Today I have the honor of hosting my writing friend, Laura V. Hilton. She has a new release entitled Amish Wanderer. I had read this book a while ago for my job as book reviewer with another company and thoroughly enjoyed it! So when she needed blog hoster, it was a no-brainer for me.About Laura:
Laura V. Hilton is an award-winning, sought-after author with almost twenty Amish, contemporary, and historical romances. When she’s not writing, she reviews books for her blogs, and writes devotionals for blog posts for Seriously Write and Putting on the New.
Laura and her pastor-husband have five children and a hyper dog named Skye. They currently live in Arkansas. One son is in the U.S. Coast Guard. She is a pastor’s wife, and homeschools her two youngest children.
When she’s not writing, Laura enjoys reading, and visiting lighthouses and waterfalls. Her favorite season is winter, her favorite holiday is Christmas.
About Amish Wanderer:
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| Click on the cover to go to Amazon |
Bethany Weiss has been fascinated
by Silas Beiler since he spent a couple of years in Jamesport , Missouri
Silas’ family has never been
happy living in one area for long, and their vagabond ways are wearing on him.
He’s lived in Amish communities all over the nation, moving whenever his daed
became disgruntled with the leaders, and he’s looking for some sense of
stability. His intentions are to make it back to Pennsylvania and stay with his Englisch
onkle and his family—and pursue an education. Will Bethany be the one to bring Silas in from the
cold? Or will he continue on his way to his extended family and become
Englisch?
My Review:
Bethany finds her life turned upside down when her brother
ends up dead, her father ends up in a mental hospital, and Hen, her betrothed,
ends up in jail. Things show a little promise of hope when Silas returns the
community, even if it is only briefly. But, worse things are to come.
The plot keeps moving along at a good pace. Many readers
will find bits of themselves in the realistic characters. Bethany feels that
God is no longer listening to her because of her past mistakes. Silas strives
to overcome his past as well, but with God's help. While some of the plot line
is predictable, this is still a good story for all who enjoy Amish fiction.
This is yet another great read by author Laura V. Hilton.
Anyone who has read her previous books will enjoy this one as well.
You can catch up with Laura:
You can catch up with Laura:
twitter: @Laura_V_Hilton
Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/vernetlh/
Purchase my books:
CBD:
Barnes and Noble:
Deeper Shopping:
Read an Excerpt:
November
An unidentified
sound, loud in the relative silence, jarred Bethany . Her blue pen made a squiggly line
across the page in the fat little notebook where she wrote her thoughts. Maybe
she should’ve found a more secluded place than the hay pile beside the loft
ladder, but she rarely was disturbed. She raised her head and listened.
Nothing, except
the squeak of the wood doors in the back of the barn as her younger brother,
Timothy, put the cows out to pasture. The soft lowing of cows. The clucking of
free-range chickens.
Hopefully, he was
too busy to notice she’d left—and wouldn’t look for her.
But there it was
again. From somewhere overhead. A sound that didn’t belong. A creak and a
thump.
Hopefully, it
wasn’t Hen. She’d hear if he were out of jail, ain’t so? A thread of fear
ripped through her, unraveling the tiny bit of peace she’d been able to find.
Nothing.
She climbed
higher, to the upper one, some thirty feet from the ground.
Peeking over the
edge, she scanned the open floor. And… there… someone was wrapped in the old
ratty blanket Daed kept in the barn for strays, as he called them. Mamm called
them wanderers. She wouldn’t be happy to learn one bedded down in their loft
while Daed was gone—incarcerated, of sorts, in a mental hospital, after he
tried to kill all the black cats in their district.
The cats lived.
They had nine lives, ain’t so? But Daed was institutionalized and his
assistant, the one who actually carried out Daed’s deranged wishes, Hen
Stutzman, was locked up in jail awaiting trial for arson. As if a man should be
punished for obeying crazy orders. Well, they had been horrible things, so it
was warranted.
And here she’d
thought Hen came around so often to see her. Though she’d come to dread his
visits.
Her head, and
heart, were permanently bowed in shame. Now no one would ever come calling.
Especially if they
ever found out… Nein. They couldn’t. She’d never tell.
Life would never
be the same.
Okay, maybe that
was a bit overly dramatic. But still…
What were they
going to do with Daed gone?
A black Amish hat
covered the face of whoever slept up on the hay-strewn floor of the loft. His
body was swaddled like a newborn boppli in an effort to keep warm, most likely.
Almost like Baby Jesus in the manger. Except it was a man. Not a boppli.
And definitely not
Hen. This man was taller and much thinner. Relief flooded her.
She started to
descend the ladder. It wouldn’t do for a vagabond to discover her alone, almost
in the loft with him. Not even if something about it reminded her of the live
nativity scenes she’d seen downtown at one of the Englischer’s churches.
Little Lord Jesus asleep in the hay… The
tune ran, uninvited, through her thoughts.
A board on the
ladder creaked and snapped under Bethany ’s
weight. She dangled, her feet flailing, from the top of the ladder. Too far to
fall without breaking something. Or killing herself.
Why hadn’t she
noticed the crack in the wood when she’d climbed up?
She let out a
strangled cry when her fingers started slipping from the worn wood. The man
blasted upright, his hat falling away to reveal shocks of sun-streaked light
brown hair. He struggled free of the blanket, and half-crawled to the edge of
the loft.
“Are you okay?”
His warm, callused hands closed around hers.
His hand was
strong. Warm. Work-roughened. She glanced at his fingers, curled around hers.
Unexpected sparks shot up her arms. It had nothing to do with her life hanging
in the balance. Or maybe it did. She looked down at the floor thirty feet below
again. And whimpered.
“Grab my hands.
I’ll pull you up.”
Up. In the loft.
Alone with him?
Nein.
Clinging to him
seemed a gut idea though. And if it’d save her from falling…
Her shin made
contact with the broken rung a moment before her tennis shoe found another
ladder rail. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she held. “I’m fine.”
Now. She pulled her hands free one at a time and lowered herself. A step. Two.
Three…
He stepped out
onto the ladder and started down after her.
Nice looking…
Wait. He followed her? She needed to find her brother. Or call for him. “Timothy!”
There was safety in numbers. Sidetracked watching his quick descent instead of
concentrating on her own in her hurry to escape, her feet slipped off the rung.
Her hands caught only slivers and—
A far away scream
reached her ears. She recognized it as her own as she plunged through the air.
“Hey, wait,” the
stranger called after her.
As if she could.
Her body hit
something. The hay she’d been sitting on? “Ooof.” Arms wrapped around her,
then… darkness.
Until…
“You shoved her!”
Timothy’s voice sounded from somewhere above her, filled with anger—and fear.
Gut. She was safe.
She dared relax.
Hands ran roughly
over her arms and legs. Not Timothy’s hands. These hands were bigger, stronger…
yet gentle, too. Hands that left tingles where they touched. Strange, this
reaction to a stranger. To anyone.
“Nein, I didn’t.
She slipped. I was trying to help.”
“If I hadn’t
almost caught her, she would’ve died. Her blood would be on your hands,”
Timothy almost shouted.
Her head throbbed.
The front of her head ached, not from the fall but tension. Maybe. It might’ve
been from the fall. She must’ve fainted.
“Who are you
anyway, and what are you doing in our barn?” Timothy’s voice cracked and the
pitch changed, the way buwe voices did in adolescence.
“I don’t think she
broke anything.” The stranger, whose voice seemed familiar in some way, rolled
her over and slid his hand down her spine. As if he’d be able to feel a broken
back.
He moved her back
again, his hands investigating her ribs, brushing against her... This went way
too far. Too intimate. Who gave him such liberties anyway?
She forced her
eyes open.
The stranger’s
gaze, just as lost and confused as everyone else’s, fixed on hers.
She sat up,
ignoring the wave of dizziness as she stared into hazel eyes. Something…
She tried to think
of something witty to say. Failing that, she lapsed into silence and studied
him closer.
Memories of a
lemonade summer, one or two years ago, flashed as he withdrew his hands. His
image waved, swayed, doubled.
“Silas?”
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