Three Strand Cord by Tracy Krauss

All Good Things Come In Threes

Good things come in threes. Three act plays, primary colours, most fairy tale structures (three pigs, three bears, three mice), the three musketeers, and of course God Himself – Father, Son and Holy Spirit!

In my own childhood, this was certainly the case. I had two ‘best’ friends growing up and we literally spent every day with each other. We talked, we played, we told secrets – it didn’t matter as long as we were together. One friend moved away, but I soon gravitated to another set of ‘best’ friends during my teen years. The three of us were initiated into adulthood as we navigated those tempestuous waters, tasting the ‘forbidden fruit’ and all that other jazz that teens are ‘supposed’ to do. (My shortened version so as not to shock you, dear readers!) Even after we went on to college, we kept in touch. One introduced me to my husband, and these two were bridesmaids at my wedding.

Lasting friendship is one of the themes of my new novel, Three Strand Cord. The three friends, Tempest, Stella, and Cherise, have been through a lot together, but in this story their loyalty is tested to the limits as a simple ‘fib’ leads to a web of deceit that lands one of them in serious trouble.

I’m not sure how many readers will catch the hidden acrostic in the title. Three Strand Cord contains the first letters of each character’s name – Tempest, Stella and Cherise. It wasn’t originally that way.  I had the title down quite early in the project – not something that always happens – but I knew it fit perfectly with the theme of friendship as well as the theme that God is the truest friend anyone can have.  Originally, Stella was named Myriah, but somewhere I had an epiphany that if I changed her name to something with an ‘S’, it would mirror the title. I spent some time scouring baby name books and finally settled on Stella.

There are two more books in the series – Blood Ties and Tempest Tossed. In the end, the real theme of the series is that God is the best friend of all. He is the friend that sticks closer than a brother. I hope those that read it find encouragement to let Jesus be that kind of friend.

Pre-order

Facebook Event   
(May 25, 4 to 9 pm Pacific time)

Tempest. Stella. Cherise. Fate brought them together, but can their friendship survive the tangled web of danger and deception that threatens their very lives? 

Tempest Ross dreams about moving back to California some day – both the place of her birth and her parents’ tragic death. When she agrees to pretend to be her friend Cherise for an afternoon, a tangled web of lies develops from which she can’t escape. Complicated by the unwelcome advances of Cherise’s playboy brother and her own attraction to a mysterious man, Tempest’s faith in God is tested to the limits.

Stella Crayton has high ideals about saving the planet and plans to start with her father’s ranch. Then she finds out her father has been keeping a dangerous secret. At the same time, her own errant emotions take over as she falls in love with two brothers at the same time. Add to this her best friend’s disappearance, and questions about God set this no-nonsense Texas girl in a tailspin.

Cherise Hillyer just wants to have fun, which in her books means having a good looking man in tow. The typical rich girl, she usually gets what she wants, even if she has to lie to get it. Desperate for her latest flame who has left for Rome, Cherise convinces her friends to cover for her while she takes off after her Italian lover. She doesn’t know she’ll soon become embroiled in an international conspiracy of lies and deceit that will threaten her life.

Three Strand Cord is a story of intrigue and romance told from three different points of view, all coming together to prove that when it comes to true friendship, ‘a three strand cord is not easily broken’.

10 Fun Facts About Tracy Krauss

1. I’ve moved more than 30 times
2. I’ve lived in several locations north of the 60^th parallel
3. I homeschooled for nine years
4. I’m a peanut butter-a-holic
5. I’m also a playwright and my stage plays have been performed across N.A.
6. I was once stampeded by a herd of wild buffalo
7. I’ve been inches away from a polar bear in the wild on more than one occasion (with something like a car window in between, of course!)
8. I’m a Sci-fi nerd and used to be a ‘Trekkie’. (Maybe I still am… )
9. In my ‘spare’ time when not writing, I like to paint
10. I majored in Intaglio printmaking at University (Fine Art Department)

Author Bio

Tracy Krauss is a multi-published novelist, playwright, and artist with several award winning and best selling novels, stage plays, devotionals and children’s books in print. Her work strikes a chord with those looking for thought provoking faith based fiction laced with romance, suspense and humor – no sugar added. She holds a B.Ed from the U of S and has lived in many remote and interesting places in Canada’s far north. She and her husband currently reside in beautiful BC where she continues to pursue all of her creative interests.  http://tracykrauss.com “Fiction on the edge – without crossing the line”


Tweet it:

Friends since childhood, Tempest, Stella and Cherise have drifted apart – until danger calls THREE STRAND CORD http://bit.ly/2ozJOaU

Here's your invitation...please come!

Hi, all! I've been a little absent of late, and I apologize. The flu doesn't want to let go this year. I've had two recurrences, back to back, and let me tell you -- it's draining and frustrating.

But enough about me. Let's talk about my new book!

I'm sharing an excerpt from Hummingbird Kisses today on Shannon Taylor Vannatter's blog. I hope you'll drop by and say hello. Shannon will be drawing a name from the commenters to win a copy of the collection in which this book was born: COOKING UP KISSES: Five Sweetly Scrumptious Romantic Novellas.

Here's your roadmap to the party. Or copy and paste the link below into your URL field, and you'll be on your way:

http://shannontaylorvannatter.com/delia-latham-romantic-excerpt-part-1-of-1/

Clare Revell: Married by Easter

About Married by Easter:

What happens when a desperate man seeks a 21st century marriage of convenience?

Confirmed bachelor, Nigel Turner, needs a wife in order to inherit his father's millions. And he needs one in short order. His only option—other than kidnapping, which is illegal—is to use the Internet site Rent-a-Bride.

Chloe Wilkes’s brother signs her up on Rent-a-Bride as a joke, but when Nigel's details end up in her inbox, she decides to get her own back, and reply.

Neither expects to fall in love with an arrangement that was meant to be temporary.

Excerpt:

Another email arrived. Chloe moved the mouse to delete, but instead opened it. She sighed. “Hello, Chloe. My name is Nigel. I read your profile and am contacting you as we are both Christians and have a lot of other things in common. I find myself in a bit of a fix and am hoping we can come to a mutually beneficial agreement. I’ve attached a picture of myself and hope to hear from you soon. Yours faithfully, Nigel Turner.” The email ended with a verse. The joy of the Lord is my strength. Nehemiah 8:10.

She scrolled down the page and looked at the photo.

“Wow.”

Close cropped wavy brown hair, a neat trimmed beard and the most amazing brown eyes she had ever seen. He wore a grey suit and brown tie with a bright white button down shirt. She picked up the bottle of water on the desk and drained it. Be still my heart, the bloke is a hunk. And a Christian.

But still a bloke nonetheless. How did she know he wasn’t a creep like the other emails she’d received?

She took a deep breath. She probably shouldn’t do this, but she was going to reply. “Hello, Nigel. I don’t make it a habit to advertise on sites like this, and I have no desire for a mutually beneficial anything with anyone. Especially when I know next to nothing about you. This is real life, not some trashy romance novel and a casual hook up.” She hit send.

Get your copy of Married by Easter:  Amazon US     Amazon UK      Pelican Book Group

Share a Tweet:  Can Nigel find the wife he needs in six weeks or will he lose his inheritance. Married by Easter by @ClareRevell from @pelican https://tinyurl.com/y8e42bkc

About the Author:

Clare is a British author. She lives in a small town just outside Reading, England with her husband, whom she married in 1992, their three children, and unfriendly mini-panther, aka Tilly the black cat. They have recently been joined by Hedwig and Sirius the guinea pigs. Clare is half English and half Welsh, which makes watching rugby interesting at times as it doesn’t matter who wins.

Writing from an early childhood and encouraged by her teachers, she graduated from rewriting fairy stories through fan fiction to using her own original characters and enjoys writing an eclectic mix of romance, crime fiction and children's stories. When she's not writing, she can be found reading, crocheting or doing the many piles of laundry the occupants of her house manage to make.

Her books are based in the UK, with a couple of exceptions, thus, although the spelling may be American in some of them, the books contain British language and terminology and the more recent ones are written in UK English.

The first draft of every novel is hand written.

She has been a Christian for more than half her life. She goes to Carey Baptist where she is one of four registrars.

She can be found at:

Website          Blog          Pinterest

Instagram      Amazon UK          Amazon.com

Pelican Book Group          Bookbub          Goodreads

She also has a newsletter. You can sign up for it HERE. Your email never gets passed on, and you won’t be inundated with mail either. It’s four maybe five times a year.

Christmas Fiction: The Chain You Forge (Kathryn J. Bain)

About The Chain You Forge

by Kathryn Bain

Inspired by Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol.

Benita Holden has more money than she’ll ever spend. As a personal injury attorney, her bank account grows in large sums. What does she spend her money on? Nothing. What does she do for fun? Work. Her life is one of routine, from the moment she wakes until she goes to bed at night.

That all changes one night when she gets a visit from her father, a man who’s been dead seven years now…

“I love the traditional things when it comes to the holidays and The Chain You Forge is going to become one of my traditions.”

—Nancy Lopez

“The writing was fresh and the story re-told with a backdrop of current events and images that should grab anyone's attention.”

—M Brown

About the Author

Kathryn J. Bain is an award-winning author of Christian, mystery, and suspense, including the Lincolnville Mystery series and KT Morgan short suspense series.

Ms. Bain has garnered several awards, including First Place for Short Suspense in the IDA (Independent Digital Awards), two Heart of Excellence Readers’ Choice Awards and a First Place Royal Palm Literary Award for Inspirational Fiction.

A past President of Florida Sisters in Crime and Public Relations Director for Ancient City Romance Authors, Kathryn enjoys doing talks and teaching about writing.

Kathryn has also been a paralegal for over twenty years and works for an attorney who specializes in elder law.

You can connect with her at her website, on Twitter, and on Facebook. See her available books including The Chain You Forge on her Amazon Author page.

PBG Christmas Titles: A Texas Christmas Mystery (Anne Greene) AND Candle for a Corpse (Marilyn Leach)

About A Texas Christmas Mystery

by Anne Green

A lady Coastguardsman searches for a killer. An oil rig troubleshooter accused of murder races to clear his name. The murderer strives to silence them both.

As Amber seeks to arrest Derrick, sparks fly.

Amber Meredith needs to solve her first case. But the handsome Cajun suspect makes her heart race and her toes tingle.

Derrick Darbonne worked all his life for his high-paying, adventurous job. When his past threatens his future, will he endanger the woman he loves?

Kindle     Nook     Kobo    ePub/Adobe 

Excerpt

Galveston, Texas

Only one thing scared Derrick Darbonne. He had no fear of fire, hurricane, sabotage, high seas, drunken roughnecks, reckless roustabouts, brawls, or hard work. But losing the job he’d slaved all his life to obtain terrified him.

He’d worked himself up from oaks draped with Spanish moss, murky alligator-filled water, and a tiny cabin on the banks of the bayou with no running water or electricity. He’d finally gotten to where he wanted to be. And now someone was trying to pin a murder on him. Some Christmas present.

Derrick crushed the schematics he’d been scanning and jammed them into his pocket. He braced his legs wide on the steel floor of the oil rig and raised the powerful navigational binoculars. A Coast Guard cutter slashed a white wedge through the sparkling Gulf waters straight toward his oil platform.

His jaw tightened, his spine stiffened, and he swallowed.

Standing beside him, Joe Bridges, the MIC, Man in Charge, swore.

If Derrick had been a swearing man, he would have joined Joe. Instead, he gripped the navigational binoculars tighter. “Third time this week. If I had anything to hide, I’d jump ship.” He smacked his hard hat so thoroughly his ears rang. “Thought so! That guardsman is a female.” Here was a Coastie bearing down on him with the authority to shut down the operation. The men would be out of work just in time for Christmas. What pretense to investigate the murder was the Coast Guard using this time?

Derrick lowered the binoculars and frowned. “She looks familiar.”

“Ever since you arrived for the routine inspection, Cajun, the Coast Guard’s been on our backs.” Scowling, Joe thrust out a hand for the glasses. “Then there was the murder. That’s the reason the big boss’s keeping you out here again, so long.”

“Don’t I know it! I’m looking for a saboteur as well. Probably the same guy.” Derrick slapped the binoculars into Joe’s hand and tried to lighten his foreboding with a jabbing tease. “Now I’ve got to get the Coast Guard environmental crew out of your hair.”

“Rib me, will ya?” Joe repositioned his yellow hard hat over his bald head and shook a work-hardened finger. “I’ll bet you I can get that Coastie to go for me and my shiny head before she goes for you and that Cajun accent of yours. Loser pays a hundred bucks.”

“You want us to distract her with our masculine charm so she won’t sniff out any violations that could shut us down?” Derrick surveyed the rig’s two-hundred-foot deck looking for any OSHA or EPA trouble the Coast Guard might use to give a citation. Sunlight slanted off the metal plates causing enough glare to hurt his eyes. He didn’t like Joe’s plan.

“You got it.” Joe grinned.

Derrick gave a tight smile. He slid his gaze to the roughneck inside the glass-enclosed room, jiggling the joy sticks and pushing the buttons that worked the rig’s floor. The big man hooking a new drill in place beneath the five-hundred-foot drilling tower wore his safety equipment. No problem there.

Derrick flicked his gaze over the new hire, the eighteen year old from Galveston. The kid’s long blond hair straggled from beneath his yellow hard hat. He was bent over washing sludge and mineral oil through sand to clean out the last drop of hydrocarbon before reusing the sand. Kid was a hard worker, already adept at his job. No laws broken. No environmental procedures shortcut.

The rest of the roughnecks and roustabouts worked steadily. None violated safety measures. No oil spills or pipe breaks had occurred. The hole drilled through the sea bottom was clean and not yet exceptionally deep. They should hit oil soon. Joe Bridges had a salty vocabulary, but the boss man ran a tight rig. So why suddenly all the anonymous phone calls about regulation problems? Had to be the murder.

Derrick needed to come up with answers.

“Alamo Oil pays you a hefty salary to make sure things run smooth on all two hundred of its rigs.” Joe’s voice sounded more than a little jealous.

“Don’t I know it.” Derrick ran a hand over the stubble already growing after his close morning shave.

“Alamo doesn’t want to fork out any stiff fines or lose any drill time because of environmental pollution, safety violations, mismanagement, or accidents. So make sure that Coastie’s distracted.” Joe winked. “And don’t mention the murder. We’ve trampled that ground too many times with the Coast Guard already.”

“Right.” Derrick rubbed the back of his neck. An uneasy feeling kept nagging him about the murder. Nothing he could put a handle to, but—too many clues led directly to him. Once the Coast Guard put the puzzle together, they’d come looking for him. He grunted. How had his personal helmet wound up grasped in the dead kid’s hand?

Joe swore loud enough that the crew cleaning sand looked up. He lowered his voice. “That Coastie’s gonna cause trouble. I feel it in my bones.” His eyes, shadowed under his hard hat, looked wary. “We gotta keep her thinking about us, not her job.” He handed the binoculars back.

Derrick frowned. “I think you’re just hard up for a date. You want a girl friend to share Christmas with.”

“Whatever!”

As the Coast Guard cutter pulled alongside their offshore rig, Derrick focused the binoculars on the trim figure in her blue uniform. He’d not seen many women in the Guard, and none that looked so curvy…wow, hotter than a Louisiana mudbug boil. He loved that spicy crawfish dish.

Dread inside his gut heightened. Sweat beaded his forehead. He got tongue-tied around women. “This can’t be good!”

“Yeah. The broad’s probably a—”

“It’s Amber Meredith!” Derrick fumbled the expensive binoculars, made a grab for them, and caught them just before they hit the deck.

About the Author

My home is in the quaint antiquing town of McKinney, Texas, just a few miles north of Dallas. My dear husband is a retired Colonel, Army Special Forces. My little brown and white Shih Tzu, Lily Valentine, shares my writing space, curled at my feet. I have four beautiful, talented children, and eight grandchildren who keep me running.

I’ve traveled in every location of each book I’ve written, and each book is a book of my heart. Besides my first love, writing, I enjoy travel, art, sports, reading, sailing, snorkeling, movies, and way too many other things to mention. Life is good. Jesus said, “I am come that you might have life and that you might have it more abundantly.” Whether writing contemporary or historical, my books celebrate the abundant life Jesus gives.    

About Candle for a Corpse

by Marilyn Leach

Candle for a Corpse: A Berdie Elliott Advent Mystery by Marilyn Leach is a Christmas whodunit with plot twists, shifty suspects, and loving villagers.  All of it’s sprinkled with English grace and humor.  Who would believe an advent wreath could solve a murder?  It can when Berdie Elliott’s at hand, a vicar’s wife and sleuth extraordinaire.  Fresh brewed tea, and high adventure with a spoonful of romance make the season bright.

Kindle     Nook     Kobo     ePub/Adobe

Endorsement

Are you an Agatha Christie fan?  Does the thought of an English village make you long to grab your passport and head across the pond?  Are cozy mysteries your cup of tea?  If you answered “yes” to any of those questions, you won’t want to miss Marilyn Leach’s, Candle for a Corpse.

--Amanda Cabot, CBA best-selling, award winning author

Website

Amazon Author Page

About the Author

At the age of nine, Marilyn wrote her first play with a childhood neighbor, “The Ghost and Mr. Giltwallet”.  It was a mystery.  And she’s been writing in one form or another, hobby or livelihood, since.  As well as teaching art, she’s had the opportunity to co-author several plays that have been performed on both church and secular stages, as well as two screenplays.  Marilyn has had the good fortune of “discovering her roots” while visiting England where she developed lasting relationships with wonderful people there.  It has greatly impacted her writing.  A great fan of Agatha Christie’s Miss Marple and David Cook’s Hetty Wainthropp series, Marilyn was inspired to write her series: Berdie Elliott Mysteries.  She lives lakeside on the Colorado front range.                                                            

PBG Christmas Titles: Christmas in Delaney Mountain (Mary Alford)

About Christmas in Delaney Mountain

Kara Edwards has been looking over her shoulder for years. After being kidnapped and held hostage by a man who claimed to be her late husband's friend, she's no longer in the trusting business. She moves to Delaney Mountain with one expectation: to outrun her stalker. Never does she expect to meet a man like David Delaney—one who not only makes her want to trust again, but to love again, too. David Delaney is drawn to Kara from the first moment he meets her. There's an attractive strength behind her no-nonsense caution and independence. He knows Kara is running from something, but nothing prepares him for what she has to say. When Eli Redford escapes from prison, Kara and David find themselves on one side of a Christmas Eve showdown that brings everything to a deadly head.

Kindle       Nook        Kobo        ePub/Mobi/Adobe

Excerpt

Two months. She’d spent the last two months looking over her shoulder and yet the expected nightmare hadn’t returned. There’d been no word from him. No sightings. Only silence.

So why couldn’t she relax? Begin to enjoy life once more?

Because this routine was a familiar one. The last time had been four months. The time before six. The only variable in the equation was that there was no variable. The routine – his routine -- never faltered.

He always found her.

So, no matter how tired, or frustrated, or fed up she became, she couldn’t let her guard down because it had only been two months and she was convinced, even after moving to a remote village in Colorado, he would find her again.

At times, Kara felt like a ghost without a past. Transparent. Truth be told, she barely remembered the woman she’d once been…before him.

Kara glanced out the window at the gathering darkness. It came quickly at this time of the year in the shadow of the mountains. The news had been broadcasting a huge winter storm on the way.

It was almost six. Amy would start to worry if she didn’t show up soon, yet she couldn’t afford to upset her boss. She needed this job. She was barely hanging on financially as it was.

Kara picked up the phone to call the woman who watched her four-year-old daughter Maya. Before Amy had a chance to answer the call, Kara's boss stepped out of his office and into her personal space. Immediately, she dropped the receiver back into its cradle to the sound of Amy’s "hello".

A familiar nervousness slithered down into the pit of her stomach. It reared its unwelcomed head every single time David Delaney came within twenty feet of her. It didn't help that he handsome as all get out and had bad boy trouble past written all over him.

Today, his straight, dirty-blond hair had been hastily pushed back from his face. It stood out in several places. She noticed that it came close to touching his collar and he hadn’t shaved in several days. David’s stubble darkened his strong jawline, drawing her attention to his face. She suspected he'd pulled quite a few all-nighters lately.

When David had first hired her, he’d explained that he and his brother were expanding their ranching business and had bought up several hundred acres of land across Delaney Mountain from the original ranch. David was charged with getting the new ranch up and running, which was huge undertaking in of itself, especially now that his brother had taken a leave of absence to be with his wife who was on strict bed rest during the final stages of her pregnancy.

While David seemed to enjoy the challenge, the running of the entire ranch fell squarely on his shoulders, resulting in many long days….and nights. He’d told her that the ranch foreman, Noah Henderson, was a tremendous help, but still. the pressures had to be enormous.

Kara glanced up and found David watching her and regretting the color creeping up her face.

He had the most amazing smoky-blue eyes Kara had ever seen. Whenever he came close enough for her to smell his aftershave it reminded her of how long it'd been since she was close enough to a man to smell his aftershave. And as always her thoughts drifted to Bryce. She still missed him terribly. It was hard to believe it had been almost five years since she'd buried her high-school sweetheart, and the love of her life.

Lately, it seemed life was reminding her more and more of the things she'd lost with Bryce. Yet she just couldn't picture herself going back there with anyone else. Especially now. After she’d survived him.

Kara squared her shoulders. She couldn't afford to give in to a little mild attraction. Her life and Maya’s depended on Kara never losing sight of the past.

About the Author

Mary Alford was inspired to become a writer after reading romantic suspense greats Victoria Holt and Phyllis Whitney. Soon creating characters and throwing them into dangerous situations that test their faith came naturally for Mary. In 2012 Mary entered the Speed Dating contest hosted by Love Inspired Suspense and later received “the call”. In addition to writing for Love Inspired Suspense, Mary also writes Christian romance and sweet romance. Being a published author has been a dream come true for Mary.

You can learn more about Mary's work at her website: www.MaryAlford.net, or connect with her on Facebook.

PBG Christms Titles: The Mayweather Christmas Quest (Dana Pratola)

About The Mayweather Christmas Quest:

Of all the things to find in the snow… A husband?

The forecast is for snow—but she's dreaming of more than a white Christmas. Olympia Mayweather is sure there's only one way to find a husband - through a family tradition that says she must kiss the man of her dreams in a Christmas snow. When a reporter comes to interview her for the local paper, she's afraid he's going to make a mockery of her, ruining her chance for a Christmas love. David Santina isn't sure a magical kiss will make Olympia a bride. But spending time with the charming woman and getting to know her just might make David believe in fairy tales. He'll protect her from a tabloid story, but who is going to keep him from completing The Mayweather Christmas Quest?

About Dana Pratola:

God gave me a passion to write Christian Romance. These books don’t contain explicit sex scenes, but my characters have real desires, struggles and choices to make. A lot of the time they make the wrong ones. No subject is prohibited, but good always triumphs and God is glorified.

In my personal life, He has also blessed me with a wonderful husband and three dynamic children, all of whom are destined to make wide, colorful splashes in this world. We share our New Jersey home with three dogs. I have no hobbies to speak of, unless you include writing. I don’t.

Excerpt:

Olympia sneered. It was hard to tell if this guy was sincere. He seemed to be, but reporters would do what was necessary to get a story, right? 

David twisted, reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small note pad and pen. “If you don’t mind…” he said, raising the items for their inspection. “How long has this tradition been a part of your family?”

“Oh, who knows,” Mom said. “It’s been going around at least as long as my great, great grandparents. Who knows before then? I suppose you could research it.”

“That’s what he’s doing now, Mom.” 

David smiled at her, then back at her mother. “And what specifically does this tradition entail? Are there certain guidelines, superstitions…?”

“Are you asking if we go through a blood ritual?” Olympia asked.

“Olympia, be nice,” her mother scolded. “It’s pretty straightforward,” she told David. “A Mayweather girl has to be somewhere where it’s snowing on Christmas Day, and if she meets a man under a Christmas snow, God blesses that union so that they’ll be together forever.” 

Olympia rolled her eyes. Not missed by David.

“I take it you don’t believe it,” he said.

“Olympia is my last single girl,” Sharon said. “So, we’re taking any edge we can.”

Olympia laughed. She did believe it—mostly—but didn’t want him to ridicule her. “I’m in no hurry to be married.”

“I know, dear, I know,” her mother said, patting Olympia’s hand. “It’s just wise to keep your options open.”

“Your other daughters were married this way?” David asked.

“God blessed two that way, yes; Aliza and Brinna.” 

“What about the other”—he glanced at his notes— “Helena.”

“We’re waiting to see how it turns out.” Her mother waited a beat before laughing. 

“So, where is your pursuit taking you this year?” David asked.

“Snow’s predicted in Duluth, Minnesota, so that’s where we’ll be,”

As they talked about where they would be staying, how long, etc., Olympia got up and made the hot chocolate. She was trying to take it in stride, after all, this was something special the family did every year, but now it didn’t feel right. She’d agreed to go to make her mom happy, but it wouldn’t be the same with none of her sisters participating. If she didn’t find a husband this year, there would be no one to deflect the attention. And now, having this stranger turn her family’s harmless fun into a blatant joke was irritating. 

She set a steaming mug in front of him and then took her seat.

“Thanks,” David said. “So, you fly out a few days before Christmas. Do you scope out the prospects, or just wing it and let destiny have its way?”

Unsure if he was trying to insult them, Olympia offered what she hoped would pass for a genuine chuckle. “It wouldn’t be much of a custom if it was based on searching out a husband ourselves, would it? What would be the point of going when we could do that at church, or the mall?”

David flipped a page in his pad and turned to Olympia directly. 

“Speaking of faith, would you say God is behind your mission to find a husband?”

His words forced her back in her seat. “I’m not on a mission. This isn’t a belief; it’s a legend, a game.”

He smiled. “But, you all take it seriously enough to travel to Minnesota, or wherever the snow is forecast.”

She didn’t like the turn this was taking and she had a feeling her expression said so. David’s smile disappeared.

“It’s a four hour drive, not a big deal,” she snapped.

“Three, the way you drive,” her mother said, shaking her head. “Mercy.”

Olympia ignored her. She felt herself getting upset but couldn’t stop it. “Some families spend Christmas in Tahiti, or South America, would you call that a religious quest?” 

David tapped his pencil on the top of the pad. “Sorry, I’m just trying to—”

“I know what you’re trying! To make my family look like a bunch of fools. Why don’t you come back on New Year’s when Ma dances naked around the mailbox so the fairies will bring her grandchildren!” She pushed back her chair and stormed from the kitchen.

Her mother called after her, but Olympia kept going, straight up to her room, where she resisted the urge to slam the door from its hinges. 

Purchase:

AMAZON

PBG

PBG Christmas Titles: The Volk Advent (Kristen Joy Wilks)

About The Volk Advent

An orphaned Siberian teen loses her job and home on Christmas Eve. Left on the streets to freeze, Faina flees to an abandoned castle for shelter. At the castle, she discovers the animal-torn body of a local recluse. No wonder Eurasian wolves are not recommended for the first-time pet owner. Can a girl with no past, preserve her future from accusations of murderer and a pack of escaped wolves?

Excerpt:

The Wolves and Ms. Melora are Restless

Cheery Christmas songs blared through the orphanage, clashing with the background noise of hurried cleaning and howling wolves. The Christmas music I was used to. The orphanage had a total of five American Christmas CD’s that Ms. Melora, our orphanage director, had played constantly since they arrived free with a magazine subscription eight years ago. Those CD’s had been here as long as I had, and they sounded just as twitchy and nervous.

The cleaning, I was also familiar with. When I, Faina Smith, turned eighteen last month, I should have left the orphanage and struck out into the fierce Siberian countryside on my own. I know, Smith? But one takes whatever name they give you, when one shows up as a ten-year-old amnesiac. Anyway, despite my age, Ms. Melora was loath to hire another girl to do my work when she could get my toil for free.

The incessant howling of wolves…I’m afraid I was not as accustomed to that.

Oh, sure, we had wolves. Deep in the misty forest, along remote stretches of the dark Lena river, behind the stone pinnacles that slashed the thick forested ridges. Siberia was deep within wolf territory. Most of the time the creatures stayed where they belonged. But these wolves were different. They lived in a vast, crumbling castle that crouched like a shadow on the edge of town. A bit of intermittent howling was normal, but something was different tonight.

What? A castle in Siberia seems unlikely? Of course it is. Who in their right mind would build a castle in the far north? But that is the question, isn’t it? Was Kirill Volkov in his right mind? It’s hard to say. The man did own wolves, after all. Perhaps he felt he must live up to his name. Volk meant wolf in Russian. Whatever had caused his extreme fascination with the

origins of their family name, Kirill Volkov hadn’t built the castle. It wasn’t built here at all, only moved, and it was his father who’d moved it.

I took a cloth and wiped down the face of every child in the room. They were none too happy with me, but cleanliness was vital today, and so I persisted. After struggling to wipe the breakfast off eight squirmy babies, I paused in my work, drawn by the deep throaty song of the wolves.

I peeked out the frost-streaked window. It was late afternoon on January sixth, Christmas Eve. The village was lit with a fading, dusky light. A bitter wind kicked up a few small tornados in the snow, blowing them through the market. Wood smoke curled out of every chimney as each village family prepared the meatless feast that would break their Christmas Eve fast. When the first star appeared on the horizon, the birth of Christ would be celebrated with sweet smelling hay scattered on the floor, glowing white candles on the table, and twelve traditional dishes, representing the twelve apostles.

The Volkovs’ castle seemed separate from all of this. It rose out of the gloom of the forest, not quite in town but not far enough away to be forgotten. It clashed with the quiet ambiance of the small village of Zamok Drakona.

The name meant Dragon’s Castle or more precisely “The Lock of the Dragon.” I’m sure the village had a different name once. But when Kirill Volkov’s father was inexplicably gifted a gargantuan castle from the Ukraine and had the whole thing shipped to Siberia block by block, what else could they call the place? He had a wall of river rock built around his new home, but apparently ran out of resources at that point. No further improvements were made after that.

The castle sat, long and gray and dark, at the edge of town. Three stories of rain-streaked stone topped by a black slate roof. Row after row of leaded glass windows glared out into the Siberian gloom. Only one or two of them ever showed a glimmer of light. It had remained exactly the same for the past eighty years.

Eventually, the first old eccentric had died, leaving the monstrosity to his equally eccentric son. Our new hermit did little to improve the place, but he did bring in some pets. Kirill Volkov hired some men from the village to build an immense cage that stretched across the castle grounds. Then he acquired his very own pack of Eurasian wolves. These critters were well cared for and large. In the wild, Eurasian wolves top the scales at about 100 pounds, although there were always exceptions. I’d heard whispers that some of Volkov’s pets weighed in at the upper limit for their species, 160 to 170lbs. Eurasian wolves are definitely not recommended for the first time pet owner. But Volkov had gotten away with it so far.

Why I used phrases like “first-time pet owner” and thought in pounds and inches rather than kilos and centimeters, I had no idea. My vocabulary was a personal peculiarity. Words and phrases I’d never heard spoken aloud in Russian filled up my mind. Perhaps the smack to the head that had taken my memory was at fault. But regardless of my mental glitches, the wolves were usually much less vocal. Had old Kirill Volkov left his nephew to feed them again?

That had not gone well. Vladim Volkov hadn’t fed them at all. He’d tried the first night, but wolves demand strength and according to rumor, fear had wafted off that young man like stink off a week-old fish. After the first bite, he left them to starve. Their low angry howls had surely kept him awake every night until his uncle returned.

Kirill Volkov hadn’t left the castle since, as far as I knew. He would never forget to feed them. I mean how could he? They were incredibly loud. And wasn’t his niece at the castle right now, decorating for her big Christmas gala? Surely even a city girl would notice that something was up with her uncle’s menagerie.

The wolves continued to howl. The American Christmas music continued to blare. I yanked my attention away from the window and jogged to the older babies’ room. Ms. Melora had a guest coming, and she would be around to inspect soon.

The children in the next room were toddlers. None of the little ones wore diapers. Instead they cruised back and forth in a large communal pen, wide-eyed in their threadbare nightshirts and silent. But something extraordinary happened when I bustled into the room. Those serious little faces broke into grins and a few brave souls even clapped and reached for me. This never would have happened my first year here, but I held a dark secret close to my heart. I had defied Ms. Melora and my risk was bearing fruit.

I rocked the babies.

About the Author:

Kristen Joy Wilks lives in the beautiful Cascade Mountains with her camp director husband, three fierce sons, and a large and slobbery Newfoundland dog. She has blow-dried a chicken, fought epic Nerf battles instead of washing dishes, and discovered a stealthily smuggled gardener snake in the bubble bath with her sons. Her stories and articles have appeared in Nature Friend, Clubhouse, Thriving Family, Splickety, and Havok Magazines. She writes funny romances for Pelican Book Group, including Copenhagen Cozenage, The Volk Advent, and Athens Ambuscade. Kristen writes about the humor and Grace that can be found amidst the detritus of life and can be found at www.kristenjoywilks.com.

Purchase:

Amazon            Barnes & Noble

Pelican Book Group      Kobo