{"id":8867,"date":"2011-08-05T19:19:19","date_gmt":"2011-08-06T00:19:19","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/\/?p=8867"},"modified":"2011-08-05T19:19:19","modified_gmt":"2011-08-06T00:19:19","slug":"restless-in-carolina-by-tamara-leigh","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/?p=8867","title":{"rendered":"Restless in Carolina by Tamara Leigh"},"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

Tamara Leigh<\/a><\/span><\/strong><\/div>\n

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

Restless in Carolina<\/a><\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

Multnomah Books (July 19, 2011)<\/p>\n

***Special thanks to Ashley Boyer, Publicist, WaterBrook Multnomah Publishing Group for sending me a review copy.***<\/p>\n

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

\"\"<\/a>Tamara Leigh began her writing career in 1994 and is the best-selling author of fourteen novels, including Splitting Harriet (ACFW Book of the Year winner and RITA Award finalist), Faking Grace (RITA Award Finalist), and Leaving Carolina. A former speech and language pathologist, Tamara enjoys time with her family, faux painting, and reading. She lives with her husband and sons in Tennessee.<\/p>\n

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

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

\"\"<\/a>Tree-huggin\u2019, animal-lovin\u2019 Bridget Pickwick-Buchanan is on a mission. Well, two. First she has to come to terms with being a widow at thirty-three. After all, it\u2019s been four years and even her five-year-old niece and nephew think it\u2019s time she shed her widow\u2019s weeds. Second, she needs to find a buyer for her family\u2019s estate\u2014a Biltmore-inspired mansion surrounded by hundreds of acres of unspoiled forestland. With family obligations forcing the sale, Bridget is determined to find an eco-friendly developer to buy the land, someone who won\u2019t turn it into single-family homes or a cheesy theme park.<\/p>\n

Enter J. C. Dirk, a high-energy developer from Atlanta whose green property developments have earned him national acclaim. When he doesn\u2019t return her calls, Bridget decides a personal visit is in order. Unfortunately, J. C. Dirk is neither amused nor interested when she interrupts his meeting\u2014until she mentions her family name. In short order, he finds himself in North Carolina, and Bridget has her white knight\u2014in more ways than one. But there are things Bridget doesn\u2019t know about J. C., and it could mean the end of everything she\u2019s worked for\u2026and break her heart.<\/p>\n

Product Details:<\/p>\n

List Price: $14.99
\nPaperback: 352 pages
\nPublisher: Multnomah Books (July 19, 2011)
\nLanguage: English
\nISBN-10: 1601421680
\nISBN-13: 978-1601421685<\/p>\n

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

\n

Deep breath. \u201c\u2026and they lived\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

I can do this. It\u2019s not as if I didn\u2019t sense it coming. After all, I can smell an H.E.A. (Happily Ever After) a mile away\u2014or, in this case, twenty-four pages glued between cardboard covers that feature the requisite princess surrounded by cute woodland creatures. And there are the words, right where I knew the clich\u00e9 of an author would slap them, on the last page in the same font as those preceding them. Deceptively nondescript. Recklessly hopeful. Heartbreakingly false.<\/p>\n

\u201cAunt Bridge,\u201d Birdie chirps, \u201cfinish it.\u201d<\/p>\n

I look up from the once-upon-a-time crisp page that has been softened, creased, and stained by the obsessive readings in which her mother indulges her.<\/p>\n

Eyes wide, cheeks flushed, my niece nods. \u201cSay the magic words.\u201d Magic?<\/p>\n

More nodding, and is she quivering? Oh no, I refuse to be a party to this. I smile big, say, \u201cThe end,\u201d and close the book. \u201cSo, how about another piece of weddin\u2019 cake?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo!\u201d She jumps off the footstool she earlier dubbed her \u201cprincess throne,\u201d snatches the book from my hand, and opens it to the back. \u201cWight here!\u201d<\/p>\n

I almost correct her initial r-turned-w but according tomy sister, it\u2019s developmental and the sound is coming in fine on its own, just as her other r\u2019s did.<\/p>\n

Birdie jabs the H, E, and A. \u201cIt\u2019s not the end until you say the magic words.\u201d<\/p>\n

And I thought this the lesser of two evils\u2014entertaining my niece and nephew as opposed to standing around at the reception as the bride and groom are toasted by all the happy couples, among them, cousin Piper, soon to be wed to my friend Axel, and cousin Maggie, maybe soon to be engaged to her sculptor man, what\u2019s-his-name.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah,\u201d Birdie\u2019s twin,Miles, calls from where he\u2019s once more hanging upside down on the rolling ladder I\u2019ve pulled him off twice. \u201cYou gotta say the magic words.\u201d<\/p>\n

Outrageous! Even my dirt-between-the-toes, scab-ridden, snot-on-the-sleeve nephew is buying into the fantasy.<\/p>\n

I spring from the armchair, cross the library, and unhook his ankles from the rung. \u201cYou keep doin\u2019 that and you\u2019ll bust your head wide open.\u201d I set him on his feet. \u201cAnd your mama will\u2014<\/p>\n

\u201dNo, Bonnie won\u2019t.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, she\u2019ll be tempted to give you a whoopin\u2019.\u201d<\/p>\n

Face bright with upside-down color, he glowers.<\/p>\n

I\u2019d glower back if I weren\u2019t so grateful for the distraction he provided. \u201cAll right, then.\u201d I slap at the ridiculously stiff skirt of the dress Maggie loaned me for my brother\u2019s wedding. \u201cLet\u2019s rejoin the party\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t wanna say it.\u201dMiles sets his little legs wide apart. \u201cDo ya?\u201d So much for my distraction.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t like Birdie\u2019s stories \u2019cause they have happy endings. And you don\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n

I clench my toes in the painfully snug high heels on loan from Piper.<\/p>\n

\u201cYep.\u201dMiles punches his fists to his hips. \u201cEven Mama says so.\u201d<\/p>\n

My own sister? I shake my head, causing the blond dreads Maggie pulled away from my face with a headband to sweep my back. \u201cThat\u2019s not true.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThen say it wight now!\u201d Birdie demands.<\/p>\n

I peer over my shoulder at where she stands like an angry tin soldier, an arm outthrust, the book extended.<\/p>\n

\u201cAdmit it,\u201dMiles singsongs.<\/p>\n

I snap around and catch my breath at the superior, knowing look on his five-year-old face. He\u2019s his father\u2019s son, all right, a miniature Professor Claude de Feuilles, child development expert.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re not happy.\u201d The professor in training, who looks anything but with his spiked hair, nods.<\/p>\n

I know better than to bristle with two cranky, nap-deprived children, but that\u2019s what I\u2019m doing. Feeling as if I\u2019m watching myself from the other side of the room, I cross my arms over my chest. \u201cI\u2019ll admit no such thing.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s \u2019cause you\u2019re afraid. Mama said so.\u201d Miles peers past me.<\/p>\n

\u201cDidn\u2019t she, Birdie?\u201d<\/p>\n

Why is Bonnie discussing my personal life with her barely-out-of-diapers kids?<\/p>\n

\u201cUh-huh. She said so.\u201d<\/p>\n

Miles\u2019s smile is smug. \u201cOn the drive here, Mama told Daddy this day would be hard on you. That you wouldn\u2019t be happy for Uncle Bart \u2019cause you\u2019re not happy.\u201d<\/p>\n

Not true! Not that I\u2019m thrilled with our brother\u2019s choice of bride, but\u2026come on! Trinity Templeton? Nice enough, but she isn\u2019t operating on a full charge, which wouldn\u2019t be so bad if Bart made up for the difference. Far from it, his past history with illegal stimulants having stripped him of a few billion brain cells.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe said your heart is\u201d\u2014Miles scrunches his nose, as if assailed by a terrible odor\u2014\u201cconstipated.\u201d<\/p>\n

What?!<\/p>\n

\u201cThat you need an M&M, and I don\u2019t think she meant the chocolate kind you eat. Probably one of those\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI am not constipated.\u201d Pull back. Nice and easy. I try to heed my inner voice but find myself leaning down and saying, \u201cI\u2019m realistic.\u201d<\/p>\n

Birdie stomps the hardwood floor. \u201cSay the magic words!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNope.\u201dMiles shakes his head. \u201cConstipated.\u201d<\/p>\n

I shift my cramped jaw. \u201cRe-al-is-tic.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCon-sti-pa-ted.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pull back, I tell you! He\u2019s five years old. \u201cJust because I don\u2019t believe in fooling a naive little girl into thinkin\u2019 a prince is waiting for her at the other end of childhood and will save her from a fate worse than death and take her to his castle and they\u2019ll live\u2026\u201d I flap a hand. \u201c\u2026you know, doesn\u2019t mean there\u2019s anything wrong with me.\u201d<\/p>\n

Isn\u2019t there? \u201cIt means I know better. There may be a prince, and he may have a castle, and they may be happy, but don\u2019t count on it lasting. Oh no. He\u2019ll get bored or caught up in work or start cheatin\u2019\u2014you know, decide to put that glass slipper on some other damsel\u2019s foot or kiss another sleeping beauty\u2014or he\u2019ll just up and die like Easton\u2014\u201d No,
\nnothing at all wrong with you, Bridget Pickwick Buchanan, whose ugly widow\u2019s weeds are showing.<\/p>\n

\u201cSee!\u201dMiles wags a finger.<\/p>\n

Unfortunately, I do. And as I straighten, I hear sniffles.<\/p>\n

\u201cNow you done it!\u201d Miles hustles past me. \u201cGot Birdie upset.\u201d<\/p>\n

Sure enough, she\u2019s staring at me with flooded eyes. \u201cThe prince dies? He dies and leaves the princess all alone?\u201dThe book falls from her hand, its meeting with the floor echoing around the library. Then she squeaks out a sob.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo!\u201d I spring forward, grimacing at the raspy sound the skirt makes as I attempt to reach Birdie before Miles.<\/p>\n

He gets there first and puts an arm around her. A meltable moment, my mother would call it. After she gave me a dressing down. And I deserve one. My niece may be on the spoiled side and she may work my nerves, but I love her\u2014even like her when that sweet streak of hers comes through. \u201cIt\u2019s okay, Birdie,\u201d Miles soothes. \u201cThe prince doesn\u2019t die.\u201d<\/p>\n

Yes, he does, but what possessed me to say so? And what if I\u2019ve scarred her for life?<\/p>\n

Miles pats her head onto his shoulder. \u201cAunt Bridge is just\u201d\u2014he gives me the evil eye\u2014\u201cconstipated.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, Birdie.\u201d I drop to my knees. \u201cI am. My heart, that is. Constipated. I\u2019m so sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n

She turns her head and, upper lip shiny with the stuff running out of her nose, says in a hiccupy voice, \u201cThe prince doesn\u2019t die?\u201d I grab the book from the floor and turn to the back. \u201cLook. There they are, riding off into the sunset\u2014er, to his castle. Happy. See, it says so.\u201d I tap the H, E, and A.<\/p>\n

She sniffs hard, causing that stuff to whoosh up her nose and my gag reflex to go on alert. \u201cWeally happy, Aunt Bridge?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNope.\u201d Barely-there eyebrows bunching, she lifts her head from Miles\u2019s shoulder. \u201cNot unless you say it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Oh dear Go\u2014No, He and I are not talking. Well, He may be talking, but I\u2019m not listening.<\/p>\n

\u201cI think you\u2019d better.\u201d Miles punctuates his advice with a sharp nod.<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay.\u201d I look down at the page. \u201c\u2026and they lived\u2026\u201d It\u2019s just a fairy tale\u2014highly inflated, overstated fiction for tykes. \u201c\u2026they lived happily\u2026ever\u2026after.\u201d<\/p>\n

Birdie blinks in slow motion. \u201cHappily\u2026ever\u2026after. That\u2019s a nice way to say it, like you wanna hold on to it for always.\u201d<\/p>\n

Or unstick it from the roof of your mouth. \u201cThe end.\u201d I close the book, and it\u2019s all I can do not to toss it over my shoulder. \u201cHere you go.\u201d<\/p>\n

She clasps it to her chest. \u201cHappily\u2026ever\u2026after.\u201d<\/p>\n

Peachy. But I\u2019ll take her dreamy murmuring over tears any day. Goodness, I can\u2019t believe I made her cry. I stand and pat the skirt back down into its stand-alone shape. \u201cMore cake?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYay!\u201d Miles charges past me.<\/p>\n

Next time\u2014 No, there won\u2019t be a next time. I\u2019m done with Little Golden Books.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

Excerpted from Restless in Carolina by Tamara Leigh Copyright \u00a9 2011 by Tamara Leigh. Excerpted by permission of Multnomah Books, a division of Random House, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.<\/p>\n

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

Still grieving her deceased husband after four years and still blaming God for his death, Bridget Buchanan has nearly forgotten how to live. Her family is so concerned about her that even her five-year-old niece and nephew have confronted her about her “constipated heart”. Bridget finally makes some badly needed changes to her appearance but only because she wants to make a professional impression when she approaches a possible buyer for the Pickwick family estate. Little does she realize how her encounter with J. C. Dirks will affect everything about her life in the days ahead.<\/p>\n

After reading promotional comments about Restless in Carolina<\/a>, I was expecting Bridget to be an extremely weird character and perhaps she was. Maybe she just didn’t seem that weird to me because I could identify with her (maybe I’m weird too). To me, Bridget was a woman more interested in being real and comfortable clothing than in false appearances. She was loyal to a fault and had a loving and tender heart. Her dreadlocks were her way of keeping the memory of her husband alive but she knew when it was time to give them up. I liked Bridget and enjoyed everything about her story.<\/p>\n

Restless in Carolina<\/a> is another installment of the Southern Discomfort<\/strong><\/em> series that features the eccentric Pickwick family although it easily stands alone. Leigh’s trademark sense of humor and unusual characters are once again evident throughout the pages. Bridget’s spiritual journey back to life and to God is told in a manner that does not intrude but enhances her story.<\/p>\n

I would recommend Restless in Carolina<\/a> as well as any other novel by Tamara Leigh.<\/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":[8,39,60,41],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-8867","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-books","category-chick-lit","category-contemporary-fiction","category-romance"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8867"}],"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=8867"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8867\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":8871,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8867\/revisions\/8871"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=8867"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=8867"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=8867"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}