Skip to main content

Lady Wynwood’s Spies vol. 1 free until 4/27

At the last minute, I applied for a Book Cave promo and got it! So Lady Wynwood’s Spies, volume 1: Archer is free until April 27. Be sure to get it before the deadline! Get Lady Wynwood’s Spies vol. 1 FREE

Excerpt - In the Arms of Immortals by Ginger Garrett

Today's Wild Card author is:


and the book:


In the Arms of Immortals: A Novel of Darkness and Light (Chronicles Of The Scribe)

David C. Cook (2009)



In another heart-stopping historical fiction thriller from the author of In the Shadow of the Lions, critically acclaimed author Ginger Garrett paints a captivating portrait of a time when terror ruled and faith was hard to come by. In the Arms of Immortals travels a richly imagined journey into a key moment of history…the arrival of the Black Death in Europe.

This story of unseen battle, loving presence, and eventual redemption begins when a strange ship docks in a medieval Sicilian harbor. That night an old man falls ill… then the baker's wife… then a street urchin. By morning half the townspeople are dead and more are dying—horribly. And no one has a clue what is happening or how to stop it. Not the local priest. Not the rich baron or his powerful knight. And not the three women at the heart of this book: the baron's proud daughter, Panthea, the outcast healer, Gio, and Mariskka, an unwilling visitor from another time.

Though the Church fights to stand between the plague and the people, the sickness is too powerful for a Church that will not allow medicine to be studied outside its walls. The Church holds a monopoly on healing and on God, but when neither rescues the people, the people lose hope in both, and the conflict between Science and Faith begins its long burn. In a time when the faithful have no answers and the faithless terrorize the countryside, only the bravest will dare hold on to a silent God.

The Chronicles of the Scribe Series are thrilling tales of an angelic presence called "the Scribe, the first writer"—dictated to a series of twentieth-century strugglers, but lived out in the pages of history. Each of Garrett's novels in the series targets a different significant moment of the past—both its mundane reality and supernatural significance—with a special emphasis on women's experience. Tautly suspenseful and deeply moving, In the Arms of Immortals will deftly lift readers into its fascinating narrative of angels and demons, mortality and immortality.


ABOUT THE AUTHOR:


An expert in ancient women’s history, critically acclaimed author Ginger Garrett (Dark Hour, Chosen: The Lost Diaries of Queen Esther, and most recently In the Shadow of Lions) creates novels and nonfiction resources that explore the lives of historical women. In addition to her writing, Garrett is a frequent radio and television guest. She resides in Georgia with her husband and three children.

Visit the author's website.

Product Details:
List Price: $14.99
Format: Paperback
Number of Pages: 304
Vendor: David C. Cook (2009)
ISBN: 0781448883
ISBN-13: 9780781448888

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

In the Arms of Immortals



Chapter One





Thirty thousand dollars bought her the right to avoid being scalded alive.





Mariskka Curtis did not miss the shoddy built-in shower that had been in her old apartment. Now she owned a penthouse, and one of her first decisions as a new millionaire was to have a high-end luxury shower installed.





“For thirty grand, it should make my breakfast, too,” Mariskka said to no one.





At least the bathroom was warm, making goose bumps and bad leg shaves a thing of the past. The maid had lit the fireplace in the master bath an hour ago and brought a fresh careen of coffee up. The milk still needed to be frothed, but Mariskka didn't mind that.





She pumped the handle six times and the milk bubbled up. She poured coffee into her monogrammed cup, then the foamy milk over the coffee. Mariskka inhaled, surprised that coffee could still bring her so much pleasure.





Rolling her neck to get the morning kinks out, she swung open the shower door and sat inside. The shower began as a slow warm mist around her feet, giving her a few minutes to finish her coffee before the gentle raindrops started from the overhead faucet and the dawn lights bounced pink off the shower glass.





Later this morning she was scheduled for an appearance on yet another talk show to dazzle America with her rags to riches tale. She hated the hollow feeling in her stomach that came from lying. She had stolen her best-selling manuscript from a patient's room. The patient, Bridget, had been a famous editor, and left it behind when she died. Mariskka stole it on impulse, thinking it might be valuable if sold on eBay. Only later, when packing the editor's belongings, had Mariskka seen the business cards thrown in the bottom of her bags. One was for an agent. Mariskka had contacted the agent, passing the manuscript off as her own. It couldn't hurt anyone, she had thought. Mariskka had also stolen Bridget's watch, but only because she intended to return it to the family. Only later did she realize Bridget had no family.





When the agent sold that manuscript in a seven-figure deal, it was as if God answered her prayers. Mariskka made a pile of easy money. She bought things she never dreamed of owning. She even donated some of it, paying hospice bills that threatened to bankrupt families and sent worn out care givers on vacations. Good things had happened to plenty of people because of her decision to steal.





As the mist rose she finished her coffee and waited for the overhead shower to turn on. Hard rock blared suddenly through the shower speakers, and she dropped her coffee cup in surprise. It shattered at her feet. Instinctively she yanked her feet out of the scalding puddle. Losing her balance in the wet mist, she hit her head on the imported tile and blacked out.





The smoke stung Mariskka's eyes.





She blinked, trying to clear her mind, groping in the darkness for the shower door. The shower had stopped, and the music was dead. She wondered if the building had lost electricity.





She crawled over something sharp and jagged. The lights must have shattered above. It was too dark to see anything; she wished she had windows in her bath as she pushed back the shower door.





Something was coming.





She felt the vibrations through her legs, shaking her to her stomach. Straining to hear above her thundering heart, she heard a heavy scraping against her hardwood floors, the sound of a sharp tool being dragged over the floors, catching every second or so, bumping over a seam. Heavy footfalls shook the floor, and metal screeched together with each step. She thought of the armored boots she had seen on medieval knights in museums.





Something slammed against the door, making the wood split.





It hit again.





“There is no Blood here,” someone said.





“God help me,” she whispered.





When she said the word God, the thing outside the door shrieked like an animal. A sword pierced through the door, creating a jagged seam as the intruder jerked it back and forth in the split wood. Light streamed in from her bedroom windows, but she could see nothing except a sword sawing its way through the door.





They should be testing the microphones for the television hosts right now, she thought. Amber-Marie Gates, her publicist, was going to be furious when Mariskka didn't arrive on time. Or when she didn't arrive at all.… Mariskka's mind was gone, traveling down more familiar tracks, unable to process her death.





Then the door burst apart, and she was showered with wood fragments. A figure too large to pass through the doorframe stood, stood, twisting its head in different directions, staring at her. The glowing blue dawn outlined its frame. Morning sunrays shot up from behind its head and between its flexed arms, illuminating dust particles spinning down and turning the shifting light into a kaleidoscope.





Metal wings reflected the light at their sharp ice-pick tips; below these, the shoulders of a man were layered with scales. Each finger was tipped with dozens of iron claws, all pointing backwards. Once it grabbed her, she wouldn't get free without tearing herself to shreds. It was built for death.





“There is no Blood here,” he said.





“What?” she screamed.





“You have no Christ.”





A tail with an iron tip, long and scalpel sharp, raised behind him as he pointed his sword at her. He turned his shoulder to come through the door. As he thrust his wings against the frame, cracks ran up the walls above the door.





He lifted his sword, aiming for her neck. She wondered if her lips would still be moving after death, the way Anne Boleyn's had.





He spun back around, his sword in motion.





A shower of sparks was burning her.





She remembered lights like this.





She was a child at Disney, watching the Magical Parade of Lights. A green, scaled dragon floated past her as she sat on the sidewalk, full of lemonade and ice cream. When the dragon swung its head in her direction, with its blind paper eyes and red paper streamers coming from its mouth to look like fire, Mariskka vomited right between her shoes. No one noticed, not the least her mom, who had taken the wide white pills so she could get through the day, one of their last together. Mariskka wanted her to take the pills so she wouldn't be in pain, so she wouldn't groan in the night, but the pills made her dull and distant. Either way, Mariskka lost her mother a little more each day.





She stood, grabbing her mother's hand, pulling at her to run. Her mother laughed, tipsy from the combination of opiates and Disney princesses, swinging her around in a dance, not understanding the panic in her daughter's eyes. Mariskka struggled to get free, to see where the dragon went, but it was gone. She would lie awake for years after that, wondering where it was now. The eyes had only been paper, but she knew. It had seen her. It had seen something inside her.





Mariskka was still remembering herself as a little girl when she noticed her impending death had been delayed. Another creature was here, holding a sword, blocking the iron-winged monster from killing her. He had gold-and-straw colored dreadlocks that ran down his back and the body of a linebacker. Judging from how close his head was to her ceiling, Mariskka guessed he was about eight feet tall.





The man picked up the dark iron angel by the neck and slammed it against the wall. Plaster rained down.





“She is ours,” the iron-angel said. “We can take her.”





“Not yet,” the new creature said.





A dark stain spread underneath the iron-angel on the tile floor. The stain shimmered as teeth began to appear, ringing the edges.





The new creature yelled over his shoulders. “Cover your eyes!”





Mariskka stared at the stain, which was devouring the iron-angel as it moved up it his legs.





The new one screamed again, “Mariskka! Now!”





Mariskka obeyed.





She heard the sound of an animal screaming in pain, and then all was quiet.





She looked up to see the new creature staring down at her. His nose was inches from her face, and his dreadlocks fell forward, tickling her cheeks. If he were human, she thought, he would be beautiful. But he could not be real, not with his strange eyes that were like big, gold saucers and canine teeth that peeked out from his lips. His breath smelled of meat, too. She collapsed, losing all control over limb and thought.





His arms slipped behind her knees and under her neck, lifting her without effort. He carried her to the bed and laid her down, drawing the curtains and stepping back into the shadows. He sat in a chair, resting one arm on the armrest, watching her. A thick, numbing sensation started in her toes and poured slowly into her body. She felt it filling her, working its way through her abdomen, then her arms. When it got to her eyes, they closed and she slept.





©2009 Cook Communications Ministries. In the Arms of Immortals by Ginger Garrett. Used with permission. May not be further reproduced. All rights reserved.



It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!



You never know when I might play a wild card on you!

Comments

Margaret Metz said…
Wow! What a beginning! Now I have another one to add to my list. lol :o)

Popular Posts

Bethany House Publishers Cover Survey Invitation

Captain's Log, Supplemental I just got this from Bethany House Publishers: Hello Reader, We at Bethany House Publishers appreciate our readers opinions about the books we publish. Occasionally, we seek your input about upcoming products. Currently, we are conducting a survey about the cover image for an upcoming novel. For your time, we are offering a giveaway in conjunction with this survey. You will be able to choose from ten recent Bethany House novels, and there will be ten winners. Winners will be notified within two weeks. Click here to take the survey, which should take about 10 minutes to complete. Thank you for your participation, and feel free to forward this email on to your friends or link the survey on your website. The survey will be available through Monday, September 17. Thanks for your time and your opinions. We value your feedback. Sincerely, Jim Hart Internet Marketing Manager Bethany House Publishers

No Cold Bums toilet seat cover

Captain's Log, Stardate 08.22.2008 I actually wrote out my pattern! I was getting a lot of hits on my infamous toilet seat cover , and I wanted to make a new one with “improvements,” so I paid attention and wrote things down as I made the new one. This was originally based off the Potty Mouth toilet cover , but I altered it to fit over the seat instead of the lid. Yarn: any worsted weight yarn, about 120 yards (this is a really tight number, I used exactly 118 yards. My suggestion is to make sure you have about 130 yards.) I suggest using acrylic yarn because you’re going to be washing this often. Needle: I used US 8, but you can use whatever needle size is recommended by the yarn you’re using. Gauge: Not that important. Mine was 4 sts/1 inch in garter stitch. 6 buttons (I used some leftover shell buttons I had in my stash) tapestry needle Crochet hook (optional) Cover: Using a provisional cast on, cast on 12 stitches. Work in garter st until liner measures

Tabi socks, part deux

Captain's Log, Stardate 07.25.2008 (If you're on Ravelry, friend me! I'm camytang.) I made tabi socks again! (At the bottom of the pattern is the calculation for the toe split if you're not using the same weight yarn that I did for this pattern (fingering). I also give an example from when I used worsted weight yarn with this pattern.) I used Opal yarn, Petticoat colorway. It’s a finer yarn than my last pair of tabi socks, so I altered the pattern a bit. Okay, so here’s my first foray into giving a knitting pattern. Camy’s top-down Tabi Socks I’m assuming you already know the basics of knitting socks. If you’re a beginner, here are some great tutorials: Socks 101 How to Knit Socks The Sock Knitter’s Companion A video of turning the heel Sock Knitting Tips Yarn: I have used both fingering weight and worsted weight yarn with this pattern. You just change the number of cast on stitches according to your gauge and the circumference of your ankle. Th

Sweet Romance Reads: How do you celebrate accomplishments?

I’m at the Sweet Romance Reads blog and Facebook group talking about finishing my book and posting a poll about how you usually celebrate accomplishments. Check out the blog or Facebook group to weigh in!

Psalm 103:2-3

Psalm 103:2-3 Dear Lord, Thank you, Lord, for all you’ve done for me. Don’t let me forget that you are always blessing me whether I notice it or not. Thank you for forgiving my sins, and thank you for healing me. I trust you and love you, Lord. Amen 詩篇103:2-3 親愛なる主よ、 主よ、あなたが私のためにしてくださったすべてのことに感謝します。私が気づこうが気づくまいが、あなたはいつも私を祝福してくださっていることを、私に忘れさせないでください。私の罪を赦し、癒してくださってありがとうございます。主よ、あなたを信じ、あなたを愛します。 アーメン

FREE: Hidden Currents by Christy Barritt

Join Christy’s email list to get this story free! A notorious gang puts a bounty on Detective Cady Matthews’s head after she takes down their leader, leaving her no choice but to hide until she can testify at trial. But her temporary home across the country on a remote North Carolina island isn’t as peaceful as she initially thinks. Living under the new identity of Cassidy Livingston, she struggles to keep her investigative skills tucked away, especially after a body washes ashore. When local police bungle the murder investigation, she can’t resist stepping in. But Cassidy is supposed to be keeping a low profile. One wrong move could lead to both her discovery and her demise. Can she bring justice to the island . . . or will the hidden currents surrounding her pull her under for good? Hidden Currents is the first book in the six-book Lantern Beach Mystery series. Each book contains a standalone mystery, but there are overarching mysteries within the entire series. Get it now for

Lady Wynwood’s Spies vol. 1 free until 4/27

At the last minute, I applied for a Book Cave promo and got it! So Lady Wynwood’s Spies, volume 1: Archer is free until April 27. Be sure to get it before the deadline! Get Lady Wynwood’s Spies vol. 1 FREE

Save the Date - Camy's Patreon Launch

My Patreon will launch in 1 week! I took all the results of the poll and I have hopefully created fun and appealing tiers. About my Patreon: I'm trying something new for the next 6-7 months. If it works, I'll continue, but if I end up not liking it, I'll stop it in September or October. I will be starting a monthly subscription membership on a new Patreon account. I will be posting the chapters of my current book ( Lady Wynwood’s Spies, volume 7 ) so you can read ahead of when the ebook will be edited and published. My current plan is to post 1-2 chapters weekly. One reason I’m switching things up is that I want to get closer to my readers and build a tighter, more intimate community with you. You can comment on each chapter of my book, give a reaction, ask a question, or even correct mistakes. My books will become a dialogue with you. If you subscribe to my Patreon, you'll be charged monthly and have access to all the benefits for the tier you subscribe to. The

Chopsticks and knitting

Hahahahaha! My husband, Captain Caffeine sent me this cartoon. The Asian and the knitter in me loves this one: My parents taught me to use chopsticks at an early age so they’re pretty comfortable for me. Did you know there are differences between Japanese and Chinese chopsticks? The Chinese ones tend to be blunter and more slippery whereas the Japanese ones are pointier and sometimes have a textured tip to make it easier to grab food. My mom will eat salad with a chopstick, which I have to admit is a bit easier than a fork, for me. Any of you knit? Any of you use chopsticks?

Toilet seat cover

Captain’s Log, Supplemental Update August 2008: I wrote up the pattern for this with "improvements"! Here's the link to my No Cold Bums toilet seat cover ! Okay, remember a few days ago I was complaining about the cold toilet seat in my bathroom? Well, I decided to knit a seat cover. Not a lid cover, but a seat cover. I went online and couldn’t find anything for the seat, just one pattern for the lid by Feminitz.com . However, I took her pattern for the inside edge of the lid cover and modified it to make a seat cover. Here it is! It’s really ugly stitch-wise because originally I made it too small and had to extend it a couple inches on each side. I figured I’d be the one staring at it, so who cared if the extension wasn’t perfectly invisible? I used acrylic yarn since, well, that’s what I had, and also because it’s easy to wash. I’ll probably have to wash this cover every week or so, but it’s easy to take off—I made ties which you can see near the back of the seat. And