Christmas Diamond, a Novella

A Special Christmas Novella

Inspired by the Jewel Series

and Introducing

the Virtues and Valor series

Written by

Published by

Olivia Kimbrell Press™

COPYRIGHT NOTICE

Christmas Diamond, a Novella; Inspired by the Jewel Series and Virtues and Valor series

First edition. Copyright © 2012 by Hallee Bridgeman. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means – electronic, mechanical, photocopying, or recording – without express written permission of the author. The only exception is brief quotations in printed or broadcasted critical articles and reviews. Your support and respect for the property of this author is appreciated.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, organizations, places, locales or to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or publisher. The characters are productions of the author's imagination and used fictitiously.

PUBLISHED BY: Olivia Kimbrell Press™*, P.O. Box 4393, Winchester, KY 40392-4393

The Olivia Kimbrell Press™ colophon and open book logo are trademarks of Olivia Kimbrell Press™.

*Olivia Kimbrell Press™ is a publisher offering true to life, meaningful fiction from a Christian worldview intended to uplift the heart and engage the mind.

Some scripture quotations courtesy of the King James Version of the Holy Bible.

Some scripture quotations courtesy of the New King James Version of the Holy Bible, Copyright © 1979, 1980, 1982 by Thomas-Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Some words and lyrics from the hymn "O Holy Night" (Cantique de Noël) composed by Placide Cappeau in 1847, lyrics by John Sullivan Dwight in 1855.

Original Cover Art and Graphics by Debi Warford (www.debiwarford.com)

Library Cataloging Data

Bridgeman, Hallee (Hallee A. Bridgeman) 1972-

Christmas Diamond; Novella inspired by Jewel and Virtues and Valor / Hallee Bridgeman

91 p. 23cm x 15cm (9in x 6 in.)

Summary: Londoner and pilot Faith Green stumbles accross billionaire scion TJ Viscolli while working in Key West. They soon find they share much in common

ISBN: 978-1-939603-14-2 (trade perfect) ISBN: 978-1-939603-13-5 (ebook)

1. Christian fiction 2. man-woman relationships 3. love stories 4. family relationships 5. world war II heroes

PS3558.B7534 C150 2013

[Fic.] 813.6 (DDC 23)

CHRISTMAS DIAMOND: TABLE OF CONTENTS

CHRISTMAS DIAMOND

COPYRIGHT NOTICE

DEDICATION

CHRISTMAS DIAMOND - CHAPTER 1

CHRISTMAS DIAMOND - CHAPTER 2

CHRISTMAS DIAMOND - CHAPTER 3

CHRISTMAS DIAMOND - CHAPTER 4

CHRISTMAS DIAMOND - CHAPTER 5

CHRISTMAS DIAMOND - CHAPTER 6

TRANSLATION KEY

INSPIRED BY REAL EVENTS

READER'S GUIDE

READER'S GUIDE DISCUSSION QUESTIONS

READER'S GUIDE MENU

Mini Tuna-Avocado Parfait with Florida Grapefruit Juice

Key West Style Baked Grouper

Cauliflower Cilantro Rice

Key Lime Pie

More Great Christian Fiction

VIRTUES AND VALOR SERIES

EXCERPT: TEMPERANCE'S TRIAL

THE JEWEL SERIES

EXCERPT: SAPPHIRE ICE

EXCERPT: GREATER THAN RUBIES

EXCERPT: EMERALD FIRE

EXCERPT: TOPAZ HEAT

SONG OF SUSPENSE SERIES

EXCERPT: A MELODY FOR JAMES

EXCERPT: AN ARIA FOR NICK

EXCERPT: A CAROL FOR KENT

Hallee the Homemaker Cookbooks

Fifty Shades of Gravy

THE WALKING BREAD; THE BREAD WILL RISE!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

HALLEE ONLINE

HALLEE NEWSLETTER

DEDICATION

LOVINGLY DEDICATED TO…

MY READERS. This novella is my Christmas 2013 gift to you. I pray that it blesses you and that you enjoy your peek into the second generation of the Viscolli family, and the teaser of the upcoming Virtues and Valor series. Thank you for your dedication. Thank you especially for all of the letters, e-mails, and continued prayers. Merry Christmas

CHAPTER 1

FAITH Green shifted the bill of the cotton painter's cap on her head and squinted out at miles and miles of the Florida Keys' translucent turquoise waters. A bead of sweat rolled down her back and she couldn't help but cringe at the music emanating from the restaurant's patio speakers.

O holy night. The stars are brightly shining.

It is the night of our dear Savior's birth.

She'd thought she'd adore spending Christmas in the Florida Keys. Who knew after landing on Key West less than three hours ago she could miss London's wet, cold streets as she sat on a lounge chair on a sunny beach and sipped watered-down lemonade while battling the relentless sand and humidity? After the long flight, she felt a little homesick. Even though this was business and the money was top notch, she also regretted the necessity of spending Christmas away from hearth and home.

Trying not to dwell on those thoughts, Faith looked out at the half a dozen or so brightly colored sails soaring over the water. Wind surfing looked like incredible fun to her — standing against a sail while skimming the glassy blue water, letting the sea breeze propel the vessel with amazing speed. She wondered if it was anything like flying her plane, like that feeling of freedom she felt each time she broke above cloud cover and emerged into an entirely different world. As she watched a purple and blue sail skim toward the shore, she contemplated if it would be possible to take some lessons sometime during her two-week stay.

As light as her cotton skirt was, she felt suffocated by the covering as she was so unused to the heat and the humidity. Faith stood and pulled her tank top away from her torso, hoping to let some of the mild breeze in under the fabric. Normally, she wore skirts unless she was in the air. Then she wore a near perfect replica of the Women's Auxiliary Air Force uniform her grandmother had worn in the early 1940s. The thought of wearing that, even for the coming air show, made her feel even hotter. She would definitely have to invest in some shorts while she was here.

As she slipped her brown sandals from her feet, she let her toes sink into the warm sand of the crystal white beach. It felt surprisingly good beneath her bare feet. Perhaps this was better than the icy wet London streets after all, she thought.

Faith looped the straps of her sandals over one finger while she strolled down to the water's edge. A wave washed onto shore and she started to back away from it, anticipating a chill like one would feel along the waters of County Durham. But as she looked around at the children splashing in the water, wearing only swimsuits, she let the water touch her, surprised at how warm it felt — almost like a tepid pot of tea.

With a smile, she started strolling down the beach, sticking to the packed wet sand. Christmas lights adorned the palm trees over by docks and dotting the strand. Behind her, the hotels and condominiums sported Christmas trees covered with artificial snow and decorations that spoke of snowflakes. The decor looked strangely incongruous in the eighty degree weather.

Florida. At Christmas. How amazing was this?

Faith walked down the beach taking in the sights and smells and the feel of the lapping surf covering her toes. After just a few minutes, she looked to her right and saw that she'd left the area of the hotel and now meandered along the beach that faced some private residences.

What did it take to live here? she wondered. What kind of people lived or vacationed behind those big stucco walls? Knowing the shoreline was public, she was undaunted by the private property and continued down the strand.

A giggle and simultaneous squeal caught her attention, and she turned her gaze to the back of one of the big houses and its pool and watched as a little red haired girl with wild curly hair hurled herself from a diving board while a bigger teen boy followed. Unable to help but smile at the child's play, she didn't pay attention and tripped over the body that had washed onto shore right in front of her bare feet.

She landed hard on her hands, the water washing away as the wave receded. Panicked, she spun back around.

A man about her age lay on the wet sand. His eyes were closed. The skin around his lips looked blue. His skin was a deep dark tan though his face looked pale. A trickle of blood ran down his temple and mingled with his wet black hair.

He wore only a pair of turquoise swim trunks that lay low on his hips and came to the middle of his muscular thighs. She saw a strap with one end wrapped around his ankle and the other end sheared. As she looked up, the windsurf board she assumed had once been fastened to his ankle washed up on shore about twenty yards down the beach.

Faith immediately and automatically patted her pockets before she remembered she didn't yet have phone service here in America. She dropped to her knees beside him. As she laid her fingers over the artery on his neck, she yelled out. "Help! Please, help!"

Her voice came out strong and clear despite the wind and surf. Her cultured British accent sounded vibrant despite her jet lag and the surge of adrenaline that raced through her blood stream.

She found the man's pulse, but it was weak. With her right ear close to his mouth, her eyes peered down his torso. She could neither feel nor hear his breath and did not see his chest rising or falling. As she tilted his head back and placed a hand on his forehead, she called again. "Someone, please help!"

She took a deep breath and covered his blue lips with her mouth. Within a few seconds of administering mouth-to-mouth, his entire body spasmed. He rolled his head to the side and coughed up quite a bit of the ocean. Just as he caught his breath, another man approached at a run, kicking up rooster tails of sand behind his heels as he raced toward them.

Faith glanced up at the approaching man and wondered if this was her patient's twin. But as he drew quickly closer, she made out the gray in his temples and the faint wrinkles around his eyes.

"TJ!" the man gasped as he slid to his knees next to the drowning victim. The younger man he had called TJ rolled over onto his elbow and coughed up some more salt water. The older man shot her a look again, his eyes showing a hint of panic. "Che cosa è successo?"

Faith didn't realize that he spoke to her in Italian, and really didn't realize she replied in kind to his question about what happened. "Non lo so." I don't know, she explained.

The older man blinked and shook his head then looked back at the younger man. "TJ?"

TJ coughed again and reached out, patting the older man on the shoulder. "I'm … okay," he said between coughs. "Just made a real mess of it. Feel like a complete fool."

"That's because you very foolishly nearly died. That would have ruined Christmas for your mother, you know."

The older man looked back at her now. His eyes were chocolate brown and strong but also very kind. The resemblance between the two men was uncanny. Clearly they were father and son. The older man gripped his son's shoulder.

TJ grinned at his father's teasing. "I'll try to work on my timing next time I do something so reckless."

To Faith, the older man said, "Grazi. Thank you." He lifted his grip from his son and held his hand out to her. "Thank you for saving my son's life."

Faith placed her smaller hand into his large grip. The palms of his hands and his fingertips felt surprisingly calloused, as if he often swung an ax or rowed an oar. "Just glad I was here," she answered, relief in her voice.

He released her hand and placed his over his heart. "God is good," he said sincerely.

"All the time," she replied.

His teeth flashed white against his dark skin. "I am Tony. This is my son, TJ."

"Faith."

"You're British?"

"So far." She smiled. "And half Italian as well."

"You speak Italian well."

"My mother would have appreciated the compliment, Tony." Faith heard another set of footprints running on the beach and looked up to see an older blonde woman and a tall thin dark haired young woman running toward them.

"Speaking of mothers, mine is just about to have fit. Fair warning," TJ panted. "And my sister won't be calm either."

Tony smiled and gracefully stood. "She deserves to. You did stop breathing, amato figlio."

As the older man intercepted the two women, Faith looked at TJ. "I'll leave you to it."

"No, wait," TJ pleaded, reaching for her and placing a hand on her arm. "Please don't go."

He sat all the way up and looked at her. "Come back to the house. It's not every day a beautiful woman saves my life." He let go of her arm and held his hand out, palm up. "Please, join us for dinner."

Faith didn't know why she placed her hand in his but, as she did, she looked at his face. The color had returned to his lips and the skin around his eyes. He was classically handsome. Dark lashes framed dark brown eyes, and the healthy glow of his Florida tan made his skin the color of rich caramel. His hand felt warm, his palms calloused like his father's. As she smiled and nodded, he was suddenly ripped away from her grip. The blonde woman had knelt down and wrapped her arms around him before pulling him fiercely to her bosom.

"Are you insane?" She demanded, hugging him.

"I don't know what happened, Mom," he said, pulling away and putting both of his hands on her shoulders. "I bottomed out or something. Next thing I knew, the board slammed me in the head as I went down."

He reached up and gently probed his temple. "Oh, wow. That really hurts."

"We're going to the hospital. You're getting checked out," she stated, standing and holding out a hand.

"Mom —"

She held up a finger. "No. No other options. Let's go. I'll drive." As her son pushed himself to his feet, Faith saw him wobble a bit. His mother slipped an arm around his bare middle and looked at the young, dark haired woman. "Madeline, run and go find your Uncle Barry and tell him to get a car ready."

The young woman named Madeline nodded and raced back toward the private residences without a word. TJ held up a hand to forestall their movement, bent at the waist, and retched up some sea foam, one hand on his stomach and the other on his mother's shoulder. His cheeks turned bright red and Faith wondered why he would be so embarrassed.

She lifted her hand. "Hey TJ? How about you go get your head examined and I'll take a rain check on that supper?"

His face paled and his father immediately came up on his other side. "Good idea," he whispered. "But don't think I'll forget, Faith."

Faith watched him walk away between his parents and some newborn part of her hoped he didn't forget either.

CHAPTER 2

THE white lights twinkling on the Christmas tree reflected in the glass balcony doors, making the room look strangely festive despite the beach decor. Faith fanned her finger over the pine needles on the tree, admiring the decoration; seashells and sand dollars hung from pastel peach and cream colored ribbon woven through the branches of the tree. A strand of pearled beads served as tinsel and a large starfish adorned the top. Faith smiled at the creativity that went into the tree for the southern Florida hotel room.

She moved to look into the full length mirror next to the bathroom door. She ran her hands down the sides of her knee-length white dress. It was sleeveless with wide straps that came together with rhinestone clips at the shoulders. Just three days in Florida and she'd developed a healthy tan thanks to her Italian mother, and she liked the way the dress complimented her skin. She had a sheer shawl to drape over her arms, but she knew from standing on the balcony that with Florida's warm evening air she wouldn't need it for anything other than look.

She wore her black hair cropped to her chin and normally let the natural curls just go where they may. Tonight, though, she'd straightened her hair and clipped the sides back with a diamond encrusted hair clip her grandmother had given her. It gave her a daring, exotic look. She didn't often wear makeup, but for a dinner sponsored by the host of the air show, she applied powders and colors until her blue eyes shone and her lips had just the right amount of red.

Around her neck, she wore a simple diamond solitaire pendant that matched the teardrop earrings. She looked at her watch as she slipped on some strappy sandals and grabbed her wrap.

She rode the elevator down alone, and stepped out amidst the beautiful decorations adorning the ornate lobby. Giant golden ornaments hung suspended from the twenty-foot ceilings. In the center of the lobby, one of the biggest trees she'd ever seen indoors stood proud, gaily decorated in a theme similar to the one in her room, but with much larger decorations. A large ceramic nativity display, painted only in mother-of-pearl, sat under the tree. Joseph stood at least three feet tall, his paint shimmering under the lights.

Somehow, everything said Christmas festive despite the eighty degree weather outside. It lifted Faith's heart and made her not miss the busy London streets so much. With a smile, she approached the desk clerk.

"Do you mind if I leave my key with you? I'm afraid I didn't plan outfits well and ended up with no pockets for the evening," she said.

"Of course, Miss Green. We'll have it right here for you after the event," the clerk answered, smiling. How in the world had the desk clerk known her name? Clearly, the Viscolli Hotel Key West had earned all twenty five points of its solid five star rating.

Impressed, Faith slid her key over the mahogany counter. She crossed back through the lobby and followed the signs to the Grand Ballroom. Several sets of doors stood open, and Faith could see dozens of people milling about and could hear the sound of a stringed orchestra playing somewhere inside.

"Faith!"

She turned at the sound of her name and saw her boss, Elizabeth Gaines, waving at her from just inside the doors. Happy to see someone she knew right away, Faith smiled and walked to the woman. When she saw who stood next to her, she almost stopped in her tracks. Tony, his wife, and TJ were all right there. It had been three days since the time on the beach, and Faith had found herself thinking of them several times a day.

"Faith, I would love to introduce you to our sponsor and host for the air show, Mr. Tony Viscolli, his wife Robin, and this is their son TJ," Elizabeth introduced as she reached out and pulled Faith toward her.

Tony Viscolli.

In that moment, Faith Green suddenly realized that Tony Viscolli was the Tony Viscolli. This was his hotel, even. That made TJ the eldest and only son of the Tony Viscolli. She could feel her eyes widen at the realization as all the pieces clicked into place.

Elizabeth looked at Tony. "Faith is our very best pilot. She flies our North American Na-16 in the show."

Tony smiled and held his hand out. "I had the very great pleasure of meeting Faith a few days ago. If I had known your last name, I would have contacted you sooner. It is such an honor to see you again," he said. "I never had a chance to properly introduce you to my lovely bride."

Before Faith knew what happened, Robin enveloped her in a hug. "Thank you again," Robin Viscolli said as she stepped back. "If you hadn't been there —"

"Mom," TJ cautioned, laying his hand on his mother's back. "She was there. You have to stop worrying about it. God handled it. Let it go."

He turned to Faith and smiled a charming smile that made her heart skip a beat. "We haven't been formally introduced, yet. My name is Antonio Francis Viscolli, Junior. Everyone calls me TJ. I'm very pleased to meet you, Miss Green."

He extended his hand in greeting. Faith placed her hand in his and immediately noticed how warm his skin felt. "How does one get TJ from Antonio Francis?"

He grinned, apparently used to the question. "Tony Junior. TJ. Call me whatever you like as long as you promise never to say Francis again."

"Well, then, TJ never Francis, I am very glad to formally make your acquaintance"

"The pleasure is mine. And I haven't forgotten our rain check," he said. He had yet to release her hand.

She had thought he looked handsome in a pair of swim trunks, but she had no idea someone could look so devastating in a tuxedo. "Time is getting short," she said with a flirtatious smile. "You only have until the New Year before I'll be back across the pond."

"Well, then, I better cash it tonight," he said, bringing her hand up to his lips.

Faith felt a flush cover her cheeks and realized she didn't know what to say. She could hear Elizabeth asking Tony and Robin what happened, but she couldn't break away from TJ's dark gaze. "I look forward to it," she whispered, retrieving her hand and fighting the impulse to rub the spot where his lips had touched.

"The chef here is pretty amazing," TJ confided.

"Sure you have room for supper? Not too full of sea water are you?" Faith teased, making TJ grin.

In a similar tone he retorted, "I like to think of sea water as more of an appetizer."

Robin cleared her throat and Faith realized she'd been staring into TJ's eyes. Embarrassed, she shifted her attention to the tall, beautiful blonde woman.

"I asked," Robin repeated with a smile, her eyes communicating her approval of the dawning attraction between Faith and her son, "how long have you been flying?"

"Flying?" Fighting the impulse to shake her head to clear it, Faith reached up and touched her pendant, trying to find her center again. "My entire life, really. My grandmother taught me practically since I learned to walk."

"Really?"

"She was from America. Texas, to be precise. When she was 19, she flew over to help with the war in Europe. She was in a special band of women they nicknamed the Virtues. She piloted freedom fighters, refugees, and supplies in and out of Nazi occupied France."

"I know the Virtues," TJ said as he put a hand on the small of her back. "Was Your grandmother Helen Mulberry Green?"

Faith's eyes widened and she looked back at him. "How is it that you know that?"

"Of course you're her granddaughter. Her code name was Faith." He looked at her in such a way that she felt her heart rate increase. Quietly, almost privately, he said, "You have her eyes."

At a loss for words, Faith said, "I'm afraid you very much have the advantage of me, TJ."

TJ ignored the remark and said, "I would love to talk with you about your grandmother some time. Did she ever tell you about her last mission?"

Tony laughed and wrapped an arm around his son's tuxedo clad shoulders. "My son is a historian, and that particular conflict is his specialty."

Faith turned so that she faced Tony. "Is that so?"

With a nod, TJ slipped his hands into his pockets. "When I was fifteen, I came across a book about Grace Aubertin and what she did in occupied France called Code Name: Grace and I've been hooked ever since. It is absolutely fascinating to me. I've made it my primary course of study in writing my thesis for my Ph.D. The Virtues were amazing and I've collected everything I can on them."

"Which, alas, has very little to do with operating Viscolli Enterprises," Tony offered with a sigh that was only mostly belied by the loving grin on his face.

"That's why you have Madeline," TJ said with a laugh. "Leave it all to my baby sister —"

"Oh, yes. And leave you to your books," Tony said, interrupting him. "I got the message. Despite your difference in age, she'll likely get her MBA before you even finish school."

Robin apparently decided to change the subject. She slipped her arm through her husband's. "Faith, this air show is Tony's Christmas present to TJ."

Considering what expenses went into an air show and knowing what Elizabeth charged, Faith couldn't fathom a gift of that kind of extravagance. "I beg your pardon?"

Tony waved a hand in the air. "It is not entirely just his present. I've worked with the city for some time to bring your show here and helped fund some of it. We brought our entire family down from Boston to enjoy it. But, TJ's love of it is what prompted the initial inquiries. And, unless his mother got him a sweater, he doesn't have any other presents this year."

"I'm sure mom got me a helmet and a snorkel," TJ laughed as he flagged down a waiter and grabbed a glass of ice water. He held it out to Faith who happily accepted it, if for nothing more than to give her hands something to do. "I can't believe the living granddaughter of one of the Virtues is participating in the show." He looked at his father with a grin. "That was the surprise you were talking about, isn't it?"

"Si," Tony said, smiling.

Faith took a sip of water and said, "The North American Na-16 I fly, Texas Diamond, is my grandmother's most prized possession. Gran loves the fact that I've been able to bring so much joy to so many people by flying her at shows like this."

"Loves? Helen Green is still alive?"

"Yes, of course. She lives in a home in Suffolk. I've been sending her a post card each day since I've been here."

Elizabeth interjected, "Faith's grandmother and grandfather both flew in the war. And, her cousin Alfred flies one of our P-51 Mustangs with us. He flies the yellow tail that flew with the 352nd fighter group out of the 8th Air Force. I'll see if I can find him and introduce you."

"I would absolutely love that," TJ said sincerely. He bent closer to Faith. "What a fascinating family history. I'd love to talk to you more about it."

Faith took another sip of her ice water. "Well, you know where to find me now," she said coyly, wondering where this flirtatious side of her had come from. Never in her life had she batted her eyes at a man until just that moment.

A uniformed waiter appeared at Tony's side and said something low in his ear. Tony grinned and turned to Elizabeth. "It would appear that dinner is ready to be served. Let's see if we can get all of these people to their seats." He turned to Faith. "Miss Green, would you do me the distinct honor of joining my family at our table?"

TJ extended his elbow and Faith shifted the glass of water to her left hand and laid her right hand over his forearm. He patted the tops of her fingers with his right hand and they proceeded toward the front of the room.

The Viscollis occupied the head table but numerous family members, in-laws, and close friends apparently occupied the satellite tables nearby. The smiles and interested looks she drew from them as she approached the head table on TJ's arm made Faith feel giddy and nervous all at once. She looked forward to a very interesting evening.

CHAPTER 3

FAITH sat on the dry sand and looked out at the ocean. A full moon bathed the beach in a silvery light. It allowed her to see beyond the darkness of the night, but the empty waters and the vacant beach also helped her feel alone and isolated.

At nearly one in the morning, no sound but the gentle surf lapping over and over onto the shore broke the silence of the night. Which is why, when someone sat down next to her, a startled cry escaped from her lips and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Sorry," TJ apologized, loosening the bow tie at his neck and unbuttoning the top button. "I thought for sure you saw or heard me coming."

Faith put a hand to her chest. "Quite all right. Must have been wool gathering."

So that she would not have to consider just how handsome this man looked in the starlight, she looked back out at the water. The silvery moonlight reflecting on the crystal clear waters shimmered like a diamond mine. She thought about how nice it was to not feel so alone at the moment, surrounded as she was by the raw beauty all around them.

"I'm really looking forward to the show next week." TJ confided.

Faith nodded. "Elizabeth does a beautiful job with coordination and choreography. I've flown in a few shows, and hers is by far the best one." She brought her legs up so she could rest her cheek on her knees. She had her face turned to look at him. "If I could only sleep."

"Jet lag?"

"Mmm hmm," she said, closing her eyes. "I get it so badly."

"My father has spent his entire career bouncing from one time zone to another and has never even yawned. It drives me nuts. I get jet lag when the time changes in the fall."

Faith smiled and opened her eyes again. "What's your father really like? What does he do?"

TJ shrugged. "Whatever he wants. If a business looks interesting to him, he acquires it." He picked up a piece of driftwood the size of a stick of gum and started breaking it into smaller pieces. "To me, it's overwhelming, thinking about the thousands of little details he has to keep up with every day."

"So you hide in your books."

TJ snorted a laugh. "Not too much. But that's what my baby sister says. She's always been there, in his office every chance she could get. She has his mind for it. Me, not so much."

An only child herself, Faith asked, "What is the age difference between you and your sister?"

He met her eyes and she could tell he was pleased that she had asked a somewhat personal question. "I'm a little more than two years older than she."

"Ah," Faith said, nodding. "And how old is she?"

TJ grinned at her roundabout question. "I think I know what you're asking. I'm just two months older than you, Faith."

Shocked, she demanded, "How do you know how old I am?"

He waggled his eyebrows. "I have my ways."

She could feel the heat on her cheeks and decided to change the subject back to safer territory. "So what are you going to do with your Ph.D.?"

"Write. Teach. Publish. Teach. I have dozens of ideas. If I didn't have to write so many papers for school, I'd be able to get some books written. This coming semester is my last one. Then I'll start writing for me."

Faith slipped the shawl off her shoulders and spread it behind her. Then she leaned back, letting the shawl serve as a barrier between her elbows and the sand. "Sitting still and writing. I couldn't sit long enough to write a check, much less an entire book."

"But you can sit long enough to fly from London to New York."

With a dismissive gesture of her hand, Faith said, "That's entirely different."

"Not so much." TJ stretched out on his side, facing her, his head propped up with his hand. He reached over and ran a finger over the bare skin of her forearm. "I really enjoyed you sitting with us tonight at dinner."

Faith thought back to the dinner and the tables of the Viscolli family. In what seemed like a whirl, she met aunts, uncles, young and old cousins, and lifelong friends. She didn't think she'd ever met a happier, closer group of people in her life. "It was rather amazing. I'm afraid my family is just me and Grandmum. Well, and some cousins."

"No brothers or sisters?" TJ asked.

Faith felt a little bit like a school girl with a crush all of a sudden. "Just me. Grew up rather spoiled, I should think. Not like your family."

TJ gave her a one sided grin. "I have a remarkable family. And they liked you very much. Spoiled or not."

She felt a flush tinge her cheeks and hoped the night served to disguise it. What she wanted to say was that she liked him very much, but she was afraid to say it. Instead, she just smiled. "I enjoyed talking to Peter O'Farrell. I have a friend who is from the same county as he."

"You'll rarely meet anyone more faithful to God than that man. You should hear his testimony."

"I would probably enjoy that very much."

"He's getting old but he's still in great health. He blames corned beef and cabbage."

Faith smiled a smile that bared her teeth. She really liked this attractive man. "My grandmum's health is starting to fail, I'm afraid."

TJ met and held her gaze. "It is incredible that she's still living. What a blessing that must be for you to have had your whole life to get to know her. I would love to meet her and talk with her. She's the last one. I checked."

Faith nodded, feeling her smile fade. Every year as Remembrance Day or the anniversary of the Normandy invasion neared, Faith had to beat back an army of reporters looking for some human interest quote from the war hero. They hounded her grandmother in recent years with a ferocity that fully equaled the anonymity and obscurity that surrounded her for decades after the actual war ended. "The last living Virtue. There's a book, there, I suspect."

Apparently out of the blue, TJ changed the subject. "Faith, will you join me for dinner tomorrow night? Just the two of us?"

She turned her body toward him and rested her weight on one elbow. "That depends, I suppose," she answered.

He reached out and took her free hand, running a thumb over her knuckles. "Depends? On what?"

Faith raised an eyebrow. "On whether you want to take me to dinner because you're attracted to me. Or perhaps because I saved your life the other day. Or is it because I'm Faith Green, the granddaughter of Helen Green the famous Virtue?"

TJ said, "There's only one possible answer to those questions."

Faith raised her eyebrow. "And that is?"

He smiled his most charming smile. "Yes."

Faith sat up, her tone very flat. "That's rather what I thought. Pity."

TJ's eyebrows came together in a sharp frown. "I don't understand."

"As the son of the very rich and very powerful Tony Viscolli, I should think you actually do understand." Faith pushed herself to her feet and bent down to pick up her shoes and shawl. "Once you have it sorted, you know how to contact me."

CHAPTER 4

FAITH sat at a booth in the airport's restaurant. A glass of ice water sat next to a half eaten tuna sandwich, but she ignored the food and drink. Instead, she penned a post card to her grandmum.

Three days 'til Christmas. Will miss you very much. Can't wait to give you the present I found for you. Be nice to the night nurses. Much love, Faith

As she looked up from the postcard, she felt her eyes widen when she saw TJ Viscolli march into the café, look around, then head straight for her. He wore a pair of khaki shorts, a short sleeved button down Hawaiian style shirt with Christmas trees all over it, and leather deck shoes with no socks.

He slid into the booth across from her. "Here you are," he greeted with a smile, stripping his sunglasses off and slipping them into the pocket of his colorful shirt.

"Here I am?" She couldn't help but make it sound like a question.

"Yes. I've been calling your hotel room since eight this morning, and you don't have a cell phone. It was a bit of a trial to find you." Reaching across the table, he took her hand. "I'm very happy I did."

With a raised eyebrow, Faith asked, "Why is that?"

TJ grinned. "Okay, first, because you're beautiful. But also I enjoyed the party last night, especially the times you were telling stories about flying or England. I enjoyed being alone with you on the beach more than anything. And, I definitely want to get to know more about you."

"I'd like to get to know more about you, as well." Faith smiled, then observed the bruise on the side of his head. "How is your noggin?"

He reached up and fingered the angry contusion near his temple. "Still a little sore. I guess my guardian angel was on duty."

"Interesting choice of words." She squeezed his hand and pulled hers out of his grip so that she could sit back against the bench. "I also believe God looked after your safety and made sure you were saved."

"By you."

Faith shrugged. "Perhaps. Or perhaps it doesn't have anything to do with me. Could have been anyone."

"I don't think so." He tapped the table in front of him with a finger. "I think you got a tap on the shoulder from my guardian angel. All that time you spend in the air and all."

"Perhaps." She put the cap on her pen and set it aside. "Although I'll confess I'm not entirely comfortable with the idea."

"What could be more comforting than to know that you're in the place where God would have you right at the perfect time? I would — and do — find extreme comfort in that notion."

Faith pursed her lips. "Wouldn't it just have been easier to prevent you from bashing your head in the first place?"

He looked at her with serious eyes. The look made the breath catch in the back of her throat. "Then I wouldn't have found you. Or, more to the point, you wouldn't have found me."

"We would have met last night at dinner," she said on a breath.

"I don't think it would have had the same impact as tripping over my breathless body, honestly." He laughed and looked at his watch. "How much time do you have today?"

"I have to be in my North American at half two."

"Two-thirty?" he asked, eyebrows furrowed and clearly in need of clarification.

"Right. Two-thirty."

He smiled. "Then we have more than two hours. What would you like to do?"

"Why do you assume I'd like to do anything?"

He winked at her. "Because you looked happy to see me."

Faith laughed. "Perhaps I simply found your shirt amusing."

TJ smiled. "Well, it is," he spread his hands as if presenting an obvious conclusion. "But I'm not sure someone dressed like a WAAC is at liberty to criticize."

"Not a WAAC," Faith corrected automatically, suddenly conscious of her rather ill-suited and somewhat masculine looking attire. "That was American. British was WAAF."

"You're right. Silly mistake," TJ redressed. "Just don't shoot me down, here, Faith."

She slid out of the booth with a shake of her head. "Very well. I would like to see Ernest Hemingway's house before I return home. I understand it's covered with cats. More than that, I'd love to see your favorite part of Key West, Florida. Your father said you've been coming here every winter your entire life, so surely you have a berth of your very own."

"As a matter of fact," he announced as he stood next to her and laid a gentle hand on the small of her back, "I do." They went out into the parking lot and he gestured toward a blue pickup truck. "I'm in the truck," he said. "I had to haul some mulch for Nelson today."

He opened the door and she slid into the scorching hot interior. "Who is Nelson?" she asked as he climbed into the driver's seat and closed his door. The air conditioner started blowing ice cold air as soon as he started the engine.

"Nelson's our landscaper slash gardener. He's pretty amazing." TJ whipped the truck out onto the road and followed the coastline, passing the hotel. He turned down a residential street, and suddenly the businesses disappeared and gave way to estates. Palm trees adorned with Christmas lights shaded massive stucco homes sheltered by red Spanish tile roofs. Wood framed homes the size of small hotels and painted in pastels stood out among the Spanish styles. The beauty of the architecture and the landscaping was not lost on Faith.

TJ turned into a driveway and pulled up to a large wrought iron gate with a massive scrolling brass "V" down the center. As the truck approached, the gate gently swung open.

As they rode down the palm tree lined drive, Faith admired the beautiful tropical flowers in full bloom. It felt like the house was part of the environment rather than the other way around. TJ didn't pull up in front of the house, though. Instead, he drove around back, passed the swimming pool, and headed toward a little house in the far corner of the property.

He stopped at the door, cracked all the windows, and turned off the engine. Immediately, Faith felt the heat again. It was incredible. She gratefully escaped the hot confines of the truck cab when he opened her door.

"This is my spot," he said, gesturing to the small framed structure, mimicking the main house in paint and roof style. "We think it was originally a gardening shed, but my dad let me have it when I was eight. Nelson wouldn't think this place was big enough to store his rake." He pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked the door.

Faith stepped up and into the one-room building. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, but when they did, the interior took her breath away.

A desk stood in the middle of the room with a comfortable looking desk chair behind it. An Oriental rug covered the floor. Bookshelves lined two of the walls from floor to ceiling. The other walls were covered in photographs, posters, and World War II paraphernalia. As Faith stepped further into the room and started inspecting, she realized it was mostly about the war in Europe and the French Occupation.

A shelf in one corner held a collection of very detailed model airplanes. She ran her fingertip over a perfect replica of her grandmother's North American Na-16, the Texas Diamond. She found one display that had dozens of pictures of the Virtues, including a few pictures of her grandmother as a young woman. She recognized all of the women. In her lifetime she had even met a few of them.

"How did you come by all this?" she asked. She felt in absolute awe of the collection.

"I've spent the better part of a decade collecting it all," TJ said, walking up to her. "When I need to work, I come here. Most of the time, I'm alone on the estate and I can just write without distraction."

"Well, if you sought to impress me, TJ Viscolli, I say well done, you. This is amazing," Faith admitted, turning in a circle. She felt like she could immerse herself for hours just looking at the posters.

TJ put his hands on her shoulders and smiled down at her. "You fit in here," he observed, looking her up and down, from the toes of her boots to her flight suit, to hair that had to be insanely wild after being confined in a helmet all morning.

Her heart felt a rush of warmth then started beating a little faster. A bit out of breath, she fought the school girl crush feeling and kept her feet firmly planted on the ground. "I see. Am I intended to be a recent addition to your private collection, Mr. Viscolli?"

For a second, a look of confusion clouded his eyes. Then his brows drew together in a frown of actual displeasure. "You need to stop accusing me of being interested in you just because of your name or who your grandmother is."

"Isn't that what you're doing?"

"Of course not." His fingers squeezed her shoulders before he released her and stepped back. "The fact is, I find myself incredibly attracted to you. I haven't been able to get you out of my mind since opening my eyes on the beach. Which was, if you recall, before I knew who you were."

Faith conceded the point. "That's very true. My apologies."

"So I guess the question is why are you so bent on thinking those are my motivations."

With a shrug, she moved to a display of helmets. "I'm not certain. Perhaps I don't want to engage in some wildly romantic fling that must inevitably end at the very stroke of the New Year." She felt her cheeks flush with heat at the admission. To her surprise, when she turned around to face him again, he had come up behind her. He put his arms around her.

"I can be wildly romantic," he growled.

She honestly didn't feel like she could catch a breath. "I think that's what I'm afraid of."

"No need to be afraid of me, Faith."

"No?"

He shook his head. "I'm serious."

"It's very hard to take you seriously while you're wearing that shirt."

He grinned and reached a hand up to cup her cheek. "It doesn't have to end at the stroke of twelve, Faith. You aren't Cinderella."

She might not be Cinderella, but TJ Viscolli certainly seemed like a prince. Her lips tingled and she suddenly realized that she really, really wanted to kiss him. No sooner had she thought it than he lowered his head. One heartbeat before their lips touched, someone pounded on the door.

Faith jumped back and put a hand to her heart.

"Got my mulch, boy?" someone yelled through the door.

TJ sighed and slipped his hands back into his pockets. "I do," he said loud enough to carry, going to the door and opening it. "You couldn't see it in the back of the truck?"

"Well, it ain't going to unload itself. Get out here and help me."

"I have a guest, Nelson," TJ explained, gesturing toward Faith. "I'll help you after I take her back to the airfield."

Feeling a well of nervous energy, Faith smiled and stepped closer to TJ. "Not at all. I'll gladly lend a hand as well." She looked down at the small, skinny man with the dirty blue baseball cap. "I'm Faith."

"Nelson," he said, holding his hand out. "Pleased to meet you."

As she shook Nelson's hand, she looked back at TJ. She could tell by the look on his face that unloading mulch was the last thing TJ Viscolli wanted to do. But he didn't argue. Instead, he glared at Nelson. "Let's get it done, then."

CHAPTER 5

FAITH pulled the goggles down from the top of her helmet and covered her eyes with them. She took the stick in her gloved hand. After a thumb's up from her engineer, she pushed the throttle forward and taxied down the runway. In no time, she was airborne. Minutes later, she checked her position in the formation of six vintage aircraft. As she looked over, she saw her cousin Alfred and smiled. He gave her an answering grin and broke away from the formation to begin his stunts.

As Faith flew the routine she'd done a hundred times before, she couldn't stop her mind from wandering. TJ had taken her to dinner every night that week. She couldn't believe how much she'd enjoyed herself.

Working in a field dominated by confident men, she'd never really been open to being pursued. She'd had a few boyfriends here and there in her twenty-four years, but never anything serious. For some reason, she didn't feel like TJ belonged in the casual relationship corner of her mind. The man dominated her thoughts. Even now, while performing a highly complicated stunt routine, she couldn't stop thinking about him.

He was careful not to bring up her grandmother, but the lack of talking about it was almost as bad as if he showed an interest. She knew he was just trying to reassure her that he was interested in her and not her family history. And, maybe he had started to understand on some level. She imagined people had tried to befriend TJ his entire life just to get close to his father.

She suddenly wondered if he could ever trust anyone's motivations at the outset of any relationship. How did he handle that? How did a family that came across as so open and loving handle that?

Somehow, in the course of a few days and nights, they had become a couple, if only informally. They closed every evening with a stroll on the beach where they ended up sitting in the very same spot they'd occupied on the night of the party. They talked for hours, about flying, family, history, America, England — they talked about everything. And just when he would get a serious look in his eye, just when she knew he wanted to recapture that moment right when he was about to kiss her in his office, she would push herself to her feet and bid him good night.

Why? Why not let him kiss her? He was breathtakingly handsome, smarter than almost anyone she'd ever known, shared her love and her passion for the history of the second world war, and was wealthy well beyond her personal experience. Why not let him kiss her?

Because it was Christmas Eve, and in a week she'd leave this beautiful patch of the Atlantic Ocean and go back home to her island. She was afraid that if she let him kiss her, she'd fall completely in love with him. Maybe if she didn't let him kiss her, her heart wouldn't break as badly as she already knew it would.

On cue, she broke away from the pack and executed a series of rolls. She often wished they'd pipe in the crowd's responses when they performed their stunts. It would be amazing to hear the cheers and know what worked and what didn't. Of course, they'd all seen the recordings of the events many times, so they were able to hear the applause later, but she suspected it wasn't the same as a live response.

As a team, the six planes wrote in the sky and formed a Christmas star. Faith knew they all performed perfectly, and that the star would look amazing against the vivid blue sky.

She regained the formation and watched as Alfred came back. They flew low to the ground, buzzed the spectator stand, then straight back up, centered with the runway beneath, and started to break off one at a time to land. Faith took her turn, shot to the right and went to shoot up and turn around to prepare for landing when a hard jolt threw her plane to the side and an explosive noise startled her. She shot her head to the right and saw Alfred's plane in a spin rolling away from hers.

He'd hit her! Several feet of her right wing had completely vanished!

Every emergency scenario she knew and had practiced darted through her mind as she battled the stick. Then every emergency scenario she had only even heard of that ended in survival flashed through her mind.

In a few heartbeats, Faith had assessed all of her options. She didn't have the altitude to trade for speed so she could ditch over the water. She didn't have the speed to trade for altitude for a slow and low landing on the northbound runway. But she had guts, she had brains, and she had Texas Diamond.

She pulled out of the uncontrolled left bank, her rudder to the maximum and her stick against the fire wall. She fought to control a right roll, battling and coaxing the broken machine. As the runway raced up at her, she prayed out loud.

"Please God, strength is what I need now," she begged, as she pulled up hard on the stick. If she could survive this, it would be a miracle, a bona fide answer to prayer. No matter what happened, she had to protect the bystanders and spectators below, even if she didn't walk away from this one. Faith really wanted to walk away from this one. As the entire planet came rushing up at her, she struggled to land. It wasn't going to be pretty but she'd take a rough landing given a choice.

She lowered her landing gear and aimed for the dotted line. To her very great relief, she felt the struts lock into place before the runway greeted the aircraft. As much as Faith wanted to, she didn't close her eyes when she felt the wheels scrape the runway, bounce off, then scrape again.

Finally, the wheels gently touched the runway and rolled. Faith pulled the stick all the way back with both hands, screaming with the exertion and strain. Her feet felt like they might punch all the way through the floorboards. Her back muscles burned with the exertion as she stood up on the brakes. She had to stop. She had to stop, now.

As she brought the plane to a complete stop, she felt all the breath evacuate from her lungs. She gasped and swallowed deep lung-fulls of air before she popped the canopy and slid her helmet off. Her whole body shook with fear and adrenaline. She needed to get out of the aircraft's confines.

As she started to climb out, she heard the impact of Alfred's plane accompanied by shocked screams from the bleachers. Her head shot in that direction and she saw the billowing black smoke coming from a field several hundred yards off the runway.

As she climbed out of the aircraft and started to run on rubbery legs toward the impact site, Elizabeth pulled up in a Jeep. "He jettisoned!" she yelled and pointed at the sky. "Look!"

Faith looked up and saw the parachute carrying her cousin safely away from the burning wreckage. "Oh thank You, God. Thank You Lord above," she prayed, and felt her knees completely give out from under her.

Elizabeth appeared at her side instantly. "No," Faith said, waving at her with a weak hand. "Please. Go get Alfred. I'm okay. I'll just wait right here."

"Come with me."

"No. I need the earth beneath me just now," Faith explained. Nausea rolled around in her stomach and she didn't think she would be able to handle jostling through a field in a four-wheel drive vehicle. She put a shaking hand to her forehead and leaned her head back against the plane's wheel.

A minute or two after Elizabeth drove away, Faith heard footsteps pounding down the runway toward her. She opened her eyes, expecting to see her engineer or another pilot. Instead, to her surprise, TJ Viscolli raced toward her, his face pale and his eyes wide. She realized he was calling her name.

"Faith! Faith!"

She slowly rose to her feet. Her knees felt like they were made of water and her stomach felt light. Her peripheral vision began to dim with each heartbeat and she realized that she was experiencing mild shock.

Perhaps one second before she would have simply fainted onto the concrete runway, TJ caught her in his surprisingly strong arms and held her upright on her feet. She studied his face, so concerned, so worried. His eyes were deep brown, the color of milk chocolate.

"Are you okay?" he asked. "Are you all right?"

"Well, yes, I suppose I am. Made a bit of a bodge of it, though. I confess I feel completely barmy." When she saw the look of confusion on his face, she burst out laughing.

His face never changed. "You were amazing, Faith. You're just reacting to the adrenaline. Why don't we sit back down?"

"I find that I rather like being in your arms," she said, looping hers over his neck. Her arms felt weak and rubbery, so she gripped her wrist with one hand to keep them up.

She tripped against him and he quickly turned his body and stepped back, stopping when his back hit her plane. "I have you trapped now," Faith said on a giggle, then stood on her toes and put her lips against his.

Her first thought was how warm his mouth felt. Her second thought was how he didn't move. His hands stayed perfectly still, gripping her hips as if to pull her away, and his lips remained immobile.

Undaunted, she pulled back and looked him in the eye. "I know you want to kiss me. You've wanted to all week."

He cleared his throat. "Not like this."

"Like what? Like when I'm intoxicated on adrenaline? I'm still in my right mind, Viscolli. I'm so happy to be alive and I'm incredibly happy to see you. So kiss me."

She watched his eyes flare with emotion before he put a hand along the side of her neck, his fingers on the back of her head, and crushed his mouth to hers. She didn't know if it was his kiss or the rush of adrenaline and endorphins in her brain, but her head started spinning and her heart felt like it might beat itself out of her chest. A roaring sounded in her ears and she tightened her arms and stood back up on her toes, desperate to get closer to him. His arm tightened around her waist and his other hand gripped the back of her hair while he kissed her and kissed her and kissed her.

He finally slowed and gentled the kiss, gradually, until their lips were just a whisper apart. She opened her eyes and saw him staring at her with such an intense expression in his chocolate brown eyes that she couldn't breathe. She slid a hand down to cup his cheek and felt her eyes well with tears.

"I don't think I've ever been so scared in my life," TJ confessed in a whisper. "I thought I was going to lose you."

"I didn't think I was strong enough to land," she confessed. "I just kept praying for strength."

He closed his eyes and placed his lips on her forehead before saying, "Thank You, God, for giving her strength."

Faith felt the breath hitch in her throat. How could she ever say good-bye to this man?

She pushed her head back enough to look him in the eye again. "TJ, I —"

Whatever she had been about to say, whatever foolish declaration of love she might have been about to express, was interrupted with the arrival of the emergency vehicles followed closely by her cousin Alfred. She felt frustrated at the interruption but turned as he launched himself out of Elizabeth's Jeep and rushed toward her.

"I thought I'd done us both in," he said, gripping her hands. "I caught a pocket of air that threw my control off slightly. Are you okay?"

"Just full of beans," she explained, squeezing his hands with hers. "I saw that black smoke and thought you were gone."

"Rather pear shaped. At impact, my canopy went up. It didn't take but a tick to know I'd never get back under control." His face scrunched up in a frown. "The Mustang's toast. I have no desire to face Auntie Helen and tell her that."

Faith shuddered. "Don't make me go with you."

Alfred pulled her into his arms. "I'm so glad you're okay."

"I'm glad you're okay," Faith said against his flight suit.

CHAPTER 6

FAITH walked into the lobby of her hotel and found TJ in the seating area. He was picking her up to take her to celebrate Christmas Eve with his family. She had just come from her company's Christmas party, and decided to keep the light red summer dress and strappy red sandals on.

TJ wore dark slacks and a dark sports coat over a red golf shirt. As she drew closer, she was surprised to see that he held a little dark haired girl asleep in his arms. When he spotted her, he inclined his head and smiled in greeting but did not speak.

The sight of him holding that little girl made her knees feel a little weaker and her heart beat a little faster, made some internal instinct deep inside of her spring to life. She strolled up to them and gently touched the black curls, looking down at the perfect face of the sleeping child. "Who's your new girlfriend, then?" she asked quietly.

"This is one of Peter O'Farrell's grandchildren. Do you remember Angel Dove from the big party last week? This is her youngest daughter. Angel asked me to come up here with her and bring a platter of Christmas cookies for the night staff. Little bit here fell asleep."

"So precious," Faith said softly.

"Excuse me, Miss Green," the concierge said, suddenly appearing at her elbow. "You have an urgent telephone call."

Faith frowned and turned to him. "Beg pardon?"

"There's a call for you." He gestured toward a white phone that sat next to her on a low table. "You can use that phone. Just pick it up."

Confused, Faith picked up the receiver. "Hello? This is Faith Green."

"Miss Green. I'm Roger Hallifax from Helen Green's long term care home. I'm calling to inform you that your grandmother's been transferred to hospital."

Faith lowered herself carefully into the chair next to the phone. Sounding perhaps more British than ever, she also clipped her articles and demanded, "She's in hospital? What's happened?"

"She suffered a heart attack, I'm afraid. The staff responded very quickly, but her situation is rather grave."

"I'll be there just as soon as I can. Thank you for calling at this hour and on the Holiday," she said. It had to be close to midnight on Christmas Eve in England.

"Godspeed, Miss Green," he said.

"Good-bye," she said, hanging up the phone.

TJ lay the sleeping child on the couch before kneeling at her feet. "What is it?"

"Grandmum," Faith whispered. "I must go."

"Tell me what you need."

"Well, my plane is broken and slow at any rate. I think I shall require a ticket."

He shook his head. "You'll never get out of here on Christmas Eve. Can you fly a Gulfstream G550?"

"What?" Her mind swirled with anxiety, details, fear. "Well, yes I suppose. I'm rated."

TJ nodded and stood. "Give me ten minutes."

FAITH sat in the chair next to her grandmother's hospital bed with her Bible in her lap hours later. She remembered always thinking that Grandmum was the strongest person she'd ever met. Faith looked down at the frail, thin body beneath the sheet and had some difficulty reconciling her grandmother's appearance with the memory of the vital woman she had known all her life.

Since she could remember, Faith strove to be like her. She admired her strong faith, her confidence, and her sense of humor. Having already lost both parents, Faith fretted as she watched her grandmother struggle to breathe. She felt genuine fear that she wouldn't be able to accomplish anything without this amazing woman at her side.

Each year, on Christmas day, her grandmother had read to her from the second chapter of Luke. This year, Faith read to her grandmother and prayed that the words comforted her even in her present state of sleep.

"And behold, an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were greatly afraid." Her voice sounded clear despite her fatigue and concern. "Then the angel said to them, 'Do not be afraid, for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy which will be to all people. For there is born to you this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.'"

It occurred to Faith that she should not be afraid for her grandmother, even if she were to go home to be with the Father in heaven tonight. It would be right and proper to feel sadness at losing her companionship in this world, but it was not right to dread that grief in advance. It was actually selfish and she closed her eyes and quickly repented in prayer. She ended her brief prayer with the words that Christ himself had used at the garden of Gethsemane, "Not my will, but Your will be done. Amen."

Faith sat back and gripped the diamond solitaire on her necklace. She still wore the red dress from the night before. She hadn't bothered to change. She hadn't even bothered to pack. TJ promised he'd take care of that for her before he whisked her off to the airport.

He'd called his father and drove her to meet the pilot at the runway.

Instead of turning the aircraft over to Faith, the pilot insisted on flying her himself, letting her right seat and serve as copilot for the transcontinental flight. TJ had cupped her face in his hands and kissed her good-bye, a very loving, sweet kiss that brought forth the tears she struggled to keep at bay. Then he slipped off his sports coat and laid it over her bare shoulders, reminding her that she'd need it once she landed in England.

She and the pilot took off. They landed once in Iceland and refueled. By late morning, they landed just a short distance from the hospital in central England. Somehow, TJ Viscolli had arranged a limo to meet them at the terminal and the driver whisked her off to her grandmother.

Hours later, she sat and waited, and occasionally prayed. Why had she let Grandmum talk her into leaving her at Christmas time? Tears streamed down her cheeks as she thought about how alone she'd be when she lost her.

Faith pulled up the collar of the sports coat and wrapped it around her face. The jacket smelled like TJ and she inhaled, breathing him in. How could she miss someone so much she'd seen just twenty-four hours before?

The door to the room opened and she looked up, expecting to see a nurse, surprised to see TJ Viscolli. "What are you doing here?" she asked as she stood.

He looked as if he'd just raced across an ocean. Like her, he still wore the clothes from the night before. A day's growth of beard shadowed his face and his hair looked a bit unkempt. She put a hand on her own hair and imagined she didn't look any better.

"I told you I'd get your stuff to you," he explained, holding up her suitcase. "I'm certain I got it all. Elizabeth said you had some stuff at the airport, but she'd take care of it."

"I was just thinking how much I wished you'd come along with me," she surprised herself by confessing. She stood and walked over to him. After he set the suitcase on the ground, he opened his arms and she easily walked into them.

"I had to take care of your things, first," he said. She could feel the rumble of his voice in his chest. "And I had to find my passport. I was afraid I didn't have it with me and I'd have to stop back in Boston to pick it up."

She squeezed her arms to hug him then stepped back. "I'm sorry to interfere with your Christmas with your family."

His eyes turned serious. "There will be other Christmases."

Suddenly nervous with the intensity of his look, she turned her body and gestured at her grandmother. "Triple bypass. The cardiologist seems to think she'll pull through." She walked back to the bed and picked up one of the frail hands. "Imagine that. Ninety-four years old and surviving a triple bypass."

TJ came up behind her and put a hand on her waist. "She's an amazing woman. Much like someone else I know."

"I always wanted to be like her."

"I like you being like you," he asserted, his lips against her hair.

She could feel his body heat and realized she could step back just slightly and lean against him. Instead, she stepped closer to the bed and turned around. "I was all prepared to tell you good-bye on New Year's Day."

He raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

With a shrug, she ran her fingers through her hair. "Because we live in two different worlds. It's impossible to think that something like this could somehow work. It's just a fairy tale."

Instead of addressing that, he slipped his hands into his pockets and leaned against the wall. "Did you know that my father knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he was in love with my mother after just an hour in her company?"

Faith felt her palms start to sweat and gripped the bed rail behind her. "Afraid I don't understand."

He nodded. "He did. My aunt Maxine made him a birthday dinner. Before that, he'd only seen my mom once or twice and only in passing. So, at the dinner, he sat by her for about an hour. That night he knew he'd spend the rest of his life with her."

He stepped forward and stopped just a foot from her. He reached out and took the lapel of his own jacket in his hand. "I woke up on that beach and was certain I'd died and drowned and was looking at my own personal angel. Then within a few hours in your presence, I knew."

Faith licked her suddenly very dry lips. "You knew what?"

"I knew that this wasn't going to be our only Christmas together. I knew that there would be many, many more." He opened the jacket and slipped his hands into the inside pocket, pulling out a small package wrapped in bright red paper. "I came right behind you because I didn't want us to spend our first Christmas apart." He looked at his watch. "It's still Christmas here for another thirty minutes."

"How can we —" she started to ask on a whisper, but TJ interrupted her.

"How can I possibly study World War II history from the shores of England? I don't know, Faith. What do you think?" He smiled as he held out the package. "Merry Christmas, Faith Green."

She took the package with shaking hands and unwrapped it. When she saw what it contained, she gasped out loud and felt tears flood her eyes. "How?"

She ran her fingers over the full carat diamond that lay embedded in the fiber of the vintage flight log book. Seventy-five years before, an artist's brush had painted a Texas Lone Star flag in the shape of the state of Texas and a stylized diamond in the center. The words "Texas Diamond" emblazoned the bottom of the symbol in brush script on the US Air Force blue fabric.

The airplane itself, a North American Na-16 christened Texas Diamond, had been a Christmas present from her great-grandfather to her grandmum. That year, the log book had been the item he had wrapped and placed under the tree.

"I acquired it from a collector about six years ago. I think I paid more for it than what I would have for the plane."

"This is the most amazing thing anyone has ever given to me," she said, tears streaming down her face.

"Good. My father always said begin as you mean to go on." He cupped her wet cheek and ran a thumb under her eye, catching a fresh tear. "Here's my plan. I'm going to finish this semester of school, become Doctor Viscolli, and move to London."

"Move to London? Why?"

TJ smiled and cupped her other cheek. "Because that's where you live and I love you. I know we only met a week ago, but I know in my soul that God arranged that meeting, and I've never been one to tell Him no."

With her heart soaring higher than she'd ever flown in a plane, Faith grinned. "I've spent the better part of the last week falling in love with you. Honestly, I was dreading coming home."

With a smile, he whispered, "Now you can just prepare for me to come home."

Faith looked once more at the log book. "Afraid I didn't get you anything for Christmas."

TJ pulled her closer. "I'll settle for a kiss."

"Well, then. Happy Christmas TJ Viscolli," she whispered as he pressed his lips to hers and kissed her with a promise of forever.

THE END

TRANSLATION KEY

Che cosa è successo? — (Italian) What has happened? (What happened here?)

non lo so — (Italian) I don't know

grazi — (Italian) Thank you (Thanks)

amato figlio — (Italian) beloved son

si — (Italian) yes

wool gathering — (British slang) daydreaming, lost in thought

bodge — (British slang) make a bit of a haphazard job of something

barmy — (British slang) incredibly foolish

full of beans — (British slang) to have loads of energy.

pear shaped — (British slang) If something has gone pear shaped it means it has become a disaster

to hospital/in hospital — (British slang) in British English, 'hospital' is a condition, not a place, and thus requires no article. This is similar to American English where 'recovery' is a condition. Example: American English, "She's in recovery." British English, "She's in hospital."

INSPIRED BY REAL EVENTS

THE REAL EVENTS THAT INSPIRED CHRISTMAS DIAMOND…

EVERY story in the Virtues and Valor series is inspired by real people and real events. This story is no exception.

The mid-air collision described in Chapter 5 of Christmas Diamond between a P-51D Mustang and a North American Na-16 is based on an actual mid-air collision that occurred on July 10th in 2011 between similar aircraft.

On that Sunday at just after five in the afternoon, a Douglas AD-4N Skyraider registered F-AZDP collided with a P-51D Mustang registered D-FBBD dubbed Big Beautiful Doll. The collision occurred at just 800 feet above the tarmac at the Duxford Flying Legends event hosted by the Duxford Aerodrome in Cambridgeshire, England.

The force of the collision was so great when the starboard (right hand) wing of the Skyraider collided with the lower rear fuselage of the Mustang that four feet of the wing of the Skyraider immediately sheared off at impact. The Mustang went into an uncontrolled spin. The Skyraider completed a full roll to the right after hitting the P-51 due to the sudden difference in lift between the two wings.

Miraculously, despite the fact a the four foot portion of the starboard wing was missing, the Skyraider's pilot managed to regain and then retain control of the single engine vintage aircraft. The pilot completed a circuit and executed an emergency wheels-down landing at the airfield.

The Mustang had descended to 500 feet by the time the pilot came to what he told reporters was "the time of decision making." He ejected from the aircraft but had descended to just 200 feet by the time his parachute deployed. While jettisoning from the tumbling airplane, he struck the tail of the aircraft nearly breaking his arm. The P-51 nosed in and was lost but the pilot descended safely to the earth with just bruises for the close call.

For a full report of the event by the Air Accidents Investigation Branch of the British Government which includes photographs of the collision, you can visit the official website here:

http://www.aaib.gov.uk/publications/bulletins/february_2012/p_51d_mustang__d_fbbd_and_douglas_ad_4n_skyraider__f_azdp.cfm

READER'S GUIDE DISCUSSION QUESTIONS

SUGGESTED group discussion questions for Christmas Diamond.

In bringing those He ministered to into an understanding of the truth, Our Lord used fiction in the form of parables to illustrate very real truths. In the same way, we can minister to one another by the use of fictional characters and situations to help us to reach logical, valid, cogent, and very sound conclusions about our real lives here on earth.

While the characters and situations in Christmas Diamond as well as The Jewel Series and the Virtues and Valor series that inspired this story are all fictional, I pray that these extended parables can help readers come to a better understanding of truth. Please prayerfully consider the questions that follow, consult scripture, and pray upon your conclusions.

TJ Viscolli believes he has a guardian angel that sent Faith to rescue him. Psalm 91:11-12 reads:

11 For He shall give His angels charge over you,

To keep you in all your ways.

12 In their hands they shall bear you up,

Lest you dash your foot against a stone.

1. What do you believe about "guardian angels"?

2. Have you ever experienced or witnessed an event you believe can be attributed to a guardian angel?

TJ believes he knew within just a few hours of meeting Faith that they were "destined" to be together. TJ tells Faith he believes that, rather than protecting him from the accident with the surf board, God allowed it to happen and sent Faith there to rescue him.

3. Do you believe God orchestrates events in such a manner?

4. What is your experience with instant attraction or liking of someone, especially in a situation that is completely out of the realm of our normal day-to-day lives?

5. What is your opinion about love at first sight? Is it biblical?

When Faith collides with another aircraft, she remembers to pray. In the story, God heard her prayer and sent guardian angels to protect her and all the spectators from harm. It is also clear that her prayer helped to center and focus her in the moments that followed when others might have resorted to panic.

6. Even if we aren't pilots, how do you think the "inspired by a real life event" collision described in this story apply to our own everyday life?

7. Can you imagine yourself in some kind of extreme circumstances and then see yourself praying and trusting God to see you through?

In times of crisis, people often default to prayer. After this crisis was averted in the story, TJ immediately thanked God for answering Faith's prayer for strength that helped her safely land.

8. Do you remember to thank God daily for answered prayers?

READER'S GUIDE MENU

SUGGESTED luncheon menu for a group discussion about Christmas Diamond.

Those who follow my Hallee the Homemaker website know that one thing I am passionate about in life is selecting, cooking, and savoring good whole real food. A special luncheon just goes hand in hand with hospitality and ministry.

In case you're planning a discussion group surrounding this book, I offer some humble suggestions to help your special luncheon talk come off as a success. Quick as you like, you can whip up an appetizer, entree, side, and dessert that is sure to please and certain to enhance your discussion and time of friendship and fellowship.

The Appetizer:

Mini Tuna-Avocado Parfait

with Florida Grapefruit Juice

What kind of appetizer would the Viscolli Hotel Key West's "pretty amazing chef" serve? This parfait is a wonderful and delicious mix of fresh avocado and Ahi tuna lent a sweetness by Florida orange juice, and topped with local contrasting tartness by Florida grapefruit juice. The citrus adds the perfect amount of acid to the flavorful tuna and nutrient dense avocado. The combination of these simple ingredients will create a surprisingly rich and complex flavor you won't soon forget.

6 ounces Ahi tuna, minced

1 avocado

1/2 cup Florida grapefruit juice

2 TBS Florida orange juice

1 TBS Spanish onion, minced

1 TBS cilantro, minced

1 tsp sweet soy sauce

1 tsp sesame oil

Pour grapefruit juice in thin layer no more than 1/2-inch thick in freezer-safe pan; place in freezer.

Mash avocado.

Mince tuna.

Mince onion.

Mince cilantro.

Mix mashed avocado with orange juice, onion, cilantro, soy sauce and sesame oil.

Divide half of the tuna among 6 2-ounce serving dishes.

Layer half of the avocado over the tuna.

Repeat with the remaining tuna and avocado.

Top with the frozen grapefruit juice.

Serve immediately.

The Entrée:

Key West Style Baked Grouper

This delicious fish is spiced up then baked in key lime and orange juices. It has a wonderful citrus flavor that is the perfect compliment to any Key West dinner table.

4 8-ounce grouper fillets

1/2 cup softened butter

12 slices of key lime

8 slices of orange

1/4 cup key lime juice

1/4 cup fresh orange juice

1 TBS lemon pepper

2 tsp garlic powder

2 tsp onion powder

1 tsp salt (Kosher or sea salt is best)

Preheat oven to 325º degrees F (165º degrees C).

Slice the limes and the oranges.

Lightly butter a 9x13-inch glass baking dish and set aside.

Season the grouper fillets with salt, lemon pepper, garlic powder, and onion powder. Place into buttered baking dish.

Spread about 2 tablespoons of softened butter over the top of each fillet. Pour in the lime and orange juices, then cover each fillet with 3 slices of lime and 2 slices of orange.

Bake in 325º degrees F (165º degrees C) oven until fish is opaque and flakes easily with a fork, about 15 minutes.

The Side Dish:

Cauliflower Cilantro Rice

This is the consummate complimentary side for the Key West Grouper. It uses cauliflower instead of a grain and has a pleasing kick of cilantro.

1 head cauliflower

1 to 2 Tablespoons fresh lime juice

1/4 cup cilantro

4 teaspoons extra virgin olive oil

1/2 tsp or less salt (Kosher or sea salt is best)

Using a food processor, shred the cauliflower.

Chop the cilantro.

Heat oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat.

Add cauliflower. Season with up to 1/2 tsp salt, then sauté until soft and just starting to turn golden brown, (usually about 10 minutes).

Remove from heat, then add 1 Tablespoon lime juice and cilantro.

Taste and add more lime juice if desired.

The Dessert:

Key Lime Pie

No Key West menu would be complete without a Key Lime Pie.

1 1/2 cups (28 oz) sweetened condensed milk (two 14 oz cans)

1 cup plain Greek yogurt (or sour cream)

1 cup key lime juice

1 tablespoon key lime zest

2 whole large eggs

4 TBS unsalted butter

1 1/2 cups graham cracker crumbs

1/2 cup granulated sugar

2 tablespoons powdered sugar

Preheat oven to 375º degrees F (190º degrees C).

Melt the butter.

In a bowl, mix the graham cracker crumbs, granulated sugar, and melted butter. Press the mixture firmly into a 9-inch pie pan. Bake at 375º degrees F (190º degrees C) until brown, about 20 minutes. Remove from the oven.

Allow to cool to room temperature before filling.

Lower oven temperature to 325º degrees F (165º degrees C).

In a bowl, combine the condensed milk, lime juice, and eggs. Whisk until well blended and place the filling in the cooled pie shell. Bake in the oven for 15 minutes. Place in refrigerator for at least 2 hours.

Once chilled, combine the plain Greek yogurt and powdered sugar and spread over the top of the pie using a spatula. Sprinkle the lime zest as a garnish on top and serve chilled.

VIRTUES AND VALOR SERIES

The Virtues and Valor series

the battle begins in 2013 …

SEVEN women from different backgrounds and social classes come together on the common ground of a shared faith during the second World War. Each will earn a code name of a heavenly virtue. Each will risk discovery and persevere in the face of terrible odds. One will be called upon to make the ultimate sacrifice.

Introduction … Heavenly Heroines

Part 1 … Temperance's Trial

Part 2 … Charity's Code

Part 3 … Mission of Mercy

Part 4 … Homeland's Hope

Part 5 … A Parcel for Prudence

Part 6 … Grace's Ground War

Part 7 … Flight of Faith

INSPIRED by real events, these are stories of Virtue and Valor.

&&&&

EXCERPT: TEMPERANCE'S TRIAL

PLEASE enjoy this special preview prerelease excerpt from the upcoming Christian historical novella, Temperance's Trial, part of the exciting upcoming Virtues and Valor series.

&&&&

THE pounding on the door startled Marie and she let out a startled cry. The pounding came again, even louder and more insistent, and the scissors she held in her hand clattered to the table as she covered her heart with her hand.

She looked around the little room. The single bed was neatly made. The trifold screen in the corner had no undergarments draped over the top of it. Her sewing machine in the center of the room stood ready. Most importantly, the ceiling beams above the screen were in place and did not look like they had been moved at all.

The visual inspection took place instantly and concluded within seconds. She had to check because in reality she was not a seamstress. The one thing she had learned about sewing over the course of the last few months that overshadowed everything else was that she never wanted to be a seamstress. Additionally, she no longer called herself Marie Gilbert, but rather Marie Perrin. Lastly, she had a code name, now; Temperance. Since accepting that code name and her mission, nothing in her life was exactly as it appeared.

Running suddenly damp palms over her skirt, she went to the door and opened it. The sight of a German officer, a Second Leutenant, made her heart freeze in her chest. Had they finally discovered her?

"You are the seamstress, are you not?" he demanded by way of introduction. He stood tall, a couple inches over six feet, and looked young for an officer. He had hair the color of straw and piercing dark blue eyes — the very caricature of an Arian in Hitler's army. His French accent sounded different than the accent she had heard from other Germans, though she couldn't place the discrepancy.

Trying not to sound as nervous as she felt, Marie answered, "Yes, Leutnant. I am a seamstress." She looked him up and down. "Perhaps you need a dress?"

He opened his mouth, closed it, then barked a laughed. "A dress? I like that, Fräulein. Very amusing." The smile completely transformed his face and made him look less formidable. Putting a hand over his heart, he gave her a stiff and short bow. "I am Leutnant Leopold Schäfer and I have an emergency."

"What kind of emergency?"

"An unexpected uniform malfunction. It seems I have lost a button." As his face flooded with color, he gestured toward the fly of his trousers.

Looking over his shoulder and seeing he was alone, she said, "Well, I can't sew it on while you're still wearing your pants. Bring them back anytime today. It won't take a minute to mend."

"No time for that. I have my promotion ceremony to Oberleutnant in twenty minutes. I cannot go to that ceremony with a button missing from my fly." He put his hands together like a child begging for a cookie. "Please, Fräulein. I am at your mercy. I beg you to help me. I am a desperate man."

Torn, not wanting to offend a German officer but very much not wanting to help Germany either, she looked around again. "I'm very sorry, Leutnant, but men aren't allowed into my room."

"I am aware. I sought and obtained permission from your landlady before knocking on your door."

Marie raised an eyebrow. "How did you manage that?"

He smirked. "Must you ask?"

Of course. This man was a German officer, a conquerer. He represented the military might of the enitre Third Reich, of Adolf Hitler himself. And her landlady was merely a lowly French woman, a commoner. If she didn't want any trouble, she couldn't refuse. Likewise, how could Marie refuse to sew on his button right this very instant?

Fresh anger surged through her heart, but she did not let it show on her face. Instead, she stepped back and held the door wider. "Please come in, Leutnant Schäfer. Leave the door open, if you please."

He raised an eyebrow but pushed the door back fully open instead of shutting it behind him as he had automatically begun to do. Marie continued. "There is a dressing screen just there. Remove your trousers and pass them over to me but do not come out from behind the screen in a state of undress."

With the door wide open and the privacy screen in place, she could hope for some decency or humility in this situation. Not that any kind of modesty would protect her from a German officer who might have other intentions. Nonetheless, nearly two decades of social etiquette drilled into her by her father could not go ignored, even in a war zone.

While the German went behind the screen and began to disrobe, Marie looked through her jar of buttons and found a few that should work on his uniform. In a matter of seconds, he flipped his pants over the top of the dressing screen. As she reached for them, she couldn't help but glance up at the ceiling. Above the German's head, the case containing her wireless lay hidden in the ceiling.

"I am very happy that you were in this afternoon," he announced from behind the screen.

"I'm sure you would have been resourceful if I hadn't been," Marie answered, threading a needle with dark gray thread.

"Are you curious to know how I lost a button on my trousers?"

"Dare I ask?" Uninvited images raced through her imagination.

He laughed. "I wish I knew myself. I left my room this morning in a perfect state of dress. Now, right before this important ceremony, I find myself out of uniform."

"One hopes this is the only time you lose your fly button before a military ceremony. I'm not going to be around all the time after all," Marie said, deftly sewing on the button that most closely matched the others on his uniform. He laughed again while she sewed. It took her less than a minute. With small scissors, she snipped the thread and lay the trousers over the screen again. "All done. Here you go, Leutnant."

"Bitte," he said enthusiastically.

"Please, don't mention it." She crossed her arms over her chest and waited, listening to the rustle of clothing as he put the trousers back on. When he came from around the screen, he carried his boots. She gestured toward the chair facing her sewing machine.

"I will be out of your hair in just a moment," he said, sitting down. "I can't be late, after all."

"After he made the trains run on time, I imagine the Führer looks down on any officers who are less than punctual." her voice remained very monotone.

He looked up at her sharply, staring at her with very serious eyes for a moment, his jaw set to speak something in anger before he apparently reconsidered and quietly said, "Yes, I imagine he does." He finished fasenting his boot strap and stood. "How much do I owe you, Fräulein?"

Marie waved her hand dismissively. "Nothing. I'm happy to help, Leutnant."

"I insist on paying you for your work."

"I'm afraid I must insist on accepting nothing from you, Leutnant." She walked to the open door and gripped the handle. "Congratulations on your promotion, First Lieutenant. I hope I have not delayed you too long and that you make it to your ceremony on time."

He stopped at the door and looked down at her. "At least accept my gratitude. Thank you, Fräulein, from the bottom of my heart."

She felt her cheeks flush with color as he rushed from the room. When she was certain he was gone, she shut the door and locked it, pressing a shaking hand to her suddenly nausiated stomach. She stared at the ceiling, where the wireless machine sat hidden.

"Dear God," she prayed in a whisper, thankful for whatever protection He'd just granted her. "Thank You, God. Thank You."

&&&&

MARIE pushed the headphones tighter against her ears. "Come on," she whispered urgently.

After several seconds of silence, she retransmitted the message and waited. A bead of perspiration trickled down her forehead and she closed her eyes and prayed. It was taking so long. The longer she transmitted, the more time the Germans had to do the arithmetic. They would intercept her signal, intersect her frequency, triangulate the origin from more than one angle, and resect her exact location. The computations could be made within minutes. Say what you wanted about the German Army but no one could criticize their math skills.

Suddenly, a reply sounded in her ear. "That a girl," she uttered, guessing the identity of the operator on the other end.

Marie wrote as fast as she could then quickly dashed off a confirmation. With nimble fingers, she packed everything up into the bag, hid the equipment in the false bottom, then stacked seamstress supplies on top of everything.

When she stood, her stomach rumbled and she looked at the barn next to her, wondering if Marcel, the owner of the farm, would mind much if she just took an egg or two. Before she could even devise a way to ask him, his wife, Armelle, came around the corner.

"I don't want you here," she said without preamble. "You are placing my husband and I in danger."

"Marcel said --"

With the wave of her hand, the older, stockier woman cut her off. "I do not care what that man said, Mademoiselle. It was fine when it was another man. We could easily pass him off as a farm hand or a neighbor come by to help. But you have no business here. Do I look like someone wanting a new dress?"

Marie pressed her lips together, and kept from replying that a new dress might make her feel better. She understood the woman's point. "Very well, Madam. After today, I won't be back."

"See that you don't."

Armelle glared at her while she strapped her bag to her bike and got on it. She could feel the stare right in the middle of her shoulder blades as she pedaled down the lane.

Nerves danced in her stomach. She hated confrontation. She hated anger. Suppose the farmer's wife decided to turn her in to the Gestapo. How had it all come to this?

She pedaled along the country road and scooted closer to the road's edge when she heard the sound of a motor behind her. Instead of passing her, though, it pulled up along side her.

"Excuse me, Fräulein!"

Startled, she looked over and saw an armored Kübelwagen driven by First Lieutenant Schäfer. Her heart started pounding frantically in her chest and the front tire of her bike wobbled. She hit the brakes and put both feet on the ground, unconsciously laying a hand over her heart. She darted a glance all around, fearfully searching every dark corner and copse for German soldiers or Gestapo laying in wait, but it appeared they were alone on the road. "You startled me, Oberleutnant."

He stopped the Kübelwagen, killing the engine and setting the parking brakes in the same motion. He hopped out and jogged around the front of it to where she stood straddling the bike. He moved in a very precise manner, efficiently and with a total economy of motion. It was as if all of his movements were staged and well scripted in advance or he had rehearsed them for hours before executing.

"I am so sorry to startle you, Fräulein Perrin." His voice rang out in the cool air, confident and baritone, and a little bit self-satisfied.

A man so precise was bound to notice any mistake. All she could think of was the wireless in the bag strapped to the back of the bike. Her hands went cold and she felt perspiration bead on her upper lip. "How do you know my name, Oberleutnant?"

His smile was handsome, despite his German Army uniform. Marie couldn't believe she even entertained the thought. "I made an inquiry of your landlady. She was generous to give me your name."

What was she supposed to do? Shake his hand? How did she handle this? "It's nice to see you again, Oberleutnant," she said, trying to appear calm. Had they triangulated the position of her last broadcast? Was he just a decoy until a larger arrest unit arrived? "Did you make it to your ceremony on time last week?"

He held his hand out, and she felt inclined to take it. His palm felt warm, his fingers strong. "Yes, thanks to you." He smiled with even white teeth, his eyes crinkling up with laugh lines. "You are very beautiful, Fräulein Perrin."

Despite her circumstance, she felt her cheeks fuse with color. She felt her fingers tighten against his grip. "Oberleutnant Schäfer, I hardly think that is appropriate."

He finally released her hand and bowed stiffly. "You are correct, Fräulein. I apologize."

She gave him a slight nod but suddenly felt afraid that she'd offended him. Him, a German officer. "Thank you. I hope you don't —"

He cut off her panicked apology. "Of course not. I should have kept that thought to myself even though it is a fact."

He stood close enough that she could smell the earthy wool smell of his uniform. Marie felt her eyes lower as her cheeks grew hot. She noticed the mirror-bright shine on his boots before she heard her heartbeat thundering in her ears. Was this fear or something else?

He cleared his throat. "I have been searching for you, Fräulein."

Marie tasted bitter bile in the back of her throat and kept her gaze downcast. Had she gone too far taunting him about Hitler in their first meeting? Had a careless glance revealed the hiding place of her wireless? Had he sent a team of Gestapo to search her quarters while she had been away? Had she transmitted too long and been discovered? She relied upon her training and forced her voice to remain even as she prompted, "You've been searching for me?"

"Yes. I want to ask you. Would you like to go see a show with me?"

Was this some new euphamism for imprisonment and torture? Confused, she raised an eyebrow. "A show?"

"Yes. Next week, Virginia Benoit will be here to perform for our Oberst, our Colonel. Herr Obsert is her biggest fan and we are all invited to see the show ... to lift the morale of the troops, you see. Tell me, Fräulein, do you know Virginia Benoit?"

Marie swallowed. Hard. How was she supposed to handle this situation? Never, in all of her training, was this brought up. "Of course I have heard of her," and laughed with her and prayed with her, though she kept that part to herself.

"She is from America, like me," he proclaimed, almost proudly.

She knew his accent had sounded wrong somehow. "American? Why are you here in France, then?"

He gestured in the air. "The call of the Fatherland I'm afraid. My father insisted I return a few years ago."

With wide eyes, she let that digest. "Do you know Virginia Benoit?"

"No." He chuckled, perhaps at her naïveté. "America is enormous. She's from a state called Louisiana in the deep south near the Gulf coast. I'm from Oregon a few thousand kilometers away on the north of the Pacific coast. Also, I understand the lady is a Negro. Perhaps you've heard that Negros and Arians hardly ever socialize in America. Still, it will be nice to hear an American accent again, I think."

His casual remark establishing his racial beliefs disgusted Marie and she tried very hard to conceal her loathing. She knew with an unshakable faith that God made all men and all nations of just one blood. Everyone on earth was a son or daughter of Adam and Eve. The bloody Nazi campaign of terror relied on faith in a lie — a form of Darwinian evolution establishing separate races coupled with the notion Friedrich Nietzsche proposed, that some races were inferior while other races were superior. Hitler aimed to create a "master race," a race of supermen, by practicing enforced eugenics that either sterlized or eliminated the races Hitler deemed inferior.

In practically the same breath, Schäfer had mentioned his father. Thoughts of her own father rushed through her mind, and she once more remembered that First Lieutenant Schäfer was her sworn enemy. How had she forgotten that for even half a second? She could not let her thoughts travel too far down that road or else her expression would betray her. She had to lighten the conversation somehow."I imagine you must feel very homesick at times, Oberleutnant."

"I am homesick." He put a hand to his heart. "It would do me a great deal of good to attend the performance with the most beautiful woman in the village on my arm."

"Oberleutnant Schäfer, I don't think —"

He held up a hand to halt her speech. "Please, don't say no, Fräulein. At least let me have a little hope by telling me you'll consider the offer. Besides, I still owe you for sewing on my button."

She would have to clear any action with headquarters. It was possible that she could collect valuable intelligence by accompanying the junior German officer. It was even possible that Marie, code named Temperance, could pass intelligence to Virginia Benoit, code named Hope, in person. Pressing her lips together, desperate to find a way to end this conversation, she nodded. "Very well, Oberleutnant. As you say, I will think about it."

His eyebrow cocked, "You give me your word?"

After perhaps a half second of hesitation, she nodded. "You have my word."

He clicked his heels again. "Wunderbar! I will seek you out in two days time to learn your final decision." He leaned closer and whispered as if conspiring with her. She could smell his musky aftershave. "I hope you say yes."

Then he took her hand again and kissed the backs of her fingers. She struggled not to snatch her hand back from his grasp before his lips touched her skin. He smiled and said, "I look forward to speaking with you again, Fräulein Perrin."

"Good day, Oberleutnant Schäfer." She stayed put while he got back into his Kübelwagen and drove away. As soon as he was out of sight, Marie let the shaking overwhelm her. Carefully lying her bike on its side, she sat down on the side of the road and wrapped her arms around her knees while tremors shook her entire body. Out of nowhere, she felt very sick and crawled into the grass.

While heaves clutched her body, tears raced down her face. Spent and terrified, she lay back and covered her eyes with her hands. She felt so afraid all the time. What did she think she was doing here?

She silently prayed, desperate for God to reach out to her and physically reassure her that He hadn't abandoned her. But, of course, He did not and she eventually remembered not to test her Creator.

Rolling to her feet, she stumbled to her bike and climbed back on. Her legs felt so weak that she wobbled a bit while she pedaled back to town, but eventually her strength returned.

&&&&

THE JEWEL SERIES

More Great Christian Fiction…

The Jewel Anthology

by Hallee Bridgeman

Hallee Bridgeman's critically acclaimed best selling award winning Christian anthology, together in one book for the first time. The complete novel Sapphire Ice. Inspired by The Jewel Series, the all new novella Greater Than Rubies. The second full length novel Emerald Fire, and the final novel Topaz Heat. All works complete, uncut, and unabridged.

Sapphire Ice

The Book Club Network's July 2013 Book of the Month: Robin's heart is as cold as her deep blue eyes. After a terrifying childhood, she trusts neither God nor men. With kindness and faith, Tony prays for the opportunity to shatter the wall of ice around her heart.

Greater Than Rubies

2014 EPIC eBook Awards™ Finalist, Spiritual category: In this novella, Robin plans a dream-come-true wedding. Anxiety arises when she starts to realize the magnitude of change marriage will involve. Forgotten nightmares resurface reminding Robin of the horrors of her past. She gives in to her insecurities and cancels Boston's "Royal Wedding." With God's guidance, will her bridegroom convince her of her true worth?

Emerald Fire

Inspirational Novel of the Year RONE Award Finalist: Green eyed Maxine fights daily to extinguish the embers of her fiery youth. Barry's faith in God is deeply shaken when he is suddenly widowed. Just as they begin to live the "happily ever after" love story that neither of them ever dreamed could come true, a sudden and nightmarish catastrophe strikes that could wreck everything. Will her husband find peace and strength enough to carry them through the flames?

Topaz Heat

Inspirational Novel of the Year RONE Award Nominee: Honey eyed Sarah remembers absolutely nothing from her bloodcurdling younger years. Derrick fled a young life of crime to become a billionaire's successful protégé. After years of ignoring the heat between them they surrender to love, but must truly live their faith to see them through.

Available in eBook or Paperback wherever fine books are sold.

EXCERPT: SAPPHIRE ICE

Sapphire Ice was voted The Book Club Network's July 2013 Fiction Book of the Month and nominated as the 2013 Fiction Book of the Year. If you missed Sapphire Ice, part 1 of The Jewel Series, buy it now in Paperback or eBook wherever fine books are sold.

Enjoy this special excerpt from the critically acclaimed full length novel Sapphire Ice.

ROBIN stopped near him to grab a carafe of coffee. "How did we manage to get the early shift, Clarence?"

He winked and whispered conspiratorially. "Tell me about it. I have my lunch patrons' whole lives memorized, but I only know half the people out there." He looked over her head to the head table. "Boston's royalty is here."

Robin was too tired to even be intrigued by Clarence's abnormal awe. "Maybe we can get Stanley a jester's hat," she whispered back, then pushed open the door to the dining room and forced a serious expression onto her face. The door swinging shut cut off his choking laughter.

The dining room was packed with people, seated at tables of eight. The restaurant was closed for the meeting, and it surprised her to see so many people there. But then, most of the customers weren't members and wouldn't get many opportunities to dine at Benedict's, especially for free.

She was given the head table to serve, and knew some of them as regular lunch patrons. She addressed those she knew by name, and tried to discretely read the name tags of those she didn't. Methodically, she worked her way down the long table, pausing to chat when it was required, fetching drinks as they were needed.

"Mr. Riley, it's good to see you again. I think it's been several weeks," she said, speaking to the president of the Chamber.

"I've been on vacation, Robin. Have you ever been to Greece?"

She smiled and filled his coffee cup. "Not yet, but I want to go someday."

"Beautiful country, dear. If you ever get the opportunity, don't pass it up."

"If a trip to Greece ever falls into my lap, I'll remember your advice." She moved to the next person while Riley continued to speak.

"Tony, if you've never had Robin here serve you, you've been missing out on the best that Benedict's has to offer."

"Yes. I think I've heard something similar about her before."

The smooth voice seemed familiar, but she couldn't quite place it. She took her attention from the cup and lifted her head, her eyes crashing into a pair of black eyes that seemed to look all the way inside of her, instantly learning all her secrets. "I didn't expect to see you here," he said.

Tony felt deep shock when he'd seen Robin enter the dining room. He'd had time to recover as she worked her way to him, and had nearly gained back enough self control to not show any outward reaction as she leaned in from behind him to pour his coffee. He had already had his normal morning quota of two cups, but allowing her to serve it gave him a chance to have her stop at his shoulder. As she completed her task, he caught her scent, something exotic and spicy, entirely feminine. Then she met his eyes and he thought that his heart would beat itself out of his chest.

When she looked away, it broke the spell, but a tremor in his hand that he neither liked nor appreciated remained. He was better prepared when she looked directly at him again, and concentrated fully on keeping his brain functioning.

"Do I know you?" She asked, her voice soft so as not to carry.

He kept his voice as soft as hers. "Not officially."

"I'm sorry, I don't … " her eyes skimmed his name tag, "I don't recall meeting you, Mr. Viscolli."

His teeth flashed white against his olive skin. "I unofficially met you last night."

Panic skirted up her spine and she looked around the room. Lowering her voice even farther, she leaned closer so that he could hear her. "Please, don't say anything. I … we can't … I mean, another job … "

He placed a hand on her wrist, startling her. His hand felt rough, but warm. Warm enough that it sent heat up her arm, causing her to flush. "So, what you're saying is that your job may be in my hands."

The flush that covered her cheeks was no longer from heat, but from the anger he saw flash in her eyes. "Release me, sir." She bit out.

He didn't think he could. "What would you do to keep your job, I wonder?"

She could never take him on in a game of cards. Every cruel thought in her imagination seared right through her sapphire eyes and bored into his, which he struggled to keep impassive. Still, she maintained her cool façade, something he deeply admired amidst his mirth. Tony carefully bit down on the inside of his lip to keep himself from laughing at her next words. "I don't play those games, Mr. Viscolli. Remove your hand, or else I'll remove it."

He shifted his grip until his fingers encircled her wrist. They overlapped on the thin bones, and this time he did chuckle. "You think you could?"

In a panic, knowing how long she was taking with this customer, she glanced up and spotted Clarence watching her. Baring her teeth, she leaned close to this man's ear and whispered. "I can and I have, on men bigger than you. Are you willing to test me?"

With a grin, he reluctantly let her go. It was that or drag her into his lap, and he didn't think anyone in the room would appreciate that too much. "Perhaps another time I'll take you up on your challenge."

Unable to stand the thought of leaving him with the last word, she leaned forward again, barely speaking above a whisper. "If the thought of seeing you again didn't repulse me, Mr. Viscolli, I'd almost look forward to it."

With that she moved on down the table, ignoring his chuckle that followed her parting shot. She found it especially challenging to keep a polite smile on her face and make inane chatter with the other patrons as she continued to serve while seething inside. How dare he?

She headed back into the kitchen to get more coffee and Clarence immediately intercepted her. "Did you have a problem with that man, Robin?"

Out of earshot of the customers, she was able to slam things around, surprised that she didn't break the glass coffee carafe. "Nothing I couldn't handle," she said, slamming the top back on her serving container.

EXCERPT: GREATER THAN RUBIES

Greater Than Rubies is a 2014 EPIC™ Awards Finalist in the Spiritual category. If you missed this wonderful novella inspired by The Jewel Series, buy it now in Paperback or download the FREE eBook wherever fine books are sold.

Enjoy this special excerpt from the critically acclaimed novella Greater Than Rubies.

ROBIN nervously fiddled with her ring while she waited for the Inside Boston magazine reporter to arrive. She sat in the conference room adjacent to the office of Tony's public relations manager, Linda Cross. She still wore the clothes and makeup from the photo shoot that had taken place in a room just down the hall. She'd hoped Tony could be there for the photos, but the magazine had specifically requested only her.

The door opened and Robin's heart lurched, but Linda entered alone. She was short and stocky, with a thick waist and jet black hair. Thick glasses with square black frames dominated her face. "Don will be in momentarily," she said. "He's signing some papers for me right now." She raised an eyebrow behind her glasses. "No worries, Miss Bartlett. I'll be here the whole time."

"I've just never done this before." She licked her lips.

"A year from now, it will be old hat," Linda assured. Robin wondered if she meant that to intimidate her or make her feel more at ease, because, honestly, she wasn't feeling better in the wake of that remark.

A tap at the door preceded the entrance of Don Roberts. He was younger than Robin, tall, boy-next-door good looking with straight brown hair and a fake tan. Nothing about him made her feel at ease about this interview.

He shook her hand - again - then sat in the chair adjacent to her. He took a phone out of his pocket, pressed a series of buttons on it, then set it on the table in front of her. She could only assume he'd activated some sort of recording device. "Miss Bartlett, Robin, thank you for giving me this opportunity."

"It's my pleasure," she said around a suddenly too-dry mouth.

"Let's go ahead and cover the basics. Tell us how you met Tony."

This was the first person outside of church to address Tony as Tony and not Mr. Viscolli. It intrigued Robin. "He, ah, bought a restaurant where I worked." She cleared her throat. "We met then."

"When was that?"

"Last fall."

"And, to add a spice of romance to our story, how did he propose?"

Robin smiled and relaxed, thinking back. "Christmas Eve, on the beach in the Florida Keys."

"That's really nice," Don said. He smiled. "Tony Viscolli is a powerful force in the business world, and not just in the Boston area. He has businesses all over the country and thousands of employees. What do you think drew him to you in particular?"

Uncomfortable, Robin shrugged. "I really couldn't tell you. You'd have to ask him."

"But we can probably guess what drew you to him, right?"

Robin put her hands in her lap and laced her fingers, squeezing them tightly. "If you knew his heart, or anything about him personally, you'd not have to ask that question. He is amazing and generous and loving, and I feel so incredibly blessed."

"Is he?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Is he really all those things? Or simply uninformed?"

Robin felt her eyebrows crease under the thick makeup from the photo shoot. "What?"

"Does he know all there is to know about you?"

Robin shifted her eyes to Linda, who frowned but did not speak. "I beg your pardon?"

Don sat forward and tapped the top of the table with every question. He looked like an anaconda eyeing a mouse. "He knows you were a waitress moonlighting as a bartender. Does he know your father went to prison for drug smuggling and now faces double murder charges? Does he know your mother was an addict who was murdered in a drug deal? Does he know you, yourself, stabbed your foster parent in the back with a buck knife? Does he know you were a fugitive until you turned eighteen and your juvenile crimes were sealed? Does he know about the improprietary manner in which you had your former employer pull strings with city hall to clear your record so you could obtain custody of one of your sisters? How did you convince that retired sailor to help you pull those strings, Miss Bartlett?"

Panic swirled in her brain, freezing her ability to form cohesive thoughts. "I don't – what are you –?" Robin gasped and looked from Don to Linda. Her heart pounded and she felt sweat break out on her forehead.

Linda pressed a button on the table next to her before standing. "Mr. Roberts? This interview is over. Our attorneys at the Anderson firm will be in contact with your editor in light of the NDA you signed and this particular line of questioning."

"You can't hide her. Believe me if I know, the tabloids know, too. This is the kind of rags to riches story that everyone will be clamoring after. You need to let her – "

As he spoke the door opened and two uniformed security officers marched into the room. They walked straight up to Don. "You need to come with us, sir," one of them said.

"Now." The other one said, picking up the reporter's phone from the table.

"Hey! You can't have that!"

"We'll return your property when you're safely outside the building, sir." The guard stepped aside, placing his body between Roberts and the two women, and gestured with his hand. "Right this way, sir."

Roberts stood but quickly bent around the guard toward Robin. "You might as well figure out the best thing to do is embrace your story and tell it, or else others will do it with their own spin and you won't be able to influence what they say."

The second guard grabbed his arm at the elbow and said, "You've already outstayed your welcome, sir. Time to go."

Roberts jerked himself free. "Don't touch me. I'm leaving."

"Leave now," the guard warned, "Without another word, or I will use force." His finger stabbed in the direction of the door.

Robin stared at the closed door long after it shut behind them. Linda sat where Don had been and touched her hand. "I'm so sorry. All of his credentials checked out."

With a shaking hand, Robin brushed the hair off of her forehead. "I'm not doing something like this again."

Linda nodded. "I understand." She pressed some buttons on her phone. "Margaret? I need to talk to Mr. V. This isn't good."

Without waiting for Linda to hang up the phone or Tony to come gallantly into the room, Robin gathered her bag and her coat and left. Linda tried to call her back, but she was stuck on hold with Tony's office. Escape. Flee. Hide.

The elevator arrived. Thankful to find it empty, she slipped inside and pressed the lobby button, then the door close button in rapid succession. As soon as it started moving, she went to the back corner of the elevator and pressed back against the wall. She used to be good at hiding. Hide way in the back of the closet. Protect her sisters. Make the monsters forget you're there.

But she couldn't hide from her past, could she? What did she think she was doing, becoming Mrs. Antonio Viscolli? Inadequate didn't begin to describe her. Her cell phone started ringing, but she turned it off as she stepped off of the elevator and into the lobby of the hotel. As she walked out of the doors, the valet lifted his hand in greeting, grabbed her keys, and rushed to get her car. With no choice but to wait, she slipped her coat on and shoved her hands into the pockets, lifting her shoulders against the wind. Before her car arrived, she felt Tony at her elbow.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm not doing that again."

"It will never happen again."

EXCERPT: EMERALD FIRE

Emerald Fire was a 2012 RONE Award Finalist for Inspirational Novel of the Year. If you missed Emerald Fire, part 2 of The Jewel Series, buy it now in Paperback or eBook wherever fine books are sold.

Enjoy this special excerpt from the critically acclaimed full length novel Emerald Fire.

MAXINE rolled over in the bed. As the blankets slipped off, she felt cool air on her shoulders. While her partially asleep brain pondered that, she tugged the sheets back up to cover herself and her ring caught a thread on the blanket.

Her ring?

Maxine's eyes flew open as memories of the night before flooded her mind. She whipped her head around. The bed next to her was empty, the pillow indented from where her husband's head had recently lain.

Her husband!

Alone in the bedroom, she lifted her left hand and stared. There sat the ridiculously enormous, preposterously expensive platinum ring, encrusted with emeralds and diamonds, that the man with whom she had been engaged for less than two hours before their wedding ceremony had picked out for her. When he slipped it onto her finger, he'd said something about the color of her eyes. Seconds later, he'd kissed her.

After a cursory glance around the room to be certain she was actually alone and the bedroom door was shut, she threw the covers off and rushed to the closet, looking for anything to wear. She grabbed a pair of jeans and a sweater and dashed to the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind her. She leaned against the closed door for a moment while her heart raced and her mind reeled.

What in the name of all things holy had they done? Rather, what had she done?

With a few flicks of her wrist, she turned the water on for a shower and stopped to look at herself in the mirror. She lifted her fingers to her mouth and traced lips swollen from his kisses. Her green eyes sparkled like the emeralds on her finger. Normally, her olive complexion needed the help of cosmetics to bring out any kind of rosy flush. This morning, however, her cheeks looked rosy, flushed. She felt warm inside despite the morning chill.

In her entire adult life, no other man had ever even so much as kissed her. Not once. Many men had tried to taste her mouth, but whenever they'd gotten close enough, panic would rise up and make her push them away. That typically ended the relationship. The ones who suffered that humiliation soon learned that it wasn't a onetime thing and very quickly gave up trying. As she stepped under the warm spray of water, she thought back to the night before and to her complete lack of fear.

Her husband of less than twelve hours – her husband didn't frighten her at all. When he kissed her, it occurred to her that she felt absolutely none of her normal panic. Instead what she felt was warmth, excitement, attraction. He made her feel safe. He made her feel … loved.

"Husband and wife," the Elvis impersonator had proclaimed with a shimmy and a shake. Then her husband had slowly leaned in close and taken her lips with his strong, masculine mouth as if they were the most delicate rose petals. Her knees had vanished and she felt his arm around her waist holding her up, lifting her, supporting her as she kissed his heavenly mouth.

Then, here, in this hotel suite last night on the very top floor of the Las Vegas casino, her husband had let her lead the way. It was as if he sensed that she needed to be able to control all of the activity. She never had to say anything to him or explain her fear. He just accepted her hesitations or kissed her through them. He slowly coaxed and guided and offered until she accepted. It had been so wonderful, so beautiful, that he had held her to him with her head cradled against his broad, thick chest and his strong arms around her while she wept at the beauty of it.

Her sister was going to kill her.

Reflecting on that for a moment, Maxine realized she didn't much care. She was excited, thrilled. Married!

She quickly finished showering and got dressed. After brushing her teeth and running a comb through her long straight black hair, compliments of her Native American father, she left the bathroom, again comforted by the solitude. Little nervous butterflies woke up in her stomach while she slipped into her shoes, the sight of the enormous ring on her finger distracting her with every motion of her hand.

Stalling, she straightened the bed. As she pulled the coverlet up, her ring caught the light. Running her hand over his pillow she smiled and felt a warm rush of love flow through her heart, quelling the nervous butterflies.

When she could think of nothing else to do, she opened the bedroom door and stepped out into the living room. Seeing him standing there staring out into the sunrise brought back visions of every time she had seen his face in the last three years. She thought of every time she had sketched his face. She could not believe how much had happened in the last three weeks.

The thought stopped her. Three weeks? Had it only been that long since they put her brand new husband's first wife in the ground?

Without turning to look at her, his smooth, baritone voice reached her ears. "Obviously, we need to talk."

EXCERPT: TOPAZ HEAT

Topaz Heat was a 2012 RONE Award Nominee for Inspirational Novel of the Year. If you missed Topaz Heat, part 3 of The Jewel Series, buy it now in Paperback or eBook wherever fine books are sold.

Enjoy this special excerpt from the critically acclaimed full length novel Topaz Heat.

SARAH heard another clang. She quietly set her purse down but held onto the umbrella, holding it just above the handle like a baseball bat. Running lightly on her toes, she crossed the room quickly and stood by the door of the dining room. There were a few more sounds, then the sound of a man whistling that got louder as he got closer.

Taking a deep breath, she raised the umbrella over her head and waited, focused on the door. She let it swing open, watched the figure of the man come out of the dining room, and brought the umbrella down. Hard.

He must have sensed the movement because he ducked and the umbrella hit him across the back of his shoulders. "Ow! Hey!"

In the next second, and utterly without warning, he rolled to the floor and used one of his legs to sweep hers out from under her. She flailed her arms as she landed on her backside, finding herself under his weight. She started struggling, but he threw one of his legs over hers and grabbed her arms in a bone-lock, pinning them up by her head.

"Sarah?"

She realized her eyes were closed. At the sound of his voice they flew open. Immediate recognition prefaced the heat that rushed her face from total embarrassment. "Derrick? What are you doing here?"

"I was about to ask you the same question."

She hadn't seen him in at least five years. No, it was six. He left town right after his mother's funeral. He'd not been back. She got updates from Maxine or Robin each time they'd seen him in New York. She hadn't been to New York and hadn't seen him at all in that space of time. He'd filled out, she thought. His face looked more mature, almost tougher, his shoulders wider.

Derrick was thinking that Sarah hadn't changed at all. She still looked like a teenager. Her hair had come out of its clip and lay spread out around her head on the carpet, the red highlights caught in the curls, catching the light. She still had the spray of freckles across her nose, and her eyes, behind their glasses, still looked exactly like the color of the richest topaz.

Realizing he was staring, he released her instantly, pushed away, and sat next to her. "What in the world did you hit me with?" He reached behind him and gingerly touched the back of his shoulders, wincing when his hand came away smeared in blood.

The only thing he had on was a pair of sweat pants. "My, um, umbrella."

He saw it next to her and grabbed it. It was snapped in half. Irritated anger burned through him. "This? You think there's an intruder and this is what you use to defend yourself?"

She ripped it out of his hands and stood. "It was all I had."

"It never occurred to you to call security?"

Her cheeks flushed bright red. No, it had not occurred to her. She waved her hand as if to dismiss his last statement. "Let me see," she said, moving behind him.

He jerked to his feet. "No, thank you. Don't touch it."

"I promise I won't hurt you, Derrick. I won't even touch it." She put her hands on her hips. "I am a nurse, you know."

She almost withdrew the offer. Then he glared at her before moving to one of the oversized chairs, sitting sideways so she could see his back. The skin across his shoulders was already starting to purple with a bruise, and it looked like something had caught the skin and ripped it. He had a gash about three inches long diagonally across his right shoulder. "Ouch, Derrick. Sorry about that."

Over his left shoulder, just shy of the bruise, was a tattoo of a dragon, done in brilliant colors – turquoise, fuchsia, purple, bright green. She was surprised that it was there, intrigued. He had done everything to get rid of his past, and she wondered why he still had the tattoo. Before she realized it, her fingers were hovering over it, about to touch it.

He looked at her over his shoulder and glared. She bit her lip and gingerly touched the bruise. "You'll want to put some ice on it, and you should let me clean and dress the cut."

She turned to leave. "What are you doing?" he asked.

She was halfway down the hallway before she answered him. "I'll be right back." Moving quickly, she went to the master bathroom and pulled open the medicine cabinet, finding the supplies she needed. She slipped the roll of tape and the package of bandages into her scrubs pocket, then pulled a washcloth out of the linen closet and wet it.

When she returned to the front room, he stared at the brown bottle in her hand suspiciously. "What's that?"

"Hydrogen peroxide."

"Uh huh. And what do you think you're going to do with it?"

With a sigh, she poured some on the cloth and stepped closer. "I'm going to clean the cut."

He hissed the breath between his teeth and cringed away as the cloth came in contact with his skin. "Ouch. That hurts."

"Good Lord, Derrick, quit being such a baby."

He clenched his teeth and swallowed a retort. Then he felt her warm breath blowing on the wound. He imagined her lips puckered as she blew against his fevered skin.

"There, is that better?"

"It's great. Kind of like a carnival ride but without the cotton candy. Thank you."

He heard her moving behind him, heard the sound of the cap going back on the bottle. He felt her fingers graze his skin as she placed a bandage over the cut and taped it to his skin. He tried desperately not to react to her touch in any way, to pretend she was some platonic stranger tending his wound. "You need to ice it. I'll go get some."

While she was gone, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, seeking some inner steadiness. Why was she here? She quickly returned and gently set a plastic bag filled with ice across his shoulders, then sat on the couch that angled with the chair so that she faced him.

"You never answered my question," he said, staring at her with those brown eyes that always made her uncomfortable. "What are you doing here?"

"They're painting my brownstone today and tomorrow. My furniture is under sheets in the middle of the rooms. Robin never told me that you were going to be here." She looked down at her shoes. "I really am sorry, Derrick."

"I guess I forgot to tell her where I was staying. I thought Tony might've let her know." He reached behind him and shifted the bag of ice. "You would have had to park next to my car in the garage though."

"I walked."

He narrowed his eyes. "From where?"

She gestured at her pastel pink pants, the matching top, and the white jacket with the pastel slashes of color. "Hello? From the hospital."

"Are you out of your mind?" She opened her mouth to argue with him, but he cut her off. "That's easily four or five blocks. Downtown. On a Friday night."

"It's not like the streets were deserted or anything."

"What possessed you to walk?"

She bared her teeth. "It might have something to do with the fact that my car wouldn't start."

"Why didn't you call someone?"

She'd had enough. She was really sorry that she'd whacked him with her umbrella, but the truth was she really couldn't stand the man and never had been able to stomach him. "I've been an adult for a long time, Derrick, and I don't answer to anyone, most especially you. If you'll excuse me, I've had a really long day and I'm going to bed."

"Sarah …"

She stood. "No. I'm done. Good night."

As she brushed by him, his hand came out of nowhere and grabbed her arm. She froze, stared down at him, waiting. "I apologize," he offered with his most velvet voice.

"I'm not going to fall for the smooth charm, Derrick. Now let me go. I'm tired."

His jaw clenched as he released her. When he heard the click of her bedroom door shutting, he ripped the ice pack off his back and threw it across the room. He turned and carefully leaned back until his back touched the chair. Then he closed his eyes and sighed.

Six years later. Six years and he was still completely in love with her.

He'd hoped it had been a crush, kind of like what he had for Robin, even a touch for Maxine. The sisters had charmed him the second he laid eyes on them, and he loved them for their beauty and their love of life. Except it was more, much more, with Sarah.

And she couldn't stand him.

She would never look at him and see anything but the teenager in the ripped leather jacket with the I-dare-you scowl. He'd changed, though, in every way he possibly could. He had cleaned his clothes, cleaned his act, found Christ, and followed God. Like his water baptism cleansed his soul and made him a new person, he shed his past and created a new person. It didn't matter. She still looked down her perky little befreckled nose at him.

He rubbed his face with his hands and surged to his feet. He thought about her traipsing through the heart of the city alone at this hour with only a purse and an umbrella and thought about all of the terrible things that could have been waiting for her during that five block walk. He whispered a prayer of thanksgiving for God's protection over her in those early morning hours, and retired to his own bedroom, sorry that their reunion had not gone well at all.

Any secret, unacknowledged hope he had of winning her over with a smoothly executed reunion meeting was now gone forever.

SONG OF SUSPENSE SERIES

The Song of Suspense Series…

A MELODY FOR JAMES

MELODY Mason and James Montgomery lead separate lives of discord until an unexpected meeting brings them to a sinister realization. Unbeknownst to them, dark forces have directed their lives from the shadows, orchestrating movements that keep them in disharmony. Fire, loss, and bloodshed can't shake their faith in God to see them through as they face a percussive climax that will leave lives forever changed.

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AN ARIA FOR NICK

ARIA Suarez remembers her first real kiss and Nick Williams, the blue eyed boy who passionately delivered it before heading off to combat. The news of his death is just a footnote in a long war and her lifelong dream to become a world class pianist is shattered along with her wrist on the day of his funeral.

Years later, Aria inadvertently uncovers a sinister plot that threatens the very foundations of a nation. Now, stalked by assassins and on the run, her only hope of survival is in trusting her very life to a man who has been dead for years.

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A CAROL FOR KENT

BOBBY Kent's name is synonymous with modern Country Music and he is no stranger to running from over zealous fans and paparazzo. But he has no real idea how to protect his daughter and Carol, the mother of his only child, from a viscous and ruthless serial killer bent on their destruction.

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A HARMONY FOR STEVEN

CHRISTIAN contemporary singing sensation, Harmony Harper, seeks solitude after winning her umpteenth award. She finds herself in the midst of the kind of spiritual crisis that only prayer and fasting can cure. Steve Slayer, the world renowned satanic acid rock icon, who has a reputation for trashing women as well as hotel rooms, stumbles into her private retreat on the very edge of death. In ministering to Steve, Harmony finds that the Holy Spirit is ministering to her aching soul. The two leave the wilderness sharing a special bond and their hearts are changed forever. They expect rejection back in their professional worlds. What neither of them could foresee is the chain of ominous events that threaten their very lives.

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EXCERPT FROM A MELODY FOR JAMES

A Melody for James was voted the July Clash of the Titles WINNER and voted The Book Club Network's August Book of the Month in 2013. If you missed A Melody for James, buy it now in Paperback or eBook wherever fine books are sold.

PLEASE enjoy this special excerpt from the upcoming full length Christian suspense novel, A Melody for James, Part One of the Song of Suspense Series.

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ANGELA Montgomery nearly missed it. She had lost herself in memories of her recent birthday celebration marking the passing of her 30th year on earth. Her husband, James, her junior by 2 short years, had gone all out. Being "much" younger, he had decorated the entire house with black balloons and held a surprise "wake" for the passing of her late youth. Daydreaming and lost in feelings of love and adoration for her beloved groom, Angela nearly failed to recognize the moment when it happened.

When her consciousness shifted from her reverie back to the present, for several breaths she simply stared at the smart board in front of her and ran through the calculations again. Then she tried to ignore the little shivers of nervous excitement that danced up her spine.

"Heeyyyyy …" Donald Andrews clicked a few keys on the laptop in front of him, magnifying the image on the smart board screen so that it covered the entire wall. "Did we just …"

Angela rose, her legs feeling uncharacteristically stiff, and walked forward while staring at the screen. "You know what, I'm cautiously going to say yes. Yes, we did."

Alvin Berry let out a loud, "Whoop!" He removed the ever present knit cap from the top of his head and tossed it into the air. The group collectively looked at each other and grinned. Years of work, and the breakthrough sat right there on that smart board, staring back at them.

"We should celebrate," Lorie Frazier announced. She pulled her glasses from her nose and casually tossed them onto the stack of papers in front of her. "We need to celebrate, then we need to call a press conference. But only after we get to the patent office."

Angela looked back at the screen. "We have to be sure."

"We're sure," Alvin said. "Look at that beauty. It is so simple yet so elegant."

"Call James," Lorie said. "Tell him to make us a reservation in the most ridiculously expensive restaurant Atlanta has to offer. Tell him we're going to celebrate."

Despite her naturally conservative nature, Angela started to let the feeling of giddy excitement take over. She laughed and hugged Don as she pulled her cell phone from her pocket.

Her husband would probably jump up and down or do a little dance of celebration. She felt like she might just as easily be making a call to announce that she was expecting their first child instead of the conclusion of this long project.

For five years, she and this amazing team of engineers had worked to perfect this revolutionary data storage solution. For five years, usually working six days a week, usually not less than twelve hours a day, they'd toiled in this basement lab in her inherited home. While she'd hoped and prayed for all that time, now that the reality of what they'd accomplished actually shone back at her from that beautiful smart screen, she realized she hadn't ever really been certain they'd succeed.

But they had.

She got James' voice mail. "Darling," she purred, knowing he'd hear the smile in her voice, "We did it. We're done. I cannot wait to show you. Come home. Come see. We need to celebrate."

As soon as Angela hung up, she gave Lorie a hug and said, "I vote for cheesecake."

"Copious amounts," the nearsighted genius agreed. "Oh! With strawberries! And really good coffee."

Angela felt her heart skip when the red security light started flashing. Her eyebrows crowded together in confusion. Why was the intruder alarm going off now?

Angela had inherited the farmhouse from her late uncle at the age of 17 and lived there throughout her lengthy matriculation at Georgia Tech. For a brief time when this venture was just beginning, she and her brand new husband, James, as well as their business partner and his best friend, Kurt, had all lived there under the same roof.

During the initial months and years, Kurt and James had renovated the basement entirely; installing a T1, a two post rack of networking gear, a four post rack of high performance servers; and most importantly, a state-of-the-art security system, designed and built by her brilliant husband himself. For the last five years, they had hardened the basement into a panic room with steel reinforced doors, magnetic locks, and pinhole security cameras. It took two-factor authentication to even get into the room.

When the magnitude of the fact that the security alarm was still sounding sunk in, Angela whirled around until her eyes met with Don. When she spoke, she hated the shrill edge of panic she detected in her voice. "Back it up to the Snap."

His fingers clicked on the keys with the speed of machine gun fire as spoke. "There's no time. We didn't do an incremental yesterday because the waffle was running a defrag."

"Right. Execute a differential and encrypt it." She waited a few heartbeats while Don's fingers played out a staccato percussion on his laptop.

With confusion clouding his eyes, he looked up and announced, "Our hard line is down."

Alvin pressed a series of keys on his computer and several small screens appeared on the smart board, all showing different angles of her home. Men in masks moved through the empty house with military precision, high powered and very deadly looking carbine rifles tucked tightly into their shoulders at the ready. They stared around every corner through the sights on the short rifles.

Lorie gasped and said, "What is going on? Who are they?"

Fear and panic tried to take over. Her stomach turned into ice and Angela felt like her breathing wasn't productive, like she could never get a deep enough breath. Focus, she said to herself. You will have time to be scared when it's over.

"Can you remember how we got here since the last backup?" Angela asked Alvin, her hand pointing in his direction like a knife blade. If she'd ever met anyone whose memory rivaled her husband's, it was Alvin.

His voice sounded flat, emotionless. "Yes. Of course I can."

She watched a crouched figure outside the entrance to the lab tape two liter plastic bottles filled with water to the hinges of the security door. The security that James and Kurt had installed was tight, state-of-the-art even, and the door was sealed. But no seal in 100 miles would withstand the blast of a shaped charge pushing water ahead of a supersonic shock wave. It would slice through the steel door faster than the world's most powerful cutting torch.

Whomever these people were, they had known the defenses they would have to overcome. They were prepared. They had planned. They had obviously even rehearsed as was apparent in their staged and perfectly timed precision movements. And the most dangerous thing Angela and her team had for protection once that door came down were a few custom computer viruses.

She'd known the risks. The success of their project was potentially worth upward of a hundred billion dollars in the first year alone, and that was on the conservative side. The long term applications of the soon to be patented technology could not even be calculated. The reason they worked out of her home instead of in some downtown lab was for the secrecy of the project, a vain hope of security by obscurity.

They'd taken additional precautions which Angela belatedly realized she had characterized as "paranoid." A commercial exothermic incendiary device much like a military grade thermite grenade perched atop each server array that would, when detonated, melt their way through the machines at over 4 thousand degrees Fahrenheit, effectively destroying everything in a completely unrecoverable fashion. They would burn 3 times hotter than molten lava and the crew would have to be careful not to look at them since the radiant energy was bright enough to blind them without a welding visor.

"Then destroy it. Destroy it all."

Lorie's finger hovered over a steel pin. "You're sure?"

The explosion above them shook the room. Alvin rushed to the inner door and made sure the panic room door remained bolted on all four corners. Angela closed the lid on her laptop and slid it into the 2 inch air gap between network switches. Then she draped her hand on Lorie's shoulder and whispered, "Do it."

She closed her eyes and started to pray as the room around her grew suddenly very hot and smoke started billowing up to the ceiling. "Lord Jesus, if I live through this, let me remain in Your will. But if I come home to you, sweet Jesus, please watch over my husband. Let him feel your comforting love and let him find the destiny you have in mind for him."

Smoke alarms went off and the lights flickered. Then she felt herself being picked up and thrown aside, riding on the wave of a perfectly timed blast. As she flew backward from the shock of the multiple explosions blowing open her steel door she prayed even harder — she prayed for courage, for protection, for strength.

As she landed and fell against the tower of computer drives, she watched the thermite spill and splatter like lava, setting the entire area on fire. Her last thought was of pain as a spray of burning powder fell on her chest.

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AN ARIA FOR NICK

PLEASE enjoy this special excerpt from the upcoming full length Christian suspense novel, An Aria for Nick, Part Two of the Song of Suspense Series.

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ARIA Suarez stood on the corner of the patio at the coffee shop on Macadam Avenue observing the man wearing the dark blue shirt who occupied the corner table of the outdoor cafe. Sunlight glinted on his brown hair, revealing highlighted streaks that nearly glowed, lending his visage a halo-like appearance. He'd flirted with the waitress each time she'd come by, and had even grinned at a small child making a mess at a nearby table. He looked harmless enough, though she couldn't completely make out his face behind the sunglasses he wore and the Monday edition of the Portland Tribune he continuously ducked behind.

She clenched the purse strap in her hand a little tighter. She kept a sharp eye toward the crowd, scanning faces for anyone who looked either familiar or out of place. Finally, she mustered the courage to step forward.

Aria hesitantly began her approach, unsure of how this might work and trying very hard not to reveal even a hint of uncertainty. Then she remembered that she also didn't want to attract any undue attention to herself by appearing uncomfortable or out of place in any way, and she smoothed her stride.

When she reached his table, she stood still and waited for him to look up from his newspaper. When he failed to do so, she cleared her throat. When that didn't work, she said, "Excuse me."

He shifted the newspaper downward enough to peer over the top of it in her direction, staring at her through the dark lenses of his sunglasses, but she still couldn't see his eyes. All she could see was her own reflection in the tinted lenses. "Are you waiting for me?"

The man glanced downward, very purposefully and very carefully folding the newspaper which he set on the table at right angles to his silverware directly next to his cup. That accomplished, he gestured with his left hand in the direction of the chair across from him, silently inviting her to join him without raising his eyes. As she perched herself on the wrought iron chair, she thought to herself that this man looked familiar.

All those weeks when she had felt such apprehension, glancing over her shoulder in foreboding, she had checked all the shadows and every corner, certain someone was always following her. Had her trepidation been well-founded after all? Had this man been following her? Had she seen him somewhere before? Or was her nervousness and disquiet simply getting the best of her? Did this man just have one of those faces that you felt sure you recognized?

Aria started to feel some very deep, very real anxiety and did her best to quell it. She waited for him to speak, assuming if everything was on the up-and-up that he had done this kind of thing before, and would take the lead to get them to the next level, whatever that was.

The waitress came back to the table to refill the man's lemonade and Aria ordered a cup of decaf with cream, no sugar, then folded her hands and waited. The man across from her sat up a bit straighter then took a deep breath and finally spoke.

"Hello, Aria." His voice flowed over her like a warm baritone blanket. It was deep and comforting and frighteningly familiar. He removed his sunglasses. Ice blue eyes, almost silver in color, calmly met her glance. Already tense muscles contracted in her stomach and around her heart, stealing the breath from her body and sending a surge of adrenaline that made her palms sweat even though her fingers felt ice cold. Her throat let out a startled gasp as recognition dawned.

It can't be! her mind screamed. It's not possible!

"How've you been?" he asked. "You look even more beautiful than I remember."

Aria didn't know what to say, literally shocked speechless. She had never spoken to a ghost. Her mouth felt so dry that the air coursing in and out of her lungs scorched her throat. Finally, she made an attempt. "What? … How? …"

Nicholas "Nick" Williams leaned forward and spoke very quietly but with great urgency, his low voice pitched for her ears alone. "It's okay, Aria. It's a long story, and I'll be happy to share it with you. But I have to call my superiors in less than twenty minutes, so right now, just show me what you have. We can stroll down memory lane later on, okay?"

Aria finally felt able to speak. She gripped the wrought iron chair handles beneath her fingers until her muscles ached. "You aren't Nick Williams," she announced as she stood. "Nice try, but I buried Nick ten years ago."

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EXCERPT FROM A CAROL FOR KENT

PLEASE enjoy this special excerpt from the upcoming full length Christian suspense novel, A Carol for Kent, Part Three of the Song of Suspense Series.

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BIRTHDAY girl Lisa Mabry had selected her favorite pizza parlor for her seventh birthday lunch, as she had every year since she could pronounce the word, and brought best friend since kindergarten Amy Bradford along with her, as she also always had since the day they met. The two little girls giggled and whispered as they ate green olive pizza with extra cheese, and Assistant District Attorney Carol Mabry intentionally let the go of the memory of her morning spent at the funeral parlor.

She forced herself to focus entirely on her daughter while they were in the restaurant. By the time they piled back into her Jeep, she had mentally left murder and autopsy reports behind, and transformed from A. D. A. Carol Mabry into just Carol, just Ms. Mabry, just Lisa's mom.

The drive to the ranch took twenty minutes, and the girls sat in the back seat, continuing their whispered conversation. The whispers got louder until they were full-fledged yells, and Carol finally interrupted them. "Girls! What are you two arguing about?"

"Ms. Mabry, who do you think is cuter? Tim McGraw or Bobby Kent?" Amy asked. Carol felt her stomach tighten.

"I told you, Bobby Kent is way cuter than Tim McGraw. Besides, Tim McGraw is married and has like a dozen kids. Bobby Kent isn't married, so that makes him even more cute," Lisa said. "Plus, he has the same name as my grandma and grandpa. That's even more extra points."

"What do you think, Ms. Mabry?" Amy asked again.

Carol refused to get a headache on Lisa's birthday. Sometimes, tension and stress built up so that she would get headaches that made her have to lie down in a darkened room and fight back tears of pain. But it wasn't going to happen to her today. "I think you two should play rock-paper- scissors, and whoever wins is right," she said, turning onto the drive that led to the ranch house.

The game brought on another bout of arguing, but by then, Carol was out of the vehicle and didn't have to listen to it. She looked around her, but it didn't look as if anything had been done to prepare for the party. Marjorie was so efficient that Carol usually had nothing to do by the time she came over. She began to get worried that something had happened to Robert. She turned to the girls as they got out of the Jeep. "Lisa, go look in on the new foal Lightning dropped yesterday. I'm going inside to see what grandma's up to."

"Ok, Mommy. Come on, Amy," Lisa said, then they took off at a run toward the horse barn.

"Don't go inside the stall without grandpa. Just look!" Carol called to them, then turned to go in the house. She had her hand on the door when Marjorie opened it and stepped out onto the porch. Carol immediately knew something was very wrong.

"Carol," Marjorie greeted, then she stopped.

"What's the matter, Marjorie?" Carol asked, taking the older woman's arm and guiding her back to the door. "What happened? Is Robert all right?"

Marjorie put her hand over her face and burst into tears. "Oh Carol. I'm so sorry." Carol steered her through the door and into the kitchen. Marjorie sat in a chair at the table and buried her face in her hands, her body wracking with sobs. Carol looked and saw Robert seated at the table. He looked so frail, like a strong wind might just break him to pieces. He reached out to take his wife's hand.

"Robert, what is it? What happened?" she asked. She started really feeling frightened.

"Carol," he whispered, then cleared his throat and stopped. He cleared his throat again, then said in a stronger voice, "Whatever happens, whatever get's said, you have to know that we are truly sorry. Don't let this spoil Lisa's birthday."

"What's going on?" Carol demanded, her teeth set. "Tell me right now. Right this second."

¯¯¯¯

UNOBSERVED until this moment, international Country music superstar, Bobby Kent, studied Carol Mabry from the doorway of his parent's kitchen. The anger at his parents burned through his system slow and low, like an underground lava flow. They'd decided to tell him about two hours ago.

His mind rejected the fact that he had a daughter; a seven-year-old daughter. It was too much to fathom at one time. How could two people who professed to love him have kept that information from him? He hadn't been able to get an explanation out of them yet. Both of them had been too upset to make any sense. But he assumed it had something to do with money. It nearly always did. He figured the woman standing over them at the table could shed some light on the subject for him.

He'd known who they were talking about before they'd even said her name. The moment she spoke, he remembered her vividly. They'd met in a classical violin class at the University of Georgia four weeks before he received the call about his demo and packed his bags to leave. He had been amazed with her musical talent and impressed with her in general. He had asked her out and they had shared some lunches and a dinner and gone to a movie together on a double date. They had gone to one dance at the student center.

The night he got the call, they had celebrated. They'd sat on the tailgate of his truck and eaten too many Krystal cheeseburgers with way too much champagne. The celebration had gone until dawn. Bobby assumed Lisa arrived a scant nine months later.

He wanted to turn his anger to someone other than his parents, but he couldn't find it in him to force it onto her. The one thing his father, Robert, had been very clear about was that they had misled Carol all this time. All these years.

Years!

Carol believed that Bobby knew all about his daughter, Lisa. So Bobby ran his hand through his hair and prepared himself to face her righteous wrath. He had a feeling it would take some time to convince her that he wasn't the bad guy, here.

He stepped fully into the kitchen, his boot hitting the linoleum, causing a sound that reverberated through the room. Carol stiffened, as if she knew who she was about to see, and turned to face him. He watched the recognition come instantly, and suddenly her hazel eyes filled with burning rage so powerful he almost wished he hadn't made his presence known.

"Oh, of course! Should have known," she bit out through gritted teeth. "Exactly what are you doing here? Today of all days?"

He didn't know how to begin, so he decided to start with his defense. From the look on her face, though, he wasn't sure she would even hear his words. "I didn't know, Carol."

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Fifty Shades of Gravy

HALLEE'S GALLEY VOLUME 1

While confronting and redeeming a recent popular secular phenomenon, Hallee Bridgeman, A.K.A. "Hallee the Homemaker" rides the gravy train to triumph and hilarity with her premiere cookbook, revealing the secrets of the penultimate comfort food – gravy. Fifty Shades of Gravy "a Christian Gets Saucy!" is a cookbook wrapped in a parody surrounded by a comedy with a tongue firmly inserted into a cheek – but the recipes are deadly serious and may leave readers licking the gravy boat.

Her famous whole food, real food recipes bathe in luxuriant liquid comfort with recipes that are sure to captivate and enslave any audience.

Hallee starts with stocks and broths and then explores every shade of gravy you can whip up. Some recipes are entire meals and some are simple sauces while still others are gravies served alongside a traditional holiday feast.

There are meaty gravies, comfort food gravies, vegan gravies, gluten-free gravies, and even chocolate gravies! For any gravy question you were too ashamed to ask, this saucy Christian shares the answer.

Visit http://tinyurl.com/50gravyshades for more saucy information.

THE WALKING BREAD; THE BREAD WILL RISE!

HALLEE'S GALLEY VOLUME 2

While confronting and redeeming a recent popular secular phenomenon, Hallee Bridgeman, A.K.A. "Hallee the Homemaker" finds every grain of truth in her second whole food, real food cookbook with in-depth analysis and amazing recipes of yeast breads, quick breads, sourdoughs, and breads using grains other than wheat. The Walking Bread is a cookbook wrapped in a parody surrounded by a comedy with a tongue firmly inserted into a cheek -- but the recipes are "dead serious" and may leave readers searching for all the tasty bread crumbs.

"I am the bread of life. Your fathers ate the manna in the wilderness, and are dead. This is the bread which comes down from heaven, that one may eat of it and not die. I am the living bread which came down from heaven. If anyone eats of this bread, he will live forever; and the bread that I shall give is My flesh, which I shall give for the life of the world." John 6:48-51

Readers, bakers, homemakers, and cooks all over the world will find themselves slathering the good stuff atop the muffins or corn bread; speeding through the quick breads; and going ape of over the banana bread. These bread recipes are so good, so healthy, and so easy you will want to pass them down from generation to generation.

Visit http://tinyurl.com/walkingbread for more slices of information.

Iron Skillet Man; the Stark Truth about Pepper and Pots

HALLEE'S GALLEY VOLUME 3

It's a bird! It's a plane! It's a cookbook!

Move over men of steel! Make room mutants, aliens, and chemically or radioactively enhanced rescuers! Prepare to assemble your spatulas and get your "Flame on!" while the heroic Hallee the Homemaker™ (whose secret identity is Christian author and blogger Hallee Bridgeman) swings into action and shows her mettle with her third title in the Hallee's Galley parody cookbook series.

Is your skillet-sense is starting to tingle? Don't start crawling the walls, worthy citizen. Hallee constructs comic fun, jabbing at the cultural obsession with super powered heroes and villains. Along the way, readers will thrill to action packed explanations, daring "do it yourself" techniques, tremendous tips, and lots of real food/whole food recipes that achieve truly heroic heights. Ironically, while just a mild mannered cookbook by day, wrapped in a parody and surrounded by a comedy by night — the recipes are absolutely real and within the grasp of ordinary beings.

Along with revealing the stark truth about pepper and pots, learn how to clean and season cast iron and care for cookware so it will last for generations. Recipes run the gamut from red meats to vegetables and from fish to fowl. Super skillet breads and divine desserts rush to the rescue.

In these colorful pages, you might just discover the x-factor to overcome even the most sinister kitchen confrontation. With Iron Skillet Man fighting for you, ordinary meals transform into extraordinary super powered provisions, whether cooking over a campfire or a conventional stove top.

Visit http://tinyurl.com/ironskilletman for more saucy information.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

HALLEE BRIDGEMAN is a best-selling Christian author who writes action-packed romantic suspense focusing on true to life characters facing real world problems. Her work has been described as everything from refreshing to heart-stopping exciting.

An Army brat turned Floridian, Hallee finally settled in central Kentucky with her family so she could enjoy the beautiful changing seasons. She enjoys the roller- coaster ride thrills that life with a National Guard husband, a teenage daughter, and two elementary age sons delivers.

When not  penning novels, she blogs about all things cooking and homemaking at  Hallee the Homemaker™ ( www.halleethehomemaker.com). Her passion for cooking spurred her to launch a whole food, real food "Parody" cookbook series. In addition to nutritious, Biblically grounded recipes, readers will find that each cookbook also confronts some controversial aspect of secular pop culture.

Hallee loves coffee, campy action movies, and regular date nights with her husband. Above all else, she loves God with all her heart, soul, mind, and strength; has been redeemed by the blood of Christ; and relies on the presence of the Holy Spirit. She prays her work here on earth is a blessing to you and would love to hear from you. Contact information is on her website.

FICTION BOOKS BY HALLEE:

The Jewel series:

Sapphire Ice, book 1

Greater Than Rubies (a novella inspired by the Jewel Series)

Emerald Fire, book 2

Topaz Heat, book 3

Christmas Diamond (Jewel Series novella inspired by the Virtues and Valor Series)

The Song of Suspense series:

A Melody for James, book 1

An Aria for Nick, book 2

A Carol for Kent, book 3 (coming soon)

COOKBOOKS BY HALLEE:

Fifty Shades of Gravy

The Walking Bread, the Bread Will Rise

Iron Skillet Man, the Stark Truth about Pepper and Pots

HALLEE ONLINE

Hallee the Homemaker blog

www.halleethehomemaker.com/

Hallee Bridgeman, Novelist blog

hallee.bridgemanfamily.com/

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