Lin Wilder Shares Personal Search for Findng the Narrow Path...

Lin Wilder is a former Hospital Director and presently a self-employed writer who works from her home in northern Nevada. She finds peace and channels her creativity in the remote valley that offers her just the right amount of silence, stillness and solitude. She has written throughout her entire adult life but made the switch from non-fiction to fiction in 2006.

“I found, long ago, that the best way for me to understand something is to write about it.” Lin explains. Writing helps her to better comprehend even the most challenging subjects. Lin feels her line of work should be viewed like any other business, advising others, “In the beginning, expect to be in the red.” After years in the industry, she has learned the value of a good editor, finding that editing is far more than proofreading. “Writing is hard work and requires exceptionally thick skin. Once we decide to publish our work, we’re in the public domain where others can criticize, perhaps even in a hurtful way.” Wilder states.

Prior to her decision to switch to fiction, Lin Weeks Wilder had published over 40 articles and book chapters as well as a textbook. She was also written four self-help books. Lin’s first novel, The Fragrance Shed by a Violet, was published in July of 2015. The second edition, The Fragrance Shed by a Violet: Murder in the Medical Center and the sequel, Do You Solemnly Swear are available to purchase on Amazon. When asked why she chose to create a second edition, Lin quotes Chesterton, “Anything worth doing is worth doing poorly” and explains that the multiple errors in the first edition begged to be fixed. The third in her series, A Price for Genius, was planned for a spring release but has been trumped by a non-fiction account of an “unplanned surprise” story of the return to faith, Finding the Narrow Road; A Love Story. Her series of medical thrillers are situated in Houston, Texas with many references to the local Medical Center where Lin worked for over 23 years.

In her free time, Lin Wilder enjoys exercising, hiking, listening to beautiful music, gardening and last but certainly not least, reading. She is married to a former Marine and psychologist with 25 years of experience counseling ex- combat veterans. They reside in Nevada with their two dogs.

Finding the Narrow Path:

Patterns, Faith and Searching

By Lin Wilder

A bit of serendipity occurred when, upon receiving two requests for reviews, I said yes, without really realizing that both were from just one author. When they were received, I automatically add on my TBR stack, so that, as I read, the first selection was the fiction book. That review will come next. Once I realized that the next book was nonfiction, I approach it differently and check out the credentials on the back, where I realized that this book was from the same author. I decided I wanted to share this review first.

Finding the Narrow Path is a partial memoir and as I read her book, I remembered back to a discussion with a Visiting Professor in Physics with whom I got into a discussion about faith. He proceeded to very competently express his intellectual reasons for being an atheist and I would return with a faith-based response. It was so frustrating to him for it was quite clear that he could not win with his presented argument... I was curious to see what this intellectual scientist would be sharing...

Lin had walked away from religion and had worked hard to move ahead in her professional career and then on into marriage at one point... She broke glass ceilings and successfully received the accolades of others. I'm not going to go into much of that time. Instead, I will comment that this book is an excellent story for those who have worked in academe and/or medical fields where the moves upward and onward are not an easy task--it requires dedication, studying and research to maintain the latest knowledge available. Often that profession becomes the primary thing in your life... If you have been in that situation, even if it was not your choice, as happened to me, and know that something is wrong when the job is what consumes your life, I urge you to read this book.

Yet it was because of her intellectual drive, her love of her professional goals that, I believe, carried into her personal search for something more. She studied and read much about different religions, different options such as meditation, or traveling to Greece to absorb the atmosphere of ancient gods such as Zeus, whose stories still remain with us. It seemed to me that her final choices were based upon her personal life processes, she applied the same drive into finding her place. It happened to be the Catholic Church, but I thought it important to mention that she in no way limits what is possible for you, each and every reader...she simply says this is what happened to me...

The journey to Greece changed me. Not in ways I could readily describe when I returned or even now, looking back...My last night in this breathtaking land of crumbled ruins, mystery, and ancient wisdom was listening to a concert high above the ruins...The music ended and I sat there alone...The miracles of them, the privilege of being here...The moonlight was brilliant and the silence so immense that I was confident I could hear the whispered prayers of the many hundreds of thousands who had worshiped in this place. This sacred place.

A particularly poignant scene was when her mother was dying... She realized that she should have stayed with her at that time, but...she didn't know how to pray... Like Lin did with her professional career, she moved rapidly in her search for faith. 

I must tell you of my own God Incident with the book... In the middle of the night after I had finished the book, I woke up and "The lights" came into my mind... I knew immediately that I was to emphasize that the light came three times to Lin but with no understanding experience, it took her three times to realize exactly what was happening. Immediately an old song came to my mind! She had found the light...I  had been thinking about how to approach the book and simply was told... How many others might be approached by God in some way, and not realize that He is there, ready. How cool! God took Lin exactly where she was in her life and reached out to her in her search...

At our last meeting in the cafeteria of the hospital, it all came back, like a tidal wave of horror. What I had done all those years ago...I begun to sob right there in the cafeteria. Quietly, Clark suggested we go somewhere private and continued in my office for a long time...

I do not remember the words he used during the prayer because of the powerful light that appeared suddenly in my office, filling it. I kept asking Clark why he could not see the bright light which shone so brightly over our heads that I had to squint at him to see him. That light followed us as I walked him to his car, thankful for his loving concern. I asked again if he didn't see that light, pointing up at it. But he could not...

Only much later, after I saw that same light a third time did I figure out I have seen the Holy Spirit.

It is only through reading her entire story will you see the long time period it took for Lin Wilder Finding the Narrow Path. One of her early reviewers questioned the book cover, indicated it was "too preachy." I laughed after I finished the book, because I have never read a less preachy story yet the cover worked perfectly for me. It is open, factual, and, yes, presented as a true intellectual would. She shares her readings, her research, her trips made in her search. But it has been done in what I considered an unemotional manner similar to, I am sure, her other professional writings.

Still, she includes her poetic emotional responses so that we see how "the light" touched her...

St. Benedict's Abbey

Suddenly I was there

On my knees with

Quiet tears coursing down

My cheeks in response

To feelings which were

So long suppressed and

Now foreign and exquisitely

Incisive as they pierced

Through the years of

Protective armor donned so

Long ago when I

Walked away from God

How did I arrive here?

And why was I deserving

Of such pure faith appearing

Without preamble or good works?

And why, God, have you found

Me worthy enough to know you?

Once more forgiving this oh, so

Grateful recipient of unmerited grace.

~~~

Lin ends her book telling about how she has come to love the psalms and Gospel passages, so I will end with just one of my favorites done in musical form.

I think that I must add a note about her fiction. Watch for my review. You will experience the results of Lin Wilder's search in her stories... Highly recommended for both those searching as well as those who have found the light, but seek refreshment...

GABixlerReviews

Cindy McDonald Takes Readers "To The Brink" with Her Latest First Force Series! Come Meet Amos!

She had noticed a lone Belted Galloway in a corral just beyond the barn. The other cows were in the distance. Wondering why that cow was isolated, she decided to get a closer look at the creature and at the wide white swath around its belly. So instead of following Dan, she made her way toward the corral.

The overly large cow lifted his head from the stack of hay that he'd been munching to watch her approach.

Boo barked.

Tess arrived at the corral. The cow walked toward her.

Boo growled and barked again, beating his front paws against the ground.

Tess stepped up on the first rung of the metal corral to get a closer look.

The cow started to trot toward her.

pic from their
picnic!

Tess stepped up on the second rung.

Suddenly, strong arms wrapped around her and pulled her from the fence., "Whoa, Amos!"

The cow came to a sliding halt. Tess found herself enveloped in Dan's arms.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I shoulda warned you that that's the bull. He can be very aggressive, as many bulls are--especially with breeding season coming up. Please stay away from this corral. I don't want you to get hurt."

She was up close and personal with Dan Garrison. Looking into his brown eyes filled with oncern, she thought that he was like her knight in shining armor. Okay, how hokey was that? But seriously, that's what it felt like...

...Yeah, Dan Garrison was looking a lot like her next big mistake, yet somehow she was feeling good about it all--astonishingly good...

~~~

To The Brink:

The First Force Series

By Cindy McDonald

OMG! The scene that takes readers "To The Brink" is unbelievable! But, then, there are many more exciting scenes to capture the attention of each and every reader! I myself read until after midnight, not being willing to put the book down before finished.

And it's been the same since the first book , the second, and the

 last one, In the Dark.  There are two fantastic things you can expect: a male-female pair that will immediately call you to attention... and a completely different story that will be totally unexpected, yet one of the most exciting books you will read! Do check out my reviews if you haven't read the first three books, or just want to refresh you memory of the earlier novels...

He flicked off the lights for the
staircase and turned the doorknob
and when he stepped onto the
main floor of the mansion, he was
take aback. His jaw tightened. The
cobwebs instantly cleared. Quickly
and agilely, he yanked the gun from
his waistband and trained it on a
beautiful blond woman standing
just beyond the door...
~~~

Emily Proctor
playing
Tess McMillan

This time, it's Dan Garrison, who is the spotlighted member of the First Force. He has been left helping to hold up the business while a number go on a short vacation. It should be an easy time for Dan, except that he discovers that he's allergic to cats, and caring for them is part of the job while everyone's away...With streaming eyes and sneezes Dan flees to the clinic in the basement to find something to help...and falls asleep... When he awakes, he finds her inside... inside a supposedly totally secure team headquarters... While holding a gun on her, she explains that she's looking for Grant Ketchem, who had offered to help her when she needed it. But that didn't calm Dan, as he asked her if he had told her how to breach the security system. At that point, Tess begins her counterplay, quickly honing in on his obvious allergy to cats and pointing out that they were right there making him more miserable... And soon they were both back down in the clinic--he had at least recognized her name and knew her background and was willing to talk...

  Tess McMillan had no doubt that there was a private corner in hell reserved for the likes of Ballard Crafton. As if she were a trapped animal, she crouched in a dark corner of the rented cabin. Damn him. She hoped that he was feeling the burn at that very moment.

She'd spent most of her adult life with Ballard. She'd been with him since she was seventeen. He'd been her mentor. He'd been her lover, and for the last five years of his life, she had been his wife. That's right, she had been his wife--but he hadn't necessarily been her husband...No, theirs had been an arrangement based on possession--on his need to possess, period. Ballard had insisted that she keep her maiden name and pose as his personal assistant so that the women whom he pursued with his good looks and alluring charm would be none the wiser to his marital status...

But Ballard was dead, and she had to deal with the problems that the man had left behind...

The vehicle drove slowly past the cabin. Stealthily, she slid to the other side of the window and pinched back the interim... She had to get out. It was time to find another place to hide...

After setting the safety, Tess laid the .45 on the bed. She twisted her long blond hair on top of her head...and scanned the area for the SUV...she scurried to the car, tossed the suitcase into the trunk, and jumped into the driver's seat. Slowly, so as to not attract any attention, she pulled away from the cabin to drive down the dark, secluded road that led out of the camp and to the main highway. So far, so good--there was no sign of the black SUV...

~~~

The criminal element in the book is all just waiting for you to hate...Tess's very rich husband was planning to become a multi-billionaire by creating a super-hero...not a new concept, but certainly a totally different surrounding story that moves toward a climax that is totally unexpected and surprising with the various players getting involved to eliminate the bad guys.. It may not seem believable, but then when criminals are also, well, crazy, you never know what their minds will dream up... Certainly McDonald has a sweet beautiful face so that you'd never believe she could conceive of the scenes found in this novel! LOL! I loved all of them!

And of course, McDonald is ensuring that each of The First Force Team finds someone to love...and Dan didn't take too long in doing that...

"Bra and panties? No. I usually do yoga in yoga pants and a sports bra, but I didn't pack any, and I didn't have anything on hand that would stretch or bend with my body, so I opted for this," she said as casually as if she were giving him directions into town. Then she lay on her back. The bear's wispy fur tickled the countours of her body. She grabbed her right leg and extended it toward the ceiling...

While pouring coffee into his mug, he noticed the hushed hum of music flowing through the downstairs. It was coming from his flat screen, and the volume was turned down very low. She'd put on some music channel that played that weird meditation-relaxation mumbo-jumbo.

It was hard to not watch her. He tried to busy himself in the kitchen by pouring half-and-half into his coffee, stirring it, drinking it, and watching her. The watching was simply beyond his control. He went to the cupboard to set a mug out for her in case she wanted some coffee after she was done.

Finally she sat in a post that he recognized as a yoga position--he saw on TV programs and in commercials all the time. She was sitting crosslegged with her head up, her eyes closed, and the backs of her hands resting on her knees. Her ponytail was gently lying over her shoulder, hovering between her round breasts, and moving up and down as she breathed.

Boo seemed every bit as rapt in the sight as he was...

!!!

Although I enjoyed sharing some of my favorite scenes, notice that they give very little away about the actual story. Still they give you an unique peek at the sexy, dangerous, with thrilling excitement of the hunt for a lone, beautiful, and talented woman who has also realized that she needs help...from First Force! What a series! And, wow, did I enjoy the book. 

McDonald's scene writing in this latest seemed extraordinarily thrilling... I'm sure glad I don't have to choose favorites, but rather, just look forward to the next one, where it's going to be Casey, the team's sharpshooter's, turn! Can't Wait! If you haven't started reading Cindy McDonald, you're missing watching a rising star in the thriller genre! Highly recommended.

GABixlerReviews

For 26 years Cindy's life whirled around a song and a dance--she was a professional choreographer. She taught ballet, jazz, and tap. During that time she choreographed many musicals and an opera for the Pittsburgh Savoyards. Most recently, she has retired to write her novels. She resides with her husband and Cocker Spaniel, Allister, on their Thoroughbred farm know as Fly By Night Stables near Pittsburgh. To learn more about all of Ms. McDonald's book series' and to read excerpts from her upcoming books, please visit her website: www.cindymcwriter.com
You can also find out about her cozy mystery series, Fiona Quinn Mysteries, and her children's books under her pen name, C.S. McDonald. Here's that website: www.csmcdonaldbooks.com Check it out!

Guest Blogger, Radine Nehring, Author of A Portrait to Die For. Shares "Enjoying What We Write"

ENJOYING WHAT WE WRITE



I am certain I would not be thirty years into a writing career if I hadn't fallen in love with the Arkansas Ozarks. All it took was a weekend

camping trip to Northwest Arkansas and waking up in a grove of dogwood trees in full bloom. That, in contrast to living and working in center-city Tulsa, Oklahoma did it. Tulsa was only an hour's drive away. It was April, 1978. Coming to this area as a get-away was possible. Within two weeks John and I had purchased several acres of forested Ozarks hills and hollows to enjoy on "a few" weekends and for future retirement. 

Our land had a live spring, a pond, a disappearing creek. By 1980 the two of us had cleared a small space in our forest, built a cabin for weekend getaways, and named our place "Spring Hollow." We thought we would visit occasionally. But the call from Spring Hollow was too strong. For the next ten years, we were there almost every weekend.

 Being at Spring Hollow unleashed a gush of articles and essays about all we were experiencing and learning in our Ozarks forest. These pieces found a ready market around the United States and even the world. It seemed many people liked reading about the animals, birds, (including bald eagles) reptiles, and natural world we were being introduced to at Spring Hollow. I also wrote about gardening on our rocky hillside and about gathering the wild fruits of our land--especially huckleberries! All this, and much more, made it into publication and eventually became chapters in my first book, the non-fiction DEAR EARTH: A Love Letter From Spring Hollow.

When I decided to try writing mystery fiction I had no thought of any setting other than the Ozarks. By then, John and I had moved to Spring Hollow full time. My first "To Die For" mystery novel was set in a landscape familiar to DEAR EARTH readers. And so it continued. Novels were all set at real Ozarks locations popular with tourists as well as Arkansans. Research was done on site, with local help. My husband and I always enjoyed research trips.

Now we come to, not only a real location, but to a secondary interest of mine, the world of art. When Alice Walton's beneficence and deep interest in collecting art led to the creation of a world-class art museum in Bentonville, Arkansas, I made setting one of my series novels there a  priority. Doing research in Crystal Bridges Museum of American Art took me into a world where I felt right at home as a student of art history. Art Crime, without a doubt, needed to be the focus. But I didn't want to cast even an imaginary shadow of that crime on Crystal Bridges. Therefore I did something new for me. I created a fictitious museum in a distant state as source for a loan exhibition at Crystal Bridges. I tiptoed through criminal action related to that exhibit, and created secondary characters to join my protagonist, Carrie McCrite, in the discovery of the crime and participation in action thereafter. I kept strictly to accurate descriptions of Crystal Bridges and its surrounding area. Carrie's work as a volunteer in the Crystal Bridges library is close to the reality of that job. Add a damaged Iraq vet, an

overly aggressive news reporter, and a couple of bumbling assassins hired by the main bad guy, and there is opportunity for everything from chills to laughter in A Portrait to Die For. Click over to read my review...

I enjoyed it all!

Radine

For more than twenty years, Radine Trees Nehring's magazine features, essays, newspaper articles, and radio broadcasts have shared colorful stories about the people, places, events, and natural world near her Arkansas home.

In 2002, Radine's first mystery novel, A VALLEY TO DIE FOR, was published and, in 2003 became a Macavity Award Nominee.  Since that time she has continued to earn writing awards as she enthralls her original fans and attracts new ones with her signature blend of down-home Arkansas sightseeing and cozy amateur sleuthing by active retirees Henry King and Carrie McCrite King.

Website URL:  www.RadinesBooks.com
Blog URL:  http://radine.wordpress.com
Facebook URL:  www.facebook.com/RadineTreesNehring
Twitter:   @RTNehring
LinkedIn:  www.linkedin.com/in/radine-trees-nehring

St. Martin's Press Announces The Spice Box Letters Availabile Today!

I found it interesting that there is a prize for "uncovering" books...The Spice Box Letters received that award in 2015 and, today, in America, St. Martin's Press is releasing the Book! Cool! Right?

I am always intrigued when I am approached by this publisher. I never know what the book will be about, and rarely even read the synopsis sent...I like being surprised because I know that each book they send me will be wonderful...And this one certainly was!

Mariam, Eastern Turkey, 1915...Baba drove the carriage at speed, guiding the dapple-grey Arabian through a labyrinth of cobbled streets The carriage juddered as it struck jagged stones, barbed vibrations stealing up through my backbone. On the street, merchants advertised their wares in a throaty hum or sucked on water pipes in the entrances of open-fronted stores brimming with spices, homespun silks, leather goods, copper pans and aphrodisiacs. There was no hint of danger on the street, no warning of the calamity to come. The silvery crow of a distant cock rang out over red-tiled rooftops, over domes and minarets and the snow-capped summit that dwarfed the city. Scarfed women in cotton shawls chatted beneath stone lintels. A stray dog suckled her young. The morning air was scented with the ancient odour of incense, burnt sugar and the fruity smoke of shishas. A row of silver charms, inlaid with blue enamel, hung from a doorway; amulets just like the one I always carried in my pocket to protect me from the evil eye.

It felt good to be out of the house, immersed in the hubbub of the market. Our world was a dangerous place, my father warned, and he was not alone in voicing his fears. Dire predictions resounded in every Armenian backyard and coffee house.

The carriage overtook mules transporting kindling and baskets loaded with melons, pumpkins and burgundy figs. Flies hovered at the window of the carriage, straying from the skinny carcass hanging from the butcher's awning. A bell tinkled in the near distance and Baba stopped to let the pastry man cross, his wooden cart laden with diamonds of paklava in gleaming pastry coats.

I shouted over the murmur of the market. "Baba, stop, I want a pastry." The salivating scene of syrup and rose water wafted through the carriage.

Baba clicked his tongue, setting the dapple-grey in motion. The pastry seller's rhythmic call of pa-kla-vaaaa faded while a man's angry rhetoric echoes through the street. A crowd had gathered up ahead. People shifted to let the buggy pass into the heart of a drama. The Armenian baker, Kalfayan, stood outside his shop, before the city's Turkish commandant and several police officers, shouting at the top of his voice, his jowly face quivering with rage.

"I've done nothing wrong...the allegations are false...I did not poison the bread for the barracks."

The trays in the window of his shop had been upturned and an array of dimpled loaves littered the street.

Kalfayan stepped forward, his hands clenched. The commandant raised his baton and struck him on the temple. Kalfayan's eyes bulged in surprise. A second vicious blow knocked him off his feet and he fell, like an axed tree. I heard his skull crack on the ground, like the crunch of dry eucalyptus pods underfood. Screams permeated the carriage. The baker lay completely still while the street closed in about him, people flapping like chickens rushing at their feed. I saw my father appear in this scene. My doctor-father down on his knees, taking the baker's pulse, turning his head, his fingers in the baker's mouth dislodging this tongue. Seconds later, Kalfayan spluttered back to life and the police pulled him to his feet. The next thing I knew, the buggy was pulling away, the horse's powerful feet pounding the cobbles.

~~~

Mariam, the child in Turkey, in 1915, was to become the grandmother of Katerina, living in England in 1985 As sometimes happens, Katerina had become closer to her grandmother than her mother. But now, both are missing Marian as they mourn her death, remembering all that people had shared with them: Your mother was a wonderful woman and will be deeply missed...Mariam was a gem, generous to a fault. A wonderful cook who performed culinary alchemy with a shoulder of lamb and smoked paprika. Mariam had been a nurse for 50 years and had many friends who had come to pay tribute to a lost friend, a woman who had helped so many...

Now a month later, Katerina and her Mum was talking together about their loss. And her mother indicated she had something to show her...

Will each of us wait until we are gone for those who remain behind to discover our secrets? Yes, I think so, when you have secrets that are too hard to even think about and, especially not to share... It was Katherine who worried about the dead still having rights to their privacy...Still, she joined with her mother... So, within a large cupboard box, Mariam's daughter had opened the past life of her mother--a life that Mariam had never shared with anybody... There were pictures, of course, but when they discovered a diary that was written in Armenian, they could only stare, wondering, what it held...

"What happened?"
"I miss her, Katerina. I miss her so much.
Thought I'd comfort myself by making
her lamb stew. Wanted to have it ready
by the time you came over. I bought all
the ingredients, chopped everything up
and then realised I didn't know what to
do. What spices she used. Cooking times,
measurements, nothing. I made it up as
I went along but it didn't taste the same
and the meat was tough so I turned up
the heat and burnt the stew...I should
have written down her recipes while she
was still alive, but I never did and now
I'll never have the chance."
~~~

Her mother had turned to Katherine and asked that she get it translated, that she didn't care what it cost. They didn't realize next what it was they found, but later learned that it was an old-fashioned Spice Box; it contained a dozen sealed envelopes with no name and address--none had ever been sent. They, too, were written in Gran's mother tongue...And one more thing, a watch which had belonged to Gran's father, Grigor... And as they sat there remembering, they also remembered that Gran always did the cooking herself and made it clear that she really liked to do it herself...Neither of them now knew the recipes for all the wonderful food she had provided for the family and others...

For three days now, we've been gorging
on junk food...from American chains
that colonise Larnacca's palm tree
promenade, short walk from the hotal.
Each day, I wake up intending to room
out a cosy corner frequented by the
locals, and invariably end up in some
marble-clad, air-conditioned, sooulless
outlet, succumbing to familiar dishes,
watching the world go by...
~~~

With all that was happening in Katherine's life, her mother suggested she take that holiday that she very much needed and soon they were in Larnaca, Cyprus... She had traveled with her friend who was much more extroverted and they soon found their way to a "seaside grunge where Greek Lotharios pick up tourists. Soon they were joined at their table with Nico who Jenny had been flirting with. You might say that Katherine did the perfect thing that night without her knowing it...She said she wanted to go, and the others decided that the other man, Ara, should take her...

For, you see, Ara was Armenian and Katherine immediately decided it was fate and she boldly asked him if he would help her translate her grandmother's diary.

At that point, the author begins the move back and forth as Ara is able to meet with Katherine and read the diary to her. I've decided not to share any of those readings because, after all, there was a reason that her grandmother didn't want to share her secrets and so you'll have to be an actual reader to learn her story. I think, given the year, you will make an accurate assumption that her life was filled with hard times and loss, as the massacre occurred during WWI,,,

In the meantime, Ara had invited Katherine to his home to meet his family. And readers are privileged to meet and enjoy the open hospitality there while we can enjoy the love developing between Katherine, coming from one side of the world, and Ara who had retained most of his cultural background on the other side of that world. It was in the Troodos Mountains that they started to talk, as Ara show her where he would be building his home...

"So you like it up here," he says, pensively, his eyes resting on mine. "Could you live somewhere like this, Katherina?" The sound of my name lingers and sensing his thoughts I instinctively grasp at a cool-headed response. I'd like a place to escape to but I wouldn't want to live too far away from my friends and family." He is stumped for a second but then his reply is unequivocal. "I couldn't live in England. Three years in the North were  enough for me. I can't stand the weather..." Ara's looking for a soul mate, an earthy girl who can share his passion for the mountains, and I have ruled myself our of the running...

"

There is a surprise addition and life story of a character as time goes by and Katherine learns more about Gran's family members. And then there is still another as she discovers to whom the letters were written...

I loved entering into the lives of Armenians during this wonderful family drama, like no other... Sometimes it is said that without sorrow, there cannot be joy... I myself would be quite content that there is sorrow, natural in death...but there is no joy following war and senseless murder. Still we survive, thankfully for future generations to remind us what had 

occurred in the past lives of our families... 

May ourArmenian neighbors find comfort in the sharing of this provocative, memorable story of those in 1915, as well as those living later...

Highly recommended!

GABixlerReviews

Eve Makis is the author of three books published by Transworld. Her debut novel, Eat, Drink and Be Married, was published in five languages and was awarded the Young Booksellers International Book of the Year Award. Her third book, Land of the Golden Apple, has been optioned by APM Filmworks and is now in pre-production. Eve was born in Nottingham to Greek Cypriot parents who moved to England in the 1960s. She is married with two children and lives in the UK and Cyprus. At present, she is developing the screen adaptation of her novel.The Spice Box Letters released today in America.

Clyde Linsley Presents Old River - Part History - Part Mystery/Suspense - A Totally Unusual, Intriguing Book!

...How many young ladies would leave the comforts of their home and strike out with their husbands on a wilderness adventure such as this? Lydia had done so not once, but twice. When Roosevelt had first broached the idea of steam travel to New Orleans, he knew that a preliminary journey would first be required, by more conventional means, in order to determine the feasibility of such an endeavor. Most new wives would have objected to such an excursion, which would take him away from their home for the better part of a year if, indeed, he was able to return at all.

Not Lydia. She had approved enthusiastically and insisted (to the horror of her family) on accompanying him. She had also entered wholeheartedly into the planning of the excusion, adding a number of design  touches to the keelboat that was being built to take them on their downstream adventure. As a consequence, the boat had separate quarters for the couple and for the crew, a galley for meal preparations, a deck with chairs for enjoying the summer evenings under the western stars, and an awning for shelter from the sweltering Southern sun.

She was also pregnant on that first trip downriver, but the hardship of arrying an unborn child and delivering it in the wilderness had not discouraged her then, nor did it discourage her on this, their second journey. When at last Roosevelt had cinvinced his backers of the feasibility of his ultimate experiment, she was once more by his side, a full and enthusiastic partner in his enterprise.

Robert Fulton

http://steamboattimes.com/

Building the steamboat was a much more complicated task than building the keelboat according to their needs and desires. For the steamboat, there were backers to consider, notably the formidable partnership of Robert Levenson, one of the signers of the Constitution, and Robert Fulton, the man widely considered to be the nation's reigning expert on steam transportation. Roosevelt was responsible for building and operating the boat, but it was Fulton who specified how the boat would look.

Fortunately, neither Levinson nor Fulton was present in Pittsburgh, where the New Orleans was constructed; their homes and commercial interests were in the east. So Nicholas--and Lydia--did the job in the manner they felt appropriate and sent the final bill to their backers.

The total came to $38,000, an unbelievable sum for that time. The backers were aghast. Outraged. They threatened not to pay. Much of it, in fact, they did not pay, which created financial problems for Roosevelt later. But the New Orleans was

launched and on its way to the city for which it had been named.

The comet that appeared in the sky in those days was widely considered a harbinger of terrible things to come.

~~~

Old River

By Clyde Linsley

Long before the time when we celebrated Old Man River in 1950, there is a much more daunting tale of what it took for man to conquer rivers in order to make them usable for man's needs. Some believed that the meandering of the water was at the discretion of God and if it chose to relocate and flood in areas, destroying property, well, that was The Will of God...

This book moves from the past to the present, but, as you read, it feels like you are merely reading two books at one time. One book provides the story of what actually happened in the 1800s as men tried to harness the river. The book spotlights the genius inventor and steamboat captain of much of these endeavors, Henry Miller Shreve. In itself, it is an interesting, exciting historical story that is enjoyable in itself...

However, one man looked at all that had been done and saw something totally different from many of us studying the river's role in our past. In fact, I challenge that the author even deceived readers in the telling of his story...But, then, why not? It certainly kept this reader trying to...understand...why murders were now occurring...apart, but within the area surrounding Old River...

"Where you goin'," Leversque said.
"Back to the office," Sprenkel said, "Gotta
get out of this sun."
"Shit," said Levesque, "If the sun's botherin'
you now, what're you going to do when
summer gets here?"
"I don't even wanna think about it," Sprenkel
said. "Just keep me posted on what you find."
~~~

So while you are beginning the historical ride on the rivers surrounding the Mississippi and down into New Orleans, on...

The First Day, in Concordia Parish, Louisiana, the body was found... The woman lay face down amid tall grass. She had been badly beaten. Sheriff John Sprenkel was familiar with violent death, but this death bothered him more than most...

Sprenkel pondered this. "Some woman we don't know gets herself raped and beat up and strangled in the middle of a swamp. It's cases like this make me wish I'd gone into insurance like my mother told me."

"You'd hate insurance," Levesque said.

"I'm not real fond of this either," Sprenkel said. Sprenkel looked around him. Grass and swamp and the river, and just downstream, a complex progression of dams and holding basins, all steel and concrete. Depressing...

Not for the first time, he wondered if he had made the right choice in coming to Louisiana. When he had first come down from Baltimore to take a deputy sheriff's job, Sprenkel had been excited: a change of scenery, warmer weather, a more leisurely pace than he'd been forced to follow in his previous jobs. But the job--and the scenery--had failed to live up to expectations The pace was slower--that much, at least, was true--but he found himself fighting off boredom. He hadn't anticipated boredom

~~~

And interesting Tidbit thrown in for your enjoyment

The Killer, Jerry Lee, performs "Whole Lotta Shakin' Goin' On". Lewis was born to the poor family of Elmo and Mamie Lewis in Ferriday in Concordia Parish in eastern Louisiana, and began playing piano in his youth with his two cousins, Mickey Gilley and Jimmy Swaggart.
(Kenny Lovelace on fiddle)

The investigation quickly turns into a mystery when they discover that there are two different identities held by the dead woman...So was she a student and scholar, as claimed by her roommate with one name...or was she a streetwalker going by another name???

On The Sixth Day Sprenkel visited with a detective from the Memphis police department at the Van Dorn Residence. This was one of the names used by the woman who'd been murdered in Concordia Parish... Instead of questioning the potential parents, however, they found three more bodies, assuming they were the first victim's family. Were they? Sprenkel wouldn't be finding out anything that day, so he went on back home...

Sprenkel began the drive back to Louisiana. It was mid-day by now. The rain that had inundated the area during the previous day had mostly dried up in Memphis, but he saw increasing evidence of it as he drove south. As he drove through Mississippi he began to see puddles by the roadside.
He stopped at a roadside restaurant for coffee and was surprised to find that the ground was still soft. Returning to the car with his coffee, his shoes sank nearly an inch in the soft earth. And over the northern horizon, the rain clouds were forming again.
More rain was on the way.. For some reason that he couldn't put his finger on, a sense of dread came over him. He remembered the lines from a Bob Dylan song:

"Something is happening, and you don't know what it is

"Do you, Mr. Jones?"

~~~

If you're thinking I'm not covering much of the murder cases, you're right...They are all, yes, there's more death coming, and even a potential disaster, so closely entwined that I think it suffices to say that our main character, Sheriff John Sprenkel was pulled into all of them as he continued to solve his own case... I liked this character and was happy that the author provided much of his introspective thoughts so that readers got to know him...I would enjoy meeting him again in the future.

There is a little romantic twist that was fun, involving our Sheriff, by a young lady who also wanted to help solve the murder of her roommate... Sprenkel thought she was too young for him; she thought differently...

Not only does the mystery explode wide open as the climax comes closer, the whole deception at the beginning is blown to pieces. A type of strange twist I really wasn't fond of for other books, but the author handled it exceptionally well, so that readers will undoubtedly have a responsive feeling... Mine was disgust...LOL

I've not read an historical mystery like this one. It was only toward the end that you may get an inkling of what all the murders were really about... It's an intriguing story and I can recommend it highly for your consideration.


GABixlerReviews

Tough love. Maybe, thought Sprenkel, that's what God is employing.

Sprenkel wasn't sure how he felt about God, or what he believed. One thing, however, seemed certain: if God existed, John Sprenkel would not be on His list of favorite people. If, in fact, marital fidelity was high on God's list of virtues, then he, Sheriff John Sprenkel, was already probably consigned to hell...

Before crossing the bridge on his way back to Louisiana, he parked his car near the riverbank. He had always been fascinated by rivers, and the Mississippi fascinated him more than any other. It flowed implacably, relentlessly, to the Gulf of Mexico, despite all the machinations of men. It was hard to imagine this might stream could be seriously affectd by human activities.

But as he stood at the riverside and watched the water moving inexorably to the south, he felt the ground giving way beneath his feet. After stepping quickly backward, he saw a portion of the soil he had been standing on crumble and fall into the stream.

Standing now on (relatively) solid ground, he watched the sod get swallowed by the current. The clump submerged for a bit but then popped back to the surface, already dismembered and broken into small pieces. The current swept it on downstream until Sprenkel lost sight of it.

After a moment, he shook his head to chase away the image. He returned to his car and began the drive across the river to his office. He drove uncharacteristically slowly, lost in thought.

~~~

Another Italian Entertainer, Jerry Colonna, from Bravo! - With Individual Biographic Sketches Sample - Enjoy!

Among the truly unique "singers" was Gerald Luigi Colonna--Professor Colonna.
Jerry Colonna was born in Boston Massachusetts in 1904, the son of Italian immigrants. Although he was trained on the drums and the trombone, Colonna broke into show business as a comedian, playing on the radio shows and in the films of Bob Hope. Referred to, on the show, as "Professor" Colonna, his role was to insult the host, which Hope likely enjoyed as much as the audience. He also accompanied Hope on many of the legendary USO tours prior to his faltering health and 1980 death. Although he had an unforgettable appearance--with popping eyes and an immense mustache--it was his singng that is more memorable. The author vividly recalls, over these many decades, the sheer joy of hearing Jerry Colonna singing "On the Road to Mandalay," from its ear-splitting, seemingly endless opening note to the crackling last notes and the concluding "Cheerio!" 

I hope you've seen at least one of the Road Movies with Bob...

Reading a book covering the mastery of music by those with Italian Heritages can be a walk through memory lane for many of us...and an introduction of a new experience for many. Certainly, once you've heard the name and see him perform, Jerry Colonna, will not soon be forgotten. That's why I decided to spotlight him in particular...and, maybe, with the author's permission, I'll spotlight others from time to time...

Maybe the Road to Rio???

Ahhhh, such a wonderful leading man to stroll with...

If I had my way, I would have traveled with Bob Hope!

Wow! Never knew he played trombone until I read it in Bravo!

Ebb Tide will Never Sound right again...

And March Hare never sounded right after this movie...

Remember when we went to the movies and always saw a cartoon first?!

And there's no other like him, is there?!

And we certainly loved him...for some strange reason...LOL