London, England, 1818 <\/p>\n
Mr. Peter O\u2019Brien felt surely he had a devil plaguing him, and the devil\u2019s name was Mr. Phillip Mornay. The paper in his hand should have made him happy. Indeed, it ought to have elicited nothing but joy after two years of holding a curacy that didn\u2019t pay enough to feed a church-mouse. Yet, instead he was staring ahead after reading a letter of recommendation for him as though he\u2019d seen a ghost. <\/p>\n
His previous naval commander, Colonel Sotheby, had recommended Mr. O\u2019Brien to a wealthy landowner whose vicarage had gone vacant. It was the sort of letter that a poor Curate should rejoice over. The man who obtained the vicarage in the parish of Glendover, the Colonel said, in addition to having a decent curate\u2019s salary, would have claim to a large glebe, a generous and well built house, and, in short, would see himself by way of having enough to begin a family. (If he found a wife to marry, first, of course. O\u2019Brien could just hear the Colonel\u2019s good-natured laugh ring out at that remark.)<\/p>\n
But still his own mouth was set in an unpromising hard line: The landowner\u2019s name was Mr. Phillip Mornay, none other than the Paragon, himself. And Mornay, Mr. O\u2019Brien knew, would never grant him the living. To do so would go against everything he knew to be true of him. After all, no man who had once overstepped his bounds with Mr. Mornay\u2019s betrothed, as Mr. O\u2019Brien unfortunately had, would now be presented to the vicarage on the man\u2019s lands. Of all the rotten, devilish luck! To have such a letter of commendation was like gold in the fiercely competitive world of the church, where there were more poor curates looking for a rise in their situations than there were church parishes who could supply them. <\/p>\n
Therefore, instead of the boon from heaven this letter ought to have been, Mr. O\u2019Brien was struck with a gloomy assurance that Mornay would sooner accept a popinjay in cleric\u2019s clothing than himself. Even worse, his mother agreed with his appraisal. <\/p>\n
He had taken the letter into the morning room of their house on Blandford Street, joining his mother while she sat at her breakfast. <\/p>\n
\u201cYou do not wish to renew old grievances,\u201d she said. \u201cMr. Mornay is not, to my knowledge, a forgiving man; shall you be put to the expense and trouble of travelling all the way to Middlesex, only to be turned down in the end? What can you possibly gain in it?\u201d <\/p>\n
Mr. O\u2019Brien nodded; he saw her point. But he said, \u201cI may have to do just that. The Colonel will never recommend me for another parish if he learns that I failed to apply myself to this opportunity.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cWrite to him,\u201d replied his mama. \u201cSee if you can politely decline this honour, with the understanding that any other offer should be most welcome and appreciated!\u201d <\/p>\n
He doubted that any letter , no matter how \u2018politely\u2019 written, would be able to manage his desire to avoid this meeting with Mornay, as well as secure the hope of a future recommendation. But he thought about it, put quill to paper and sent the Colonel a reply. He asked (in the humblest terms he could manage) if the man might commend him for a living to be presented by some other landowner, indeed, any other landowner, any other gentleman in England than Phillip Mornay.<\/p>\n
He could not explain the full extent of his past doings with Mr. Mornay without making himself sound like an utter fool; how he had hoped to marry the present Mrs. Mornay himself, some years ago. How presumptuous his hopes seemed to him now! Miss Ariana Forsythe was magnificent as the wife of the Paragon. He\u2019d seen them in town after the marriage, but without ever presenting himself before her. It appalled even him that he had once thought himself worthy or equal to that beautiful lady. <\/p>\n
When the Colonel\u2019s reply came, there was little surprise in it. He assured Mr. O\u2019Brien that his apprehensions were ill-placed; that Mr. Mornay\u2019s past reputation of being a harsh, irascible man was no longer to the purpose. Colonel Sotheby himself held Mornay in the greatest respect, and insisted that the Paragon had as good a heart as any Christian. In short, (and he made this terribly clear) Mr. O\u2019Brien had best get himself off to Middlesex or he would put the Colonel in a deuced uncomfortable spot. He had already written to Aspindon House, which meant that Mr. O\u2019Brien was expected. If he failed to appear for an interview, he could not expect that another recommendation of such merit and generosity would ever come his way again. <\/p>\n
Mr. O\u2019Brien realized it was inevitable: he would have to go to Middlesex and present himself to Mornay. He knew it was a vain cause, that nothing but humiliation could come of it, but he bowed to what he must consider the will of God. He knelt in prayer, begging to be excused from this doomed interview, but his heart and conscience told him he must to it. If he was to face humiliation, had he not brought it upon himself? Had he not earned Mornay\u2019s disregard, with his former obsession with Miss Forsythe, who was now Mrs. Mornay? <\/p>\n
He no longer had feelings for the lady, but it was sure to be bless\u00e9d awkward to face her! No less so than her husband. Nevertheless, when he rose from his knees, Peter O\u2019Brien felt equal to doing what both duty and honour required. He only hoped that Mr. Mornay had not already written his own letter of objections to the Colonel; telling him why he would never present the living to Peter O\u2019Brien. The Colonel was his best hope for a way out of St. Pancras . It was a gritty, desperate parish with poverty, crime, and hopelessness aplenty\u2014not the sort of place he hoped to spend his life in, for he wanted a family. A wife. <\/p>\n
Prepared to face the interview come what may, Mr. O\u2019Brien determined not to allow Mornay to make quick work of him. He was no longer the youthful swain, besotted over a Miss Forsythe. A stint in the Army, if nothing else, had hardened him, brought him face to face with deep issues of life, and left him, or so he thought, a better man. <\/p>\n
****** <\/p>\n
Aspindon House, Glendover, Middlesex <\/p>\n
Ariana Mornay looked for the hundredth time at her younger sister Beatrice, sitting across from her in the elegantly cozy morning room of her country estate, Aspindon. Here in the daylight, Beatrice\u2019s transformation from child to warm and attractive young woman was fully evident . When Mrs. Forsythe and Beatrice had arrived the prior evening, Ariana had seen the change in her sister, of course, but the daylight revealed it in a clarity that neither last night\u2019s flambeaux (lit in honour of their arrival) or the interior candlelight and fire of the drawing room had been able to offer. <\/p>\n
Beatrice\u2019s previously brown hair was now a lovely luminous russet. Ringlets peeked out from a morning cap with ruffled lace, hanging over her brow and hovering about the sides of her face. The reddish brown of her locks emphasized hazel-green eyes, smallish mischievous lips and a healthy glow in her cheeks. Beatrice noticed her elder sister was studying her, and smiled. <\/p>\n
\u201cYou still look at me as if you know me not,\u201d she said, not hiding how much it pleased her to find herself an object of admiration. <\/p>\n
\u201cI cannot comprehend how greatly you are altered, in just one year!\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cI regret that we did not come for so long,\u201d put in Mrs. Forsythe, the girls\u2019 mother. She was still feasting her eyes upon Ariana and the children (though the nurse, Mrs. Perler, had taken four year old Nigel, the Mornay\u2019s firstborn, from the room, after he had spilled a glass of milk all over himself minutes ago). \u201cWe wished to come sooner, as you know, but Lucy took ill, and I dared not carry the sickness here to you with your new little baby.\u201d At this, she stopped and cooed to the infant, who was upon her lap at the moment.\u201dNo, no, no,\u201d she said, in the exaggerated tone that people use when addressing babies, \u201cwe can\u2019t have little Miranda getting sick, now can we?\u201d <\/p>\n
Ariana smiled. \u201cIt matters not, mama. You are here, now. I only wish Papa and Lucy could have joined you.\u201d Lucy, the youngest Forsythe sister, and Papa, had been obliged to stay home until the spring planting had been seen to. Mr. Forsythe did not wish to be wholly bereft of his family, so Lucy, who was a great comfort to him, had been enjoined to remain in Chesterton for his sake. <\/p>\n
\u201cI could not bear to wait upon your father a day longer,\u201d she answered with a little smile. \u201cThey will come by post chaise after papa has done his service through Easter. And then we will all be together–except for the Norledges. Perhaps when Papa comes, he may bring your older sister and her husband?\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cI would want Aunt Pellham too, in that case,\u201d murmured the blond-haired young woman. <\/p>\n
\u201cOh, my! With your Aunt and Uncle Pellham, and the Norledges, even this large house would be filled with guests, I daresay!\u201d said her mother.<\/p>\n
Beatrice was still happily ingesting the thought that Ariana had evidently noticed her womanhood. At seventeen, hers was not a striking sort of beauty\u2014one did not stop in instant admiration upon spying Beatrice in a room, for instance, as had often been the case for Ariana; but the younger girl had no lack of wits, a lively eye and countenance, and, not to be understated, an easy friendliness. Among a group of reserved and proper English young ladies, Beatrice would be the beacon of refuge for the timid; she was welcoming where others were aloof; inquisitive and protective where others looked away. <\/p>\n
Nor was she the sort of young woman to glide across a floor, dignified and elegant. Instead, Beatrice was ever having to keep her energy in check; When rising from a chair (her mama had made her practice doing so countless times) she could appear as elegant as the next young woman. She ate nicely, even daintily. But left unchecked, her natural enthusiasm might propel her through a room with alarming speed. Her shawls were ever hanging from her arms, never staying in place over her shoulder; and her mother forbade her from wearing hair jewellery, as it tended to lose its place upon her head. Bandeaux were her lot; besides bonnets, of course. <\/p>\n
\u201cIt is fortunate that I am only seventeen,\u201d she had said to her mama only last week, while the woman was draping a wide bandeau artfully around Beatrice\u2019s head. \u201cOr I believe you would exile every manner of female head attire from this house, saving turbans! Although my hair holds a curl twice as long as Lucy\u2019s!\u201d <\/p>\n
Mrs. Forsythe had paused from her ministrations and met her daughter\u2019s eyes in the looking glass before them. \u201cI daresay you are suited for turbans; perhaps we should shop for some. I believe they are very popular just now.\u201d Since the last thing in the world Beatrice wished to wear upon her head was a turban\u2014no matter how many ladies in the pages of La Belle Assembl\u00e9e wore them\u2014she simply gave voice to an exasperated huff, evoking a knowing smile upon her mama\u2019s face. <\/p>\n
\u201cI should adore a full house of guests,\u201d she said, now. \u201cPlease do invite the Norledges\u2019 Ariana! Only think of the diversions we could have; play-acting with enough people to fill all the roles, for a change! Or charades; or even a dance!\u201d <\/p>\n
Ariana looked at her sister fondly. \u201cWhich dances do you like best?\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cThe waltz!\u201d she quickly responded, with a smile to show that she knew it was mischievous to prefer the waltz\u2014the single dance which entailed more contact with the opposite sex than any other ballroom fare. Mrs. Forsythe clucked her tongue, but Beatrice blithely ignored this, taking a peek at her brother-in-law to gauge his reaction, instead. The host of the gathering was reading his morning paper, however, and not listening to the small talk between his wife and her relations. <\/p>\n
And relations were virtually all around him. In addition to Beatrice and Mrs. Forsythe, there was his aunt, Mrs. Royleforst, staying with them at the present, and her companion, skinny, nervous Miss Bluford. These two ladies had not appeared yet for breakfast, which was probably on account of Mrs. Royleforst. She found mornings difficult and either slept in, or took a tray in her room. <\/p>\n
\u201cWhat do you think, sir?\u201d asked Mrs. Forsythe, of her host. \u201cShall my daughter invite the Norledges to join Mr. Forsythe and Lucy when they set out for your house? Or is your home already filled enough for your liking?\u201d <\/p>\n
Mr. Mornay looked over his paper enough to acknowledge that he had heard her question. \u201cAs it is your and my wife\u2019s family, I think the two of you must decide upon it. As long as there are bed-chambers enough,\u201d he added, looking at Ariana, \u201cyou may fill them with guests as you please.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cThank you, darling,\u201d she said, making Beatrice stifle a titter. Her sister and her husband were still inordinately romantic, to her mind. Good thing no one else was present save her mother! She would have been embarrassed for them in company. <\/p>\n
\u201cShall I take the baby, mama?\u201d said Ariana, for Miranda was beginning to fuss.<\/p>\n
\u201cI suppose she wants to be fed,\u201d agreed her mother. Ariana nodded to a maid who was seated against the wall, who went and received the child from her grandmother and brought her gingerly to her mama. Ariana\u2019s eyes sparkled with happiness as she took her little girl. She murmured to the baby, by turns picking her up and kissing her face, and then just holding her in her arms and gazing at her in loving adoration. \u201cI shan\u2019t feed her yet,\u201d she said. \u201cShe isn\u2019t insisting upon it.\u201d <\/p>\n
Beatrice\u2019s thoughts were still upon the diversions that would be possible with a large group staying at the house. \u201cIf they all come, can you and Mr. Mornay hold a ball, Ariana? Or, will you take me to London this year for the Season? Then I may go to as many balls as I like, and you will not have the expense of holding them!\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cIf she takes you to London for the Season,\u201d put in her mama, \u201cshe will have a great deal more expense than just that of a ball! Besides which, you are too young for such.\u201d<\/p>\n
Beatrice looked at her mama, her enthusiasm temporarily dampened. \u201cBut my sister sees I am older, now,\u201d she said, looking at Ariana with a silent plea in her gaze. \u201cAnd I am not too young for a Season, according to the magazines. Many girls my age do have their coming out, mama!\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cMany gels,\u201d she returned, instantly, \u201chave little sense, and their parents, no better; your papa and I did not allow either of your sisters to go about in society at your age. You have been already too pampered, if you ask me. London society is out of the question!\u201d<\/p>\n
Beatrice was now thoroughly dampened in her spirits, but she looked about and settled her eyes upon her brother-in-law. \u201cI daresay Mr. Mornay has seen many a girl of my age–and younger\u2014make their debut during the Season. And to no ill effect! Why, I am sure some of them have made the most brilliant matches! Many a man of good standing prefers a younger lady for his wife. You had ought to let me go while I am young enough to enjoy this advantage.\u201d <\/p>\n
Mr. Mornay was frowning behind his newspaper. He knew that his young relation wanted his support in the matter, but Mr. Mornay was assuredly not in the habit of coming to the aid of young women, particularly regarding a London Season. So he said nothing, though an ensuing silence in the room told him the ladies waited for his opinion. <\/p>\n
Ariana, who knew better, offered, \u201cLet us discuss it another time. There are months, yet, before the Season. And with Miranda so young, I cannot decide at this point, in any case.\u201d <\/p>\n
Beatrice, who had no idea she was treading on dangerous ground, said, \u201cOnly let Mr. Mornay tell us his thoughts! I know my mother will listen if you tell her, sir,\u201d she said, directly to him.<\/p>\n
He put his paper down reluctantly, and then looked at Beatrice. \u201cI think Ariana was young to face society at nineteen. At your age, you need to be sheltered, not put forth among the wolves.\u201d <\/p>\n
Her face fell so entirely, that he almost chuckled at it. \u201cWhy are you so eager for a Season?\u201d <\/p>\n
She smiled a little. This was better; he was inviting her to explain so that her mother could see the good advantage in it. \u201cI have long lived with the memory of my sister\u2019s tales of her experiences in London;\u201d she said. \u201cShe met you there! Her coming out is what brought her to marriage, to Aspindon, to a better life! I have had my fill of Chesterton, I assure you! The prospects for marrying well in that region are as dismal as ever, if not worse;\u201d she said. (Ariana closed her eyes at this; she could hardly bear to hear her sister telling all the reasons Phillip would most despise.) \u201cWhy does it seem that all the eligible young men in the county are either in a regiment somewhere, or at sea, or in need of a fortune? I must go to London or Bath, where there are more men one can meet!\u201d <\/p>\n
She paused, looking at him earnestly. \u201cI have no fortune, sir, as you are well aware. And with your connexions, I am certain to make very advantageous acquaintances! What could be more certain? I shall end up, no doubt, just as my sister has, with a man like you, sir!\u201d Beatrice evidently thought she was giving him a great compliment. She waited, expecting a gracious answer. <\/p>\n
\u201cOh, Beatrice!\u201d moaned Mrs. Forsythe. \u201cYou foolish gel!\u201d <\/p>\n
Mr. Mornay stood up, after folding his paper to a neat size. He said, \u201cIt takes more than wearing a corset to say a young lady is grown up, would you not agree?\u201d He directed his remark to the whole room, and then settled his eyes upon Beatrice for one second too long, before giving a small bow to the women in general, and turning to leave the room. Beatrice considered his words for a moment. He had rested his eyes on her long enough so that she knew exactly what he meant. <\/p>\n
Mr. Frederick met his master at the door, holding out a salver with a letter for Mr. Mornay, who took it but then looked curiously at the butler. <\/p>\n
\u201cIt arrived in that condition, sir! I daresay it was lost in the mail or some such thing.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cHmm, very good, Freddie.\u201d He held up a battered and ink-soiled missive for his wife to see, while eyeing it dubiously.<\/p>\n
She looked amused. \u201cWho is it from?\u201d<\/p>\n
He unfolded the paper, as the sealing wax was almost entirely worn off already, and scanned the signature at the bottom. \u201cColonel Sotheby. I\u2019ll read it in my office.\u201d She nodded, and Mr. Mornay left the room.<\/p>\n
Beatrice was still smarting from his earlier remark, and said, as soon as he\u2019d gone, \u201cHow \u2018grown up\u2019 can I be, when I am forced to exist in a small country village, with no prospects, and genteel company only upon a Sunday?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou overstate your case! That is not true,\u201d answered her mama, disapprovingly. <\/p>\n
\u201cAnd as for wearing a corset,\u201d Beatrice continued, after taking a sip of tea, \u201cI do not pretend that wearing one is what makes me of age for a Season. I have formed my principles upon sound reason. I have sat beneath the tutelage of my father and of Mr. Timmons, and of his curate, and I should say my principles are well-founded.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cWe are glad to hear it,\u201d Ariana said, with great forbearance, \u201cbut really, you should not be setting your mind upon seeking a man like my husband; you should be intent upon finding the man that God has chosen for you.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cAnd so I am!\u201d she protested, her eyes wide and laughing. \u201cBut look at the advantage He gives me in having you for my sister! Am I to ignore that? When it could be the very means of bringing me and my future husband together?\u201d <\/p>\n
Ariana played absently with little Miranda\u2019s blanket, tucking it in about her chin more snugly. She met her sister\u2019s eyes. \u201cLondon is not the only place a young woman may meet a husband. And if you want my husband\u2019s approval of your plan, the last thing in the world you should tell him is that you want to meet a man like him! Or that you wish to marry above you in any way!\u201d
\u201cBut is it above me? To marry well? When my sister is Mrs. Mornay of Aspindon House?\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cIt is above you,\u201d said her mother, \u201cbecause you are Miss Forsythe of Chesterton.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cI am a gentleman\u2019s daughter,\u201d she replied. <\/p>\n
\u201cWith no dowry to speak of,\u201d said her mama.<\/p>\n
Beatrice\u2019s cheeks began to burn. \u201cWith a rich and famous brother-in-law!\u201d she said, petulantly. <\/p>\n
\u201cThat does not signify!\u201d said her mother. <\/p>\n
\u201cIt does, to me!\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cIt should not!\u201d Mrs. Forsythe was quickly growing ashamed of her daughter, and she was relieved that Mr. Mornay had left the room, and was not hearing Beatrice right now. Ariana\u2019s eyebrows were raised and she was doing her best to act as though she had no part in the dialogue. <\/p>\n
\u201cBut it does, mama!\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cBeatrice! You have already said far too much on this topic, which proves to me your great ignorance of the world.\u201d She held up her hand for silence as Beatrice was about to protest; \u201cNot another word! I shan\u2019t have it, not another word.\u201d Mrs. Forsythe turned her attention to her elder daughter. <\/p>\n
\u201cI think I will visit the Nursery to see how Nigel is faring. Do you mind?\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cOf course not! He will enjoy showing you his toys.\u201d She smiled, while her mother rose to leave the room. \u201cI\u2019ll be up myself, shortly, to feed the baby.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cVery good.\u201d She nodded to her daughter, and then her eye fell upon Beatrice. \u201cI think it would be wise if you said nothing more regarding a Season. In fact, I forbid you to mention it to Mr. Mornay again! Do you understand me?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI do, mama.\u201d Beatrice was not happy but she recognized the tone of voice her mother was using. She considered, moreover, that it would be a simple matter to keep from mentioning her hopes to the man, for he evidently would not encourage her in them. But as for herself, she would continue to think of the Season in London. She would continue to hope; and some other day, when Ariana was in a good disposition, she would prevail upon her to sponsor her in London. <\/p>\n
Beatrice did not want to seem disrespectful, but she knew that Mr. Mornay was quite in error regarding her. He did not know, for instance, that she was determined to make a good match, and recognized it as her lot in life. Every inch she saw of Aspindon just confirmed her sense that a rich life awaited her. She was born for it. And now all that was necessary was to meet her future husband\u2014the man who could make it all happen. She had long prayed for just such a meeting, and knew that it was bound to occur. All she had to do was be properly outfitted, and in the proper company, for it to do so.<\/p>\n
All she had to do was change her sister and brother-in-law\u2019s mind on the matter. How difficult could that be? <\/p><\/div>\n
<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
This book was a light, pleasant read. Young Beatrice is staying with her sister (Ariana) and Ariana’s husband Philip, and their children. Ariana’s and Philip’s story was told in Linore’s earlier book. Beatrice wants to find a husband – a rich husband. However, she finds herself being wooed by two different men. Unbeknownst to Beatrice, […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[38,73,14],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-454","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-first-wild-card-blog-tour","category-harvest-house-publishers","category-historicals"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/paovYP-7k","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/ceceliadowdy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/454","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/ceceliadowdy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/ceceliadowdy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/ceceliadowdy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/ceceliadowdy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=454"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/ceceliadowdy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/454\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/ceceliadowdy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=454"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/ceceliadowdy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=454"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/ceceliadowdy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=454"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
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<\/a><\/a>It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour<\/a><\/span><\/strong> 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!<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n![\"\"id=\"BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447434139642087490\"](\"http:\/\/3.bp.blogspot.com\/_cESuxv-WNX8\/S5ksfP6zyEI\/AAAAAAAADvg\/y1nYpx098eg\/s200\/LB_headshot_small.jpg\")
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