and there is none like me. She\u2019d not lied. Nor had the dragoon grasped the truth behind her words: by divine right the crown belonged to Prince Charlie.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo one compares to His Royal Highness, King George,\u201d he said expansively. \u201cThough I am sorry for your loss. No doubt your men died heroes.\u201d<\/p>\n

Elisabeth merely nodded, praying he\u2019d not ask their names. A list of royalist soldiers killed at Falkirk had circulated round Edinburgh for weeks. The captain might recall that Lord Donald and Andrew Kerr were not named among the British casualties. Instead, her handsome husband and his younger brother were counted among the fallen rebels on that stormy January evening.<\/p>\n

My sweet Donald. However grievous his sins, however much he\u2019d wounded her, she\u2019d loved him once and mourned him still.<\/p>\n

Her courage bolstered by the thought of Donald in his dark blue uniform, Elisabeth squared her shoulders and ignored the rain sluicing down her neck. \u201cMy mother-in-law and I are eager to resume our journey. If we are done here\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe are not.\u201d Still lingering too near, the captain inclined his head, measuring her. \u201cA shame your husband left such a bonny widow. Though if you fancy another soldier in your bed, one of my men will gladly oblige\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSir!\u201d Marjory protested. \u201cHow dare you address a lady in so coarse a manner.\u201d<\/p>\n

His dragoons quickly closed ranks. \u201cA lady?\u201d one of them grumbled. \u201cShe sounds more like a Highlander to my ear.\u201d<\/p>\n

The captain\u2019s expression darkened. \u201cAye, so she does.\u201d Without warning he grasped the belled cuff of Elisabeth\u2019s sleeve and turned back the fabric. \u201cWhere is it, lass? Where is your silk Jacobite rose?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019ve no need to look.\u201d Elisabeth tried to wrest free of him. \u201cI haven\u2019t one.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ignoring her objections, he roughly examined the other cuff, nearly tearing apart the seam. \u201cThe white rose of Scotland was Prince Charlie\u2019s favorite, was it not? I\u2019ve plucked them off many a Highland rebel.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI imagine you have.\u201d Elisabeth freed her sleeve from his grasp. \u201cAre you quite satisfied?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFar from it, lass.\u201d The captain eyed the neckline of her gown, his mouth twisting into an ugly sneer. \u201cIt seems your flower is well hidden. Nevertheless, I mean to have it.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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

I was a bit apprehensive when I first saw the size of Mine is the Night<\/a>. With a growing list of books I had committed to review, I wasn’t sure I had time to read such a thick novel. Fortunately, this was one story that not only held my attention but was so well written that it moved right along at a good pace. Although I haven’t read Here Burns My Candle<\/em>, I had no difficultly following its sequel.<\/p>\n

Character development was superb – from the gruff but softhearted pastor to the compassionate and generous Lord Jack Buchanan. The historical setting and customs added depth and interest to the narrative. But what most impressed me was the way the three women clung to their faith, convinced the Lord would take care of them despite their dire circumstances. What an inspiration to see their faith rewarded as it was.<\/p>\n

Although Mine is the Night<\/a> is a retelling of the biblical Ruth and Naomi story set in 18th century Scotland, the tale is fresh with unique twists that kept me engaged. I would definitely recommend this book, especially to those who love historical fiction about this era.<\/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":[8,34],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-7578","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-books","category-historical"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7578"}],"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=7578"}],"version-history":[{"count":9,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7578\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":7587,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7578\/revisions\/7587"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=7578"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=7578"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=7578"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}