Welcome back to Sample Saturday. In this tidbit, Lije Marshall and part of the family are being sent on an adventure.
~~~
On Friday morning, Ma ask Sarah, John, and me to come into the downstairs bedroom, as Pa wanted to speak to us. I glanced at Ma's face as I passed into the room, noting the tense look she made no effort to hide. I felt the clutch of panic squeezing my gut. Was Pa gathering us to bid his final farewell?
As I neared his bedside, I examined his countenance. There was the look of pain therein, but his color was good. I found none of the gray cast that would indicate approaching death. When he spoke, his voice had strength, and I knew relief. Then I paid attention to his words.
"You'll leave at noon today. Elder Caldwell gave me the address of the worship service, which I'll give to your mother. Sarah is to stay to care for my needs. Emily, prepare the food this morning that you'll require during the journey. John, help your brother get the wagon ready."
Pa looked at me, straight into my soul. "Take good care of your mother, Elijah. Lend a good ear at the service. You must tell me all you hear."
Despite his sorry state, Pa was not letting any grass grow before he heeded counsel to guide his family in its religious course. We were being sent to meet other Saints and to learn from them.
~~~
Thank you for visiting. I hope you enjoyed today's sample. If you did, you'll probably want to sign up for my quarterly newsletter, "Marsha's Musings." Subscribers are among the first to learn of developments in my writing and publishing schedule. You also learn about sales and discounts, too. Click here for the subscription form. See you next Saturday!
From her home in the forest, writer Marsha Ward offers up an eclectic collage of musings on life, insights into the writing process, sample scenes and snippets from her work, book spotlights, and author interviews. Now including "The Characters in Marsha's Head."
Saturday, May 30, 2015
Saturday, May 23, 2015
The Zion Trail: An uncomfortable lunch
Lije Marshall and his siblings try to have a normal lunch in the absence of their parents.
~~~
Lunch was a strange affair, with Pa and Ma absent from the table. I looked over at Sarah, sitting at the head of the table, and waited for her to say grace.
She sat with her eyes downcast. After a long interval in which she made no indication that she would speak a prayer, I glanced around at John and Mary Eliza, cleared my throat, then bowed my head and gave my best imitation of Pa's blessing over the meal.
We ate in silence, for the most part. Even my little sister seemed disheartened by our father's injuries. When had he ever failed to be up and working throughout the day? I sensed that we all felt aimless, lacking the guidance of our good parents in our daily activities. Yes, we knew our chores, but the absence of he who cared how well we did them left us with a feeling akin to doom.
At least, that was how I felt.
Mary Eliza began to whimper, wiping her tear-filled eyes with the back of her hand.
"What's the matter, Pumpkin?" I asked.
"Is Papa," she paused to sniff. "Is Papa going to die?"
"Of course not," I replied, trying to muster an enthusiasm I didn't have. "Ma is the best nurse there is. She'll help him to get well." My dubious little sister stuck out her bottom lip. "Are you sure?"
"Cross my heart," I said to the accompanying action. I didn't add the rest. I didn't hope to die, and I didn't want Mary Eliza thinking any longer of death.
Sarah stirred in her chair. I barely heard her whisper. "It's my fault."
I turned and pegged her to her chair with my frown. "We'll talk later," I muttered. This wasn't the time nor place. The little one was too upset as it was.
"You're sure he'll heal up?" asked John from across the table.
I stifled a groan. Was I sure of that myself? "He's down for a couple of days, John, but his life isn't under threat." I hoped my words were true.
I sopped up the remains of the soup with my last morsel of bread, stuffed it into my mouth, and looked at my siblings as I chewed. Sarah stirred her uneaten soup. John tapped his bowl with the edge of his spoon. Mary Eliza pulled on her still-protruding bottom lip. I swallowed and sighed, my mind racing for something to distract them from their unhappy state.
Sarah should take charge, I thought. She's the eldest.
~~~
Thank you for visiting. I hope you enjoyed today's sample. If you did, you'll probably want to sign up for my quarterly newsletter, "Marsha's Musings." Subscribers are among the first to learn of developments in my writing and publishing schedule. You also learn about sales and discounts, too. Click here for the subscription form. See you next Saturday!
~~~
Lunch was a strange affair, with Pa and Ma absent from the table. I looked over at Sarah, sitting at the head of the table, and waited for her to say grace.
She sat with her eyes downcast. After a long interval in which she made no indication that she would speak a prayer, I glanced around at John and Mary Eliza, cleared my throat, then bowed my head and gave my best imitation of Pa's blessing over the meal.
We ate in silence, for the most part. Even my little sister seemed disheartened by our father's injuries. When had he ever failed to be up and working throughout the day? I sensed that we all felt aimless, lacking the guidance of our good parents in our daily activities. Yes, we knew our chores, but the absence of he who cared how well we did them left us with a feeling akin to doom.
At least, that was how I felt.
Mary Eliza began to whimper, wiping her tear-filled eyes with the back of her hand.
"What's the matter, Pumpkin?" I asked.
"Is Papa," she paused to sniff. "Is Papa going to die?"
"Of course not," I replied, trying to muster an enthusiasm I didn't have. "Ma is the best nurse there is. She'll help him to get well." My dubious little sister stuck out her bottom lip. "Are you sure?"
"Cross my heart," I said to the accompanying action. I didn't add the rest. I didn't hope to die, and I didn't want Mary Eliza thinking any longer of death.
Sarah stirred in her chair. I barely heard her whisper. "It's my fault."
I turned and pegged her to her chair with my frown. "We'll talk later," I muttered. This wasn't the time nor place. The little one was too upset as it was.
"You're sure he'll heal up?" asked John from across the table.
I stifled a groan. Was I sure of that myself? "He's down for a couple of days, John, but his life isn't under threat." I hoped my words were true.
I sopped up the remains of the soup with my last morsel of bread, stuffed it into my mouth, and looked at my siblings as I chewed. Sarah stirred her uneaten soup. John tapped his bowl with the edge of his spoon. Mary Eliza pulled on her still-protruding bottom lip. I swallowed and sighed, my mind racing for something to distract them from their unhappy state.
Sarah should take charge, I thought. She's the eldest.
~~~
Thank you for visiting. I hope you enjoyed today's sample. If you did, you'll probably want to sign up for my quarterly newsletter, "Marsha's Musings." Subscribers are among the first to learn of developments in my writing and publishing schedule. You also learn about sales and discounts, too. Click here for the subscription form. See you next Saturday!
Saturday, May 16, 2015
The Zion Trail: Lije thinks about girls
Lije Marshall has expressed his concern to his parents about his sister's suitor and the man's connection to Pa's beating.
~~~
I stopped myself from saying anything about the lying tales Hans had spun for her, knowing I'd be in trouble for eavesdropping on my sister, no matter that it had been inadvertent. After all, I had continued to listen to their conversation in the henhouse. And watch their amorous embraces.
A different sort of energy pulsed in my body, something new to me. I wondered if it was time I started to take notice of the girls in the vicinity.
Samantha Calhoun. She had a wall-eye. I'd spent a fair amount of time watching it wander about as she sang in the choir at church, but could I live all my life looking at the spectacle? No. Cordelia Brock. Fair-haired and growing into womanhood well. I could take notice of her. Tilly Kressler. We boys called her Silly Tilly for good reasons. Her giggle was overdone. Annie Lea—
Ma brought me back to the situation at hand with a quiet, "I knew she was daydreaming far too much these last weeks." She rose, patting Pa's hand before she laid it gently on the quilt. "Let's see if her mind wandered off her cooking."
"She has a pot of soup going," I said, backing out of Ma's way as she advanced upon the doorway. "It smells nearly edible."
Ma raised an eyebrow. "You must stop teasing your sister."
"I wasn—"
"You do it often, Lije. The day will come when you will regret treating her lightly."
~~~
Thank you for visiting. I hope you enjoyed today's sample. If you did, you'll probably want to sign up for my quarterly newsletter, "Marsha's Musings." Subscribers are among the first to learn of developments in my writing and publishing schedule. You also learn about sales and discounts, too. Click here for the subscription form. See you next Saturday!
~~~
I stopped myself from saying anything about the lying tales Hans had spun for her, knowing I'd be in trouble for eavesdropping on my sister, no matter that it had been inadvertent. After all, I had continued to listen to their conversation in the henhouse. And watch their amorous embraces.
A different sort of energy pulsed in my body, something new to me. I wondered if it was time I started to take notice of the girls in the vicinity.
Samantha Calhoun. She had a wall-eye. I'd spent a fair amount of time watching it wander about as she sang in the choir at church, but could I live all my life looking at the spectacle? No. Cordelia Brock. Fair-haired and growing into womanhood well. I could take notice of her. Tilly Kressler. We boys called her Silly Tilly for good reasons. Her giggle was overdone. Annie Lea—
Ma brought me back to the situation at hand with a quiet, "I knew she was daydreaming far too much these last weeks." She rose, patting Pa's hand before she laid it gently on the quilt. "Let's see if her mind wandered off her cooking."
"She has a pot of soup going," I said, backing out of Ma's way as she advanced upon the doorway. "It smells nearly edible."
Ma raised an eyebrow. "You must stop teasing your sister."
"I wasn—"
"You do it often, Lije. The day will come when you will regret treating her lightly."
~~~
Thank you for visiting. I hope you enjoyed today's sample. If you did, you'll probably want to sign up for my quarterly newsletter, "Marsha's Musings." Subscribers are among the first to learn of developments in my writing and publishing schedule. You also learn about sales and discounts, too. Click here for the subscription form. See you next Saturday!
Saturday, May 09, 2015
Sample from The Zion Trail: Lije & Sarah "discuss" Hans Stiles
As I sometimes do, I've jumped around in The Zion Trail this week, back to Lije and Sarah's conversation of two weeks ago.
~~~
"Did Hans speak ill of Pa for deciding we would take the baptism?"
"No."
She wouldn't meet my gaze. She was lying. "Sarah? Tell me the truth."
She sniffed, turning her face away.
"Sister."
"He said Pa was making a sore mistake, that he was leading us astray, out of the fold of God."
I made a rude noise and half turned to spit my derision. Since when did Hans Stiles concern himself with God? He acted the part of a rough character every day, notwithstanding his careful seduction of my sister.
"I think he's right, Lije."
I turned back to stare at Sarah. I knew she had reservations, but she had not refused the baptism, nor the laying on of hands.
She bent to retrieve her basket from the muddy ground.
"I believe what the elders told us. What I heard of it."
"Hans told me of the visitors' evil schemes." Her eyes widened.
"He told you fairy stories, Sarah. I didn't sense evil in them."
She held her peace, but I could tell she didn't favor my story.
"Pa is a good man. He puts his trust in the Lord. He wouldn't fall for such as Hans told you." I stopped short as she narrowed her eyes. I'd best quit before she discovered my spying ways.
I waved a hand. "Pa didn't deserve a beating," I said.
"I'm sorry. I didn't know he'd be hurt."
"I'm sorry, too. Hans Stiles isn't the man for you, Sarah. He loves violence too much."
~~~
Thank you for visiting. I hope you enjoyed today's sample. If you did, you'll probably want to sign up for my quarterly newsletter, "Marsha's Musings." Subscribers are among the first to learn of developments in my writing and publishing schedule. You also learn about sales and discounts, too. Click here for the subscription form. See you next Saturday!
~~~
"Did Hans speak ill of Pa for deciding we would take the baptism?"
"No."
She wouldn't meet my gaze. She was lying. "Sarah? Tell me the truth."
She sniffed, turning her face away.
"Sister."
"He said Pa was making a sore mistake, that he was leading us astray, out of the fold of God."
I made a rude noise and half turned to spit my derision. Since when did Hans Stiles concern himself with God? He acted the part of a rough character every day, notwithstanding his careful seduction of my sister.
"I think he's right, Lije."
I turned back to stare at Sarah. I knew she had reservations, but she had not refused the baptism, nor the laying on of hands.
She bent to retrieve her basket from the muddy ground.
"I believe what the elders told us. What I heard of it."
"Hans told me of the visitors' evil schemes." Her eyes widened.
"He told you fairy stories, Sarah. I didn't sense evil in them."
She held her peace, but I could tell she didn't favor my story.
"Pa is a good man. He puts his trust in the Lord. He wouldn't fall for such as Hans told you." I stopped short as she narrowed her eyes. I'd best quit before she discovered my spying ways.
I waved a hand. "Pa didn't deserve a beating," I said.
"I'm sorry. I didn't know he'd be hurt."
"I'm sorry, too. Hans Stiles isn't the man for you, Sarah. He loves violence too much."
~~~
Thank you for visiting. I hope you enjoyed today's sample. If you did, you'll probably want to sign up for my quarterly newsletter, "Marsha's Musings." Subscribers are among the first to learn of developments in my writing and publishing schedule. You also learn about sales and discounts, too. Click here for the subscription form. See you next Saturday!
Monday, May 04, 2015
Elijah Marshall Comes to Call
* I know I'm supposed to be working on my WIP, which is why that stands for "work-in-progress," but I have had a hard week, and was just relaxing when the doorbell rings.
I open the door to find a rangy young man standing there, scruffy hat in hand, running his fingers through unruly black hair.
Me: Hello. How can I help you?
Him: Are you Mom?
Me: (squinting at him) Do I know you?
Him: (a slight look of disappointment crosses his face) Um, I, I guess we haven't met in the flesh, ma'am. (He sticks out his hand, then realizes there's a barrier between us, as I haven't opened the screen door yet. He pulls his hand back, then awkwardly lets it fall to his side.) My name is Elijah Marshall.
Me: Elijah? You're Lije Marshall?
Lije: The same, ma'am. My cousin Julia says her boys call you "Mom."
Me: (feeling more than a little flustered at my inability to recognize my character, and wondering a bit under what circumstances they chat) I'm sorry, Lije. I should have known you right off. (I open the screen door and wave him inside) Please come in. May I offer you a refreshment?
Lije: I could do with a drop of water, ma'am, er Mom.
Me: Sit down, please. I'll get it directly.
(Lije sits and looks for a place to set his hat. He ends up putting it on one knee as I leave the room to pump, er, retrieve a glass of water from the fridge)
Me: (entering the room) Here you are. You sure you won't take a bowl of ice cream?
Lije: No ma'am. Mom. (He downs the water and hands back the glass) Thank you. I'm in a bit of a hurry. Hans Stiles is looking for me.
Me: (answering reflectively). Hans Stiles. I renamed him, then?
Lije: Yes. That didn't improve his nature, though. He's still a bully.
Me: I'm sure that's causing you trouble.
Lije: Ah, yes ma'am. Mom. (hotly) He beat up my father! Now he aims to do the same thing to me.
Me: Are you afraid of him?
Lije: Cautious, Mom. Cautious. He has plenty of friends. We don't, now.
Me: You've lost friends?
Lije: You know we have. Folks hereabouts don't like Mormons. You'd think they hadn't known my folks for all those years.
Me: Indeed. In my time, there's a great threat to Christianity itself. Folks of faith need to put their past suspicions to rest and band together for the survival of us all. (waving my hand) Never mind that. Do you have a purpose in visiting me, Lije?
Lije: I do. (He looks around the room. I can tell he's hesitating) I understand you have picked a young lady for me to, ah, hmm, court.
Me: (trying to hide my smile at his nervousness) That's right. Do you have concerns?
Lije: Not about the young lady, Mom. I believe you've chosen wisely in the past, so I'll trust your judgement. My, um, concern is that you're not writing down the words fast enough to bring her nigh.
Me: (sighing) That's so. I was called for jury duty. (Lije has a puzzled look on his face. I remember that only men served on juries in his time) Never mind that. Another matter took time to resolve.
Lije: But you are anxious to continue? Writing down the account of my life, I mean.
Me: Yes, my dear, I am. I expect that by the time I tell my readers of your visit, I will have written a fair amount.
Lije: Your readers? You communicate with them? (His eyes grow huge)
Me: Yes, Lije. The wonders of my world far exceed your understanding. I won't try to explain a "blog" to you. (I stand) I think I'd better get to work on those words right now. Thank you for the visit.
Lije: (rising to his feet) Thank you. I appreciate your work, Mom. We all do.
Me: (thinking how sweet he is) Thank you for the reminder.
Lije goes out the door and down the ramp. As he turns the corner into the road, a mist covers him, and he is lost to view.
Copyright © 2015 Marsha Ward
*This is a work of fiction. I don't really talk to time-traveling characters from my novels. I do like them a lot, though, and am glad they pass under the rainbow from time to time to visit me in my own time and place. To order autographed copies of my novels, Gone for a Soldier, The Man from Shenandoah, Ride to Raton, Trail of Storms, and Spinster's Folly, visit marshaward.com or Westward Books.
I open the door to find a rangy young man standing there, scruffy hat in hand, running his fingers through unruly black hair.
Me: Hello. How can I help you?
Him: Are you Mom?
Me: (squinting at him) Do I know you?
Him: (a slight look of disappointment crosses his face) Um, I, I guess we haven't met in the flesh, ma'am. (He sticks out his hand, then realizes there's a barrier between us, as I haven't opened the screen door yet. He pulls his hand back, then awkwardly lets it fall to his side.) My name is Elijah Marshall.
Me: Elijah? You're Lije Marshall?
Lije: The same, ma'am. My cousin Julia says her boys call you "Mom."
Me: (feeling more than a little flustered at my inability to recognize my character, and wondering a bit under what circumstances they chat) I'm sorry, Lije. I should have known you right off. (I open the screen door and wave him inside) Please come in. May I offer you a refreshment?
Lije: I could do with a drop of water, ma'am, er Mom.
Me: Sit down, please. I'll get it directly.
(Lije sits and looks for a place to set his hat. He ends up putting it on one knee as I leave the room to pump, er, retrieve a glass of water from the fridge)
Me: (entering the room) Here you are. You sure you won't take a bowl of ice cream?
Lije: No ma'am. Mom. (He downs the water and hands back the glass) Thank you. I'm in a bit of a hurry. Hans Stiles is looking for me.
Me: (answering reflectively). Hans Stiles. I renamed him, then?
Lije: Yes. That didn't improve his nature, though. He's still a bully.
Me: I'm sure that's causing you trouble.
Lije: Ah, yes ma'am. Mom. (hotly) He beat up my father! Now he aims to do the same thing to me.
Me: Are you afraid of him?
Lije: Cautious, Mom. Cautious. He has plenty of friends. We don't, now.
Me: You've lost friends?
Lije: You know we have. Folks hereabouts don't like Mormons. You'd think they hadn't known my folks for all those years.
Me: Indeed. In my time, there's a great threat to Christianity itself. Folks of faith need to put their past suspicions to rest and band together for the survival of us all. (waving my hand) Never mind that. Do you have a purpose in visiting me, Lije?
Lije: I do. (He looks around the room. I can tell he's hesitating) I understand you have picked a young lady for me to, ah, hmm, court.
Me: (trying to hide my smile at his nervousness) That's right. Do you have concerns?
Lije: Not about the young lady, Mom. I believe you've chosen wisely in the past, so I'll trust your judgement. My, um, concern is that you're not writing down the words fast enough to bring her nigh.
Me: (sighing) That's so. I was called for jury duty. (Lije has a puzzled look on his face. I remember that only men served on juries in his time) Never mind that. Another matter took time to resolve.
Lije: But you are anxious to continue? Writing down the account of my life, I mean.
Me: Yes, my dear, I am. I expect that by the time I tell my readers of your visit, I will have written a fair amount.
Lije: Your readers? You communicate with them? (His eyes grow huge)
Me: Yes, Lije. The wonders of my world far exceed your understanding. I won't try to explain a "blog" to you. (I stand) I think I'd better get to work on those words right now. Thank you for the visit.
Lije: (rising to his feet) Thank you. I appreciate your work, Mom. We all do.
Me: (thinking how sweet he is) Thank you for the reminder.
Lije goes out the door and down the ramp. As he turns the corner into the road, a mist covers him, and he is lost to view.
Copyright © 2015 Marsha Ward
*This is a work of fiction. I don't really talk to time-traveling characters from my novels. I do like them a lot, though, and am glad they pass under the rainbow from time to time to visit me in my own time and place. To order autographed copies of my novels, Gone for a Soldier, The Man from Shenandoah, Ride to Raton, Trail of Storms, and Spinster's Folly, visit marshaward.com or Westward Books.
Saturday, May 02, 2015
Lije checks on Pa - Sample Saturday
In today's tidbit from The Zion Trail, Lije checks up on his father.
~~~
When I went in to lunch, I paused in the doorway to inhale the pleasant odors of the soup simmering in a kettle. Sarah was the only person in the kitchen, so I said to her, "Smells good."
She glared at me as though I'd insulted her cooking.
I wondered if it was the right time to try and make amends, but her scowl was fierce enough that I doubted my ability to get through her anger just now. I shrugged and went through the kitchen to check on my father's state of health.
As I suspected, I found Ma in the bedroom, seated beside the bed, holding Pa's hand. The door was open, but I tapped my knuckles against the door jamb just the same.
"Lije," my mother acknowledged me, beckoning to me to enter.
"How is he?"
"In some amount of pain from his ribs," she answered. "He won't be working today."
"Now, Emily," Pa protested from the pillow. "You're coddling me overmuch."
"As if you didn't need a fair bit of coddling," she replied. "Those ruffians did you damage. Who were they?"
Pa gave a minute shake of the head. "They came upon me from behind. I told you that, Wife. I can't name them."
From his halting manner of speech, Pa's ribs were giving him trouble. I wished I could take away his pain and bear it myself, but even as pangs of sympathy flowed through my body, I could not relieve his suffering one smidgen. At least I could make my suspicions known to my mother.
"I believe Hans Stiles and his bunch are involved," I said. "He's taken an interest in Sarah."
~~~
Thank you for visiting. I hope you enjoyed today's sample. If you did, you'll probably want to sign up for my quarterly newsletter, "Marsha's Musings." Subscribers are among the first to learn of developments in my writing and publishing schedule. You also learn about sales and discounts, too. Click here for the subscription form. See you next Saturday!
~~~
When I went in to lunch, I paused in the doorway to inhale the pleasant odors of the soup simmering in a kettle. Sarah was the only person in the kitchen, so I said to her, "Smells good."
She glared at me as though I'd insulted her cooking.
I wondered if it was the right time to try and make amends, but her scowl was fierce enough that I doubted my ability to get through her anger just now. I shrugged and went through the kitchen to check on my father's state of health.
As I suspected, I found Ma in the bedroom, seated beside the bed, holding Pa's hand. The door was open, but I tapped my knuckles against the door jamb just the same.
"Lije," my mother acknowledged me, beckoning to me to enter.
"How is he?"
"In some amount of pain from his ribs," she answered. "He won't be working today."
"Now, Emily," Pa protested from the pillow. "You're coddling me overmuch."
"As if you didn't need a fair bit of coddling," she replied. "Those ruffians did you damage. Who were they?"
Pa gave a minute shake of the head. "They came upon me from behind. I told you that, Wife. I can't name them."
From his halting manner of speech, Pa's ribs were giving him trouble. I wished I could take away his pain and bear it myself, but even as pangs of sympathy flowed through my body, I could not relieve his suffering one smidgen. At least I could make my suspicions known to my mother.
"I believe Hans Stiles and his bunch are involved," I said. "He's taken an interest in Sarah."
~~~
Thank you for visiting. I hope you enjoyed today's sample. If you did, you'll probably want to sign up for my quarterly newsletter, "Marsha's Musings." Subscribers are among the first to learn of developments in my writing and publishing schedule. You also learn about sales and discounts, too. Click here for the subscription form. See you next Saturday!
Friday, May 01, 2015
The Secret Keeper Cover Reveal
YA author Angela Carling's new novel is expected to come out in May, but she's revealing her cover today!
Title: The Secret Keeper
Genre: Young Adult
When seventeen year old Winter Merrill is compelled to make a bargain with the mysterious Secret Keeper, she knows there are rules. The most important one: the next time you have a secret, you will not be able to tell it . . . even if you try. What she didn't know is that her next secret, if not told, would destroy her life and the life of Liam, the only boy she ever loved. Can Winter find a way out of the dark bargain that binds her tongue or will her deal with the Secret Keeper bring devastating consequences unimaginable even to her?
That's an awesome cover!
Let's learn more about our Author:
Angela Carling was raised in Palm Springs California, but lives in Arizona with her husband, three kids, and five felines. After years of denial, she finally admitted that she is a hopeless romantic, which allowed her to write her first Young Adult book, Unbreakable Love. Since then she's published two more books: Shackled, and Becoming Bryn, and The Secret Keeper is launching in May. Shackled won a national award in 2012 and has been optioned as a screenplay.
Angela always eats the frosting off her cake and leaves the rest, and can be caught singing in public bathrooms to test the acoustics. She graduated from Brigham Young University with a Bachelor's degree in Psychology. When she is not writing YA novels, she is secretly using her family as guineas pigs to test what she learned in college.
Connect with Angela:
Website | Blog | Amazon | Barnes and Noble | Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads | YouTube
Title: The Secret Keeper
Genre: Young Adult
When seventeen year old Winter Merrill is compelled to make a bargain with the mysterious Secret Keeper, she knows there are rules. The most important one: the next time you have a secret, you will not be able to tell it . . . even if you try. What she didn't know is that her next secret, if not told, would destroy her life and the life of Liam, the only boy she ever loved. Can Winter find a way out of the dark bargain that binds her tongue or will her deal with the Secret Keeper bring devastating consequences unimaginable even to her?
That's an awesome cover!
Let's learn more about our Author:
Angela Carling was raised in Palm Springs California, but lives in Arizona with her husband, three kids, and five felines. After years of denial, she finally admitted that she is a hopeless romantic, which allowed her to write her first Young Adult book, Unbreakable Love. Since then she's published two more books: Shackled, and Becoming Bryn, and The Secret Keeper is launching in May. Shackled won a national award in 2012 and has been optioned as a screenplay.
Angela always eats the frosting off her cake and leaves the rest, and can be caught singing in public bathrooms to test the acoustics. She graduated from Brigham Young University with a Bachelor's degree in Psychology. When she is not writing YA novels, she is secretly using her family as guineas pigs to test what she learned in college.
Connect with Angela:
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