Resurrection in May by Lisa Samson (Review)

Book Description

May Seymour graduated from college with the world at her feet and no idea what to do with it. A mission trip to Rwanda brought her a sense of purpose in loving others. So when the genocide began she chose to remain in the village, which was subsequently slaughtered. Only May survived.

So, May journeyed to heal on the farm of Claudius Borne, a sweet, innocent old man who understood plants and animals far better than people.

Years later, having not stepped a foot off Claudius' farm, May learns an old college flame, now a death-row inmate, is refusing to appeal his sentence. Can she convince him to grab hold of life once again? Their surprising friendship turns the tables, for the prisoner, Eli Campbell, has a deeper faith from which to draw than she. Eli slowly begins to pull May from her cloistered existence. With the help of Eli, their tiny town, and ultimately a renewal of faith, May comes to life once again.

My Review:

Wow. This was a wonderful contemporary Christian fiction novel. It is moving, touching, and unforgettable. It is not always easy to read because of the scenes describing the genocide in Rwanda and what happens to May. My heart hurt. She is destroyed and becomes a recluse for ten years on Claudius's farm. The title is very appropriate. The main themes are grace and forgiveness. This is definitely a Christian fiction novel. It is very well written and the plot and characters are unique and memorable. I am not sure I will ever reread it but it is still going on my keeper shelf. Highly Recommended.

About the author:
Lisa Samson, the Christy-award winning author of Christianity Today’s Novel of the Year Quaker Summer, has been hailed by Publishers Weekly as one of the “most powerful voices in Christian fiction.” She lives in Kentucky with her husband and three kids.

I received this book free from Book Sneeze for review.

The Passion of Mary Margaret by Lisa Samson

This week, the
Christian Fiction Blog Alliance
is introducing
The Passion of Mary Margaret
Thomas Nelson (March 10, 2009)
by
Lisa Samson

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Lisa Samson is a Christy Award-winning author of 19 books, including the Women of the Faith Novel of the Year, Quaker Summer. Lisa has been hailed by Publishers Weekly as "a talented novelist who isn't afraid to take risks."

Her novel Embrace Me has been named as one of Library Journal's books of the year.

She lives in Lexinton, Kentucky, with her husband and three kids.

She stays busy by writing, volunteering at Kentucky Refugee Ministries, raising children and trying to be supportive of a husband in seminary. (Trying...some days she's downright awful. It's a good thing he's such a fabulous cook!) She can tell you one thing, it's never dull around there.

ABOUT THE BOOK

Mary-Margaret accepts a calling that surpasses her wildest dreams . . . and challenges her deep faith.

When Mary-Margaret Danaher met Jude Keller, the lightkeeper's son, she was studying at convent school on a small island in the Chesapeake Bay. Destined for a life as a religious sister, she nevertheless felt a pull toward Jude-rough and tumble, promiscuous Jude.

After sojourning as a medical missions sister in Swaziland, Mary-Margaret returns to the island to prepare for her final vows. Jude, too, returns to the island, dissolute and hardened. Mary-Margaret can hardly believe it when the Spirit tells her she must marry the troubled boy who befriended her all those years ago, forsaking the only life she ever wanted for a man she knows she'll never love.

If you would like to read the first chapter of The Passion of Mary Margaret , go HERE

My Review:

This is not an easy book to read. I am not done. I got to the point where I put it down. I am on page 112 out of 313. I am not even sure if I will finish it. I want to know what happens but I don't know if I can make my way through to the end. It is a little odd especially with this unusual sister's abilities to see and hear God and some of the issues dealt with are difficult to read also. It is very heavy on Catholicism and details. Some parts felt preachy for sure. I love Lisa Samson. Her book Embrace Me was one of my favorites last year. I was looking forward a lot to reading this book.

Visit Kim at Window to My World for a more comprehensive review:

http://berlysue.blogspot.com/2009/03/passion-of-mary-margaret-my-review.html

Goodbye Hollywood Nobody by Lisa Samson

It is October 11th, and FIRST is doing a special tour to 'Say Goodbye to Hollywood Nobody'.

Today's feature author is:

LISA SAMSON

and her book:

Goodbye Hollywood Nobody

NavPress Publishing Group (September 15, 2008)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Lisa Samson is the author of twenty books, including the Christy Award-winning Songbird. Apples of Gold was her first novel for teens

These days, she's working on Quaker Summer, volunteering at Kentucky Refugee Ministries, raising children and trying to be supportive of a husband in seminary. (Trying . . . some days she's downright awful. It's a good thing he's such a fabulous cook!) She can tell you one thing, it's never dull around there.

Other Novels by Lisa:

Hollywood Nobody, Finding Hollywood Nobody, Romancing Hollywood Nobody, Straight Up, Club Sandwich, Songbird, Tiger Lillie, The Church Ladies, Women's Intuition: A Novel, Songbird, The Living End

Visit her at her website.

Product Details

List Price: $12.99
Paperback: 192 pages
Publisher: NavPress Publishing Group (September 15, 2008)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1600062229
ISBN-13: 978-1600062223

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

Monday, July 11, 6:30 a.m.

I awaken to a tap on my shoulder and open my eye. My right eye. See, these days it could be one of four people: Charley, Dad, Grampie, or Grammie.

“’Morning, dear!”

Grammie.

Oh well, might as well go for broke. I open the other eye.

“Did you sleep well?”

I shake my head and reach for my cat glasses. “Nope. I kept dreaming about Charley in Scotland.” We sent her off with her new beau, the amazing Anthony Harris, two days ago. “I imagined a road full of sheep chasing her down.”

“That would be silly. They would have to know she hates lamb chops.” Grammie sits on my bed. Yes, my bed. In their fabulous house. In my own wonderful room, complete with reproductions of the Barcelona chair and a platform bed of gleaming sanded mahogany. I burrow further into my white down comforter. I sweat like a pig at night, but I don’t care. A real bed, a bona fide comforter, and four pillows. Feather pillows deep enough to sink the Titanic in.

She pats my shoulder, her bangled wrists emitting the music of wooden jewelry. “Up and at ’em, Scotty. Your dad wants to be on the road by seven thirty.”

“I need a shower.”

“Hop to it then.”

Several minutes later, I revel in the glories of a real shower. Not the crazy little stall we have in the TrailMama, which Dad gassed up last night for our trip to Maine. Our trip to find Babette, my mother. Is she dead or alive? That’s what we’re going to find out.

It’s complicated.

The warm water slides over me from the top of my head on down, and I’ve found the coolest shampoo. It smells like limeade. I kid you not. It’s the greatest stuff ever.

Over breakfast, Grampie sits down with us and goes over the map to make certain Dad knows the best route. My father sits patiently, nodding as words like turnpike, bypass, and scenic route roll like a convoy out of Grampie’s mouth.

Poor Grampie. Dad is just the best at navigation and knows everything about getting from point A to point B, but I think Grampie wants to be a part of it. He hinted at us all going in the Beaver Marquis, their Luxury-with-a-capital-L RV, but Dad pretended not to get it.

Later, Dad said to me, “It’s got to be just us, Scotty. I love my mother and father, but some things just aren’t complete-family affairs.”

“I know. I think you’re right. And if it’s bad . . .”

He nods. “I’d just as soon they not be there while we fall apart.”

Right.

So then, I hop up into our RV, affectionately known as the TrailMama, Dad’s black pickup already hitched behind. (Charley’s kitchen trailer is sitting on a lot in storage at a nearby RV dealership, and good riddance. I’m hoping Charley never needs to use that thing again.) “Want me to drive?”

He laughs.

Yep. I still don’t have my license.

Man. But it’s been such a great month or so at the beach. So, okay, I don’t tan much really, but I do have a nice peachy glow.

I’ll take it.

And Grampie grilled a lot, and Grammie helped me sew a couple of vintage-looking skirts, and I’ve learned the basics of my harp.

I jump into the passenger’s seat, buckle in, and look over at my dad. “You really ready for this?” My heart speeds up. This is the final leg of a very long journey, and what’s at the end of the path will determine the rest of our lives.

He looks into my eyes. “Are you?”

“I don’t know,” I whisper. “But we don’t really have a choice, do we?”

“I can go alone.”

I shake my head. “No, Dad. Whatever we do, whatever happens from here on out, we do it together.”

“Deal.”

My Review: Noooo it can't be so. This is the last book in the series of Scotty Dawn and family/friends. Over four books I have come to love Scotty Dawn and her unusual story and characteristics. I have enjoyed watching/reading Scotty Dawn's journey including faith, family, and love. She has grown so much the by the end of the series. It is never preachy but gently, especially the last book uncovers the importance of faith to Scotty Dawn. This series is targeted YA and it is perfect for them but adults love it also.I would definitely read them in order because the story develops more and more in each book including spoilers. I highly recommend the whole series. :)

Romancing Hollywood Nobody by Lisa Samson

It is August FIRST, time for the FIRST Blog
Tour! (Join our alliance! Click the button!) The FIRST day of every month
we will feature an author and his/her latest book's FIRST chapter!

Today's feature
author is:

LISA SAMSON

and her
book:

Romancing Hollywood
Nobody

NavPress Publishing Group (July 15, 2008)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Lisa Samson is the author of twenty books,
including the Christy Award-winning Songbird. Apples of
Gold was her first novel for teens

These days, she's working on Quaker Summer,
volunteering at Kentucky Refugee Ministries, raising children and trying
to be supportive of a husband in seminary. (Trying . . . some days she's
downright awful. It's a good thing he's such a fabulous cook!) She can
tell you one thing, it's never dull around there.

Other
Novels by Lisa:

Hollywood Nobody, Finding Hollywood Nobody, Straight Up, Club Sandwich, Songbird, Tiger Lillie, The Church Ladies, Women's Intuition: A Novel, Songbird, The Living End

Visit her at her website.

Product
Details

List Price: $12.99
Paperback: 195 pages
Publisher: NavPress Publishing Group (July 15, 2008)
Language:
English
ISBN-10: 1600062210
ISBN-13: 978-1600062216

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

Monday, April 30, 6:00
a.m.

My eyes open. Yes, yes, yes. The greatest man
in the entire world

is brewing coffee right here in the
TrailMama.

“Dad.”

“Morning, Scotty. The big day.”


“Yep.”

“And this time, you won't have to
drive.”

I throw back the covers on my loft bed and slip
down to the dinette of our RV. My dad sleeps on the dinette bed. He's
usually got it turned back into our kitchen table by 5:00 a.m. What can I
say? The guy may be just as much in love with cheese as I am, but
honestly? Our body clocks are about as different as Liam Neeson and Seth
Green.

You know what I mean?

And we have lots
of differences.

For one, he's totally a nonfiction
person and I'm fiction all the way. For two, he has no fashion sense
whatsoever. And for three, he has way more hope for people at the outset than
I do. Man, do I have a lot to learn on that front.

He
hands me a mug and I sip the dark liquid. I was roasting coffee beans
for a while there, but Dad took the mantle upon himself and he does a
better job.

Starbucks Schmarbucks.

He hands
me another mug and I head to the back of the TrailMama to wake up
Charley. My grandmother looks so sweet in the morning, her frosted,
silver-blonde hair fanned out on the pillow. You know, she could pass for an
aging mermaid. A really short one, true.



I
wave the mug as close as I can to her nose without fear of her rearing
up, knocking the mug and burning her face. “Charley . . .” I singsong.
“Time to get a move on. Time to get back on the road.”


And boy is this a switch!

All I can say is, your life can
be going one way for years and years and then, snap-snap-snap-in-a-Z,
it looks like it had major plastic surgery.

Only in
reverse. Imagine life just getting more and more real. I like it.

Charley opens her eyes. “Hey, baby. You brought me coffee. You get
groovier every day.”

She's a hippie. What can I say?


And she started drinking coffee again when I ran away last
fall in Texas. I mean, I didn't really run away. I went somewhere with
a perfectly good reason for not telling anyone, and I was planning to
return as soon as my mission was done.

She scootches up
to a sitting position, hair still in a cloud, takes the mug and, with
that dazzling smile still on her face (think Kate Hudson) sips the
coffee. She sighs.

“I know,” I say. “How did we make it so
long without him?”

“Now that he's with us, I don't know.
But somehow we did, didn't we, baby? It may not have always been
graceful and smooth, but we made it together.”

I rub her
shoulder. “Yeah. I guess you could say we pretty much did.”


The engine hums its movin'-on song. “Dad's ready to pull out. Let's hit
it.”

“Scotland, here we come.”

Scotland?
Well, sort of.



An hour later

This has been a great school year. In addition to the online
courses I'm taking through Indiana University High School, Dad's been
teaching me and man, is he smart. I'm sure most sixteen-(almost
seventeen)-year-olds think their fathers are the smartest guys in the world, but
in my case it happens to be true.

Okay, even I have to
admit he probably won't win the Nobel Prize for physics or anything,
but he's street smart and there's no replacing that sort of thing. Big
plus: he knows high school math. We're both living under the radar. And
he's taken our faux last name. Dawn. He's now Ezra Fitzgerald Dawn.
After Ezra Pound, one of F. Scott Fitzgerald's Lost Generation friends.

I'm just lovin' that.

“Your mom would have
loved the name change, Scotty.”

He told me about his life
as an FBI agent, some of the cases he worked on, and well, I'd like to
tell you he had a life like Sydney Bristow's in Alias, but he probably
spent most of his time on com-puter work and sitting around on his
butt waiting for someone to make a move. The FBI, apparently, prefers to
trick people more than corner them in showdowns and shootouts. The
Robertsman case was his first time undercover in the field and we know how
terribly that worked out for him. And me. And Charley. And Babette, my
mother.

I pull out my math book and sit in the passenger
seat of the TrailMama. “Ready for some 'rithmetic, Dad?”


“You bet.” He turns to me and smiles. His smile still makes my heart
warm up like a griddle ready to make smiley-face pan-cakes. I flip on my
book light.


It's still dark and we're headed to
Asheville, North Carolina for Charley's latest shoot. A film about
Bonnie Prince Charlie called Charlie's Lament. How ironic is that? The
director, Bartholomew (don't dare call him Bart) Evans, is a real jerk. I'm
not going to be hanging around the set much even though Liam Neeson is
Lord George Murray, the voice of reason Prince Charlie refused to
listen to. But hey, that's my history lesson. We're still on math.

I finish up the last lesson in geometry . . . finally! Honestly,
I still don't understand it without a mammoth amount of help, but the
workbook's filled and that's a good thing.

There.

I set down my pen. “Finished!”

Dad gives a nod
as he continues to look out the windshield. You might guess, despite
the tattoos, piercings, and his gleaming bald head, he's a very careful
driver. And he won't let me drive like Charley did.

“So .
. . driver's license then, right?”

He's been holding
that over my head so I'd finish the math course.

“You know
it. After the film, we'll request your new birth certificate and go
from there.”

“What state are we supposedly from?” The FBI
has given us a new identity, official papers and all that.


“Wyoming.”

“Are you kidding me? Wyoming? Why?”

“Think about it, honey. Who's from Wyoming?”

“Lots of
people?”

“Know any of them?”

“Uh. No.”

“See?”


“Okay, Wyoming it is, then.”

“You realize you'll only have my beat-up old black truck to drive
around.” The same truck we're towing behind the TrailMama.


“I'll take it.”

So here's the thing. The rest of the
entire world thinks my father was shot in the chest and killed when he
was outed by a branch of the mob he was after. This mob was financing
James Robertsman's campaign for governor of Maryland.

The
guy's running for president of the United States now.

I
kid you not.

Wish I was kidding.

We thought
he was after us for several years because Charley knew too much. But
then last fall, we found out the guy chasing me was my father, and
Robertsman is most likely cocky enough to think he took care of everything
he needed. I say that's quite all right. Although, I have to admit, the
fact that a dirtbag like that guy may end up in the Oval Office sickens
me to no end.

Thanks to that guy, we had been running
in fear from my own father.

The thing is, I could be
really mad about all those wasted years, and a portion of me feels that
way. But we've been given another chance, and I'll be darned if I throw
away these days being angry. There's too much to be thankful for.

Don't get me wrong. I still have my surly days. I don't want
Dad and Charley to think they have it as easy as all that!


Okay, time to blog.

Hollywood Nobody: April 30


Let's cut to the chase, Nobodies!


Today's Seth News: It's official. Seth Haas and Karissa
Bonano are officially each other's exclusive main squeeze. The two were
seen coming out of a popular LA tattoo parlor with each other's names on
the inside of their forearms. How cliché. And pass the barf bag.

Today's Violette Dillinger Report: Violette
has broken up with Joe Mason of Sweet Margaret. She wanted you all to
know that long-distance romances are hard for any couple, but
espe-cially for people as young as she is. “Joe needed to live his life. I'm on
the road a lot. It wasn't fair to either of us.” Sounds like she's
definitely not on the road to Britney. I'm just sayin'.


Today's Rave: Mandy Moore. The girl can really sing! And
her latest album is filled with good songs. The bubble gum days of
insipid teen heartbreak are over. She's finally come into her own. (Wish some
others would follow her example, but I won't hold my breath. And man,
are we on the theme of bratty stars today or what? Well, there are just
so many of them from which to choose!)

Today's
Rant: Crazy expensive celebrity weddings. What? If they spend
more, will they be more likely to stay together? I have no idea. Mariah
Carey's $25,000 dress pales in comparison to Catherine Zeta-Jones's
$100,000 gown. What are those things made of?


Today's Quote: “Dream as if you'll live forever, live as if you'll
die today.” James Dean

My Review: I loved the third book in this series just as much as the first.Lisa Samson has lots of one liners some of which left me laughing. The dialogue, unique plot, and characters work together to make this book pop. I highly recommend this whole series for YA and adult.

Embrace Me by Lisa Samson

This week, the

Christian Fiction Blog Alliance

is introducing

Embrace Me

(Thomas Nelson March 4, 2008)

by

Lisa Samson

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Lisa Samson is a Christy Award-winning author of 19 books, including the Women of the Faith Novel of the Year, Quaker Summer. Lisa has been hailed by Publishers Weekly as "a talented novelist who isn't afraid to take risks."


In Embrace Me, the latest novel by acclaimed author Lisa Samson, readers are privy to the realization that regardless of outward appearances…hideous, attractive, or even ordinary…persons are all looking for the same things: love, forgiveness, and redemption.

This story explores a world that is neither comfortable nor safe, a world that people like Valentine know all too well. Masterfully crafted by Samson and populated by her most compelling cast of characters yet. It is a tale of forgiveness that extends into all spheres of life: forgiving others, forgiving oneself, forgiving the past.

She lives in Lexinton, Kentucky, with her husband and three kids.

ABOUT THE BOOK

Biting and gentle, hard-edged and hopeful...a beautiful fable of love and power, hiding and seeking, woundedness and redemption.

When a "lizard woman," a self-mutilating preacher, a tattooed monk, and a sleazy lobbyist find themselves in the same North Carolina town one winter, their lives are edging precariously close to disaster...and improbably close to grace.

Valentine, due to her own drastic self-disfigurement, ahs very few friends in this world and, it appears as if she may be destined to spend the rest of her life practically alone. But life gives her one good friend, Lella, whose own handicap puts her in the same freakish category as Valentine. As part of Roland's Wayfaring Marvel and Oddities Show, a traveling band of misfits, they seem to have found their niches in an often curiously cruel world.

Residing in a world where masks are mandatory, Valentine has a hard time removing hers, because of her disfigured face but more so because of her damaged soul. It is much easier for her to listen endlessly to different versions of a favorite song, Embraceable You, and escape reality. Yet, life has more in store for her when she meets Augustine, replete with the tattoos, dreadlocks, and his own secrets. With his arrival, Valentine's soul takes a turn.

If you would like to read the first chapter, go HERE

My Review: I loved this quirky unusual a little odd book. It took me a little bit to get used to the way it is written flashing back and forth between Augustine and Valentine in two different time periods before becoming all present day. Its a whammie when you realize what is actually going on . That is all I am going to say. I do not want to ruin it for you. The ending was not what I wanted to happen all the way. I am used to a typical love story which this is not although a theme is God's love and redemption of us. This is not a light read but well worth it. I highly recommend this one of kind book.

Finding Hollywood Nobody by Lisa Samson

It is May FIRST,
time for the FIRST Blog Tour! (Join our alliance! Click the button!) The
FIRST day of every month we will feature an author and his/her latest
book's FIRST chapter!

Today's feature author is:

LISA SAMSON

and her book:

Finding
Hollywood Nobody

Navpress Publishing Group (February 15, 2008)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Lisa Samson is the author of twenty books, including
the Christy Award-winning Songbird. Apples of Gold was
her first novel for teens

These days, she's working on Quaker Summer, volunteering at
Kentucky Refugee Ministries, raising children and trying to be supportive
of a husband in seminary. (Trying . . . some days she's downright
awful. It's a good thing he's such a fabulous cook!) She can tell you one
thing, it's never dull around there.

Other
Novels by Lisa:

Hollywood Nobody, Straight Up, Club Sandwich, Songbird, Tiger Lillie, The Church Ladies, Women's Intuition: A Novel, Songbird, The Living End

Visit her at her website.

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:


Chapter One

Hollywood Nobody:
Sunday, June 4

Well, Nobodies, it's a wrap! Jeremy's latest film, yet another remake
of The Great Gatsby, now titled Green Light, has shipped out from
location and will be going into postproduction. Look for it next spring in
theaters. It may just be his most widely distributed film yet with
Annette Bening on board. Toledo Island will never be the same after that
wacky bunch filled in their shores.

Today's Hottie Watch: Seth Haas has moved to
Hollywood. An obscure film he did in college, Catching Regina's Heels
(a five-star film in my opinion), was mentioned on the Today show last
week. He was interviewed on NPR's Fresh Air. Hmm. Could it be he'll
receive the widespread acclaim he deserves before the release of Green
Light? For his sake and the film's, I hope so.

Rehab Alert: I've never hidden the fact that
I don't care for bratty actress Karissa Bonano, but she just checked
into rehab for a cocaine addiction. Her maternal grandfather, Doug
Fairmore, famous in the forties for swashbuckling and digging up clues, made
a public statement declaring the Royal Family of Hollywood was "indeed
throwing all of our love, support, and prayers behind Karissa." The man
must be a thousand years old by now. This isn't Ms. Bonano's first
stint in rehab, but let's hope it's her last. Even I'm not too catty to
wish her well in this battle. But I'm as skeptical as the next person. In
Hollywood, rehab is mostly just a fad.

Today's Quote: "It's a scientific fact. For
every year a person lives in Hollywood, they lose two points of their
IQ." Truman Capote

Today's Rant: SWAG, or Party Favors. Folks,
do you ever wonder what's inside those SWAG bags the stars get? Items
which, if sold, could feed a third-world country for a week! And have you
noticed how the people who can afford to buy this stuff seem to get it
for free? I'm just sayin'. So here's my idea, stars: Refuse to take
these high-priced bags o' stuff and gently suggest the advertisers give
to a charitable organization on behalf of the movie, the stars, the
whoever. Like you need another cell phone.

Today's Kudo: Violette Dillinger will be
appearing on the MTV Video Music Awards in August. She told Hollywood
Nobody she's going to prove to this crowd you can be young, elegant, decent,
and still rock out. Go Violette!

Summer calls. Later!

Monday, September 15, 4:00 a.m.

Maybe I'm looking for the wrong thing in a parent.

I turn over in bed at the insistence of Charley's forefinger poking me
in the shoulder. "Please tell me you've MapQuested this jaunt,
Charley."

She shakes her tousled head, silhouetted by the yellow light emanating
from the RV's bathroom. "You're kidding me right?" She slides off the
dinette seat. Charley's been overflowing with relief since she told me
the truth about our life: that she's not really my mother, but my
grandmother, that somebody's chasing us for way too good of a reason, that my
life isn't as boring as I thought. We're still being chased, but
Charley can at least breathe more freely in her home on the road now that I
know the truth.

Home in this case happens to be a brand-spanking-new Trailmaster RV, a
huge step forward from the ancient Travco we used to have, the ancient
Travco with a rainbow Charley spread in bright colors over its nose.

"Where to?" Having set my vintage cat glasses, love 'em, on my nose, I
scramble my hair into its signature ponytail: messy, curly, and
frightening. I can so picture myself in the Thriller video.

"Marshall, Texas."

"East Texas?"

"I guess."

"It is." I shake my head. Charley. I love her, I really do, but when it
comes to geography, despite the fact that we've traveled all over the
country going to her gigs ever since I can remember, she's about as
intelligent as a bottle of mustard. And boy do I know a lot about bottles
of mustard. But that was my last adventure.

"If you knew, then why did you ask?" She flips the left side of her
long, blonde hair, straighter than Russell Crowe, over her shoulder.
Charley's beautiful. Silvery blonde (she uses a cheap rinse to cover up the
gray), thin (she's vegan), and a little airy (she's frightened of a lot
and tries not to think about anything else that may scare her), she
wears all sorts of embroidered vests and large skirts and painted blue
jeans. And they're all the real deal, because Charley's an
environmentalist and wouldn't dream of buying something she didn't need when what
she's got is wearing perfectly well. She calls my penchant for vintage
clothing "recycling," and I don't disagree.

"Is this really a gig, Charley, or are we escaping again?"

She shakes her head. "No phone call. I really do have a job."

I feel the thrill of fear inside me, though there's no need right now.
Biker Guy almost got me back on Toledo Island. (Yeah, he looks like a
grizzled old biker.) To call the guy rough around the edges would be
like saying Pam Anderson has had "a little work done."

I've been looking over my shoulder ever since.

But more on that later. We need to get on the road. And I need to get
on with my life. I'm so sick of thinking about how things aren't nearly
what I'd like them to be.

I mean, do you ever get tired of hearing yourself complain?

I flip up my laptop, log on to the satellite Internet I installed (yes,
I am that geeky) and Google directions to Marshall, Texas, from where
we are in Theta, Tennessee—actually, on the farm of one of Charley's
old art-school friends who gave her some work in advertising for the
summer. Charley's a food stylist, which means she makes food look good for
the camera. Still cameras, motion picture cameras, video, it doesn't
matter. Charley can do it all.

"Oh, we've got plenty of time, Charley. Five hundred and fifty miles
and . . . we have to go through Memphis . . ."

My verbal drop-off is a dead giveaway.

"Oh, no, Scotty, we're not going to Graceland again."

The kitsch that is Graceland speaks to me. What can I say?

And you've got to admit, it's starting to look vintage. Now ten years
ago . . .

I cross my arms. "Do you have cooking to do on the way?"

Yes, highly illegal to cook in a rolling camper.

"Yeah, I do."

"And do you expect me, an unlicensed sixteen-year-old, to drive?"
Again, highly illegal, but Charley's a free spirit. However, she refuses to
copy CDs and DVDs, so in that regard, she's more moral than most
people. I guess it evens up in the end.

"Uh-huh."

"Then I think I deserve a trip through the Jungle Room."

She rolls her eyes, reaches down to the floor, and throws me my robe.
"Oh, all right. Just don't take too long."

"I'll try. So." I look at the screen. "65 to route 40 west. Let's hit
it. And we'll have time to stop for breakfast."

Charley shakes her head and plops down on the tan dinette bench. The
interior of this whole RV is a nice sandy tan with botanical accents.
Tasteful and so much better than the old Travco that looked like a cross
between a genie's bottle and the Unabomber cabin. "You're going to eat
cheese. Aren't you?"

"I sure am."

And Charley can't say anything, because months ago she told me this was
a decision I could make on my own.

Freedom!

"I've rethought the cheese moratorium, baby. I know you're not going to
like this, but three months of cheese is enough. I can't imagine what
your arteries look like. I think it's time to stop."

"What?" Cheese is my life. "Charley! You can't do this to me."

"It's for your own good."

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah, I am."

"Why?"

"Because summer's over, baby, and we've got to get back to a better way
of life."

I could continue to argue, but it won't do any good. Charley acts all
hippie and egalitarian, but when push comes to shove, she's the boss.
However, I'm great at hiding my cheese . . . and . . . I'm going to
convince her eventually.

But still.

"This isn't right, Charley, and you know it. But it's too early to
argue. And might I add, you have no idea what it's like to have a teen with
real teen issues. You ought to be on your knees thanking God I'm not
drinking, smoking, pregnant, or"—I was going to say sneaking out at
night, but I've done that, just to get some space—"or writing suicidal
poetry on the Internet!"

We stare at each other, then burst into laughter.

"Just humor me this time, baby," she says. "We'll come back to it soon,
I promise."

I don't believe her, but I hop into the driver's seat, pull up the
brake, throw the TrailMama into drive, and we are off.

To read the rest of the first chapter go here: http://fictioninrathershorttakes.blogspot.com/2008/05/finding-hollywood-nobody-by-lisa-samson.html

My Review: This is a unique and captivating series. It is for mature teens and up (to me) because of the topics including drugs and premartial sex. Lisa Samson is known for writing books with unique twists. The plot and characters are great. I highly recommend the whole series. (It does help to read them in order.) I can't wait to read Romancing Hollywood Nobody coming in the fall.

"Hollywood Nobody" by Lisa Samson

It is November 1st, time for the FIRST Day Blog Tour! (Join our alliance! Click the button!) The FIRST day of every month we will feature an author and his/her latest book's FIRST chapter!
This month's feature author is:LISA SAMSON
and her book:Hollywood Nobody
Th1nk Books (August 30, 2007)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Lisa Samson is the author of twenty books, including the Christy Award-winning Songbird. Apples of Gold was her first novel for teens. Visit Lisa at http://www.lisasamson.com/ These days she is volunteering at Kentucky Refugee Ministries, raising children and trying to be supportive of a husband in seminary. (Trying . . . some days she's downright awful. It's a good thing he's such a fabulous cook!) She can tell you one thing, it's never dull around there. Other Novels by Lisa: Straight Up, , Club Sandwich, Songbird, Tiger Lillie, The Church Ladies, Women's Intuition: A Novel, Songbird, The Living End



AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:


Hollywood Nobody: April 1 Happy April Fool’s Day! What better day to start a blog about Hollywood than today? Okay, I’ve been around film sets my whole life. Indie films, yeah, and that’s all I’m saying about it here for anonymity’s sake. But trust me, I’ve had my share of embarrassing moments. Like outgrowing Tom Cruise by the age of twelve — in more ways than one, with the way he’s gotten crazier than thong underwear and low-rise jeans. Thankfully that fashion disaster has run for cover. Underwear showing? Not a good idea. Fact: I don’t know of a single girl who doesn’t wish the show-itall boxer-shorts phenomenon would go away as well. Guys, we just don’t want to see your underwear. Truthfully, we believe that there is a direct correlation between how much underwear you show and how much you’ve got upstairs, if you know what I mean. I’ve seen the stars at their best and at their worst. And believe me, the worst is really, really bad. Big clue: you’d look just as pretty as they do if you went to such lengths. As you might guess, some of them are really nice and some of them are total jerks, and there’s a lot of blah in-betweeners. Like real life, pretty much, only the extremes are more extreme sometimes. I mean honestly, how many people under twenty do you know who have had more than one plastic surgery? So you’ll have to forgive me if I’m a little hard on these folks. But if it was all sunshine and cheerleading, I doubt you’d read this blog for long, right? Today’s Rant: Straightening irons. We’ve had enough of them, Little Stars, okay? It was bad on Helen Hunt at the Oscars, worse on Demi, yet worse on Madonna, and it’s still ridiculous. Especially on those women who are trying to hold onto their youth like Gollum holds onto that ring. Ladies, there’s a reason for keeping your hair at or above your shoulders once you hit forty, and ever after. Think Annette Bening. Now she’s got it going on. And can’t you just see why Warren Beatty settled down for her? Love her! According to The Early Show this morning, curls are back, and Little Me ain’t going to tell why I’m so glad about that! Today’s Kudo: Aretha Franklin. Big, bold, beautiful, and the best. Her image is her excellence. Man, that woman can sing! She has a prayer chain too. I’m not very religious myself, but you got to respect people who back up what they say they believe. Unless it’s male Scientologists and "silent birth." Yeah, right. Easy for them to say. Today’s News: I saw a young actor last summer at a Shakespeare festival in New England. Seth Haas. Seth Hot is more like it. I heard a rumor he’s reading scripts for consideration. Yes, he’s that hot. Check him out here. Tell all your friends about him. And look here on Hollywood Nobody for the first, the hottest news on this hottie. Girls, he’s only nineteen! Fair game for at least a decade-and-a-half span of ages. I don’t know about you, but following the antics of new teen rock star Violette Dillinger is something I’m looking forward to. Her first album, released to much hype, hit Billboard’s no. 12 spot its third week out. And don’t you love her hit single "Love Comes Knocking on My Door"? This is going to be fun. A new celeb. Uncharted territory. Will Violette, who seems grounded and talented, be like her predecessors and fall into the "great defiling show-business machine" only to be spit out as a half-naked bimbo? We’ll see, won’t we? Keep your fingers crossed that the real artist survives. Today’s Quote: "Being thought of as ‘a beautiful woman’ has spared me nothing in life. No heartache, no trouble. Beauty is essentially meaningless." Halle Berry Later! Friday, April 2 I knew it was coming soon. We’d been camped out in the middle of a cornfield, mind you, for two weeks. That poke on my shoulder in the middle of the night means only one thing. Time to move on. "What, Charley?" "Let’s head ’em on out, Scotty. We’ve got to be at a shoot in North Carolina tomorrow afternoon. I’ve got food to prepare, so you have to drive." "I’m still only fifteen." "It’s okay. You’re a good driver, baby." My mom, Charley Dawn, doesn’t understand that laws exist for a reason, say, keeping large vehicles out of the hands of children. But as a food stylist, she fakes things all the time. Her boundaries are blurred. What can I say? Charley looks like she succumbed to the peer pressure of plastic surgery, but she hasn’t. I know this because I’m with her almost all the time. I think it’s the bleached-blond fountain of long hair she’s worn ever since I can remember. Or maybe the hand-dyed sarongs and shirts from Africa, India, or Bangladesh add to the overall appearance of youth. I have no idea. But it really makes me mad when anybody mistakes us as sisters. I mean, come on! She had me when she was forty! My theory: a lot of people are running around with bad eyesight and just don’t know it. I throw the covers to my left. If I sling them to my right, they’d land on the dinette in our "home," to use the term in a fashion less meaningful than a Hollywood "I do." I grew up in this old Travco RV I call the Y. As in Y do I have to live in this mobile home? Y do I have to have such an oddball food stylist for a mother? Y must we travel all year long? Y will we never live anyplace long enough for me to go to the real Y and take aerobics, yoga, Pilates or — shoot — run around the track for a while, maybe swim laps in the pool? And Y oh Y must Charley be a vegan? More on that later. And Y do I know more about Hollywood than I should, or even want to? Everybody’s an actor in Hollywood, and I mean that literally. Sometimes I wonder if any of them even know who they are deep down in that corner room nobody else is allowed into. But I wonder the same thing about myself. "You’re not asking me to drive while you’re in the kitchen trailer, are you, Charley?" "No. I can cook in here. And it’s a pretty flat drive. I’ll be fine." I’m not actually worried about her. I’m thinking about how many charges the cops can slap on me. Driving without a license. Driving without a seat belt on the passenger. Speeding, because knowing Charley, we’re late already. Driving without registration. Charley figured out years ago how to lift current stickers off of license plates. She loves "sticking it to the man." Or so she says. I kid you not. Oh, the travails of a teenager with an old hippie for a mother. Charley is oblivious as usual as I continue my recollection of past infractions thankfully undetected by the state troopers: Driving while someone’s in the trailer. It’s a great trailer, don’t get me wrong, a mini industrial kitchen we rigged up a couple of years ago to make her job easier. Six-range burner, A/C, and an exhaust fan that sucks up more air than Joan Rivers schmoozing on the red carpet. But it’s illegal for her to go cooking while we’re in motion. "All right. Can I at least get dressed?" "Why? You’re always in your pj’s anyway." "Great, Mom." "It’s Charley, baby. You know how I feel about social hierarchy." "But didn’t you just give me an order to drive without a license? What if I say no?" She reaches into the kitchen cupboard without comment and tips down a bottle of cooking oil. Charley’s as tall as a twelve-year-old. "I mean, let’s be real, Charley. You do, in the ultimate end of things, call the shots." I reach back for my glasses on the small shelf I installed in the side of the loft. It holds whatever book I’m reading and my journal. I love my glasses, horn-rimmed "cat glasses" as Charley calls them. Vintage 1961. Makes me want to do the twist and wear penny loafers. "Can I at least pull my hair back?" She huffs. "Oh, all right, Scotty! Why do you have to be so difficult?" Charley has no clue as to how difficult teenagers can actually be. Here I am, schooling myself on the road, no wild friends. No friends at all, actually, because I hate Internet friendships. I mean, how lame, right? No boyfriend, no drugs. No alcohol either, unless you count cold syrup, because the Y gets so cold during the winter and Charley’s a huge conservationist. (Big surprise there.) I should be thankful, though. At least she stopped wearing leather fringe a couple of years ago. I slide down from the loft, gather my circus hair into a ponytail, and slip into the driver’s seat. Charley reupholstered it last year with rainbow fabric. I asked her where the unicorns were and she just rolled her eyes. "Okay, let’s go. How long is it going to take?" "Oh." She looks down, picks up a red pepper and hides behind it. I turn on her. "You didn’t Google Map it?" "You’re the computer person, not me." She peers above the stem. "I’m sorry?" She shrugs. Man, I hate it when she’s so cute. "Really sorry?" "Charley, we’re in Wilmore, Kentucky. As in Ken-Tuck-EEE . As in the middle of nowhere." I climb out of my seat. "What part of North Carolina are we going to? It’s a wide state." "Toledo Island. Something like that. Near Ocracoke Island. Does that sound familiar?" "The Outer Banks?" "Are they in North Carolina?" Are you kidding me? "Let me log on. This is crazy, Charley. I don’t know why you do this to me all the time." "Sorry." She says it so Valley Girl-like. I really thought I’d be above TME: Teenage Mom Embarrassment. But no. Now, most kids don’t have mothers who dress like Stevie Nicks and took a little too much LSD back in the DAY. It doesn’t take ESP to realize who the adult in this setup is. And she had me, PDQ, out of the bonds of holy matrimony I might add, when she was forty (yes, I already told you that, but it’s still just as true), and that’s OLD to be caught in such an inconvenient situation, don’t you think? The woman had no excuse for such behavior, FYI. My theory: Charley’s a widow and it’s too painful to talk about my father. I mean, it’s plausible, right? The problem is, I can remember back to when I was at least four, and I definitely do not remember a man in the picture. Except for Jeremy. More on him later too. I flip up my laptop. I have a great satellite Internet setup in the Y. I rigged it myself because I’m a lonely geek with nothing better to do with her time than figure out this kind of stuff. I type in the info and wait for the directions. Satellite is slower than DSL, but it’s better than nothing. "Charley! It’s seventeen hours away!" I scan the list of twists and turns between here and there. "We have to take a ferry to Ocracoke, and then Toledo Island’s off of there." "Groovy!" "Groovy died with platform shoes and midis." "Whatever, Scotty." Only she says it all sunny. She’s a morning person. "That phrase should be dead." Honestly, I’m not big on lingo. I’ve never been good at it, which is fine by me. Who am I going to impress with cool-speak anyway? Uma Thurman? Yeah, right. "Okay, let’s go." "We can go as long as possible and break camp on the way, you know?" Charley. I climb back into the rainbow chair, throw the Y into drive, pull the brake, and we’re moving on down the road. Again.

Sample from Hollywood Nobody / ISBN: 1-60006-091-9 Copyright © 2006 NavPress Publishing. All rights reserved.

"Quaker Summer" by Lisa Samson

There is a reason this book is the Women of Faith Book of the Year. IT is awesome. At first I was hestiant to read it because I did not know what to expect. It was deep and thought provoking but I still enjoyed reading it. I took a break or two to think but I did not want to put it down. It really made me think "Do I really need all the stuff in my house"? It made me want to downsize my earthly belongings.At first I wanted to get rid of everything(okay most) but I came to my senses and realized I couldn't. All of the characters are well developed and became real to me by the end of the story. This is the first book of Lisa Samson's that I have read and it will not be the last. I highly recommend this book.