Tuesday, March 6, 2012

FIRST Wild Card Tour: One Way or Another by Rhonda Bowen

It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour 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!




You never know when I might play a wild card on you!




Today's Wild Card author is:




and the book:


Dafina; Original edition (February 28, 2012)

***Special thanks to
Dee Stewart of DeeGospel PR for sending me a review copy.***




ABOUT THE AUTHOR:




Christian Fiction Romance Author Rhonda Bowen writes for Kensington Publishing Corps (Dafina Books.) She has written two faith based novels Man Enough for Me and her current release One Way or Another. She is also an event planner and currently resides in Toronto, Ontario Canada.



Visit her at www.rhondabowen.com or her Learning the Ropes Blog at www.learningtheropes.wordpress.com.





SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:




Atlanta reporter Toni Shields will do whatever it takes to get a good story. So when she's arrested for sneaking around the mayor's house, she's prepared. What she's not prepared for is getting demoted--or her run-in with stubborn Adam Bayne, director of the local young men's rehab center. . .



The first time Adam saw Toni, she was wrangling with the cops. Now she's looking for a scoop at Jacob House. Adam has no intention of letting her near his boys--yet as usual, her pushiness wins. And when she genuinely helps a teen in trouble, Adam sees a side of her that cares about more than just a headline. Soon, they become close--their attraction growing. But there's more to both their lives than meets the eye. Toni has a haunting family secret, one that is taking a great toll on her. And when she uncovers that Adam has a devastating past of his own, not only their relationship, but their futures, and their faith, lie in the balance.



Praise for Man Enough for Me



"A sweet Christian romance." –Publishers Weekly



"Enough drama, romance, and faith that keeps you turning pages." --Tiffany L. Warren, Essence® bestselling author





Product Details:

List Price: $14.00



Paperback: 320 pages

Publisher: Dafina; Original edition (February 28, 2012)

Language: English

ISBN-10: 0758259581

ISBN-13: 978-0758259585

My Review:
4 STARS


My favorite type of romances start out with the two main characters disliking each other, I think that is because that’s how my marriage started and it just seems more genuine and realistic.  We have Toni Shields, who is a bossy, controlling news reporter that seems to find herself in jail a few times due to the tough stories she tries to capture.  Then we have Adam Bayne, a Christian man that is the director of a boy’s home.  When Toni and Adam first meet there is this sudden attraction but then there is also there is conflict.  Then Toni starts showing up at the boy’s home, where her brother Trey also works, to try to get a story from Adam.

One of my favorite things about this book is that the romance is not forced.  They don’t just suddenly meet and fall in love, their relationship develops over time with some serious bumps along the way.  However there is passion and flirting!  Another great aspect of the book is that you have two people with very difficult pasts.  Neither character is perfect and both are struggling to move forward in their lives.  They are also struggling to follow God’s will versus what they believe is right for themselves!   There is a lot about this book that gets you thinking and prompts you to be a better person.

The characters are both genuine and entertaining.  I have to admit though that Toni drove me crazy in the beginning. She was so sassy and independent that it bugged me, but then she grew on me just like she grew on Adam.  Adam is the best character of all; he has such a passion to make a difference and to love those kids he works with, yet he struggles with his own shady past and guilt!!

I received this book from the Publisher Dafina in exchange for a personal and honest review.  All opinions are my own.


AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:







ONE WAY OR ANOTHER
Rhonda Bowen
(February 28, 2012)




Chapter 1




The metal felt icy and unwelcome as the cuffs snapped tight around Toni’s wrists. She grimaced. This was not how she planned to spend her Wednesday night.
The burly police officer dragged her to the cop car, placing his hand on her head of long dark silky hair as he lowered her into the backseat. At least he was being civil. The same couldn’t be said for the one manhandling Afrika.
“Get your nasty hands off my butt, you perve,” Afrika snapped, shoving him away with her shoulder.
The short dull-looking cop stumbled back a bit, seemingly surprised at her force. Yeah, he didn’t know. Afrika might look tiny but you didn’t want to mess with her. More than once Toni had seen her friend take a chunk out of her pro-basketball-playing ex-boyfriend Tyrone. She was nobody’s victim.
For once though, Toni wished Afrika would take it down a notch. It was bad enough that the cops had caught them snooping around the mayor’s premises. No sense encouraging the Atlanta PD officers to find a creative way to actually charge them.
Toni’s mind scrambled for a solution as she sat in the back of the cop car on the way to the station. The clock on the dash said 10:34 p.m., leaving her with barely an hour to file her story and get out of this mess. She thought of all her possible lifelines, including her brother, Trey, and her sister-in-law, Jasmine. But none of those options were appealing. Her brother’s smug look she could deal with, but she would rather spend the night in a cell than get another lecture from Jasmine, who seemed to forget that at twenty-seven she was the same age as Toni and not in fact her mother. That left only one person. Unfortunately, said person was sitting beside her, just as helpless as her, and a lot less cooperative.
By the time they got to the mini-precinct, south of downtown Atlanta, Toni realized that she was on her own.
“So, Miss Shields, you want to tell us why you were in the area of the mayor’s residence tonight?”
Toni smiled at the large man who had been the one to handcuff her earlier. “Just taking a walk, Officer Powell.”
“I’m looking at your file here, Miss Shields, and you seem to like taking walks near the homes of well-known people in this city.”
Toni shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a fitness buff.”
She hoped Afrika was holding up okay. They had been separated, and the other officer was questioning her in another section of the station. Toni could see her, but couldn’t hear what was going on.
“And what about that camera you were carrying?” he asked, an eyebrow raised.
“I like photography too. It’s a new hobby.”
Officer Powell rubbed his eyes. “Where’s the memory card, Miss Shields?”
“Memory card?”
“Yes,” he said. “You know, that little thing that records the pictures? There was none in the camera. And we didn’t find it when we searched your things.”
Toni shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Officer Powell sat forward, his forehead wrinkling. “Miss Shields, you were caught wandering near the mayor of Atlanta’s home in the dead of night with a very professional grade camera and a major zoom lens,” he said. “I personally think you might have even been on the mayor’s property but unfortunately there’s no way to prove it. Do you expect me to believe that there was no card in this camera?” he asked. “Now, either you produce the card on your own or we’re going to have to search you.”
“But you already searched me,” Toni said innocently.
The officer glowered. “A full body search.”
Toni pursed her lips. “You can’t do that. Full searches can only be conducted by someone of the same sex. And I’m looking around and all the officers I see on duty tonight are men.”
He rubbed a hand over his head tiredly. “Then you can be someone else’s problem.” He closed her file and stood. “My shift is over anyway.”
Toni looked at the wall clock. 10:45. Right on schedule.
“Okay, please tell me you have a plan to get us out of here,” Afrika hissed into Toni’s ear moments after Officer Powell seated them beside each other in the holding area.
“Sort of.” Toni turned her head left and then right as she tried to work the kinks out of her neck. The back of that cop car had not been good to her.
“Sort of? You’re gonna need to give me something better than that.” Afrika twisted around in her seat, giving Toni full access to her glare. “I can’t go to prison, Toni. I may act hard, but I ain’t no criminal. I can’t go down like this!”
The hysteria in Afrika’s whispers went up a notch at each statement, and Toni had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. Afrika would definitely not see the humor. And with Toni’s hair looking a shaggy mess, she couldn’t afford to have her best friend and hair stylist not talking to her.
“Afrika, we weren’t caught doing anything wrong,” Toni said, hoping her even tone would mellow her friend out. “They have nothing to charge us with. All they can do is detain us for a couple hours.”
She left out the part about what could happen if they searched her and found the memory card in her bra.
Afrika narrowed her eyes at Toni. “How long is a couple?”
Toni shrugged and glanced away. “Maybe four or five.”
Or seventy-two, she thought.
“A lot could happen in four or five hours,” Afrika murmured.
Toni saw her friend glance out the corner of her eye at the thick red-skinned woman who had taken up the entire bench across from them with her size ten frame and size twenty attitude. The bottle blonde had skewered them with her bloodshot eyes when they first came in, before going back to the production of picking her nails, which were so long they seemed like weapons themselves. A darker skinned woman of indeterminable everything lay buried in multiple layers of clothing on the only other bench, snoring.
“Don’t worry. It’s usually pretty quiet this time of night,” Toni said, leaning her head back against the wall.
Afrika scowled but didn’t say another word. Toni knew her friend was still mad, but she was glad that Afrika had calmed down. It would be a long twelve minutes if she had to sit there and listen to her whine.
“Well, well. Looks like it’s ladies night up in here.”
“Mikey?” Afrika had a puzzled expression on her face. “What you doing here?”
“Hey, cuz.” Mikey chuckled and unlocked the door to the holding cell. “I work here. What you doing here?”
“Keepin’ bad company,” Afrika said, throwing a nasty look Toni’s way.
“Toni,” Mikey said. Her name on his lips sounded as oily as the chicken grease that had stained his uniform. There was no doubt he’d had a three piece for dinner.
Toni forced a smile even though she really wanted to gag. If he was any other cop on any other day, Toni would have given him a piece of her mind for the way his eyes were roaming all over her. But she needed this Good Times reject, and he knew it.
She got up off the uneven bench and followed Afrika out of the cell, feeling the heat of Mikey’s gaze on her behind. She scowled. She was used to guys raking their eyes over her five- foot-four frame, particularly her generous behind, but it still disgusted her.
“So it says here that you aren’t charged but you need to be searched,” Mikey said, a toothpick in the corner of his mouth as he flipped through Afrika’s and Toni’s files.
“Don’t even think of putting your nasty hands on me,” Afrika warned.
“Easy, cuz.” Mikey laughed. “The search would have to be done by another woman.”
He turned his eyes on Toni. “Unless you want to waive that right.”
Toni fought her gag reflex again. “Thanks, Mikey, but you can already see we don’t have any weapons. Plus, like you said, there are no charges. You’re gonna let us out in a couple hours anyway. Why not save yourself some time?”
Mikey raised an eyebrow and Toni sugared up her statement with a smile. He laughed again. She wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.
“I guess you have a point there,” he said a moment later, stepping forward and removing the cuffs from Afrika’s wrists.
“It’s about time.” Afrika scowled. “Where’s my stuff?”
Mikey pulled a small plastic tray of items from behind the station desk and slid it over to Afrika.
Toni held up her wrists toward him expectantly
He glanced at her hands but didn’t reach for the keys. “You’ve been in here an awful lot lately. Maybe you need to sit in a cell a couple hours and cool off.”
Toni scowled.
“Or maybe you could help me change my mind,” he suggested. His eyes swept her frame again and she noticed his voice had ducked to a whisper.
“How about dinner again?” He leaned forward to drop the last words. “This time at my place.”
Toni resisted the urge to step back as the slightly rank smell from Mikey hit her. She would bet anything that homeboy had been rocking the same frowsy uniform all week. Nothing short of a gun to her head was putting her anywhere inside Mikey’s place.
“I don’t think so, Mikey,” Toni said, just as she heard the doors to the station open behind her.
He glanced up and nodded to the newcomer before moving around the desk and away. “Well then, I think I’m gonna have to take a little more time writing this release,” Mikey said stiffly. “I don’t want to miss anything important.”
He looked past Toni at the person behind her. “How can I help you?”
“I heard one of my kids was here. Rasheed Roper?”
“Oh yeah,” Mikey said, turning back to the desk and flipping through the stack of reports. “He got picked up with some other youngbloods near the old Bankhead Courts. Residents called it in--said they were a bit noisy. We found a little weed on a couple of them, but your kid was clean.”
Toni tapped her foot impatiently as she listened to the exchange. She glanced up at the clock--11:00. The Thursday morning edition would go to print in the next hour with or without her story. And if the latter was the case, all the crap that she had gone through tonight would be for nothing. She wasn’t having that--not after she’d had to beat out the other Metro section reporters for the front page.
“Let me get him and then you can sign him out.” Mikey turned away.
“Mikey”--Toni grabbed his arm before she lost him completely--“the cuffs?”
“Toni, we going or what?” Afrika asked from the door, a sour look plastered on her face.
“What did you say your kid’s name was?” Mikey looked past Toni as he started moving toward the back again.
“Rasheed Ro--”
“Come on, Mikey,” Toni whined, slapping the desk in frustration with her handcuffed palm. “You really gonna do me like this?”
“Like what? Girl, I never told you to get your behind locked up. You the shizzle up at the Atlanta Journal-Constitution. Tell your boss come bail you out.”
“Do I look like I have time for all that?” Toni shot back.
“Uh, hey, you think you could get Rasheed . . . ?”
Forget Rasheed.
“Can you just hold on? Your kid will still be a criminal in five minutes,” Toni snapped, swinging around to glare at the stranger who kept interrupting.
Her anger died on her lips when she saw exactly who was behind her. As she craned her neck to take in all of his six-foot-something frame, she couldn’t help but think of the fence she nearly broke her neck scaling less than an hour earlier. Now here was a brother who did not need a boost. And with his I-do-real-work-every-day arms he could have probably hoisted her over without breaking a sweat.
However, the expression on his gorgeously angular face told her he wasn’t inclined to do anything for her at that moment, except maybe help Mikey put her back in the holding cell. The slight downward turn of his full lips and the tightness in his strong jaw confirmed the irritation.
But, boy, did he make ticked off look good.




She was trouble personified.
Adam could tell before she even opened her pouty mouth. It was in her flushed cinnamon-toned skin, the dark inquisitive eyes, and the legs that he was mad at himself for looking at. Women with legs like hers shouldn’t be allowed to wear jeans that looked like they had been painted on. It was just wrong to mess with a brother’s head like that. Especially when he was trying to keep it PG-13 upstairs.
He felt bad for staring. But she kept looking at him with those huge eyes and he couldn’t turn away.
“You don’t look old enough to have grown kids,” she said after a moment.
“I think you got bigger things to worry about,” he said. “Like making it out of this place tonight. But it looks like you already have a plan for that.”
The big beautiful eyes turned into slits. “Maybe you shouldn’t be so quick to judge, seeing that I’m not the only one at the police station in the middle of the night.”
“Only one of us is wearing cuffs,” he shot back.
“It takes one to raise one,” Toni said. “In your case I’m sure the blunt wasn’t rolled far from the weed.”
“Whatever.” Her tongue was sharper than an army knife. He had nothing.
He didn’t even know why he was getting so riled. Maybe because he was ticked off that his day had had to end with him in a police station picking up Rasheed. But more likely it was because the woman in front of him was stealing more of his attention than he wanted to give. And the joker in the too-small uniform sexually harassing her was working his last nerve.
“All right, here he is,” Mikey said, returning from the back with a cross-looking Rasheed only a few steps ahead of him.
Adam felt the corners of his mouth drop into an even deeper frown. He saw Rasheed visibly tense when he saw him.
“Yo, Bayne, I wasn’t even doing anything!” he protested.
“I don’t wanna hear it, Rasheed,” Adam said, shaking his head. “Go sit over there, till I get through with this mess.
“You got something for me to sign?” he asked the sloppy officer.
Mikey nodded and began pulling together a sheet and clipboard for Adam.
“Toni, I’m calling a cab, and I’m leaving.”
So her name was Toni. Adam glanced back at the young woman standing at the door. She looked even more annoyed than he felt.
Toni turned back to the officer. Desperation and frustration fought for position on her face. “You really gonna make her leave me, Mikey? You know if I don’t get back and get this story in I’m done.”
Mikey shrugged as he handed Adam the clipboard.
“Say the word and you can be out of here right now,” Mikey answered.
Adam found himself hoping that Toni turned down whatever homeboy was offering. Instead, she stomped her foot, and uttered a word he used to use quite frequently before God put a noose on his tongue.
“Fine, I’ll do it,” she hissed through her teeth.
“Really?” Mikey said, sounding surprised. “I never actually thought--”
Mikey stopped short when he caught her glare. “So eight on Friday then?” He tried to whisper but Adam still heard him. Adam shook his head in disappointment.
“Whatever,” Toni said. “Just get me out of these.”
Mikey grinned as he fumbled with the keys and freed Toni’s hands from the restraints. With a look of pure annoyance, she snatched the release form from Mikey’s pudgy fingers and examined it. She probably wanted to make sure that whatever she had done didn’t end up on her record.
Adam frowned but began to scan the form in front of him. He just wanted to sign Rasheed out and be done with it. The night had gotten too weird. However, when Mikey leaned in a little too close to the woman, Adam couldn’t help but look up again. And when the rent-a-cop put his hand on Toni’s behind, Adam didn’t even think before he reacted.
“Brothah, you need to back up,” he said, stepping forward angrily. Who did this toy cop think he was?
But before he acted on his temptation to handle matters in a less verbal manner, the petite woman turned around and kneed the officer hard in a place so close to the groin that it made Adam shudder. Mikey hollered like a five-year-old and doubled over in pain.
“You think you feel something now?” Toni hissed at his bent over form. “You lucky I never put my foot where it really wanted to go.”
“Oh man, she got you!” Rasheed hollered with a laugh.
“If you ever put your hands on me again, you’ll be sorry you ever met me, you got that?” Toni snapped angrily in the officer’s ear.
Rasheed was still hooting in laughter as she stuffed the release into her pocket and grabbed her stuff out of the tray on the table. Adam stepped way out of her way as she stormed past him and through the door, pulling her friend behind her.
He glanced at the cop, still crouched over and holding on to the table for support, then at the door where Toni had just exited.
Yes. That woman was definitely trouble.




--End of Chapter One--

Friday, February 24, 2012

FIRST Wild Card Tour: Creative Slow-cooker meals by Cheryl Moeller

It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour 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!




You never know when I might play a wild card on you!





Today's Wild Card author is:




and the book:


Harvest House Publishers; Spi edition (February 1, 2012)

***Special thanks to Karri James, Marketing Assistant, Harvest House Publishers for sending me a review copy.***




ABOUT THE AUTHOR:


Cheryl Moeller is a seasoned mother and a standup comic. She is also a syndicated columnist with her own blog (www.momlaughs.blogspot.com) and contributes monthly to several online parent websites. Cheryl has coauthored two books on marriage with her husband and has written for www.mops.org and Marriage Partnership. Cheryl does comedy for parenting classes, MOPS groups, wedding or baby showers, church retreats, women’s conferences, and those in line at the grocery store.



Visit the author's website.







SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:








From the celebrated coauthor of The Marriage Miracle comes a new kind of cookbook and a new attitude toward planning meals. With an eye toward the whole menu, not just part of it, columnist Cheryl Moeller teaches cooks to use two crockpots to easily create healthy, homemade dinners.



Don’t worry about your dinner being reduced to a mushy stew. Each of the more than 200 recipes has been taste-tested at Cheryl’s table. Join the Moeller family as you dig into:

  • Harvest-time Halibut Chowder
  • Salmon and Gingered Carrots
  • Mediterranean Rice Pilaf
  • Indian Chicken Curry
  • Apricot-Pistachio Bread
  • Shrimp Creole
  • Rhubarb Crisp


... and many more! Perfect for the frazzled mom who never has enough time in the day, Creative Slow-Cooker Meals gives readers more time around the table with delicious, healthy, frugal, and easy meals!


Product Details:

List Price: $14.99

Spiral-bound: 272 pages

Publisher: Harvest House Publishers; Spi edition (February 1, 2012)

Language: English

ISBN-10: 0736944915

ISBN-13: 978-0736944915

My Review:
3.5 STARS


I was very excited when I got the chance to review this book for one big reason;  I don't have many ideas on what to cook in a  crock pot. 

There was lots of things I liked about this book and a few things I didn't like about it.  Let's start with the pros.  Love the spiral bound cover, makes reading easy! Love the variety of recipes like breakfast, desert, vegetarian, vegan, dairy free and gluten free!! I would have never thought of making breakfast or desert in my crock-pot so those ideas were extra fun!!  Using two crockpots was a new idea also that was pretty creative.

Now on to the cons.  I didn't like the categories.  It was a bit hard to find a specific recipe you liked because the categories weren't listed like "chicken, pasta, beef, soups, etc".  They were more like "Simple meals, etc".  I also didn't like the quantities weren't specific.  I wasn't sure if this recipe would feed my family of 4 or more or less. 

Now an example.  One of the recipes that I tried and really liked was sweet and sour chicken.  It was really easy to follow to the recipe, ingredients were easy to find.  It cooked just like they said it would and it tasted delicious! When I do the recipe again however, I will alter it a bit to fit my preferences better but overall it was really great.

In summary, this cookbook opened my eyes to different ways you can use a crock-pot, or two crockpots and I am happy to have this addition to my kitchen.

I received this book free from the publishers through FIRST Wild Card Tours in exchange for my personal and honest opinion.  All opinions are my own.



AND NOW...THE FIFTH CHAPTER (click on pages to enlarge):


























Wednesday, February 22, 2012

FIRST Wild Card Tour: Asenath by Anna Patricio

It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour 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!




You never know when I might play a wild card on you!








Today's Wild Card author is:




and the book:


Imajin Books (September 24, 2011)

***Special thanks to Anna Patricio for sending me a review copy.***


ABOUT THE AUTHOR:


Anna Patricio is a lover of ancient history, with a particular interest in Egypt, Israel, Greece, and Rome. She is also intrigued by the Ancient Near East, though she has not delved too much into it but hopes to one day.



She undertook formal studies in Ancient History at Macquarie University. She focused mostly on Egyptology and Jewish-Christian Studies, alongside a couple of Greco-Roman units, and one on Archaeology. Though she knew there were very limited job openings for ancient history graduates, she pursued her degree anyway as it was something she had always been passionate about.



Then, about a year after her graduation, the idea to tackle historical fiction appeared in her head, and she began happily pounding away on her laptop. ASENATH is her first novel.



Recently, she traveled to Lower Egypt (specifically Cairo and the Sinai), Israel, and Jordan. She plans to return to Egypt soon, and see more of it. In the past, she has also been to Athens and Rome.



Anna is currently working on a second novel, which still takes place in Ancient Egypt, but hundreds of years after ASENATH.



Visit the author's website.




SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:


Two Destinies...One Journey of Love



In a humble fishing village on the shores of the Nile lives Asenath, a fisherman's daughter who has everything she could want. Until her perfect world is shattered.



When a warring jungle tribe ransacks the village and kidnaps her, separating her from her parents, she is forced to live as a slave. And she begins a journey that will culminate in the meeting of a handsome and kind steward named Joseph.



Like her, Joseph was taken away from his home, and it is in him that Asenath comes to find solace...and love. But just as they are beginning to form a bond, Joseph is betrayed by his master's wife and thrown into prison.



Is Asenath doomed to a lifetime of losing everything and everyone she loves?









Product Details:

List Price: $13.99

Paperback: 222 pages

Publisher: Imajin Books (September 24, 2011)

Language: English

ISBN-10: 1926997263

ISBN-13: 978-1926997261



AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:







Egypt 1554 B.C.



The Nile had just flooded, leaving the ground moist, rich and black. The children of our riverside village, I among them, frolicked about in the cool, gooey earth. In the distance, the ancient river circled the land, glittering with a thousand tiny dancing lights from the sun-god's Boat of a Million Years. A breeze blew, rustling the branches of the palm trees that surrounded our home.

"Kiya!"

No sooner had I looked than a mud ball pelted me hard across the stomach.

"I'll get you for that, Menah." I bent down to gather mud in my hands when another ball landed on my back. He was a quick one, my best friend.

I had just formed a mud ball and was about to raise my arm when Menah suddenly charged forward and pounced on me.

"Now you'll get the tickle torture," he said in a mock evil voice.

"No, Menah. Please, no." But I was overcome by uncontrollable laughter.

"Menah! Kiya!" voices called out, interrupting our playful wrestling.

Our mothers approached.

"Come out now," my mother called. "It is time to prepare for the Feast of Hapi."

Covered in mud from head to toe, Menah and I scrambled toward them.

Mama shook her head, smiling. "You're such a mess."

She led me back to our hut.

"What is going to happen tonight, Mama?" I asked. "I mean, after we pray to Hapi? Will there be games?"

Mama's blue eyes twinkled against her brown skin. "I see no reason why there shouldn't be."

"And lots of food?"

"All the food you could ever want."

"May I wear my lotus necklace today?"

Years ago, when I was very young, Mama had given me a beautiful carved lapis lazuli lotus pendant strung on a simple piece of coarse rope. She told me it had been in her family for many generations and that her grandmother had received it from Hapi himself.

She ruffled my hair. "Of course. Today is, after all, a special day."

As we entered our mud hut, which had been my home since birth, I saw my father mending one of his fisherman's nets. When he saw me, he pretended to cower in fear.

"A mud monster has entered our house."

I laughed. "It's just me, Papa."

He leaned forward and squinted, as if trying to get a good look, though the gesture was comically exaggerated. "Is it? Let me see. Ah yes, it's my little Kiya."

He leapt to his feet, picked me up and swung me around, ignoring the mud that soiled his hands. I squealed with delight.

"Nakhti," Mama said. "I have to get her ready."

"Yes." Papa set me down. He gave me a gentle slap across the back, motioning for me to return to Mama.

"I get to wear the lotus today, Papa."

He smiled. "I am sure you will look very pretty."

Later that afternoon, four priests from a nearby town passed by our village. They shouldered on poles our patron god's idol, which nestled upon a bed of water lilies. A ray of sunlight bounced off the golden image and it flashed with brilliance. Behind the god was a small train of dancing priestesses. They rattled sistrums and twirled around, their white dresses billowing out like clouds.

My fellow villagers and I were assembled outside our village, awaiting the god's arrival. When he appeared, we fell to our knees and touched our foreheads to the sandy ground.

"Glorious Hapi," my father intoned. "We thank you for once again allowing your water to flow and give life. We thank you for nourishing our land and our people. We pray your sacred pitchers never cease to flow. We thank you, great god of the Nile."

My heart swelled with pride. Papa was the most renowned fisherman in our village. Though he was quite an old man - many years older than my mother - he possessed skills and strength that surpassed even those of the younger generations. Everyone thus hailed him as the favoured of the river god.

"Praise be to you, Hapi," I echoed along with the rest of my fellow villagers.

As the idol trailed away, we rose to our feet and gathered up the amulets and flowers, which we would be tossing into the Nile as offerings. It was sunset now and sheer red-orange skies cast a fiery glow upon the river's rippling surface. From a distance, we heard the warbling of river fowl and the screeching of monkeys.

We approached the riverbank. It was still soft and muddy from the inundation. We tossed our offerings in. All the while, Papa chanted hymns of praise. Afterward, we returned to the village for what we children had been anticipating the most - the games.

A kind, respectable widow named Mekten, whom everyone called "Village Mother", held a game called the "statue dance." She played a reed flute while we danced and would stop at random moments without warning. We had to freeze as soon as the music stopped. Those who were still dancing were out of the game.

My friends and I loved it so much that Mekten held several rounds of it. Unfortunately, I always lost, as I always got so caught up in the liveliness of the game. However, she awarded me a small spinning top as a prize for being the best dancer.

I danced so much that I could barely keep my eyes open as we later sat down to the feast. Papa picked me up and carried me back to our hut. I was too tired to protest. As soon as he lay me down, I fell into a deep sleep.

That night, I dreamt I was on a great winged barque sailing along the Nile. It was a bright day, with the white-golden Egyptian sun shining gloriously and flocks of ibises and herons gleaming against the clear blue sky. A group of friendly monkeys, like those who usually wandered near my family's hut, kept me company on the deck, entertaining me with their hilarious antics.

Suddenly, the skies darkened and the water began to thrash against the barque. The monkeys leapt up and down, screeching frantically. I grabbed onto the rail.

Thunder rumbled. Fierce white waves threatened to haul us overboard. The barque tipped to a dangerous level and I began to scream.

Waking, I placed my hand over my heart, which was pounding fiercely. I was about to heave a sigh of relief when I heard the rumbling from my dream. I sat up, my chest constricting in fear once more. The noise sounded like it was coming from outside our hut.

The rumbling stopped.

I heard a strange voice shouting in a language I could not understand.

My father appeared beside me. In the dim light, I could see the outline of his bony profile as he knelt by my side.

"What's that noise, Papa?"

He put his arms around me and before he could answer, a chilling scream sliced through the air. Other screams followed. Soon, the air was filled with a frightening cacophony - screams, cries and more shouts in that strange language.

Papa's grip on me tightened. "Come, Kiya. We must hide you."

The door of our hut flew open.

Two enormous, fearsome-looking warriors towered like the tallest trees. Their faces were thickly painted in bright, garish colours. They wore loincloths made of animal skin and peculiar pointed headdresses that emphasised their unusual height. In their hands were spears that glinted threateningly.

Mama screamed.

One of the warriors shouted something, while waving toward us. Another dashed forward and snatched me out of Papa's protective hold.

"Papa!"

The monster hauled me outside.

I kicked and flailed. "Papa!"

"Kiya!" Papa hurried after me.

Alas, though he was strong and agile, he was no match for these giants. They ran with such enormous strides that in no time he was out of sight.

"Papa?" I writhed about in the warrior's iron grip. "Papa!"

I felt a blow to the back of my head and the world turned black.

Cold water slapped my face. When I opened my eyes, I was staring into the massive painted face of my captor.

"Get up," he snarled. His breath was fouler than rotten fish.

I struggled to my feet. Though I was still in a daze, I dared not disobey.

The warrior grabbed my arm and led me through pitch-black darkness. I was certain he was going to kill me. My chest tightened with fear.

He led me out into a brightly lit clearing. It looked like we were in the midst of a dense jungle. A campfire crackled at the centre where the warrior's comrades sat feasting and talking.

Relief washed over me when I noticed my fellow villagers huddled together at the far end. Menah was with them.

I smiled. "Menah!"

The warrior slapped me hard across the face. "You are not to speak. If you do so again, we will kill you."

I shuddered, though I was less frightened than before now that I knew I was not alone.

The warrior dragged me over to the villagers and shoved me amongst them. "Stay with them. No talking and no trying to escape." He glared at us, then went to the fire to join the others.

Menah took my hand.

"Where are my parents?" I asked in a bare whisper.

He looked at me sadly and shook his head.

I knew what that meant. They were not there.

I suddenly threw up.

In a flash, the warrior was before us. "What's going on here?"

No one answered.

"She felt sick and vomited," our village mother Mekten said finally.

The warrior turned to his comrades and said something in their language. They laughed boisterously. He shook his head and returned to them.

Tears spilled from my eyes. Menah held me and rocked me, comforting me. I sobbed for a long time, eventually crying myself to sleep.

What followed was an arduous journey through the jungle. The scorching sun was merciless and mosquitoes bit my arms, legs and face. The entire time, our captors threatened to murder us and I might have actually died with despair had it not been for the familiar faces around me.

I do not know how far we travelled, but just as I thought we would perish, one of the warriors announced we had reached our destination.

It was early evening. We were led toward a tribal encampment illuminated by a towering bonfire. Drumbeats pounded in my ears as we drew nearer. When we entered the camp, I saw tents made of dyed animal hides, as well as poles topped with the decapitated heads of people and animals. I averted my eyes, trying to erase the horrific images from my head.

The drums were deafening as the tribespeople surrounded us. Like our captors, they were wrapped in animal skins. Their bodies were pierced in just about every part and painted in bright colours. I shuddered when a small child with painted teeth and a pierced nose came over and poked at my face.

My fellow villagers and I were lined up in front of the bonfire. I thought for sure they would murder us. I whimpered as one of the warriors strode up to us. I recognised him. He had entered my family's hut.

The warrior paced the length of our row. "Do you know why you are all here?"

No one answered.

He glared at us. "Many years ago, your Pharaoh murdered our chieftain. I am that chieftain's son and will now avenge my father's death. Until your king makes amends, we will continue to destroy your wretched country. If he does not, we will fight until Egypt is no more."

As he reached me, he stopped pacing and smiled, revealing crooked yellow teeth. "What is your name, little girl?" His voice was gentle.

"K-Kiya," I squeaked.

"What a beautiful girl you are. Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?"

I did not answer.

"How old are you?"

"Nine."

"Ah. Perfect." His hideous grin widened. "You will be my slave, Kiya. And when your red moon comes, you will become my bride."

I stared at him, too horrified to speak.

He stepped forward. "That flower around your neck goes very well with your lovely face." He fingered the lotus pendant and I pulled back.

"Where are my parents?" I blurted.

"We left them behind, little one. We have no use for them." He laughed cruelly.

My fear was replaced by rage. "I want my parents. Bring me back to my parents."

One of the warriors rushed toward me, but the chieftain held up his hand. He stared into space for a moment. "Very well. If you work hard, I will send for your parents by the time you and I are ready to marry."

My anger began to abate. "You mean that?" I looked into his dark eyes, which were surrounded by a strange painted pattern of dots.

"Yes. So what do you say, little Kiya? Are you going to work hard?"

I hated that he called me "little Kiya." It sounded like he was trying to replace Papa. But I knew that if I wanted to see my parents again, I had to be obedient and silent.

I nodded.

"Good," he said, turning away.

"What is a red moon?" I asked.

Some of my fellow villagers stared at me, aghast, while the tribespeople roared with laughter.

The chieftain approached Mekten. "Be Kiya's advisor and explain to her what a red moon is. I am sure you know full well." He winked at her.

I felt sick at that gesture, even though I did not understand what it meant.

Mekten nodded in submission.

The chieftain waved his arm, inviting his people to pick slaves from among us.

A tall, thin woman with large bone earrings and a cold expression led Mekten and I to the chieftain's large tent. When we stepped inside, I nearly screamed. The place was festooned with more disembodied animal heads, as well as enormous wooden masks with frightening expressions. The dim light from torches cast shadows on the eerie things, making them look almost alive.

The tribeswoman pointed to a dirty mat at the far end of the tent. "You will sleep there. Go now." Mekten and I headed for the mat, but the tribeswoman grabbed Mekten's arm. "Not you. You will stay here."

I stared at them, confused, and the woman glared at me. "Go!"

I hurried over to the mat as the tribeswoman extinguished the torch, plunging the tent into complete darkness.

All was silent. Then the tent's flap rose, revealing the bulky profile of the chieftain. He shuffled inside and the flap swung closed.

Not long after, I heard Mekten crying out in fear and pain. Heavy breathing followed. The louder Mekten screamed, the heavier the breathing grew.

Though I had no idea what was happening, I knew I was hearing something bad. I covered my ears, but it was no use. Similar screams rose from the neighbouring tents. I slept amongst nightmares, waking at times to the sound of terrified cries and heartbreaking sobbing.

The following morning, Mekten acted scared of everything and everyone, which wasn't like her. I wanted to make her feel better, but I didn't know how. Even the most trivial things I did frightened her.

Throughout the day, I kept a distance from her. But at times, I tried to reach out to her. She was, after all, one of our dearest family friends.

"Mekten," I said in a timid voice. "What is a red moon?"

Mekten looked at me with sad eyes. Finally, she took a deep breath and explained everything in a shaky voice before breaking down.