Bestselling Author Mary Connealy Delivers Her Trademark Historical Romantic Comedy
Seth Kincaid survived a fire in a cave, but he's never been the same. He was always a reckless youth, but now he's gone over the edge. He ran off to the Civil War and came back crazier than ever.
After the war, nearly dead from his injuries, it appears Seth got married. Oh, he's got a lot of excuses, but his wife isn't happy to find out Seth doesn't remember her. Callie has searched, prayed, and worried. Now she's come to the Kincaid family's ranch in Colorado to find her lost husband.
Callie isn't a long-suffering woman. Once she knows her husband is alive, she wants to kill him. She's not even close to forgiving him for abandoning her.
Then more trouble shows up in the form of a secret Seth's pa kept for years. The Kincaid brothers might lose their ranch if they can't sort things out. It's enough to drive a man insane--but somehow it's all making Seth see things more clearly. And now that he knows what he wants, no one better stand in his way.
My Review:
4 STARS
If you've been reading the Kincaid Brides right along since
book one like I have then are sure to be satisfied and happy at the ending and
last book of the series with Over the Edge.
I have anxiously been waiting for the book about Seth Kincaid since I was
first introduced to him in the beginning of the series. Seth is a bit on the crazy side and I was
curious how Mary Connealy would give him his "happily
ever-after". Just like always
Connealy does not disappoint and we get to continue the story in Over the Edge
with Seth's wild adventures. I highly
recommend that if you haven't read the first two books in the series yet that
you should. It is my opinion that there
is way too much going on to fully appreciate the story without knowing all the
background information.
Right from the beginning of Over the Edge we get to meet
Callie, Seth's wife in a very unusual and terrifying setting. The best part though is when Seth meets
Callie and finds out she is his wife and he has a son he never knew. I found it a bit hilarious that Seth had no
clue who she was but was just as attracted to her as ever.
When the Kincaid Bride series first came out Seth Kincaid
has always intrigued me the most. He had
been through some outrageously awful experiences and it turned him in to a nut!
I enjoyed how God began a new work within Seth and started to shape and mold
him in to a man to be proud of again.
His story is a great example of how God can make something beautiful out
of awful things.
My favorite part of the story is when Seth begins to
remember Callie all over again. The way
he describes the memories was undeniably sweet and romantic and I really felt
like I was there reliving the moment with him and Callie. I also really enjoyed that although this
story was focused on Seth and Callie we still had plenty of interactions with
our previous favorite characters Ethan, Audra, Rafe and Julia. It was like one big family reunion that I got to be a part of.
Just like in all of Mary Connealy's books we wouldn't have a
good ol' western without the danger lurking, the bad guys and a good ol'
shootout!! On top of the evil, we have redemption and forgiveness, laughter and
kisses galore!! Great series for any fans of Mary Connealy or fans of Christian
Westerns!!
I was given a paperback copy of
Over The Edge by Bethany House in order to read it and give my honest
opinion. All opinions are my own.
About Mary Connealy:
I wrote my first book when I was about twelve. A romance novel. I shudder to think what a twelve year old could know about romance. I have no idea what happened to the manuscript. I suppose my mother found it, and burned it while screaming in horror, but I’ve always been afraid to ask. Was it a hundred pages? Two? I have no idea, but I seem to remember just writing FOREVER! So I’m guessing two pages long at least.
As a new bride I marched straight out of journalism school and into the kitchen, I did a lot of scribbling. I still have those heartbreaking works of staggering genius, Ode to Roast Beef, things like that, all born out of the ‘Write What You Know’ school of literature.
I began writing more seriously when my baby went to kindergarten. Not writing well of course, but just putting words on paper. No one does anything well the first time. I’m sure Babe Ruth missed the first ball pitched to him. I’m sure Picasso smeared pages with paint-y fingers when he was a kid—as I remember he went back to that later in life. I’m sure Beethoven played the eighteenth century version of Chopsticks before went for the sonatas.
My writing journey is similar to a lot of others. Boil it down to persistence, oh, go ahead and call it stubbornness. I just kept typing away. I think the reason I did it was because I’m more or less a dunce around people—prone to sit silently when I really ought to speak up(or far worse, speak up when I ought to sit silently).
So, I have all these things, I want to say, in my head; the perfect zinger to the rude cashier, which you think of an hour after you’ve left the store, the perfect bit of wisdom when someone needs help, which doesn’t occur to you until they solve their problems themselves, the perfect guilt trip for the kids, which you don’t say because you’re not an idiot. I keep all this wit to myself, much to the relief of all who know me, and then I write all my great ideas into books. It’s therapeutic if nothing else, and more affordable than a psychiatrist.
So then a very nice, oh so nice publishing company like Barbour Heartsong comes along and says, “Hey, we’ll pay you money for this 45,000 word therapy session.” That’s as sweet as it gets.
My journey to publication is the same as everyone’s except for a few geniuses out there who make it hard for all of us. And even they probably have an Ode to Roast Beef or two in their past.
As a new bride I marched straight out of journalism school and into the kitchen, I did a lot of scribbling. I still have those heartbreaking works of staggering genius, Ode to Roast Beef, things like that, all born out of the ‘Write What You Know’ school of literature.
I began writing more seriously when my baby went to kindergarten. Not writing well of course, but just putting words on paper. No one does anything well the first time. I’m sure Babe Ruth missed the first ball pitched to him. I’m sure Picasso smeared pages with paint-y fingers when he was a kid—as I remember he went back to that later in life. I’m sure Beethoven played the eighteenth century version of Chopsticks before went for the sonatas.
My writing journey is similar to a lot of others. Boil it down to persistence, oh, go ahead and call it stubbornness. I just kept typing away. I think the reason I did it was because I’m more or less a dunce around people—prone to sit silently when I really ought to speak up(or far worse, speak up when I ought to sit silently).
So, I have all these things, I want to say, in my head; the perfect zinger to the rude cashier, which you think of an hour after you’ve left the store, the perfect bit of wisdom when someone needs help, which doesn’t occur to you until they solve their problems themselves, the perfect guilt trip for the kids, which you don’t say because you’re not an idiot. I keep all this wit to myself, much to the relief of all who know me, and then I write all my great ideas into books. It’s therapeutic if nothing else, and more affordable than a psychiatrist.
So then a very nice, oh so nice publishing company like Barbour Heartsong comes along and says, “Hey, we’ll pay you money for this 45,000 word therapy session.” That’s as sweet as it gets.
My journey to publication is the same as everyone’s except for a few geniuses out there who make it hard for all of us. And even they probably have an Ode to Roast Beef or two in their past.