New Amish Fiction to Enjoy!

I'm so pleased to introduce you to my talented writing friend, Kathy. Kathleen Fuller is the author of over twenty-five novels. Her latest book, Letters to Katie, is the third book in the Middlefield Family series, and releases May 7, 2013. Kathleen lives in Geneva, OH with her husband and three children. For more information about her books, visit www.kathleenfuller.com

I'm sure you'll enjoy her latest book, and if you'd like to download the first three chapters of Letters to Katie, click http://nelsonfree.com/LetterstoKatie

 Meanwhile, here's an excerpt just to whet your appetite!

 Letters to Katie

Chapter 1

            “Oh, Katherine. This is so schee.”

 

            Katherine Yoder smiled at her best friend, Mary Beth. She’d spent hours working on the baby quilt, making sure the tiny stitches were as perfect as possible for Mary Beth’s new baby.  “I’m glad you like it.”

 

            “Of course I do.” Mary Beth touched the soft flannel quilt, running her fingers over the pale yellow, blue, and peach blocks. Each block had a ragged edge, a new pattern she hadn’t attempted before. The simple style was well suited for a baby, and Mary Beth’s was due within a few weeks.

 

            “I love it.” Mary Beth folded the quilt and placed it on her knees, her expanded belly barely allowing the space. “Danki for such a beautiful gift.  Although I don’t see how you have the time, working so many hours at the restaurant.”

 

            All I have is time, Katherine thought. She pushed the self-pity aside and managed a smile. She didn’t want to ruin the moment between them with jealousy. Unlike Mary Beth Shetler, Katherine didn’t have a husband—and soon a child—to take care of. Outside of working at Mary Yoder’s and helping her parents at home, her only other pursuits were her sewing and needlework.  She was always busy, yet longed for something different. Something more.

 

Apparently God had other plans. 

 

            Mary Beth managed to rise from the chair in her tiny kitchen. Her husband Chris had built the four-room home behind Mary Beth’s parents’ property. The dwelling resembled a dawdi haus, and likely would be used as such once the rest of Mary Beth’s siblings—Johnny, Caleb, Micah, and Eli—married and left home. But for now, the tidy, cozy home was enough.

 

            And more than Katherine had.

 

            Mary Beth placed the quilt on the table. “I’m glad you came over. Since I’ve gotten so big, I haven’t gotten out much.” Her light blue dress draped over her bulging belly.

 

Katherine’s eyes widened. “Are you sure you’re not having twins?”

 

            “Nee.” Her friend laughed. “But I look like I am.” With a waddling gait she moved to the cabinet. “Do you want anything to drink?”

 

            Katherine shook her head. “I can’t stay too long. I wanted to make sure you got the quilt before the boppli arrived. I have to work later today.”

            “Maybe just a few minutes?” Mary Beth went back to the table and sat down. She reached for Katherine’s hand. “It’s been so long since we talked. ”

 

            “We’ve both been busy.” She squeezed her friend’s hand. “And you’ll be even busier in a few weeks.”

 

            “Ya.” A radiant glow appeared on Mary Beth’s cheeks. “But I don’t want us to drift apart. You’re mei best friend.”

 

            Katherine released her hand. “And I promise I’ll be the best aenti to your boppli.”

 

            “The baby has plenty of onkels, that’s for sure.” Her smile dimmed a little.

 

            Katherine frowned. “What’s wrong? It’s not the boppli, is it?”

 

            “Nee.”

 

“Chris?”

 

“Chris is fine too. We’re happier than we’ve ever been.”

 

            “Then what is it?”

            Mary Beth sighed, but she didn’t reply.

 

            “You know you can tell me anything. If something’s troubling you, I want to help.”

 

            Her friend looked at Katherine. “It’s Johnny.”

 

            Katherine’s heart twisted itself into a knot. She glanced away before steeling her emotions. “What about Johnny?”

            “Are you sure you want to talk about him?”

 

            “I’ve accepted that there’s no future for us. What I felt for Johnny was a childhood crush.”

 

A crush. The truth was, Katherine had loved Mary Beth’s twin brother Johnny for as long as she could remember. For years she held out hope for a chance, however small, however remote. She had clung to that dream as if she were drowning and it was her only lifeline.

 

            But not anymore. 

 

            She sat straight in the chair, brightened her smile, and said, “What’s going on with him?”

            “He’s been acting. . .different.”

 

            “What do you mean?”

 

            “Distant. Partly because he’s been working so many hours at the buggy shop.  Mamm said she barely sees him except for church service. He leaves early in the morning and comes home late. But when he is around, he’s quiet.”

 

“That doesn’t sound like him,” Katherine said. “Do you think he’s keeping something from your familye?”

 

Something. . .or someone?

 

Despite Katherine’s vow not to care, her heart constricted again at the thought.

 

“I don’t know.” Mary Beth’s brown eyes had lost the warmth they’d held moments ago. “He’s becoming like a stranger to me. To all of us. We’ve drifted apart.” Her smile faded. “Like you and I have.”

 

            Katherine shook her head in protest.  “You know I’m always here for you.”

 

            Tears welled in Mary Beth’s eyes.

 

Katherine drew back. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

 

            “I’m always crying.” Mary Beth wiped her eyes. “It makes Chris ab im kopp. Hormones, I’m sure.” She sniffed, wiping her eyes. “I’m glad we’re still best friends.”

 

            Katherine hugged Mary Beth. “We always will be.”

 

                                                *****

 

         Johnny Mullet put his hands on his hips and surveyed his new property. Four acres, a small house and an even smaller barn. All his.

 

         The sad little farm didn’t look like much. But by the time he finished fixing everything up, no one would recognize it. He glanced at the empty pasture on the left side of the house. Tall grass, green and dense, swayed against a southerly breeze. He planned to purchase that acreage, too. Expand, and make his horse farm something he could be proud of.

 

         If only Daed could see. . .

          At the thought of his father, the grin faded from his face.

 

         Hochmut, his father would say. Pride.

 

         The worst character flaw any Amish could have.

 

         But was there something wrong with feeling satisfied after hard work? After a job well done?

 

         This wasn’t about pride. It was about independence. Making a good living. He’d seen his family struggle. He didn’t want that for his future. A future that, God willing, wouldn’t include only him.

 

         With the hazy orange sun dipping below the horizon, Johnny hopped into his buggy and headed home. Ten minutes later he pulled up to his parents’ house. He was late for supper. Again. He quickly put up his horse and hurried into the house, sliding into his seat just as his father closed his eyes for grace.

 

         After prayer, his mother passed his father a platter of ham. He speared a slice with his fork, peering at Johnny as he did. “Late day at work again?”

 

         Johnny picked up a roll from the basket on the table. He drew in a deep breath. “Nee.”

 

         “Then why are you late?”

 

         “I bought a farm.”

 

         Silence. Johnny glanced around the table. Caleb’s mouth dropped open, and Micah’s fork was poised in mid-air. Even six-year-old Eli gave him a funny look.

 

         “You what?” His mother’s eyes went wide with shock.

 

         “You know that house down the road a piece? The one with the barn in the back?”

 

         “You mean that shack?” Caleb shook his head.

 

         Micah scooped up a forkful of green beans. “Calling it a shack is a stretch.”

 

         Their father cleared his throat. The boys ducked their heads and kept eating. He turned to Johnny. “When did you do this?”

 

         “Signed the paperwork yesterday.”

 

         “Where did you get the money?”

         He was already tired of the third degree, but he had expected no less. “Savings. From my job at Gideon Bender’s.”

 

         “You must have gotten it for a song,” Caleb added. “Or less than a song. Maybe just a note.” He chuckled.

 

         “Caleb.” His father shot him a silencing look before turning to Johnny again.  “I wish you had consulted me first.”

 

         “I’m an adult, Daed. I didn’t think I had to.” Seeing the flash of hurt in his father’s eyes, he added, “Trust me. I know what I’m doing.”

 

         “I hope so.”

Is It Done Yet?

Is it Done Yet? by Marta Perry

How do we know when a manuscript is done? Is it like soup--that wonderful moment when all the flavors are blended to perfection and nothing is under-or-over-done? I just wish I had the answer to this one!

I tend to tell myself a manuscript is finished when I finally hit Send and off it goes to the editor. I've had that lovely feeling twice in the past two weeks: last week my novella for an Amish Suspense anthology for Love Inspired Suspense went out; and yesterday I hit Send on the second book in my current Amish Suspense series for HQN Books, Search the Dark. Joy! Celebration! A piece of chocolate!

Unfortunately, reality hits too soon. I will barely have gotten back to the WIP and engrossed myself in its world when revisions from the editors will arrive. By then, having divorced myself from those projects and fallen totally in love with the new one, I'll have to drag myself kicking and screaming to revisit them. I thought this story was done! Didn't I give it my all? It's time to walk around the house muttering to myself for an hour or a day, letting my whiny inner child have her say. As one of my grandkids is prone to say about homework when she wants to go out and play, "Isn't it good enough?"

I must confess, though, that once I regain my perspective it can be inspiring to see my precious darling through the eyes of the editor. All those little loose ends and repetitions are dragged out into the light and must be dealt with. This should be strengthened, that should be trimmed. And suddenly I'm enthusiastic about the story again as I see how much better and stronger it can be.

So no, it isn't good enough, not yet. Non-writers are sometimes amazed at how collaborative a work of fiction is, even when only one name is on the cover. There's the agent, who helped to shape the original series concept; the editor, who contributed suggestions at the proposal stage and the revision stage; the writer friends, who offer support and cyber-chocolate as needed; and the author, alone with her computer but knowing help, advice, and support are only an e-mail away.

What about you? Whether you produce books or quilts, what do you feel when you finally say, "It's done!"?

A CHRISTMAS GIFT

Merry Christmas! I have a special Christmas gift for you--a brand-new Pleasant Valley short story, free. A PLEASANT VALLEY CHRISTMAS features Leah, from the first book in the Pleasant Valley series, LEAH'S CHOICE, and her growing family as they celebrate a somewhat stressful Christmas. To read it, head on over to my website at http://www.martaperry.com. You'll see the story link on the first page.

Wishing you a very happy Christmas. My husband and I will be celebrating with our kids and grandkids!

Blessings,
Marta

HOME BY DARK excerpt

HOME BY DARK, the first book in my new Amish suspense series, will be available in stores and online on December 18th.

Here's a sample:

HOME BY DARK

Prologue

The deserted barn loomed ahead of them, broken beams jutting up toward the darkening sky like menacing fingers. Benjamin Mason shivered, and the gas cans Will had made him carry clanked together.

Will’s head jerked around at the sound. “Keep it quiet.” His voice was a low mutter of Pennsylvania Dutch. “You want to get us arrested?”

“Told you we shouldn’t‘ve brought him.” Joseph Stoltz frowned at him. Both the older boys wore Englisch clothes, and they’d snickered at Benj for showing up dressed Amish.

All very well for them to put on jeans and tee shirts. They were both old enough to have started their rumspringa, and parents turned a blind eye to such clothes then. But he was only fourteen, and Daad would skin him if he found Benj in a get-up like that.

He shivered again, half with cold, half with fear of where this adventure was taking him. It grew chilly at night this early in June, especially out here on the wooded hillside. He hadn’t thought to bring a jacket when he’d crawled out his window and slid down the roof of the woodshed. He’d been too excited that Will and Joseph were letting him come along to think about that.

Now his mind was churning, and he didn’t like what it was telling him. That it was a mistake for him to get involved, that he’d be shaming Daad and Mammi, that—

A loud creak sounded through the trees, and Benj didn’t need Will Esch’s gesture to drop to his knees behind the closest fallen log. Another sound from up ahead, one that he couldn’t identify. Why would anyone be up here in the woods overlooking Deer Run at night? Nobody’d be interested in that falling down barn.

Nobody but Will, who figured it would make a fine blaze up there on top of the hill for the whole village to see. Benj eased his hands away from the gas cans and rubbed clammy palms on his pants. He should of had better sense.

Will leaned over. “I’ll go check it out,” he whispered. “Wait for my signal, ja?”

With Will’s eyes on him, Benj could only nod. Too late now for second thoughts.

Will slipped over the log and slithered through the trees toward the barn. Benj leaned against the rough bark, wishing he was home in his bed. Will was moving quickly—Benj could see him, a dark shadow weaving through the trees. He’d be at the barn in a minute.

Benj turned away, sliding down to sit on the ground. In no time they’d hear Will whistle. Benj would have no choice but to pick up the gas cans and go along. Will was right about one thing. That dry old wood would make a fine blaze. But if they got caught…

He’d never seen an Englisch jail, but it seemed a pretty fair guess he wouldn’t like it.

“What’s taking so long?” Joseph muttered, peering over the log. “I can’t see him—“

He broke off at the sound of a motor. Lights swept through the trees, and Benj’s heart stopped. A vehicle was coming up the old logging road toward the barn. If Will was seen—

A man’s voice, shouting. Then, incredibly, a shotgun cracked through the woods, sending crows lifting in a noisy cloud from the trees. Benj was frozen, wits dazed by the sound.

And then Will vaulted over the log, shoving him with a hard hand. “Run,” he ordered.

Benj scrambled to his feet, following Will, with Joseph a step behind him, bolting through the brush. Another report, a branch crashing to the ground, and he was running as hard and fast as he could, running as if the devil himself were at his heels, crashing through the undergrowth heading down the hill and toward the road, if they got to the road they’d be safe, no one would shoot there—

An eternity later they stumbled out onto the macadam of the road that wound through Deer Run. Across the way was Mason House, where his sister Rachel lived now. He could go to Rachel, he could tell her—

Will grabbed his arm, shook him. “Where’s the cans?”

Benj blinked, then jerked his head toward the hillside. “Back there.”

“Dummy.” Will shoved him. “Ach, they can’t tell who we were from that. All we’ve gotta do is keep quiet.”

Joseph, always more cautious than Will, moved nervously. “But they were shooting. We should—“

“You should be quiet, like I tell you,” Wills snarled. “You didn’t see anything, you don’t say anything, not to anyone. Got that?”

He spun, grabbing Benj by the shirt. “Answer me. You got that?”

Benj nodded. He hadn’t seen anything--that was for sure. Just a dark shape, wielding what had to be a shotgun. And right now he didn’t know whether he was more afraid of Will or the man with the gun.

 Chapter One

Something was wrong with her little brother. Rachel Mason Mason swept the paint roller along the wall of what would be the registration area for her bed and breakfast, darting a sideways glance at her brother Benjamin.

Benjamin knelt on the drop-cloth, straw-colored hair hiding his eyes, as he carefully cut in the edge of cream paint next to the woodwork. Benj might only be fourteen, but like most Amish youth, he possessed a number of practical skills, along with a strong work ethic. He’d said he’d help her with the painting, and he’d turned up bright and early this morning for what he called a work frolic.

Rachel suppressed a faint twinge at the expression. With any ordinary Amish family, a dozen or more relatives would have shown up at the word she needed help with the house her mother-in-law had so surprisingly left her.

But she was not Amish any longer. Running away to marry Ronnie Mason at eighteen, leaving behind her home, her family, and her faith, had put a period to that part of her life. Even though she’d come back to Deer Run in the end, a widow with a nine-year-old daughter to support, she couldn’t expect to be treated as anything other than an outsider.

“New paint makes it look better, for sure.” Benj sat back on his heels, glancing up at her with eyes as blue as her own.

Innocent eyes, but holding an edge of worry that didn’t belong there. Benj shouldn’t be jumping at sudden sounds and glancing warily around corners. That wasn’t normal.

“Was ist letz?” The question came out without conscious thought in Pennsylvania Dutch, maybe because that was the language of her heart. “What’s wrong, Benj? Are you worried about something?”

His hand jerked, depositing a drop of cream paint on the woodwork, and he bent to wipe it off with concentrated care. Benj was outgrowing the blue shirt he wore, his wrists sticking out of the sleeves, and the back of his neck was as vulnerable as Mandy’s.

“Worried?” he said finally, not looking at her. “I got nothing to worry about, ain’t so?” He tried to make it sound light, but his voice shook a little.

Rachel wanted to touch his shoulder, to draw him into her arms for comforting the way she would have when he was four. But she’d left then, abandoning him as she had the rest of the family. The fact that he seemed willing to start fresh with her didn’t mean she could go back to the way things once were.

“I don’t want to pry,” she said, choosing the words carefully. “But if you ever want to tell me anything at all, I can keep it to myself.”

Benj seemed frozen, brush poised an inch from the wall. She held her breath, willing him to speak.

 Don't forget to order  your copy today!

 

SCAVENGER HUNT WINNERS!

The big scavenger hunt winners will have received their notifications by now, so I'll go ahead with my announcement. The winner of the four-book Amish suspense series is gilliach@yahoo.com.

Because we had so many entrants, I've decided to send another five individual books to the following:
marypres@gmail.com; sapphirefeltner@optimum.net, mesreads@gmail.com; crazi.swans@gmail.com; and cdegr002@gmail.com.

I'll be sending individual emails to the winners. If you see your name here and don't receive an email from me within the next day asking for your mailing address, please feel free to go ahead and send your mailing address to me at marta@martaperry.com.

Congratulations! I hope everyone enjoyed the hunt!

Blessings,
Marta

SCAVENGER HUNT STOP #8

Follow the clues to win a Kindle Fire, free books and more!

 WELCOME to the Fall Christian Fiction Scavenger Hunt! The hunt begins on October 25^th at noon MDT and ends October 28^th at midnight MDT. You don’t have to do it all at once—take your time and enjoy visiting thirty-one Christian fiction authors. You’ll meet authors with new or soon-to-be-released novels and read special bonus material at each stop. Collect the clues in red on each post, beginning from Stop #1 (http://www.LisaBergren.com) and at Stop #32, fill out the Rafflecopter form. Be ready to provide the completed clue quote, gathered from all 31 stops, within 24 hours of email notification or another winner will be randomly drawn. No need to email/submit it, unless you are notified on 10/29/12.

·         Grand Prize: A new Kindle Fire, plus 31 new novels

·         2^nd & 3^rd Prizes: $50 Amazon, B&N, CBD or BookDepository.com gift certificate

·         (Contest is open to international entrants. If the winner lives outside the United States, they shall win the equivalent in gift certificate funds to the prize in US dollars.)

 

Meet Ronie Kendig, my guest today.

Christy Award winning author Ronie Kendig grew up an Army brat and married a veteran. Her life is never dull in a family with four children and three dogs. She has a degree in psychology, speaks to various groups, volunteers with the American Christian Fiction Writers (ACFW), and mentors new writers. Rapid-Fire Fiction, her brand, is exemplified through her novels. She’s here today to talk about her latest book.

 

TRINITY

A year ago in Afghanistan, Green Beret Heath Daniel's career was destroyed. Along with his faith.

Though his passion is to be back in action, the medical discharge has forced Heath—and Trinity—to the sidelines.

Military intelligence officer Darci Kintz is captured while secretly tracking the Taliban. Only one dog can handle the extreme conditions to save her. Trinity. Only one man can handle Trinity.

Time is running out on the greatest—and most dangerous—mission of their lives.

 

 

AN EXCLUSIVE “LOST SCENE” FROM TRINITY:

Below is a deleted scene from TRINITY: MILITARY WAR DOG.

 

            “Why are you baiting him?” Aspen swatted Timbrel's arm. “You need to learn how to play nice.”

            “Playing nice leaves the good guys dead.”

            Aspen cast her friend a look. Timbrel had lost the first and only man she'd fallen in love with—a fellow handler in Iraq—during a night-raid gone bad. And the whole Prince Charming thing? Surely Timbrel wasn't... “Why are you looking at him like that?”

            Eyes locked on her target, she chewed her bottom lip, thinking. “Did you see it?”

            “What?”

            “He's haunted.”

            Aspen shot a look to the rugged-looking handler. Yeah, she'd seen it too.  His hesitation, the way he'd look at Talon as if he saw himself. His gun-shy attitude. Wasn’t he a Green Beret? She couldn’t imagine a Special Forces grunt backing down the way he had several times.

            “If he goes back there,” Timbrel said, “ya know, the way Jibril wants him to, he's going to die.”

            “Timbrel!”

            “He's still trapped in the past.”

            “Okay,” Aspen said, watching Daniels hustling his Belgian Malinois through the course. There, with his dog, he was in his element. No hesitation. No backing down. But what worried her, was not the man’s hesitation but Timbrel’s. “What are you thinking?”

            “We all go.”

            Aspen's breath backed into her throat, causing her to choke-cough. She cleared the snag and shook her head. “No. Talon's not ready.”

            Timbrel look at her over her shoulder. “What if taking Talon back there unlocks the warrior he once was?”

            Was that even possible? Did that side of her brother's beautiful dog still exist?

            “We have to convince Jibril that we all go, or none of us go. Or this organization is dead before it starts.”

 

 

 

You can purchase Ronie Kendig’s novel, Trinity, at http://www.amazon.com/Trinity-Military-War-Breed-Apart/dp/1616265949/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1349018516&sr=8-1&keywords=trinity+military+war+dog , Barnes & Noble http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/trinity-ronie-kendig/1111811075?ean=9781616265946 , CBD, http://www.christianbook.com/trinity-military-war-dog-breed-apart/ronie-kendig/9781616265946/pd/265940?item_code=WW&netp_id=974340&event=ESRCG&view=details or at your local bookstore.

 

THE SCAVENGER HUNT BASICS:

 

Before you go, write down this STOP 8 clue: TO

 

Your next stop is Ronie Kendig’s own blog!  Go to http://www.roniekendig.com/mdaleyshattered/

 

BONUS PRIZES!!!

Oh, and if you want a chance to win the four books in the Brotherhood Amish Suspense series (Murder in Plain Sight, Vanish in Plain Sight, Danger in Plain Sight, and Dark Crossings), be sure to leave a comment mentioning it.

 

 

CHRISTIAN FICTION SCAVENER HUNT

The fall Christian fiction scavenger hunt will be coming up next week, and I hope you'll be ready and eager to hunt for some fabulous prizes!

Check out this wonderful prize package. In addition to all the books shown below, we'll also be awarding the following prizes:

 

Grand prize: 31 new released novels plus a brand new Kindle Fire.

2nd and 3rd prizes: $50 gift card to Amazon, B&N, CBD.com, or BookDepository.com.

 

Individual authors will also be giving extra prizes on their sites.

 

Details on how to do the hunt (and begin it) will be found at www.LisaBergren.com AFTER 10/25 noon MST.