The Saturday Spotlight with Kat Flannery & Giveaway of Chasing Clovers

Welcome to The Saturday Spotlight, a weekly feature that shines the light on Indie and debut authors. This week I have the pleasure introducing readers to:

KAT FLANNERY

~Author of Chasing Clovers~

Hi Kat, welcome to the blog, please tell us about yourself. 

I am happily married and a mother of three boys. I’ve been a freelance writer for six years, which is what I do in between writing novels. My passion is creating emotional stories with three dimensional characters that will touch my reader’s lives. Chasing Clovers is my first novel, published by Imajin Books. My experience working with my publisher has been nothing but a pleasure.

What inspired you to write Chasing Clovers?

I’ve always loved to write, but as I grew older the need to scribe intensified. It wasn’t just a way to express my emotions but more of a need to expel the voices and ideas in my head. Stories would run across my mind while at work, or playing with my children. My thirst for writing wasn’t satisfied until I put pen to paper and wrote the scenes that had taken refuge in my mind.

The idea for Chasing Clovers didn’t come to me right away. Snippets of scenes and dialogue had begun to surface, but nothing that I could create a story with. I wanted to write a novel that would touch people’s lives.

My Grandmother lost two children a month a part in the 50’s and I often wondered how she made it through each day without crumbling. How she had more children? And how she learned to smile again? This is how my protagonist, Livy Green was born. I took the scenario of losing a child, turned the year back to 1884 and placed her inside a saloon. As I wrote, Livy became a part of me, and I needed to tell her story. I needed to take my readers on this journey of pain, loss, and turmoil, but also one of redemption, as, John Taylor and Livy Green learn to overcome their hardships. And renew their faith, love, and happiness in their tale of Chasing Clovers.

Did you have to do any research or traveling to write this book?


Yes, I researched Mail Order Brides. In the 1800's Mail Order Brides married for a sense of security, and financial stability. They were widows seeking help to raise their children, lost souls searching for independence. As I delved deeper into my research I learned that Mail Order Brides were very popular in the 1800’s. Men migrated west to farm land, build towns and cities, and mine for gold. Most being successful, soon found themselves financially stable.

{ColumbusBride.com}

But one thing was missing...women. There were very few women in the early days of the west and if a few popped up, they were always married. Soon men began sending letters to churches and newspapers back east looking for brides. Women took on the status of Mail Order Bride for many reasons, but one looms above all the rest...security. Times were tough back then and a woman needed to know she was taken care of. These weren’t marriages founded on love, but instead on convenience and knowing you had a roof over your head, food in your stomach, and money in your purse.

Have any authors or books inspired you or your writing?

Absolutely! If you want to be a writer you must read, and I read almost anything. I love Linda Lael Miller, Judith Stacey, Steven King, and Jane Austen. All of these writers are completely different, I know, but their writing style is what inspired me to want to write.

If you could pick a song that encapsulated your book, what would it be and why?

I listened to a lot of Dean Martin and The Beatles while writing this book. I’d have to say Blackbird would encapsulate Chasing Clovers best because Livy Green has broken wings she has given up on life. John Taylor is the one to heal her and help her fly.

**{Due to the Beatles Copyrights, I cant post anything here at my blog...however here is a link if you want to listen to Blackbird....which by the way is gorgeous song.  http://youtu.be/P5CUHHGlQg0 }

Any future plans you can share with us?

Yes, I am currently writing my second novel, and hope to see it released in the fall. Thank you, Tina for having me on The Saturday Spotlight. Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

Thanks Kat for stopping by today and Happy Patty's Day to you as well. How sad about your grandmother,  but how inspiring that you used some of those family tragedy's for writing your book!! Best of luck to your writing career and book Chasing Clovers.

GIVEAWAY

Today thanks to Kat, I have one signed copy of her book Chasing Clovers. To enter please just leave a comment. Winner will be drawn March 24, 2012.

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Mail order bride, Livy Green, is desperate to escape the memories of her past. John Taylor will never love another woman again, but his children need a mother. Will they learn to trust each other, or will their pasts interfere? 

Longing to escape the awful memories and the saloon she once sang in, Livy Green lies about her past so she can be a wife to John Taylor and mother to his two young children. Overwhelmed by the task, she struggles to put her resentment aside and love them as her own. 

John loved his first wife and is still heartbroken over the loss, but he needs a mother for his children. When his distant and unfriendly mail order bride arrives, he begins to doubt his decision, though one glance into Livy's terrified green eyes tells him he can’t turn his back on her. 

As Livy's past catches up with her and suspicious accidents begin to happen on the ranch, she is tempted to come clean and tell John the truth. But will he send her back if she does? Or will they forever be CHASING CLOVERS? 

Find out more about Kat on The Web~Goodreads


PS- Do you see my new graphic for the Saturday Spotlight...!! Yes that was made by the awesome and irresistible Jen over at In the Closet with a Bibliophile.....kisses and hugs to her for creating such genius!

From Blah to Awe by Jenna Lucado Bishop Spotlight and Giveaway

From Blah to Awe 
by Jenna Lucado Bishop

February 7, 2012 by Thomas Nelson

Paperback, 277 Pages

Review Copy

Everyone, especially teenagers, struggles with being bored with God from time to time. Sometimes church services and Bible reading don't seem that exciting, and it's easy to get busy and not make time to pray, but when this happens, we are missing out. Bishop shares her testimony and others' stories to see what a radical, living relationship with God looks like. 

About the Author:

If Jenna Lucado Bishop is sure of anything, she is sure of this, “I have a deep calling on my life to give hope to teenage girls.” What started out as a heart to encourage teen girls has now blossomed into a ministry. 

Daughter of best-selling Christian author Max Lucado, Jenna has realized that she has inherited a passion for writing and speaking just like her dad. She is currently a part of the Revolve Tour, an event for teen girls that includes a line-up of Christian artists like Natalie Grant, as well as speaker and author Chad Eastham and many more. 

Jenna has also narrated part of Thomas Nelson’s Word of Promise: Next Generation. Through all the piling projects, Jenna is driven by the thought of one more girl hearing about the love of Jesus.

GIVEWAY

Today I have one copy thanks to Thomas Nelson, of Jenna Lucado Bishop's book From Blah to Awe. I would love to pass this on to a teen/tween or mom, grandma, aunt of a teen girl who would like to share it with the special teenager in your life.

This contest is open to 13 and up readers and all you need to do is fill out the form
{PS- if form is not working - please just leave a comment for entry}

A Special Glimpse of Slated by Teri Terry and Giveaway!!

Kyla's memory has been erased, her personality wiped blank, her memories lost forever. 

She's been Slated. 

The government claims she was a terrorist, and that they are giving her a second chance - as long as she plays by their rules. But echoes of the past whisper in Kyla's mind. Someone is lying to her, and nothing is as it seems. Who can she trust in her search for the truth?

 Slated by Teri Terry

May 23, 2012 by Orchard Books

Today I have a special preview of Slated for your viewing pleasure. For the rest of March and April on surprise Thursdays leading up to the book release date, I have four special previews and a chance for readers to win a copy of Slated. To enter just comment on all the Thursday previews and your name will go into the drawing. A winner will be selected on Release day May 23!

PREVIEW ONE

Chapter One

Weird.

All right, I haven’t got much experience on which to base this judgement. I may be sixteen and I’m not slow or backward and haven’t been locked in a cupboard since birth – so far as I know – but Slating does that to you. Makes you lacking in experience. It takes a while for everything to stop being firsts. First words, first steps, first spider on the wall, first stubbed toe. You get the idea: first everything. So today feeling weird and unknown could just be that. But I am biting my nails and sitting here waiting for Mum, Dad and Amy to pick me up at hospital and take me home, and I don’t know who they are. I don’t know where ‘home’ is. I don’t know nothing. How can that not be…weird? Bzzzz: a gentle warning vibration from the Levo at my wrist. I look down: I’ve dropped to 4.4, the wrong side of happy. So I have a square of chocolate and it starts a slow climb up as I savour the taste and watch. Much more of your nerves, and you’re going to get fat.’

I jump.

Dr Lysander is framed in the door. Tall, thin and white-coated. Dark hair pulled straight back. Thick glasses. She glides, silent as a ghost the whispers say, always seems to know before it happens when someone falls into red. But she’s not like some of the nurses who can bring you back with a hug. She isn't exactly what you would call nice. ‘It’s time, Kyla. Come.’ ‘Do I have to? Can’t I stay here?’ She shakes her head. An impatient flick of her eyes says I've heard this a million times before. Or, at least, 19,417 times before, as 19,418 is the number on my Levo. ‘No. You know that isn't possible. We need the room. Come.’

She turns, walks out the door. I pick up my bag to follow. It is everything I have but it’s not heavy. Before I shut the door, I see: my four walls. Two pillows, one blanket. One wardrobe. The sink with a chip on the right side the only thing to mark my room as any different from the endless row of boxy rooms on this floor and others. The first things I remember. For nine months, the boundaries of my universe. This and Dr Lysander’s office and the gym and school one floor down with others like me. Bzzzz: more insistent now, it vibrates up my arm, demanding attention. Levo’s dropped to 4.1.

Too low.

Dr Lysander turns, clucks under her breath. She bends down so we are eye to eye, and touches a hand to my cheek. Another first. ‘Truly, you will be fine. And I’ll see you on

a fortnight to start with.’ She smiles. A rare stretching of lips across teeth that looks uncomfortable on her face, as if unsure how it got there or what to do once it did. I am so surprised I forget my fear and start to climb away from red. She nods, straightens and walks down the hall to the lift.

We go silent down ten floors to ‘Ground’, then down a short hall to another door. One I haven’t been through before for obvious reasons. Over the top it says ‘P&R’: Processing and Release. Once you pass through this door, you are never seen again.‘Go on,’ she says. I hesitate, then push the door part open. I turn to say goodbye, or please don’t leave me, or both, but she is already disappearing into the lift with a swish of white coat and dark hair. 

My heart is thumping too fast. I breathe in and out, and count each time to ten until it begins to slow, like they taught us; then square my shoulders and push the door open wider. Over the threshold is a long room with a door at the far end, plastic chairs along one wall, two other Slateds sitting with a regulation bag like mine on the floor in front of them. I recognise both of them from lessons, though I’ve been here much longer. Like me, they are out of the pale blue cotton overalls we always wear, and into actual jeans. Just another uniform, then? They are smiling, thrilled to be leaving hospital at last with their families. Never mind that they’ve never met them before. A nurse at a desk on the other wall looks up. I stand in the doorway, reluctant to let it shut behind me. She frowns slightly, and flicks her hand to beckon me in.

‘Come. Are you Kyla? You must check in with me before you can check out,’ she says, and smiles widely. I force my feet forward to her desk; my Levo vibrates as the door shuts with a swoosh behind. She grabs my hand and scans my Levo just as it vibrates harder: 3.9. She shakes her head and holds my arm tight with one hand, and jabs a syringe into my shoulder with the other.‘What is that?’ I ask, pulling away and rubbing my arm, though I am pretty sure I know. ‘Just something to keep you level until you are somebody else’s problem. Sit down until your name is called.’

My stomach is churning. I sit. The other two look at me with wide eyes. I can feel the Happy Juice begin to ease through my veins, taking the edge off, but it doesn’t stop my thoughts even as my Levo slowly rises to 5. What if my parents don’t like me? Even when I really try – which, to be fair, isn’t all the time – people don’t seem to warm to me. They get annoyed like Dr Lysander when I don’t do or say what they expect. What if I don’t like them? All I know are their names. All I have is one photograph, framed and hung on my hospital room wall, and now tucked in my bag. David, Sandra and Amy Davis: Dad, Mum and older sister. They smile at the camera and look pleasant enough, but who knows what they are really like? But at the end of it all, none of this matters, because no matter who they are, I have to make them like me.

Failure is not an option.

‘Processing’ doesn't involve much. I am scanned, photographed, finger printed and weighed. It turns out ‘Release’ is the tricky bit. The nurse explains on the way that I need to say hello to my mum and dad, that they and I will sign some papers to say we are all now one big happy family, and then we will leave together to live happily ever after. Of course I spot the problem, straight away: what if they take one look at me, and refuse to sign? What then? ‘Stand up straight! And smile,’ she hisses, then pushes me through a door. I paste a wide smile on my face, convinced it won’t transform me from scared and miserable to angelic and happy; more like, demented. I stand in the doorway, and there they are. I almost expect to see them posed like they are in the photograph, wearing the same things, like dolls. But each of them is in different clothes, different positions, and the details fight for notice: too much at once, all threatening to overwhelm and send me into the red, even with the Happy Juice still lingering in my veins.

I hear the teacher’s bored voice, over and over again with the same words, as if she were standing there next to me: one thing at a time, Kyla. I focus on their eyes and leave the rest for later. Dad’s are grey, unreadable, contained; Mum’s soft flecked light brown, impatient eyes that remind me of Dr Lysander, like they miss nothing. And my sister is there, too: wide dark almost black eyes stare curiously back at mine, set in glowing skin like chocolate velvet. When the photo was sent weeks ago, I’d asked why Amy was so different to my parents and me, and was told sharply that race is irrelevant and no longer worthy of notice or comment under the glorious Central Coalition. But how can you not see? The three of them sit in chairs at a desk, opposite another man. All eyes are on me but no one says anything. My smile feels more and more like an unnatural thing, like an animal that died and is now stuck on my face in a death grimace.

Then Dad jumps out of his chair. ‘Kyla, we’re so pleased to welcome you to our family.’ And he smiles and takes my hand, kisses my cheek, his rough with whiskers. His smile is warm, and real. Then Mum and Amy are there, too, all three of them towering inches taller than my five foot nothing. Amy slips an arm through mine, and strokes my hair. ‘Such a beautiful colour, like corn silk. So soft!’ And Mum smiles then too, but hers is more like mine.

The man at the desk clears his throat, and shuffles some papers. ‘Signatures, please?’ And Mum and Dad sign where he points, then Dad gives me the pen. ‘Sign here, Kyla,’ the man says, and points to a blank line at the end of a long document, ‘Kyla Davis’ typed underneath. ‘What is it?’ I say, the words out before I can think before you speak like Dr Lysander is always telling me. The man at the desk raises his eyebrows, as surprise then irritation crosses his face. ‘Standard release from mandated treatment to external sentencing. Sign.’ ‘Can I read it, first?’ I say, some stubborn streak making me go on even as another part whispers bad idea. His eyes narrow, and he sighs. ‘Yes. You can.

Everyone, prepare to wait while Miss Davis exercises her legal rights.’ I flick through but it is a dozen pages of long, close typed print that swims before my eyes, and my heart starts thumping too fast again. Dad puts a hand on my shoulder, and I turn. ‘It’s all right, Kyla. Go on,’ he says, his face calm, reassuring; his words and Mum’s the ones I must listen to from now on. And I begin to remember a nurse patiently explaining this all to me last week: that is part of what is in this contract. I flush, and sign: Kyla Davis. Not just Kyla, any more: the name picked by an administrator when I first opened my eyes in this place nine months ago, after her aunt who she said had green eyes like mine. An actual second name that belongs to me, as part of this family. That is in this contract someplace, too. ‘Let me carry that,’ Dad says and takes my bag. Amy links her arm in mine, and we go through one last door. Just like that, we leave behind everything I have ever known.

Mum and Dad study me in the car mirror as we spiral up out of the car park under the hospital towards the exit. Fair enough as I study them back. They are probably wondering how they got two such mismatched daughters, and nothing to do with the skin colour I’m not supposed to notice. Amy sits next to me in the back seat: tall and busty and three years older at nineteen. I am small and slight with wispy blond hair; hers is dark and thick and heavy. She is va-va-voom, like one of the male nurses says about another nurse he fancies. And I am… My brain searches for a word the opposite of Amy and comes up empty. Maybe that, in itself, is the answer. I am a blank page. An uninteresting one at that. 

Amy is wearing a flowing red patterned dress with long sleeves, but she pulls one up now so I can see her Levo. My eyes widen in surprise: so she was Slated, too. Her Levo is an older model, chunky and thick where mine is a thin gold chain with a small dial, meant to look like a watch or bracelet but fooling nobody. ‘I’m so happy you are my sister,’ she says, and she must mean it as it says 6.3 in big digital numbers.

We get to the gate; there are guards. One comes up to the car and others watch behind glass. Dad hits a few buttons and all the car windows and the boot open. Mum, Dad and Amy pull up their sleeves and hold their hands out the windows, so I do the same. And the guard looks at Mum and Dad’s empty wrists and nods, then he goes to Amy and holds a thing over her Levo and it beeps. Then he does the same thing to mine, and it beeps, too. He looks in the boot and slams it shut. A barrier in front of the car rises and we go through. ‘Kyla, what would you like to do today?’ Mum asks.

Mum is round and pointy, and no that isn't ridiculous. Her shape is round and soft but her eyes and words are sharp. The car pulls on to the road and I twist round. The hospital complex I know, but only from the inside. It stretches side to side and up and up. Endless rows of little barred windows. High fences and towers with guards at regular intervals. And… ‘Kyla, I asked you a question!’

I jump.

‘I don’t know,’ I say. And Dad laughs. ‘Of course not, Kyla; don’t worry. Kyla doesn't know what she wants to do, she doesn’t know what there is to do.’ ‘Now Mum, you know,’ Amy says, and shakes her head. ‘Let’s go straight home. Let her get used to things for a bit, like the doctor said.’ ‘Yes because doctors know everything,’ Mum sighs, and I get the sense of a long-standing argument. Dad looks in the mirror. ‘Kyla, did you know that fifty percent of doctors finished in the bottom of their class?’

Amy laughs. ‘Honestly, David,’ Mum says, but she is smiling also. ‘Have you heard the one about the doctor who couldn’t tell his left from his right?’ Dad says, and launches into a long story of surgical errors that I hope never happened in my hospital. But soon I forget all they are being and doing and saying, and stare out the window.

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Chapter Two

London.

A new picture begins to form in my mind. New London Hospital is losing its central place, shrinking in the sea of what surrounds it. Roads that go on and on, cars, buildings. Some near the hospital are blackened and boarded; more are full of life. Washing on balconies, plants, curtains billowing out windows. And everywhere: people. In cars, walking along the street.

Crowds of people and shops and offices and still more crowds of people, rushing in all directions, ignoring the guards at the corners who get fewer the further away we are from the hospital. Dr Lysander has asked me many times. Why do I have a compulsion to observe and know everything, memorize and map every relationship and position? I don’t know. Maybe I don’t like feeling blank.There are so many details, missing, that need to be set right.Within days of remembering how to put one foot in front of the other and not fall over, I’d walked and counted and mapped with pictures in my mind every floor of the hospital that was access allowed. I could have found each nurses’ station, lab and room by number blindfolded; I could close my eyes now and see it all before me. 

But London is a different matter. A whole city. 

I’d have to go up and down every street to complete the map, and we seem to be on a direct line trip to ‘home’, a village an hour west of London. I’d seen maps and pictures of course, at the hospital school. Hours every day they’d spoon feed us as much general knowledge as our blank brains could soak up to prepare us for release.How much this was varied. With me I gripped each fact and memorized it, drawing and writing things over and over again in a notebook so I couldn't forget. Most of the others were less receptive. Too busy smiling great dopey grins at everything and everybody.When we were Slated, they upped the happy in our psychic profiles. If they upped the smiles in mine, they must have been non-existent to start with........

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Stay tuned for next Thursday as the Slated story continues........

All preview content is COPYRIGHT of Orchard Books, no copying, reproduction or sale is permitted of this preview. It is for promotional use only. For more info visit Orchard or info on Slated at Orchardbooks.co.uk

Shelf Cravings {46}

Welcome to Shelf Cravings, a weekly dish on all things book! New releases, coming soon and just discovered. This week Im excited for:


~Coming Soon~

Live Through This by Mindi Scott

October 2, 2012 by Simon Pulse

From the outside, Coley Sterling’s life seems pretty normal . . . whatever that means. It’s not perfect—her best friend is seriously mad at her and her dance team captains keep giving her a hard time—but Coley’s adorable, sweet crush Reece helps distract her from the annoying drama. Plus, she has a great family to fall back on—with a stepdad and mom who would stop at nothing to keep her and her siblings happy and safe. But Coley has a lot of secrets. She won’t admit—not even to herself—that her almost-perfect life is her own carefully-crafted façade. That for years she’s been burying the shame and guilt over a relationship that crossed the line. Now, Coley and Reece are getting closer, and as Coley has the chance at her first real boyfriend, a decade’s worth of lies are on the verge of unraveling.

Look into My Eyes (Ruby Redfort Novel) by Lauren Child

Spring 2012 by HarperCollins

Everyone knows that Clarice Bean is exceptionordinarily keen about the Ruby Redfort books. Now in her own starring role, this genius code-cracker and daring detective, along with her sidekick butler, Hitch, work for a secret crime-busting organization called Spectrum. Ruby gets into lots of scrapes with evil villains, like being trapped in a giant hourglass or held over a flaming volcano, but shes always ice-cool in a crisis. Just take a classic screwball comedy, add heaps of breathtaking action, and multiply it by Lauren Childs writing genius, and what have you got? Only the most exciting middle-grade series since, like, ever.

Quicksilver (Ultraviolet #2) by R.J Anderson

September 6, 2012 by Orchard Books

Once I was a girl who was special. Now I am extraordinary.......And they will never stop hunting me. 

The compelling follow-up to the bestselling ULTRAVIOLET, this psychological thriller will take your breath away...

So Close to You by Rachel Carter

July 10, 2012 by HarperTeen

Lydia Bentley has heard stories about the Montauk Project all her life: stories about the experiments that took place at the abandoned military base near her home and the people who’ve disappeared over the years. When she stumbles into a vessel that transports her to a dangerous and strange new reality, Lydia realizes that all the stories she’s ever heard about the Montauk Project are true—and that she’s in the middle of one of the most dangerous experiments in history. Alongside Wes, a darkly mysterious boy whom she is wary to trust, Lydia begins to unravel the secrets surrounding the project. But the truths behind these secrets force her to question all her choices. And if Lydia chooses wrong, she might not save her family but destroy them...and herself.

The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry

by Rachel Joyce

July 24, 2012 by Random House

Meet Harold Fry, recently retired. He lives in a small English village with his wife, Maureen, who seems irritated by almost everything he does, even down to how he butters his toast. Little differentiates one day from the next. Then one morning the mail arrives, and within the stack of quotidian minutiae is a letter addressed to Harold in a shaky scrawl from a woman he hasn’t seen or heard from in twenty years. Queenie Hennessy is in hospice and is writing to say goodbye.

Harold pens a quick reply and, leaving Maureen to her chores, heads to the corner mailbox. But then, as happens in the very best works of fiction, Harold has a chance encounter, one that convinces him that he absolutely must deliver his message to Queenie in person. And thus begins the unlikely pilgrimage at the heart of Rachel Joyce’s remarkable debut. Harold Fry is determined to walk six hundred miles from Kingsbridge to the hospice in Berwick-upon-Tweed because, he believes, as long as he walks, Queenie Hennessey will live. 

~Just Discovered~

This Dark Endeavor by Kenneth Oppel

August 23, 2011 by Simon and Schuster

In this prequel to Mary Shelley’s Gothic classic, Frankenstein, 16-year-old Victor Frankenstein begins a dark journey that will change his life forever. Victor’s twin, Konrad, has fallen ill, and no doctor is able to cure him. Unwilling give up on his brother, Victor, his beautiful cousin Elizabeth, and best friend Henry begin a treacherous search for the ingredients to create the forbidden Elixir of Life.

Impossible odds, dangerous alchemy, and a bitter love triangle threaten their quest at every turn. Victor knows he must not fail. But his success depends on how far he is willing to push the boundaries of nature, science and, love -- and how much he is willing to sacrifice.

Hmmmm, a Frankenstein prequel....why is it that this just came to my attention? I cant wait to carry on with the Ultraviolet series and check out Quicksilver, dive into a mystery with Ruby Redford, discover Coley's and Lydia's big secrets and travel the world with Harold....

Which one looks good to you?

Mini~Reviews Featuring High Heels to Tractor Wheels by Ree Drummond & Holy Ghost Girl

Where I get out a few thoughts on a bundle of books Ive read!

The Pioneer Women: Black Heels to Tractor Wheels: A Love Story 

by Ree Drummond

February 14, 2011 by William Morrow 

Paperback, 352 Pages

Review Copy

“That’s when I saw him—the cowboy—across the smoky room.”

I’ll never forget that night. It was like a romance novel, an old Broadway musical, and a John Wayne western rolled into one. Out for a quick drink with friends, I wasn’t looking to meet anyone, let alone a tall, rugged cowboy who lived on a cattle ranch miles away from my cultured, corporate hometown. But before I knew it, I’d been struck with a lightning bolt . . . and I was completely powerless to stop it.

Read along as I recount the rip-roaring details of my unlikely romance with a chaps-wearing cowboy, from the early days of our courtship (complete with cows, horses, prairie fire, and passion) all the way through the first year of our marriage, which would be filled with more challenge and strife—and manure—than I ever could have expected. This isn't just my love story; it’s a universal tale of passion, romance, and all-encompassing love that sweeps us off our feet. It’s the story of a cowboy. And Wranglers. And chaps. And the girl who fell in love with them.

Thoughts

Hilarious!

If you enjoy Drummonds famous blog and her snarky, fun sense of humor then you'll love this book. Its no doubt funny and has tons of laugh out loud moments, though outside of Ree's signature humor the book gets personal as Ree shares some deeper issues like her parents divorce, her insecurities and the sometimes less than pretty things during pregnancy and birth. As a woman -minis the whole rancher wife thing- I was able to relate with Ree when she talked about reinventing herself and finding her place in a new life or finding significance in such a drastic change to the way she lived (like me going from gung-ho career banker girl wanna-be social worker....to stay at home mom trying to finish her degree).....and of course the having children chapters. I can defiantly say Drummond offers up more than fluff and recipes as she tackles the love story of her and Marlboro Man. I really enjoyed it.

4/5- Nonfiction-Memoir

Thanks to William Morrow and TLC Tours for Review Copy

Holy Ghost Girl by Donna Johnson

October 13, 2011 by Blackstone Audio

9 Hours 4 Min

Narrated by Carrington MacDuffie

Review Copy

A compassionate, humorous story of faith, betrayal, and coming of age on the sawdust trail. Only three when her mother became tent revivalist David Terrell's organist, Donna was soon part of the hugely popular evangelist's inner circle. At seventeen, she left the ministry for good. Holy Ghost Girl brings to life miracles, exorcisms, and face-offs with the Ku Klux Klan--and that's just what went on under the tent. As Terrell's fame grew in the 1960s and '70s, the caravan of broken-down cars that made up his ministry evolved into fleets of Mercedes. The glories of the Word mixed with betrayals of the flesh, and Donna's mom bore Terrell's children in one of his secret households. Thousands of followers headed to cult-like communities to await the end of the world. Jesus didn't show, but the IRS did, and the prophet-healer went to prison. This memoir bypasses easy judgment to articulate a rich world in which the mystery of faith and human frailty share surprising and humorous coexistence.

Thoughts

Holy Ghost Girl is one of my favorite memoirs to date....and not because of the scandals or the sad often heartbreaking child neglect that went down, but because Donna's story was so honest and in the mix of soap opera drama I heard a little girls voice similar to my own and found so many things I could relate to.

Donna walks readers through her childhood years living with her mother and a traveling caravan of tent revivalists, where miraculous healing, chanting women and exorcisms were the norm. As a child (until the tween years) I was raised in a very similar religion, no traveling tent revivals but in a very strict Pentecostal Church that required women to look and act like the Amish, you know what Im speaking of, the no makeup-no jewelry-no pants-no speaking in public- woman who's inherent evil tempts a man to sin. David Terrell's message was almost the same of what I remember growing up- the fire and brimstone, the damnation and constant reminder of being set apart from the heathens and of course the unexplained miracles that seemed to happen in front of me. Donna explains some of the same things I saw as a child- like how people would roll around on floors, yell, chant, moan and get crazy with the shaking and dancing, but instead of being frightened or thinking these things were weird it was just apart of her daily life...just like mine were. There were of course plenty of differences in her experience, I never faced the traveling, the unsettled state of being, the lack of schooling and watching the adults around me get corrupted by sex or money, which did eventually bring the entire empire Terrell had built tumbling down.

While I have some sweet and tender memories of the people I grew up with and like Donna remember that part of my life as normal, as an adult I only see the legalistic, man-made rules that overshadowed the Grace of Christ. I really appreciated the candor and honesty of Holy Ghost Girl and only wish Donna would have shared her current feelings on religion and where she is spiritually today.

Narration

The narration was perfect for this story. Carrington's voice was raspy and a bit gravely, it fit the persona of Donna and brought to life the scenarios being told in a unique presentation that made you feel right there with the moaning, screaming and weirdness of a tent revival.

5/5- Nonfiction Memoir

Thanks to Publisher and Audiobook Jukebox for review copy