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INDIVISIBLE BY KRISTEN HEITZMANN

Christine Long — Sat, 09 Apr 2011 14:18:00 EST

It is definitely in the category of suspense! From the very beginning, action keeps the reader�s attention. One tense moment leads to the next. Character development is outstanding. Although there are many characters, each one is distinct. None of them are passive in that they all change throughout the story. Without spoiling it, I can say that Jonah, Miles, Piper, Tia, and the secondary characters each have pivotal moments throughout the story. More than one plot speeds the action along. It�s like reading several mini stories all interwoven into one.

MAIL ORDERED ONCE, TWICE BLESSED PART III

Christine Long — Fri, 18 Mar 2011 10:28:00 EST

Part III

California, 1900

Owen swayed with the movement of the train, keeping his eyes fixed on the ladle of water in his hand. Using his free hand, he balanced himself seat by seat. Two more steps and he offered the ladle to his companion.

�A gift for my stubborn, adventurous wife.� His grin took any sting out of the words.

Annie accepted the water, cupping the bowl of the ladle in both hands before attempting to sip. It slipped down her scratchy throat, soothing and comforting.

MAIL ORDERED ONCE - TWICE BLESSED PART II

Christine Long — Thu, 17 Mar 2011 06:02:00 EST

Part II

Kansas, 1897

Annie puffed the stray hair from her eyes as she hoisted the basket of wet laundry through the door. The hot prairie wind helped and blew the stands back from her face. Her full skirt whipped around her legs as she lumbered toward the clotheslines not far from the sod house. The tall, dried prairie grass crunched as she plopped the heavy load onto the thirsty ground. As she shook out the skirt and secured it to the rope, the clean soapy smell caught on the breeze. For the first time in weeks she�d dared to squander the diminishing water supply on laundry. It would be worth it just to have something clean to wear. Each article snapped and danced in the wind. Despite the hardships, her favorite chore was hanging the laundry.

MAIL ORDERED ONCE - TWICE BLESSED

Christine Long — Wed, 16 Mar 2011 06:21:00 EST

PART 1

New York, 1892

The gangplank wobbled as the weary passengers disembarked. Annie grasped the rope railing and prayed yet again her stomach would stop churning. The need to concentrate on staying on her feet overwhelmed her eagerness to catch a glimpse of the new world she entered. Jostled by bodies behind and bumping into those stopped in front of her wasn�t anything new. It had been her life for the past weeks. That and many other things she desperately needed to forget. Perhaps if she had known what life aboard ship would be like she would have not chosen to leave her homeland.

HOT CHILI ATTACK

Chrissy Siggee — Fri, 04 Mar 2011 13:19:00 EST

�Susan, is that chili you�re cooking?�

�Tony, you know I hate chili so why would I be cooking it?�

�Because you know I like it? I bought a jar of that new chili stuff yesterday. The one we saw advertised last week. It�s in the cupboard.�

Susan continued stirring the pot that was simmering on the hotplate. He knows I despised chili but he always insists on me cooking it. Ever since returning from our honeymoon, it�s always what he wanted. �Cook this� or �Bake that�. It never ends. I�ll give him chili. She reached for the large decorative chili jar from the shelf and read the label.

'HOT CHILLI, use one tablespoon to each pound of chicken or beef.'

With a wicked chuckle she removed the lid and upended the jar into the saucepan.

THAT NIGHT

Christine Long — Fri, 25 Feb 2011 17:58:00 EST

The only sound in the quiet evening was the lonesome wail of John Winston's old fiddle weeping �Wildwood Flower'. The string's cry echoed back from the dusk enshrouded mountains. Birds muted their voice to listen to the melancholy melody ripple through the trees. As the last lingering notes faded, John's aged hands wrapped his antique friend back in its case. The creased, curving fingers gently caressed the smooth wood as memories assailed him. He sighed and clasped the case. The rocking chair creaked a protest as he leaned back. His eyes slid closed as memories enfolded him like a familiar tattered quilt.

'OUT OF THE SHADOWS - JENNA'S SECRET' Now Available in the United Kingdom!

Chrissy Siggee — Mon, 14 Feb 2011 11:24:00 EST

Yes, Out of the Shadows - Jenna's Secret is now available in the United Kingdom.

A Foreword from the Author

My passion to help teens with eating disorders began when I worked as a pastoral care worker in a local hospital. I visited many teenagers that had caused horrific pain to themselves, as well as to those who loved and cared for them.

A PARABLE FOR A MODERN TIME - PART V THE LORD'S BARGAIN

No Author — Sun, 13 Feb 2011 17:32:00 EST

By Jonathan Rayne

Part V. The Lord�s Bargain

... In a faraway time and place of unimaginable bliss, where reward had followed acceptance, where the darkness of man�s most vile imaginations was conquered by the Light of Love, a father and his ten year old son rested on a cloud high above the sparkling New Jerusalem.

�Too breathtaking for words, isn�t it, Jimmy?�

AWOL

Chrissy Siggee — Sun, 13 Feb 2011 15:30:00 EST

Snaking up the mountain road was miserable, and not just because great droplets of rain were exploding on the windscreen before the wipers could whisk them away. Susan�s eyes were strained from weeping most of the night after her brother, Ron, phoned her. After picking up her friend Annie, just after 6am, they began the long drive.

�How could she get out?� Susan cried. She squeezed the steering wheel tighter. �How could they let this happen?�

A PARABLE FOR A MODERN TIME - PART IV REUNION

No Author — Sat, 12 Feb 2011 17:31:00 EST

By Jonathan Rayne

Part IV. Reunion

Throughout time, man has turned to sport to escape the ills of his fallen state. Those more jaded, perhaps, might cite warfare, the true sport of Kings. The ancient Greeks made do with their Olympics; the Romans, the bread and circuses of chariot races and gladiatorial combat. During the Middle Ages, nobleman and serf alike mingled at the jousting tournaments.

A PARABLE FOR A MODERN TIME - PART 3 THE MARK

No Author — Fri, 11 Feb 2011 17:28:00 EST

By Jonathan Rayne

Part III. The Mark

� Great fanfare had accompanied the introduction of the MARKeting the Mark campaign. The idea of a mark that would number all humankind had been introduced by Satayne Lucifore at his annual World Corporate Summit in New Earth City. Though skepticism greeted the proposal, Lucifore knew that the road to a corporate executive�s mind was a Street named Wall.

A PARABLE FOR A MODERN TIME - PART 2 FLOWER CHILD

No Author — Thu, 10 Feb 2011 17:27:00 EST

By Jonathan Rayne

Part II. Flower Child

� �M-m-man it�s c-c-cold in here� was the statement of the obvious from ArliRyan. Petite and in her early twenties, she could have been the girl-next-door but she was ragged, with filthy bell-bottomed jeans, a faded tie-dyed blouse and long unkempt dirty-blonde hair framed by a tattered psychedelic head band. The emaciated girl appeared a transported refugee from a long-ago Summer of Love and now she found herself deposited into the foul surroundings of a holding cell that would have made a medieval dungeon proud.

A PARABLE FOR A MODERN TIME - PART 1 KING OF THE WORLD

No Author — Wed, 09 Feb 2011 17:24:00 EST

By Jonathan Rayne

Part I. King of the World

It is requested that the reader engage in the popular childhood game of Let�s Pretend. Let�s pretend that the year is set in the distant future, or perhaps the not so distant future, and one of the most astonishing events in the annals of mankind has occurred just three years before.

Let us pretend. ...

I THOUGHT WE ALL SPOKE ENGLISH!

Chrissy Siggee — Wed, 09 Feb 2011 22:41:00 EST

One of the most fascinating discoveries I made while travellng around the United States of America was the diversity of accents. Despite the fact that English is the primary language in both America and Australia, to understand each other was not always easy.

Our English grammar and vocabulary may be correct, but sometimes we need to learn how to speak the native language and use the accent correctly to be clearly understood. It�s like learning a foreign language.

THE BOX

No Author — Sat, 22 Jan 2011 18:47:00 EST

By Nanci Rubin

Joni's girlhood home had lain in convalescence long enough. She and her husband, Mike, had inherited the house after her mom's death six months ago. She was ambivalent at first, but childhood memories had drawn her here to this turn of the century Victorian house that was seated amid green velvet rolling hills. The almost one-hundred-year-old magnolias that lined the driveway were like giant, silent sentries standing guard. Lurking around every corner of the house and in every room were wonderful memories, sometimes she imagined that she could still hear the laughter spilling from her mom and dad. After two weeks of intense cleaning, she had finally progressed to the attic. Up here the air was hot, heavy and oppressive; spider webs hung down from the rafters like spun pearls and there was a dusty, musty odor that prevailed.

ONE DESTINATION, MANY ROADS

No Author — Wed, 10 Nov 2010 09:03:00 EST

Waving goodbye to Mom, Wrigley hopped into the Brown's car. Mr. Brown smiled, 'I'm glad you could join us at our church, Wrigley. We've been trying to get more kids from Jess' new school to come each week.'

Jess nodded. 'I think we have twenty kids from school coming to youth group now.'

'Wow! That's a lot.'

JOSEPH

Iris Woytowich — Fri, 22 Oct 2010 15:19:00 EST

                                                                 JOSEPH

I was forty years of age, and my father had been deceased exactly twenty years. This first family reunion brought us together and unexpectedly my Uncle Mike, the only surviving brother of six children came to me and said, Orysia, there is something you need to know about your father. Even after over fifty years in Canada, his English was broken and he explained to me one of the most heart wrenching stories of my father's brave young life. In my mind's eye, now when I recollect the conversation, it unfolds....

He is pictured here second on the left with his brothers...

A MELODY SET FREE

Chrissy Siggee — Mon, 02 Aug 2010 15:34:00 EST

'Twinkle, twinkle little star, how I wonder what you are.'

Darkness had become Emma's life since the accident. The impact had left her permanently blind but the loss of her only child was the greatest burden to bear. Nothing would console her aching heart. No one could help relieve her pain. Not even James, who had sat by her bed through all the weeks of recovery, could comfort her.

KAYLEE'S EXERCISE

Sara Harricharan — Wed, 14 Jul 2010 23:14:00 EST

�Kaylee, time to go running!� Mom�s unwelcome suggestion floated through the crack of my bedroom door and around my computer desk, freezing all thoughts in mid-motion.

I glared at the gibberish on the computer screen resulting from interrupted thought stream. �Why?� I stretched, trying to make sense of the scrambled sentence. There were more symbols than letters mixed through it. That couldn�t be right.

KIMIRA'S EYES

Sara Harricharan — Wed, 16 Jun 2010 05:00:00 EST

17-year-old Kimira jerked upright out of her sleep. She trembled beneath the warm blankets even as the mysterious images faded. The cross on a hill. An image her heart knew well, even if she could not directly recall seeing it herself. Slow, shallow breaths took their time in coming and when sufficiently calm, her hands dared to move to her eyes, stopping as her fingers brushed against the gauze bandages.

COUNTERFEIT

Jeffrey R. Snell — Tue, 23 Mar 2010 13:45:00 EST

'Father, keep his heart clear and clean. Hold him up when he's weak. Keep his eyes and mind on you.'

PERFORM A U-TURN WHERE POSSIBLE

Chrissy Siggee — Sat, 13 Mar 2010 07:34:00 EST

A trip to the city isn�t usually stressful, except when it involves finding a place that we haven�t been before. Michael usually takes it all in stride and follows directions easily�at least until today.

U-TURNS

Jeffrey R. Snell — Tue, 09 Mar 2010 06:00:00 EST

I really wasn't in the mood for Christmas; certainly not one like Mom had planned. I pictured myself fourteen hours away in my favorite cushy chair, a bowl of chips and a bottle of rootbeer on the table, watching football (taped from Christmas Eve). Ah that vision wooed my heart like a siren--a fine celebration of Christ's birth, tinsel resting on the television. Please don't misunderstand; I love my family. But I rather enjoyed the previous year, my first Christmas on my own, spent quietly in my apartment without obligatory conversation about rather mundane topics.

FINDING GRAM

Jeffrey R. Snell — Mon, 08 Mar 2010 13:20:00 EST

Humming an old English hymn, I drove along MacDonald Street, splashing puddles onto the cracked, grassy sidewalk.