The Seventh Plague by James Rollins

This novel was the most interesting and informative one I have read in some time. It contained well crafted characters, an engaging plot, unusual settings, and a ton of suspense. While it follows a long line of Sigma Force novels, it read really well on its own.

In the Author's Note to Readers, Rollins says he takes bits of science and history and kneads them together to build his story. He did that very well here. He took the relationships between Livingstone, Stanley, Twain, and Tesla and wove them into a current day plot involving a deadly plague related to the time of the Exodus.

The narrative alternates between the Sudan Desert and Ellesmere Island in the frozen land of northern Canada. One part of Sigma Force tries to find the origin and cure for the plague that came out of the desert. Another part of the Force is trying to stop a billionaire madman attempting to halt climate change and provide unlimited power by infusing the ionosphere with electron-eating micro-organisms. Those micro-organisms tie the two aspects of the plot together.

This novel is very informative. I learned about the New Chronology that calls into question the identification of Pharaoh Ramesses with the plagues of Exodus. If one looks four centuries earlier, there is evidence of the plagues. I learned about self-mummification and that Livingstone was mummified. I learned about the intelligence of elephants and their behavior – they do have the largest brains. Perhaps most interesting of all was the information about electron-eating bacteria, something scientists have, in fact, discovered.

I recommend this novel to readers who enjoy a suspense filled novel that informs as well as entertains.

You can find out more about the book, download excerpts, and watch a trailer here.

My rating: 5/5 stars.

James Rollins is a New York Times bestselling author of international thrillers, translated into more than forty languages. In each novel, Rollins unveils unseen worlds, scientific breakthroughs, and historical secrets. He graduated from the University of Missouri and established a successful veterinary practice. He continues to volunteer in support of the local SPCA. He is the founder of Authors United, a nonprofit helping soldiers and their families. You can find out more at http://jamesrollins.com/about/.

William Morrow, 448 pages.

I received a complimentary egalley of this book from the publisher. My comments are an independent and honest review.

Body Kindness by Rebecca Scritchfield

Scritchfield says body kindness is a self-care mindset based on the belief that health begins by being good to yourself. (2) This book is not a diet book. She says diets fail.

This book has a ton of information regarding personal health, including food, sleep, exercise, and relationships. The idea is to give us the information we need to make choices that improve our health without the goal of weight loss.

It took me a while to accept what Scritchfield writes. It goes against so much of what we have been told to believe about ourselves. For example, she writes, “Breaking news: You can be fit and fat. Inactivity, not fatness, is linked to mortality and heart disease.” (70) We have to let go of the idea that we are trying to manipulate our weight. In fact, she tells us to get rid of our scales.

Scritchfield has much information to help us make healthful choices. She covers just about everything, from food to stress to relationships to goal setting, and much more. She asks us to put self-care at the top of our list.

She recommends keeping a journal to help work through her book. There are many prompts she gives to help us think through what we do and why. She really advocates activity. She helps us get good and adequate sleep. Her section on emotions was great.

I recommend this book to people who are looking for how to develop a mindset that helps make choices based on goals developed from our values. Scritchfield helps us reveal our values and then walks us through creating the life we want. It's all in the book.

You can find out more at http://bodykindnessbook.com/.

My rating: 5/5 stars.

Rebecca Scritchfield, MA, RDN, ACSM HFS, believes that true health is not dependent on one's weight or pant size. Through her mindfulness-based counseling business, Rebecca helps people create better lives without dieting by showing them how to make self-care choices that fir their values, interests, and goals. In addition to speaking, writing, and podcasting about body kindness, she has appeared in over 100 broadcast television, radio, print, and online interviews. She is the co-founder of Dietitians for Body Confidence. She has a master's degree in communication from Johns Hopkins University and a bachelor degree in chemistry and nutrition. She lives in Washington, DC with her husband and their two children. You can find out more at www.RebeccaScritchfield.com.

Workman Publishing, 297 pages.

I received a complimentary egalley of this book from the publisher. My comments are an independent and honest review.

Book Matters by Alan Sica

This book is very different from what I had expected. From the subtitle and description of the book, I expected that it would be about the changing nature of books, from print to digital, and what that means to readers and reviewers. That is not what the book is about.

Sica is a sociologist and was the editor of the book review journal owned by the American Sociological Association from 2009 to 2015. He tells of his own experiences at the task, calling for and dealing with reviews of academic works. He also writes about many works specific to the field of sociology. There were a number of books and authors he explored that I had never heard of and would be of interest only to sociologists.

He did have some interesting comments about reading at the beginning of the book. He writes about “...a society which has, for the most part, given up reading for the simpler pleasure of viewing images.” (228/4113) He laments, “the future of serious thought and analysis does not look promising...” (659/4113) He admonishes intellectuals, noting that they have the responsibility “to tell it like it is” in monographs and reviews.

I had thought I would not finish the book but then I read about Sica's experience as a book review editor and the difficulty he had getting people to commit to reviewing a work and then actually producing the review. Once I had opted to review this book, I kept with it. And I did learn some interesting concepts, such as the amount university libraries must pay for subscriptions to journals.

I don't know to whom to recommend this book. Perhaps those interested in reviews of sociology books, other academic books and monographs. Sica writes about how technical reviews have changed over the years. Again, this information is specific to the field of sociology. Those interested in Sica's life work would find this interesting as he tells many stories about his own experiences and work.

My rating: 3/5 stars.

Alan Sica is a professor of sociology and director of the Social Thought Program at Pennsylvania State University. He is the author or editor of several books.

Transaction Publishers, 274 pages. You can find out more about the book here.

I received a complimentary egalley of this book from the publisher. My comments are an independent and honest review.

Alive in the Spirit, A W Tozer, compiled by James Snyder

Tozer, who died in 1963, has a message for Christians today – and what a message it is! Even though he made these observations and suggestions over fifty years ago, I think he identified the current condition exactly.

Tozer takes us through his story of salvation and baptism in the Holy Spirit and then speaks to the importance of the Holy Spirit in our lives. “The next generation or two of Christians will face challenges that cannot be overcome in the natural,” he writes. (395/2242) We must be saturated with the Holy Spirit and have the gifts of the Spirit in operation in the church today.

This book is full of serious admonitions. “My challenge for this generation,” Tozer says, “is to stop playing religious games and take this matter of being the church of Jesus Christ as serious as our forefathers did.” (446/2242) Reading this book might be uncomfortable. But, Tozer says, “not everyone is going to be comfortable when the Holy Spirit is Lord of all.” (1245/2242) After all, we are dealing with God on His terms, not ours.

While the majority of the book is aimed at lay Christians, he has some suggestions for church leaders too. “What is needed today is for churches to call a moratorium on all activity for six months, get together on our knees, and wait upon the Holy Spirit to move in the direction He wants us to go.” (1105/2242)

Tozer was what might be called today an “uneducated” man. He never finished the eighth grade. He never attended Bible college nor seminary. His insight into the church today is amazing. And that includes insights into the people in the pews, the preachers in the pulpit, and those leading worship. His observations and insights are so timely it is hard to believe they are from fifty years ago.

I highly recommend this book to any Christian who is ready to be serious about their Christian walk. Tozer was serious about the necessity of the Holy Spirit to empower the believer. You will be challenged about your worship, your devotion, your ministry, and your daily life.

This book was compiled and edited by James L. Snyder. He gleaned the chapters in this book from the sermons Tozer preached in the late 1950s and early 1960s. Snyder suggests reading a chapter at a time as each chapter contains spiritual truth that needs to be absorbed. I agree.

My rating: 5/5 stars.

A. W. Tozer (1897-1963) began his lifelong pursuit of God at age seventeen. He was a pastor, writer, and editor, authoring more than forty books.

James L. Snyder is an award-winning author whose writings have appeared in more than eighty periodicals and twenty-four books. He writes a weekly column that appears in nearly 300 newspapers across the nation. He is recognized as an authority on the life and ministry of A. W. Tozer and was given the rights from the Tozer estate to produce new books derived from over four hundred never-before-published audiotapes. He and his wife live in Oca, Florida.

Bethany House, 192 pages.

I received a complimentary egalley of this book from the publisher. My comments are an independent and honest review.

Concrete Smile by Bernard Maestas Book Blast

Concrete Smile

by Bernard Maestas

Book Blast December 13, 2016

on Tour February 1-28, 2017

Synopsis:

A crooked conglomerate makes a move on fictional Newport City by first attempting to incite a war between its existing criminal organizations before taking over with its own "in-house" group. Hired by a major gang leader to avert the war, freelance information broker Kevin recruits his ex-enforcer, ex-con brother Chance, and Kaity, a reporter with a vendetta, to uncover the conspiracy.

Book Details:

Genre: Crime, Thriller
Published by: Rebel ePublishers
Publication Date: December 15, 2016
Number of Pages: 270
ISBN: pending
Series: Internet Tough Guys, #3
Purchase Links : Coming Soon!

Read an excerpt:

CHAPTER ONE BUSINESS HOURS Lost somewhere in Newport City’s densely crowded, late-night skyline, six bulky bodies packed into some unimportant restaurant’s musty storeroom. Bulging with prison muscles and bulletproof vests, their dark skin branded with black tattoos broadcasting their gang affiliation, the men were silent. They crowded around a single rickety card table, the room’s only furniture, and toiled under the dim glow of a single yellow bulb dangling from the ceiling. A masonry bucket full of glittering brass ammunition sat centered between them. None spoke. The rhythmic clicking of guns and bullets was the only soundtrack accompanying the tension. Aside from their silence and the grim, practiced precision with which they pressed the unstamped cartridges into their magazines, they each had one other detail in common: Each man, whether dangling from a pocket, knotted around a wrist, or cinched across his brow, displayed a deep crimson bandana. That bandana, the gang flag of The Reds or Red Nation – the umbrella under which all the African-American gangs in Newport City fell – was the most crucial accessory. Durel Rivers, better known as Bones, set aside his last loaded magazine and grabbed his weapon. Exceedingly illegal, the fully automatic Tec-9 machine pistol, with its taped grip and folding stock, actually had a Federal law banning it by name. A loud slap cut the stifling air as he locked a magazine into the receiver and jacked the first round into the chamber. Bones covered his body armor with a baggy sweatshirt, loose enough to conceal the illicit firearm beneath it, its papoose pocket stuffed with the ready reloads he’d prepared. Behind him, the rest of his crew wrapped up their own loading tasks, donned jackets and hoodies of their own and then followed him out of the storeroom. The creaky storeroom door swung open into the deep gloom of a deserted kitchen. The restaurant’s legitimate business hours long over, the white-coated cooks and staffers long gone, Bones and his crew had special access. He led them past the stainless steel appliances and shelves to and then through the back door. Windows down, keys in the ignitions, a pair of black SUVs waited in the greasy shadows of the narrow alley behind the restaurant. Bones climbed into the shotgun seat of the leading truck while the rest of the crew split up between them, wordlessly sliding into their plush leather seats. Bones gave a simple and wordless nod to the man who took the driver’s seat beside him. Engines came to life with deep rumbles but the music that came on in the cabins was low. They were on a mission and there would be no distractions. As one, the pair of SUVs rolled out of the alley and onto the darkened Newport City streets. While the bustling city of nearly five million had plenty of nightlife, Bones’ crew stuck to the quiet streets of closed businesses, darkened storefronts, and slumbering apartment dwellers. It was late, or more precisely, early in the morning, and only the creatures of the night were out haunting the streets. Moving patiently, always five miles per hour over the speed limit – no more, no less – they rolled to their first stop at the fringe of a housing project complex, a U-shaped cluster of old tenement towers. Silent and pensive, Bones scanned every inch of the block around them, scrutinizing each of the people who made up the sparse nighttime populace. A pair of teenagers with Reds’ flags on display occupied one corner while a homeless man wandered the block further down. No police, no “jackers,” Bones was as certain as he could be of that. He twisted in his seat and said it all to the gangster in the back with another wordless nod. The back door popped, as did that of the trailing SUV, two men emerging into the street and crossing, their hands beneath their shirts and gripping the handles of their guns. As they disappeared into one of the building lobbies, Bones let his attention slip for just a moment. He plucked a cigarette from his pack, set it between his lips, bringing it to life with the click of his lighter, and blew the fumes from his nose. He had only taken two deep drags when the gangbangers emerged. The one from the trailing truck led the way, alert and ready. The man behind had a small gym bag slung over his shoulder. Bones turned to look as the man climbed back aboard the SUV. “All there,” he said simply, ripping open the zipper to give Bones a look inside at the bricklike bundles of cash. Bones straightened in his seat, his cigarette hand pushing out through the open window and waving the trailing SUV forward. Together, they pulled away from the curb and rolled off into the city. It was after three when they finally pulled away from their last pickup in East Charity, a sleepy neighborhood on the southeastern side of the City’s eastern borough. Bones lit up a third cigarette and then threw a glance into the backseat. Aside from the burly gangster riding with them, more of those bulging bags of cash now packed the seat to shoulder height. Over the last hour and change, they had stopped everywhere from drug dens to basement casinos, collecting the week’s deposits. With the trucks laden with money, the first half of the job, in some ways the easy half, was done. Alert, mind focused, Bones allowed himself to relax just a little, let the flood of nicotine calm his blood slightly. From here on, it was a straight drive to their final destination where they would turn over the money to be cleaned. No more stops, no more tense minutes of waiting on the street like sitting ducks. That said, he also knew that the best time to hit the convoy would be now, when it was flush and the crew had backed off the razor’s edge of their nerves. The bold glow of their headlights swung down a street heavy with shadows, most of the streetlights out except for some pale yellow ones at the far end. Bones’ hackles came up and he was just about to order them off the street when shrieking tires sang their discordant chorus into the night as something flashed out of the driveway ahead. No headlights had offered any warning. “Shit!” Bones’ driver seethed as he stood on the brakes, grinding them to a hard halt. In the glare of their SUV’s headlights, Bones now made out the form of the battered minivan that had darted across their path and stopped. He was already pulling his Tec-9 from beneath his shirt when the van’s sliding door scraped aside with a raspy grind of worn metal. Crouched tightly in the back of the van, shoulder-to-shoulder, a pair of masked men took aim and opened up torrents of fully automatic gunfire. The driver beside Bones jerked and flopped violently, his body riddled with relentless fire. Bones himself managed to duck down below the dash, behind the protection of the engine block, the only part of a normal car that would actually stop a bullet. Jagged pebbles of shattered glass rained down on the back of his neck. Behind Bones, the back door kicked open and the armed gangster ducked out as he sprayed the van with his own vicious rake of fire. Without rising from behind the dash, Bones reached out, shoving open the driver’s door and rolling the bloody, shredded corpse of the driver into the street. He was halfway over the center console when he saw his doom. From behind the row of parallel-parked cars lining the far side of the street, cloaked in the heavy shadows, more gunmen popped up, bracing and steadying their rifles on the hoods, trunks or roofs of the parked cars. Bones threw his machine pistol into line but it was too late. The last thing Bones ever saw was the hellish strobes of the muzzle flashes popping in the darkness as they poured another withering hailstorm of copper-jacketed death into the street. *** Don’t shit where you eat. Words to live by in Kevin Wyatt’s book. So, even at three in the morning, making the drive across the Admiralty Bridge into the peninsular eastern borough was just smart business. Polished black paint gleaming, throaty engine growling melodically, Kevin’s ’67 Mustang fastback made short work of the trip, weaving only occasionally around slower moving traffic. An oasis in the night of closed businesses on an otherwise nondescript street in East Charity, a brightly lit parking lot snipped off the corner of the block. It wrapped around two sides of a large diner that, despite its size and popularity with the late-night crowd that knew of its existence, still looked like a greasy hole in the wall. Kevin had grown fond of the place, though. Referring to it as his office, he conducted those meetings there that required a certain degree of public exposure mixed with only a modicum of privacy. He’d chosen the spot for the food initially and had quickly adopted it as a regular haunt. Despite this, no one greeted him by name as he entered and left the biting air of the early November chill in the parking lot. The diner was warm inside, full of the aroma of food frying in grease. At least a half-dozen parties of three or four twentysomethings in nightclub attire were scattered among the booths and tables. His regular booth, the one at the far back corner, just on the fringe of the last overhead bulb’s halo of light, was unclaimed, he noted with a smile. Kevin took another moment to scan the diner’s patrons and confirm that his clients hadn’t arrived yet. He pivoted and swung down the row of booths running along the diner’s storefront of greasy picture windows. As he went, he sloughed his black leather jacket, a dark T-shirt with a stylish designer logo beneath. Though he could have melded into one of the packs of club goers in the diner with his age and good looks, he wasn’t here to socialize. He had a narrow face of mildly chiseled features decorated with a light dusting of freckles that went appropriately with the rusty copper color of his short hair. He was above average height at just under six feet, but his fit and trim frame was not particularly remarkable. A waitress, mopping the countertop with a rag, glanced up as he passed her. She made contact with his bright hazel gaze and a faint smile of passing recognition turned up the corners of her mouth. “The usual?” she asked, getting a nod and a smile in reply. Kevin dropped into his booth’s far side, his back to the wall, his face to the door, and slid into the corner. It was a good spot, behind the wall and out of the frame of the big window while still giving him an excellent line of sight into the parking lot and the establishment. Kevin scanned with intent while taking care to seem oblivious, just another late night customer out for a midnight snack. A nondescript sedan, gray, neither old nor new enough to be noteworthy, coasted to a halt outside. Three young men, cautious and patiently panning their gazes over every angle of surrounding night, sat in the car for a few long moments before dismounting and approaching the diner door. The waitress returned and slid Kevin’s order in front of him just as the trio filed through the front door. She turned and left the table while he raised an arm, brushed with a sleeve of freckles, and waved them over. In a moment’s pause of prudent appraisal, they sized Kevin up from the door before sliding down the row. They were dressed to slip under notice, plain jeans and plainer hooded sweatshirts, but that didn’t fool Kevin for a second. “You the guy?” the first, a deeply tanned Hispanic in his late twenties, asked with no discernable accent. “I am,” Kevin confirmed with a nod. “Have a seat.” “How’d you know it was us?” asked the second, a black man of the same age as the first, as the whole trio – rounded out with a smaller and younger Asian man for diversity – took the opposite side of the booth. “Lucky guess,” Kevin replied plainly. He lifted his steaming cup of black coffee and nursed a sip, careful to keep his eyes above the rim to watch the three of them. “You have something for me?” He set the cup beside the plate holding his so far untouched “Heartstopper” sandwich. The trio exchanged glances before the leader threw one back over his shoulder at the rest of the diner. Kevin didn’t have to look so obviously to know no one was paying them any mind. Satisfied, the leader nodded at the Asian at the end of the booth. He slipped an envelope from the papoose pocket of his sweatshirt, laid it on the table and slid it across. Kevin took the envelope and peeled it open in his lap, leafing through its stack of crisp twenty-dollar bills. He kept his poker face firmly in place as he did, lifting his head to nod to his clients in approval. He reached across the booth, stuffing the envelope into the inner pocket of his jacket and slipping out a coin-sized SD card. He slid it across the table the same way he’d received his payment. The Asian man took it, plugging it into a small tablet and scanning through it. “As promised,” Kevin said, his focus on the leader. “Truck routes, communications protocols and duty rosters for Allied Armored Couriers. Good until the end of the month.” The leader looked from Kevin as he finished, to the Asian, who had completed his scan and nodded. Kevin scooped up his mug and took another sip of his coffee, watching as the leader turned back to him. “How’d you get this?” Kevin smiled a thin smile that didn’t reach his eyes as he lowered the mug. He offered his hand across the table for a shake. “A pleasure doing business with you.” The leader’s eyes narrowed, but he clasped Kevin’s hand in a brief squeeze before he and his crew exited the booth. He watched them leave, as did the waitress, who glanced over at him and met his eyes. This time, his smile was a little warmer as he offered her a shrug and dropped his attention to his plate. *** The Heartstopper was an egg sandwich, in simplest terms. To be more exact, however, it was a heaping serving of scrambled whole eggs capped with a slice of full-fat American cheese and enclosed in two slices of grilled and buttery bread. It was decadently delicious and so worth the bloated feeling in Kevin’s gut as he left his booth, leaving cash, including a generous tip, on the table top and exited the diner. He mounted up the Mustang, kicking it to grumbling life, and swung out of the parking lot, aiming for home. Business for the night finished, it was late and, crucially, he had a very early and very important errand awaiting him in the morning. Blue and red strobes blazed through the Mustang’s rear windshield as the howl of a siren drowned out even the healthy rumble of his powerful engine. Kevin’s heart nearly stopped as his eyes flicked to the rearview mirror framing the police sedan rushing up on his bumper. “Fuck me,” he breathed, hands tightening around the wheel. For half a second, he considered running. Lean fingers coiled around the shifter, his dress boots settled over the pedals, and Kevin sketched out a plan for his flight for freedom. It started with a downshift and a ferocious bellow of acceleration but he had no idea where it went from there. Instead, he reminded himself he wasn’t carrying anything illegal, nor did he have any warrants out for him. At least, as far as he knew. Easing toward the first gap in the row of cars lining the curb, Kevin blinked as the patrol car blew past him. Before he had a chance to relax, crack a smile of relief, three more cops in roaring sedans, their emergency lights screaming their urgency, sirens wailing, blasted down the road. They were moving fast, fast enough that their passing rocked Kevin’s heavy car as they went. Kevin stared after them as they faded into the distance before whipping around the corner at the end of the next block. His hands squeezed the wheel tightly and his mind reached, pondering the possibilities. Slowly, his thin lips spread in a smile. Something big had happened. He had a pleasant influx of new business to look forward to. From CONCRETE SMILE, A novel, By BERNARD MAESTAS © BERNARD MAESTAS

Author Bio:

Bernard Maestas lives in paradise. A police officer patrolling the mean streets of Hawaii, he has a background in contract security and military and civilian law enforcement. When not saving the world, one speeding ticket at a time, and not distracted by video games or the internet, he is usually hard at work on his next book.

Catch Up With Bernard Maestas on His Website, Twitter, or Facebook!

 

Book Blast Participants:

Tour Participants:

In February 2017 Bernard will be touring with his book Concrete Smile at these stops and more! Visit for reviews, interviews, guest posts, & more great giveaways!

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  This is a publicity post only. I have not read the book so this post is not a review of the novel nor an endorsement.

Restoring Christmas by Cynthia Ruchti

This is a delightful novella. Ruchti is a master story teller and she shines in this touching story.

Alexis is a home interior designer who has a chance to make it big – if she can land a spot on the Home Project Network Restoring Christmas special. But her aspirations hit a few roadblocks. The videographer she hired is down with back pain and Alexis has to settle for his son, Gabe. Then the woman for whom she is doing the remodel is an older woman hiding a world of hurt. How Alexis and Gabe help her work through her pain tugs at the heart.

Ruchti has done an excellent job developing the characters within a great setting. It was fun to see Alexis face her motives in doing the remodel. My favorite character was Gabe. Besides having a great eye behind the video camera, he is an amazing man. He is godly and has an interesting sense of humor.

And that brings up another fun aspect of this novel, the humor. It was frequent in the novel and often made me laugh out loud. Much of it came from the snappy dialogue between Alexis and Gabe.

I highly recommend this novella as a great one to read during this Christmas time. I have read a number of novels by Ruchti and this may be her best one yet. The story is heartwarming. The small town Wisconsin setting is wonderful. The characters will draw you in and keep you interested. The hint of romance is fun. The message of God being in the restoration business is encouraging. Be sure to have your tissues ready as you near the end, however.

My rating: 5/5 stars.

Cynthia Ruchti is the award winning author of over over eighteen books and is a frequent speaker at women's ministry events. She serves as the professional relations liaison for American Christian Fiction Writers, helping retailers, libraries, and book clubs discover good books and connect with authors. She and her husband live in central Wisconsin. You can find out more at www.cynthiaruchti.com.

Worthy Publishing, 272 pages.

I received a complimentary digital copy of this book from the publisher. My comments are an independent and honest review.

Conspiracy of Silence by Ronie Kendig

Kendig has crafted a suspense novel that combines an ancient biblical story and a present day terrorist attempt.

The biblical story is that of Korah's rebellion against Moses. God had brought judgment to Korah and his followers by having them swallowed up by the earth. But then there was a plague on the people Aaron stopped by offering incense. The present day story begins with an archaeological find. The find relates to the censors Korah and his followers had. The discovery initiates a plague.

The only man who can find the terrorist group planning to use the plague is Tox. Brother to the U.S. president, Tox has a past that makes him dangerous. The president hesitantly calls Tox into service. The race to save humanity is on.

I felt like I had missed a previous novel as I started reading this one. I finally found a prequel, The Warrior's Seal. Do read that novella first as it really sets the stage for this novel. It is a free download.

Readers will be introduced to, or reminded of, the story of Korah in the Old Testament. We also learn a bit of history, such as about the Aleppo Codex, the oldest “complete” Hebrew Bible known to exist, even though a third of it is missing. Kendig has woven this suspenseful novel around it and gives resources to further study it's significance and history.

This novel has tons of action scenes and suspense, something at which Kendig excels. I did have a little difficulty, in general, picturing the scenes. The emphasis in this novel is action, not settings. The characters are pretty well developed although I did not really the main ones.

This is a long novel and I thought it a bit repetitive. The plot is very complex too. I would have preferred a concentration on one theme, such as restoring the censors or the terrorist aspect, but not both.

I recommend this novel to those who like lots of suspense and a complex plot.

My rating: 4/5 stars.

Ronnie Kendig is an award-winning bestselling author of over a dozen novels. She, her husband, and their children live in northern Virginia.

Bethany House, 416 pages.

I received a complimentary egalley of this book from the publisher. My comments are an independent and honest review.

Waiting For Wonder by Marlo Schalesky

We don't like to wait. It's the not knowing, the time between the medical scan and the phone call with the report. It is waiting for the fulfillment of what you are sure God has promised. Schalesky takes us through the life of Sarah (Sarai) and her time of waiting to help us in ours.

Here are just a few of the lessons we learn from Sarah. God has purposes in causing the wait. For example, “He is the God who uncovers the deepest places of our shame and pain and promises to bless the whole world right from those very places.” Maybe there is something in us that has to die before the promise can be fulfilled. Maybe God is calling us to a deeper relationship with Him. Perhaps our waiting is aimed at a deeper devotion to Him. Maybe God is identifying ingrained patterns of fear within us. We learn what happens when we lose faith and follow the customs of our society and our plans go awry. We learn that God desires to restore us when we are so much less than He created us to be.

I like all the lessons Schalesky helps us learn from Sarah's life. “God plans everything precisely,” she writes. We can trust that our waiting is not some punishment but is rather part of God's timing.

I am always a little cautious when an author tries to recreate a biblical story, retelling it and putting thoughts and words into the characters' minds and mouths. Schalesky does that here. I would rather an author just adhere to the biblical account we have.

This is a good book for those waiting. Schalesky gives lots of insight and encouragement from Sarah's life and her own experiences. I recommend it for those learning to trust God in the inbetween times.

I am taking part in a blog tour of this book and you can read other reviews here.

My rating: 4/5 stars.

Marlo Schalesky is an award winning author of ten books. A regular speaker and columnist, she has published nearly 1,000 articles in various Christian magazines. She and her husband, their six children and various animals, live in a log home in Salinas, California. You can find out more at http://www.marloschalesky.com/ or follow her on Twitter and Facebook.

Abingdon, 272 pages. You can purchase a copy here.

I received a complimentary egalley of this book through Litfuse. My comments are an independent and honest review.