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The apprenticeship is over— now the real test has begun.

When word that Yelena is a Soulfinder—able to capture and release souls—spreads like wildfire, people grow uneasy. Already Yelena's unusual abilities and past have set her apart. As the Council debates Yelena's fate, she receives a disturbing message: a plot is rising against her homeland, led by a murderous sorcerer she has defeated before.…

Honor sets Yelena on a path that will test the limits of her skills, and the hope of reuniting with her beloved spurs her onward. Her journey is fraught with allies, enemies, lovers and would-be assassins, each of questionable loyalty. Yelena will have but one chance to prove herself—and save the land she holds dear.

• Sales Rank: #273461 in Books
• Brand: Snyder, Maria V.
• Published on: 2008-02-19
• Released on: 2008-02-19
• Ingredients: Example Ingredients
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Dimensions: 8.00" h x 1.20" w x 5.13" l,
• Binding: Paperback
• 400 pages

From Publishers Weekly
Fans of high-spirited adventure, intrigue and romance will celebrate the third book (after 2007's Magic Study) in the saga of reluctant mage and diplomat Yelena Zaltana. The news that Yelena is a Soulfinder, able to manipulate the spirits of the dead and the living, hasn't made her popular with the inhabitants of Sitia's Magician's Keep, since the last Soulfinder turned people into mindless slaves. First Magician Roze Featherstone's hostility toward Yelena increases until the Sitian Council decides to send Yelena north as diplomatic liaison to the rival nation of Ixia. When Roze takes over the council, imprisoning her rivals and driving the nation to the brink of war with Ixia, Yelena is caught between her duties as liaison, her love for Ixian intelligence officer Valek and her fear of her own power, which she must embrace fully to defeat Roze and restore the council. Snyder delivers another excellent adventure, deftly balancing international and local hostilities against Yelena's personal struggles. (Mar.)
Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.

About the Author

Maria V. Snyder is the New York Times bestselling author of the Study series, the Glass series, the Healer series, Inside Out, and Outside In. Born and raised in Philadelphia, she earned a Bachelors of Science degree in Meteorology from Penn State and a Master of Arts degree in fiction writing from Seton Hill University. Unable to part ways with Seton Hill, Maria is currently a teacher and mentor for the MFA program. Find her on the Web at MariaVSnyder.com.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.


"That's pathetic, Yelena," Dax complained.

"An all-powerful Soulfinder who isn't all-powerful. Where's the fun in that?" He threw up his long thin arms in mock frustration.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not the one who attached the 'all-powerful' to the title." I pulled a black strand of hair from my eyes. Dax and I had been working on expanding my magical abilities without success. As we practiced on the ground f loor of Irys's Keep tower—well, mine too, since she has given me three f loors to use—I tried not to let my own aggravation interfere with the lessons.

Dax was attempting to teach me how to move objects with magic. He had rearranged the furniture, lined up the plush armchairs in neat rows and turned the couch over on its side with his power. My efforts to restore Irys's cozy layout and to stop an end table from chasing me failed. Though not from lack of trying—my shirt clung to my sweaty skin.

A sudden chill shook me. Despite a small fire in the hearth, the rugs and the closed shutters, the living room was icy. The white marble walls, while wonderful during the hot season, sucked all the heat from the air throughout the cold season. I imagined the room's warmth following the stone's green veins and escaping outside.

Dax Greenblade, my friend, tugged his tunic down. Tall and lean, his physique matched a typical Greenblade Clan member. He reminded me of a blade of grass, including a sharp edge— his tongue.

"Obviously you have no ability to move objects, so let's try fire. Even a baby can light a fire!" Dax placed a candle on the table.

"A baby? Now you're really exaggerating. Again." A person's ability to access the power source and perform magic manifested at puberty.

"Details. Details." Dax waved a hand as if shooing a f ly. "Now concentrate on lighting this candle."

I cocked an eyebrow at him. So far, all my efforts on inanimate items were for naught. I could heal my friend's body, hear his thoughts and even see his soul, but when I reached for a thread of magic and tried to use it to move a chair, nothing happened.

Dax held up three tan fingers. "Three reasons why you should be able to do this. One, you're powerful. Two, you're tenacious. And three, you've beat Ferde, the Soulstealer."

Who had escaped, and was free to start another soul-stealing spree. "Reminding me of Ferde is helping me how…?"

"It's supposed to be a pep talk. Do you want me to list all the heroic deeds you've—"

"No. Let's get on with the lesson." The last thing I wanted was to hear Dax recite the latest gossip. The news about my being a Soulfinder had spread through the Magician's Keep like dandelion seeds carried by a strong wind. And I still couldn't think about the title without a cringe of doubt, worry and fear touching my heart.

I pushed all distracting thoughts aside and connected to the power source. The power blanketed the world, but only magicians could pull threads of magic from it to use. I gathered a strand to me and directed it to the candle, willing a f lame to form.

Nothing.

"Try harder," Dax said.

Increasing the power, I aimed again.

Behind the candle, Dax's face turned red and he sputtered as if suppressing a cough. A f lash seared my eyes as the wick ignited.

"That's rude." His outraged expression was comical.

"You wanted it lit."

"Yeah, but I didn't want to do it for you!" He glanced around the room as if seeking the patience to deal with an unruly child. "Zaltanas and their weird powers, forcing me to light the candle. Pah! To think I wanted to live vicariously through your adventures."

"Watch what you say about my clan. Or I'll…" I cast about for a good threat.

"You'll what?"

"I'll tell Second Magician where you disappear to every time he pulls one of those old books off his shelf." Bain was Dax's mentor, and, while the Second Magician delighted in ancient history, Dax would rather learn the newest dance steps.

"Okay, okay. You win and you've proved your point. No ability to light a fire. I'll stick to translating ancient languages." Dax made a dour face. "And you stick to finding souls." He teased, but I sensed an undercurrent to his words.

His uneasiness over my abilities was for excellent reasons. The last Soulfinder was born in Sitia about a hundred and fifty years ago. During his short life, he had turned his enemies into mindless slaves and almost succeeded in his quest to rule the country. Most Sitians didn't react well to the news about another Soulfinder.

The awkward moment passed as a mischievous glint lit Dax's bottle-green eyes. "I'd better go. I have to study. We have a history test tomorrow. Remember?"

I groaned, thinking of the large tome waiting for me.

"Your knowledge of Sitian history is also pathetic."

"Two reasons." I held up my fingers. "One, Ferde Daviian. Two, the Sitian Council."

Dax gestured with his hand.

Before he could say anything, I said, "I know. Details, details."

He smiled and wrapped his cloak around him, letting in a gust of arctic wind as he left. The f lames in the hearth pulsed for a moment before settling. I drew closer, warming my hands over the fire. My thoughts returned to those two reasons.

Ferde was a member of the unsanctioned Daviian Clan, who were a renegade group of the Sandseed Clan. The Daviians wanted more from life than wandering the Avibian Plains and telling stories. On a power quest, Ferde had kidnapped and tortured twelve girls to steal their souls and increase his magical power. Valek and I had stopped him before he could complete his quest.

An ache for Valek pumped in my heart. I touched his butterf ly pendant hanging from my neck. He had returned to Ixia a month ago, but I missed him more each day. Perhaps I should get myself into a life-threatening situation. He had a knack for showing up when I most needed him.

Unfortunately, those times were fraught with danger and there hadn't been many chances to just be with each other. I longed to be assigned a boring diplomatic mission to Ixia.

The Sitian Council wouldn't approve the trip until they decided what to do with me. Eleven clan leaders and four Master Magicians comprised the Council, and they had argued about my new role of Soulfinder all this past month. Of the four Masters, Irys Jewelrose, Fourth Magician, was my strongest supporter and Roze Featherstone, First Magician, was my strongest detractor.

I stared at the fire, following the dance of f lames along the logs. My thoughts lingered on Roze. The randomness of the blaze stopped. The f lames moved with a purpose, divided and gestured as if on a stage.

Odd. I blinked. Instead of returning to normal, the blaze grew until it filled my vision and blocked out the rest of the room. The bright patterns of color stabbed my eyes. I closed them, but the image remained. Apprehension rolled along my skin. Despite my strong mental barrier, a magician wove magic around me.

Caught, I watched as the fire scene transformed into a lifelike picture of me. Flame Me bent over a prone body. A soul rose from the body, which I then inhaled. The soulless body stood and Flame Me pointed to another figure. Turning, the body stalked the new person and then strangled him.

Alarmed, I tried to stop the fire vision to no avail. I was forced to observe myself make more soulless people, who all went on a massive killing spree. An opposing army attacked. Fire swords f lashed. Flames of blood splattered. I would have been impressed with the magician's level of artistic detail if I hadn't been horrified by the blazing carnage.

In time, my army was extinguished and I was caught in a net of fire. Flame Me was dragged, chained to a post and doused with oil.

I snapped back to my body. Standing next to the hearth, I still felt the web of magic around me. It contracted and tiny f lames erupted on my clothes.

And spread.

I couldn't stop the advance with my power. Cursing my lack of fire skill, I wondered why I didn't possess this magical talent.

An answer echoed in my mind. Because we need a way to kill you.

I stumbled away from the blaze. Sweat poured down my back as the sound of sizzling blood vibrated in my ears. All moisture f led my mouth and my heart cooked in my chest. The hot air seared my throat. The smell of charred f lesh filled my nose and my stomach heaved. Pain assaulted every inch of my skin.

No air to scream.

I rolled around the f loor, trying to smother the fire.

I burned.

The magical attack stopped, releasing me from the torment. I dropped to the f loor and breathed in the cool air.

"Yelena, what happened?" Irys touched an icy hand to my forehead. "Are you all right?"

My mentor and friend peered down at me. Concern lined her face and filled her emerald eyes. "I'm fine." My voice croaked, setting off a coughing fit. Irys helped me sit up.

"Look at your clothes. Did you set yourself on fire?"

Black soot streaked the fabric and burn holes peppered my sleeves and skirt/pants. Beyond repair, I would have to ask my cousin, Nutty, to sew me another set. I sighed. I should just order a hundred of the cotton tunics and skirt/pants from her to save time. Events, including magical attacks, conspired to keep my life interesting.

"A magician sent me a message through the fire," I explained. Even though I knew Roze possessed the strongest magic in Sitia, and could bypass my mental defenses, I didn't want to accuse her without proof.

Before Irys could question me further, I asked, "How did the Council session go?" I hadn't been allowed to attend. Although the rainy weather wasn't conducive for walking to the Council Hall, it still rankled.

The Council wanted me well-versed in all the issues they dealt with on a daily basis as part of my training to be a Liaison between them and the Territory of Ixia. My training as a Soul-finder, though, remained a subject the Council hadn't agreed on. According to Irys's theory, my reluctance to begin learning could be the cause of the Council's indecision. I thought they worried I would follow the same path as the Soulfinder from long ago once I discovered the extent of my powers.

"The session…" Her lips twisted in a wry smile. "Good and bad. The Council has agreed to support your training." She paused.

I steeled myself for the next bit of news.

"Roze was…upset about the decision."

"Upset?"

"Fiercely opposed."

At least now I knew the motive behind my fire message.

"She still thinks you're a threat. So the Council has agreed to let Roze train you."

I scrambled to my feet. "No."

"It's the only way."

I bit back a reply. There were other options. There had to be. I was in the Magician's Keep, surrounded by magicians of various skill levels. There had to be another who could work with me. "What about you or Bain?"

"They wanted a mentor who was impartial. Out of the four Masters, that left Roze."

"But she's not—"

"I know. This could be beneficial. Working with Roze, you'll be able to convince her you're not out to rule the country. She'll understand your desire to help both Sitia and Ixia."

My doubtful expression remained.

"She doesn't like you, but her passion for keeping Sitia a safe and free place to live will override any personal feelings."

Irys handed me a scroll, stopping my sarcastic comment on Roze's personal feelings. "This arrived during the Council session."

I opened the message. In tight-printed letters was an order from Moon Man. It read, Yelena,I have found what you seek.Come.

Most helpful customer reviews

42 of 44 people found the following review helpful.
May contain spoilers
By Margaret S.
Fire Study the final book in Snyder's trilogy was the weakest link of all three books. The series began very strongly with Poison Study and went downhill from there.

The book could have easily removed 200 pages and would have been better for it. I felt the author lost the passion for the storyline and was just rushing to finish it off.

Snyder left her roots of interweaving a story of magic and a fantasy world where Yelena learns to adjust to her increasing powers and removal from Ixia. Instead we have a repetitious action adventure plot missing the magical world the author had previously created.

Any magic that was used was extremely repetitive (Curare and Theobroma) and the fight scenes which were easily over half of the book were very repetitive. The main characters are out numbered, rendered paralyzed with Curare, captured, escape, Kiki needs to kick someone to save Yelena, and they all meet at the rendezvous point about 20 times. This followed with around 20 pages of repetitive bow staff fighting amongst friends. Not exactly exciting stuff there.

The rogue Warpers motivations seemed disorganized which proved to be a very serious failed opportunity to add a very interesting component to the story.

The main characters did not grow or form closer bonds with each other. Holes within their personal history were not filled in. I did not learn anything new about the fascinating people, history, or culture of Sitia or Ixia. The plot also follows the same line as the first books, children of children being harvested for the power of others. Yelena coming into her own to harvest and control her powers seemed improbable as the challenges put before her were more physical in nature. I did not see a personal growth that brought the story together for me.

The ending was decently strong although it was rushed. Ironically, it opened me up to wanting to know more about Sitia, Ixia, Yelena, and the supporting characters. Had the book started out with the same passion it ended with the trilogy would have ended with a great success.

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
awesome book
By TruRvw
Maria Snyder is awesome! This happens to be the third book in the series, poison study being the first. Without spoiling anyting the main charecter basically is searching to discover who she really is. Granted their is more to it then that such as magic assassins a commander who is anti magic even though his mother unknowingly posessed some, sorry if that was a spoiler, doesn't play a huge part of the book but you understand he a little better once that part of the book is unraveled.

Continue reading the Ixia series with Glass Study and her most recent book in the series, Night study. The glass study you only see glimpses of the main charecters in the first three books, but Night Study you are back in full swing with Valek and Yelena.

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
It lives up to the expectations of where we left off in the first 2 study books, and keeps you on your toes
By Amanda H
The Poison Study books are one of my favorite book series. Fire Study is the 3rd book in the series from Maria V Snyder, and it definitely didn't disappoint me. It lives up to the expectations of where we left off in the first 2 study books, and keeps you on your toes. You get to follow the adventures and dangers of Yelena and Valek as they, once again, stumble into the dangers that seem to attract them. More than once I found myself yelling in my head, and hoped the book wouldn't end. It is one that I really enjoyed reading, and I'm glad I bought it for my library.

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From the highly acclaimed author of The Book of Summers comes a tale of love, lies and innocence lost 

For Hadley Dunn, life has been predictable and uneventful. But that is before she spends her second year of college abroad in Lausanne, a glamorous Swiss city on the shores of Lake Geneva. Lausanne is imbued with the boundless sense of freedom Hadley has been seeking, and it is here she meets Kristina, a beautiful but mysterious Danish girl. The two bond quickly, but as the first snows of winter arrive, tragedy strikes. 

Driven by guilt and haunted by suspicion, Hadley resolves to find the truth about what really happened that night, and so begins a search that will consume her, the city she loves, and the lives of two very different men. Set against the backdrop of a uniquely captivating city, The Swiss Affair is an evocative portrayal of a journey of discovery and a compelling exploration of how our connections—with people, with places—make us who we are.

• Sales Rank: #2520956 in Books
• Published on: 2014-01-28
• Released on: 2014-01-28
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Dimensions: 8.26" h x 1.00" w x 5.42" l, .60 pounds
• Binding: Paperback
• 384 pages

Review
"Hall deftly captures Hadley's transformation, set against the beautiful canvas of a picturesque Swiss city."-Publishers Weekly on The Swiss Affair

"Breathtaking... Readers will appreciate the solid, artistic, beautifully descriptive quality of Emylia Hall's writing." -Bookreporter.com on The Book of Summers

"Tender and lovely....This is a novel I will keep on my bookshelf forever."

-Rebecca Rasmussen, author of The Bird Sisters

"Elegantly written and intensely intimate.... A moving, poetic debut!"

-Marisa de los Santos, bestselling author of Love Walked In and Falling Together

"In her thoroughly enchanting debut, Hall casts a spell with this coming-of-age tale that feels... 'like magic caught and held.'"

-Booklist

"A poignant tale of a daughter strung between two parents and of the kind of silence and secrets that destroy families."

-Kirkus Review

"Hall's lovely and haunting debut...will entrance readers."

-Publisher's Weekly

"A beautifully written debut novel capturing the light and shadow of memory and shared lives. A good choice for book clubs."

-Library Journal

"With writing that is poignant and filled with emotion...this story will stay in the heart for a long time. It's a definite keeper."

-RT Book Reviews, 4 ½ Stars, Top Pick!

"Bold, joyful, carefree...Vivid and beguiling."

-Sacramento Book Review

About the Author

Emylia Hall’s short fiction has appeared in a number of publications, and she was dubbed by Elle magazine (UK) as one of 2012’s three most anticipated debut novelists. She lives in the UK with her husband, who is also an author. The Book of Summers is Emylia’s first novel and is inspired by her childhood memories of vacations spent in rural Hungary.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.


Hadley Dunn was in Switzerland by accident, really. She'd never imagined that she could study abroad, thinking it was only for fast-tongued linguists, or almond-eyed Parisian pinups, the kind of girls who smoked cigarettes through pouted lips and drank their coffee black. Yet one moment, on a featureless February day, the idea came to her. She might have dismissed it as an idle daydream, but it planted itself with inexplicable solidity and continued to grow.

She had arrived for her seminar early and noticed someone flicking through a brochure for L'Institut Vaudois before class. It was Carla, a girl with a brisk bob and studious oblongs for glasses. She'd talked over Hadley in the last lecture, interrupting her as she'd tried to get to the bottom of the professor's obtuse requests for further reading.

"Are we paired with Lausanne, then?" Hadley asked, as she took the seat next to her.

"Paired? This isn't a school exchange. There's an understanding between our two universities and the English departments. They'll swap a student, just one a year. And it's pronounced 'Low-zan' not 'Law-sahn.'"

"Low-zan. Why only one?"

Carla shrugged, and her mouth pursed.

"No idea, but I can't imagine many people will apply. Switzerland's a really expensive place to live."

"Oh, is it in Switzerland? Cool. Can I see?" asked Hadley, leaning over so that she could get a better look. The picture showed an important-looking building made of glass and chrome, set before a lawn that was neat as a bowling green and fell all the way to the edge of a great lake.

"Don't you live at home still?" said Carla.

"Yes," said Hadley.

Behind the building ran a band of spiked mountains. They were ice-white against the blue of the sky, and looked as though someone had painted them in as an afterthought, a flash of inspiration from a stagehand. Hadley took the brochure from Carla and inspected it closer. Surely no university in the world could be ringed by views like that.

"So, this is just your nearest university? You didn't choose it, as such?"

Hadley finally tore herself from the page and looked up.

"Of course I chose it," she said. "Anyway, what does that have to do with anything?"

As her school friends had headed north and south, east and west, Hadley had stayed where she was. She'd enrolled at her local university, only a short bus ride from where she lived with her parents and little brother in Tonridge. Sam had arrived unexpectedly four years earlier, a bundle of sweetness, hilarity and unending demands. Her mum's laughter lines ran deeper than ever these days, and her dad's hair had turned a heavily seasoned salt-and-pepper. If she'd left home, they would have felt her absence acutely. Who would have shifted the peas on Sam's plate so that they made a smiley face, or helped start a snail farm in the bottom of a bucket? Not to mention all the babysitting. When Hadley read the letters from her far-flung friends, she saw between the lines. For all the tales of late-night fun, skipped lectures, easy love and easier lust, there were stacks of unwashed dishes in communal sinks, inane conversation over squares of toast, and life lived in an all-seeing goldfish bowl; she told herself these weren't the things to tempt her away from home in the name of supposed freedom, and most of the time she believed it.

"I'm just saying," said Carla, "you have to be adventurous to study abroad."

"It'd be an amazing adventure."

"And it doesn't suit everyone."

Hadley suppressed a smile. "You mean it wouldn't suit me?" she said.

She might not have yearned for a wider world, but that didn't mean she never wondered about it. She observed the other students, the ones who drove themselves to campus at the start of term, their backseats loaded with bent lamps and potted palms, or walked from the train station, weighted by rucksacks, arms still tanned from some foreign adventure; these people seemed to blow in from another world entirely, and they struck her as curious. They seemed to be already fully formed, passing effortlessly from school, through university and then into the rest of their freewheeling lives. Beside them, Hadley felt the novice, her lack of experience as glaring as a white sheet. She had an easy faith, however, that exciting things would happen to her one day. And when that day came, she'd be ready.

Behind her glasses Carla's eyes were mud-brown and unblinking. She didn't answer Hadley's question; instead she gave a prim little smile and clicked her fingers for the brochure. Hadley stared at her. She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again. She handed the brochure back reluctantly, and Carla returned it to her bag. The professor, a crowlike man who always smelled of egg sandwiches and old coffee, sloped into the room and fumbled with his briefcase at the front of the class. Hadley opened a can of Coke and settled back into her seat. He began to talk about the Victorians and the Industrial Revolution, but she was hardly listening. She was thinking about the mountains, and what it would be like to live so close to them, and whether they'd make any sound at all, because how could something that massive loom silently? Wouldn't there be cracks and whispers and whistling winds? Would you grow used to it, that stolid, eternal presence, and carry on with life as if it was ordinary? A different kind of ordinary, but ordinary nonetheless. More likely you'd spend all day gazing skyward, happy as a mayfly.

A week later, just as the department secretary was counting the last of the applications to study abroad, Hadley tossed hers into the pile.

"The deadline was 5:00 p.m., I'm afraid," she said, glancing up. Her expression was unreadable. The shutters were drawn over her eyes.

"Seriously?" said Hadley. "But it's only half past."

"Rules are rules."

Hadley sank her head onto the countertop. The secretary shifted her cup of tea and carried on flicking through the paperwork, first extracting her form as though it were a weed.

"It's just, I've spent the last week deciding if I wanted to apply or not," Hadley said, "I never thought anything could be so exciting and terrifying at the same time."

In front of her the papers were still being shuffled, stacks of neat handwriting, no doubt full of professions of suitability and promises of exceptional academic achievement. Carla had been wrong about no one wanting to apply.

"I thought that there was no way I could afford it," she said, "but then I found out that there were grants available, so that made me rethink everything." Hadley laid her hand on the secretary's arm and felt her flinch beneath her light touch. "Please," she went on, "I mean, I suddenly realized that I really do want to go. I probably won't get picked, but I want to at least try. I filled out the form as quickly as I could. Look, the Wite-Out is still drying."

There was a moment's silence. Along the hall, doors were slamming, signaling the end of the day.

"What if I just slip itin to the pile?" said Hadley. "We can pretend it's been there all along."

"Oh, quickly, then," the secretary said without looking up.

Hadley flung her arms up and leaned over the counter, offering a messy sort of hug.

The older lady stayed as stiff as a rod. "Don't make me change my mind," she said.

Three weeks later Hadley received a letter, of no more than four or five typewritten lines, telling her that her application had been successful. It took a moment for the news to sink in. Just like that, she'd swapped a year at home for a year abroad. A path had been laid out for her, and she had been happy enough staying on it; would so sudden and dramatic a swerve change the course of Fate? She didn't rush to accept her place. She wondered if she'd been right to want it.

It was her mum who finally convinced her to go. They were washing up together one night after dinner when Had-ley stopped and stared out the kitchen window. The view was of the house next door, line after line of perfect brickwork. The pointed tops of a wooden fence broke the rhythm at neat intervals. Her mum squeezed her hand.

"Sorry, I was miles away," said Hadley, with a smile. She returned her attention to the dirty dishes.

"We never want to hold you back," her mum said.

"But you don't____" she began.

"Hadley, look at me. Sometimes I don't know what your dad and I would have done without you. But Sam starts school in September. Everything changes."

"I know. I've thought about that."

"There's a whole world out there," she said, looking into her eyes with pearly intent. "Perhaps it's time to take it. Take it with both hands, and don't regret anything for a minute."

Sometimes it turned out that people delivered their most important words when they were wearing splattered aprons, their hands awash with soapsuds.

At the airport her mum pressed her into a tight hug, her hair snarling in Hadley's earrings, their tears switching cheeks. Sam handed her a scribbled drawing of a stick girl and a roly-poly snowman with a string of podgy mountains in the background; Hadley dropped a kiss on it before folding it carefully away. Her dad insisted on carrying her cases, wanting to be useful until the last. He promised that they would save up for a visit in the summer, at which point Hadley's mum broke into a song from The Sound of Music. Thereafter followed a deliberately chirpy argument about whether the film was set in Austria or Switzerland, and Hadley's dad admitted to a crush on Julie Andrews. In the end the last boarding call for Geneva rattled over the speakers, and she knew she had to go. She turned one last time to catch her family waving vigorously. She had the distinct feeling that she was breaking some small thing, a binding thread that would stretch tauter and tauter until it gave up, just because it had to. She waved and waved, then pelted for the plane.

Once in her seat, Hadley took a breath and sank back into the silence of the skies. She turned the name Lausanne over and over, and it rolled across her tongue like a new kiss. It was her secret city, for hardly anyone had heard of it. Even Carla had admitted as much at the end of term, as she'd wished Hadley bon voyage with surprising grace. Then she had ruined it, in one deft move. "All I can think," she said, "is that perhaps it's not as nice as it looks."

It was late afternoon, and the September sun was still burning brightly, filling the train carriage with summer's last light. From Geneva to Lausanne the railway tracks followed the length of Lac Léman's shore. Hadley caught flashes of glistening water and saw the purple outlines of mountains rising behind. To the other side were sweeping vineyards and fields of swollen pumpkins. Now and again she saw a boxy château with closed shutters and high gates, and hillsides peppered with chalets, their pointed roofs and wooden verandas making them look like children's toys.

She regarded her fellow passengers with interest; a young backpacker with a scraggy beard was peeling an apple with a penknife; an elderly lady with a fallen beehive was sitting with a bat-eared bulldog curled in her lap; two suited business types, with the same dark sheen to their hair and their shoes, were hiding behind their newspapers. However fleeting, these were the people of her new life, and she felt drawn to each one of them. She was already gathering everything she saw, like a collector of curiosities who finds even the ordinary to be notable.

After less than an hour, the train rolled into Lausanne's station. Hadley stared at the white letters set on a blue sign. Lausanne. She had been here so many times before, if only in her imagination, that when the moment came she almost forgot to get off. She started, scrambled for her case and jumped down onto the platform. With impeccable punctuality the guard blew his whistle, and Hadley turned to watch the departing train. She imagined it continuing along the lake's shore, whipping into the mountains, spinning ever closer to the Italian border for it was bound for Milano Centrale. Other places that perhaps one day she would visit, too. She glanced again at the sign beside her, Lausanne. Already the name was more than just a collection of letters. She felt a prickle of anticipation, swiftly followed by a woollier, less distinct feeling. It was the sense that as long as she stayed just where she was, at the threshold of new experience, all would remain glorious. Nothing would ever be ruined.

The city was sizzling in the lingering heat of summer. Had-ley dutifully wore the padded jacket that had been a parting gift from her parents, and it swaddled her, making perspiration dot her brow. She resolved to buy a chicer mackintosh for the autumn, the neatly belted kind the two women were wearing who passed her in the station forecourt. They'd clattered across the marbled floor, their lips moving prettily as they said words like vraiment, absolument, exclaiming and reasserting with panache. There was something about the French language, words were never just words; they seemed to change the air around them.

On her head, Hadley wore a knitted beret. It was another gift from her parents, but closer to the mark this time. Just like one of those film stars! her mum had cried as Hadley had tried it on. She'd twirled the shorter pieces of her hair so they'd clung to her cheeks in sculpted fashion. "I might get it cut," she'd said, "c'est plus chic, comme ga." She'd braved the hairdresser on the high street, with a picture torn from a magazine clasped in her hand. It had been the girl from the film Breathless-A Bout de Souffle. When she'd gotten home, Sam had thrown himself on the floor laughing and said she looked like a boy. But she'd felt light and mischievous. It was a haircut to cause trouble in, and to smile about it afterward.

Most helpful customer reviews

7 of 7 people found the following review helpful.
Beautifully written!
By WRB
The Swiss Affair is definitely geared to the young adult or college age readers. This is the story of Hadley Dunn, a young woman's coming of age, and her one year of self-discovery while she is abroad. I must say, I had my doubts that I was not going to enjoy this book. But, what a pleasant surprise! Emylia Hall has crafted a beautifully written novel with her descriptive writing. She certainly paints a picture with words - lush descriptions of the scenery in Lausanne - I felt like I was there. And she does a marvelous job getting into the hearts and minds of the characters.

Hadley Dunn was going to be spending her second year of college abroad in Lausanne, Switzerland. French was to be the common language for a year. Lausanne, very elegant and stylish, appears to be a place of privilege. She was far from home, no one knew her, and she was feeling a sense of freedom.

Hadley soon meets the very exotic Kristina Hartmann and they connect from the beginning. Kristina's whole being glowed with sophistication and Hadley was impressed with her, never knowing anyone like her. Kristina is involved in a secret relationship that she's not able to be completely honest about, but this makes her even more interesting in Hadley's eyes.

Joel wilson is an American professor teaching American Literature, specialism - Hemingway. He is twice Hadley's age, but she finds herself attracted to him. Joel seems to be harboring some dark secrets and Hadley's life is about to change quickly. There are many Hemingway references made through Joel's character, which added interest and dimension to the storyline.

Hugo Bezier, a favorite character, is an elderly writer who has lost his zeal for writing. Hadley often chooses Hugo's company over her friends and their friendship helps to renew Hugo's interest in writing.

Hadley experiences first love, friendship, tragedy, and loss, and it changes her into a different person. She discovers that in Lausanne she has never been sadder, but also never been happier. And the story unfolds ---

I highly recommend this very poignant and coming of age novel for college readers. Superbly done! 5 stars.

I received a complimentary copy of this book from Harlequin through NetGalley in exchange for and honest review.

6 of 6 people found the following review helpful.
A well-crafted and evocative novel
By Trudie Barreras
This novel was an absolutely perfect read for a chilly winter afternoon when I had no desire to do anything but cuddle up with a good book. It would perhaps have been even better if I'd been snowbound in a cozy mountain cabin, but Hall's descriptions of Lausanne and the surrounding scenery were evocative enough that they really didn't need supplementation.

From my perspective, this story is exceedingly well-crafted. As already mentioned, the place descriptions are glorious, and add a great deal of richness to the narrative. The characterizations are extremely effective, especially of Hadley and Kristina, although Hugo as the main "supporting actor" is wonderfully intriguing. The plot is delicately nuanced, and develops suspense without overplaying it. The emotional and psychological aspects likewise ring true without being unduly belabored. There are no real villains here, but there is great tragedy, as must always be true when a young life is lost pointlessly. And as always, there is more than enough guilt to go around, as several characters are overwhelmed by their own probable contributions to the tragic event.

There is an interesting section at the end called a "Reader's Guide" with possible discussion questions if the book is used as part of a book-club study, as well as a rather nice "Conversation" with the author. Both of these should prove of value to readers who desire more than brief entertainment.

3 of 3 people found the following review helpful.
Interesting beginning, nicely wrapped up ending, slogged through the middle....
By endlesswonderofreading
In which I have immense wanderlust part deux. So, lately I've been reading books about different locations than mine, mainly because I'm so friggin' sick of my current location and really, really, really want to travel. So, in preparation for my travels (or to curb the feeling of wanting to leave now, and now, and NOW!), I keep wanting to read fiction books taking place in different countries. The book, Abroad brought me to Italy and now The Swiss Affair takes me to Switzerland. And man, was I taken with Switzerland.

The Good: The backdrop of the The Swiss Affair was so magnificent. You can tell that the author traveled to Lausanne, just as you can tell that she fell in love with Lausanne. And that, in turn, made me fall in love with that city (so much that although Switzerland wasn't in my travel itinerary, it has now topped the list). In fact, the author's description of Switzerland were what made me finish this book. It all just seemed so illustrious and beautiful. The author gets many, many points for transporting me to a wonderful place.

More Good: I really liked the friendship between Hadley and Kristina. However, I adored the friendship between Hadley and Hugo. I loved that although Hugo knew nothing of Kristina and little about Hadley, he still encouraged her to find the truth and even helped her out with it.

The meh: The middle half of The Swiss Affair was a slog to get through. The beginning was interesting, and while I was so happy to see the end, I feel like it still wrapped up nicely. But my God, that middle! I felt as though I was reading a different story than what was described in the synopsis. During the meh-like middle, Hadley did next to nothing to find out what happened to Kristina. She just spent it all shacking up with her professor (which is something that I absolutely hate in EVERYTHING!). I get that it's published by Harlequin and therefore there has to be romance, but I just didn't like THIS romance. I guess that's because I didn't like Joel. And I didn't like Joel because he was Hadley's professor and was taking advantage of that.

So overall, I found The Swiss Affair to be just okay. I was vacillating between two and three stars but I'm feeling generous and I really did love the descriptions of Switzerland, so it gets three. And despite the nicely wrapped up ending, I still don't feel as though this book was deserving of the slogging I went through in the middle. It never fully recovered from that for me. However, I'm still intending on reading The Book of Summers because I really want to be transported to Hungary and I'm sure the author's descriptions of Hungary are as beautiful as they are of Switzerland.

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** Ebook Download A Country Christmas: Buffalo Valley\Return to Promise (Heart of Texas), by Debbie Macomber

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A Country Christmas might be the best Christmas of all… 

Buffalo Valley 

The town of Buffalo Valley, North Dakota—a community in farm country—is undergoing a revival. Vaughn Kyle, who's just out of the army, is looking for a place to live, a life to live. While he's waiting for his ambitious fiancée to make up her mind, he visits Buffalo Valley one snowy day and meets a young woman named Carrie Hendrickson. As they grow close, Vaughn has to question his feelings for the woman he thought he loved. He knows then that he wants to stay in Buffalo Valley, where life is about family and friends—not money and social standing. And not just at Christmas, but every day of the year… 

Return to Promise 

Rancher Cal Patterson and his wife, Jane—known as Dr. Texas—have recently separated, with Jane going back to her childhood home in California with their children. Now Cal, alone on his ranch, is forced to confront what he really wants in his life, what he needs. Jane is confronting the same questions. How seriously does Cal take his marriage vows? And how important is Promise to Jane? Is there hope for a reconciliation—in time for Christmas?

• Sales Rank: #68519 in Books
• Brand: Debbie Macomber
• Published on: 2014-10-28
• Released on: 2014-10-28
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Dimensions: 6.62" h x 1.12" w x 4.21" l, 1.20 pounds
• Binding: Mass Market Paperback
• 432 pages

Review
"Call Me Mrs. Miracle is an entertaining holiday story that will surely touch the heart... Best of all, readers will rediscover the magic of Christmas."-Bookreporter.com

There's Something About Christmas is "a tale of romance in the lives of ordinary people, with a message that life is like a fruitcake: full of unexpected delights."-Publishers Weekly

"Macomber once again demonstrates her impressive skills with characterization and her flair for humor." -RT Book Reviews on When Christmas Comes

When Christmas Comes "is a sweetly satisfying, gently humorous story that celebrates the joy and love of the holiday season."-Booklist

"THERE'S SOMETHING ABOUT CHRISTMAS is a wonderfully funny, and at times heart-wrenching story of finding the right person to love at the most delightful time of year." -Times Record News, Wichita Falls, TX

"It's just not Christmas without a Debbie Macomber story." –Armchair Reviews

About the Author

Debbie Macomber, with more than 100 million copies of her books sold worldwide, is one of today's most popular authors. The #1 New York Times bestselling author is best known for her ability to create compelling characters and bring their stories to life in her books. Debbie is a regular resident on numerous bestseller lists, including the New York Times (70 times and counting), USA TODAY (currently 67 times) and Publishers Weekly (47 times). Visit her at www.DebbieMacomber.com.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
So this was North Dakota. Gazing steadily ahead, Vaughn Kyle barreled down the freeway just outside Grand Forks. Within a few miles, the four lanes had narrowed to two. Dreary, dirt-smudged snow lay piled up along both sides of the highway. Fresh snow had begun to fall, pristine and bright, glinting in the late-afternoon sun.

His parents had retired earlier in the year, leaving Denver, where Vaughn had been born and raised, and returning to the state they'd left long ago. They'd moved north, away from the majestic peaks of the Rocky Mountains to the endlessly boring landscape of the Dakotas. This was supposed to be beautiful? Maybe in summer, he mused, when the fields of grain rippled with the wind, acre after acre. Now, though, in December, in the dead of winter, the beauty of this place escaped him. All that was visible was a winding stretch of black asphalt cutting through flat, monotonous terrain that stretched for miles in every direction.

After seven years as an Airborne Ranger in the U.S. Army's Second Battalion based in Fort Lewis, Washington, Vaughn was poised to begin the second stage of his working life. He had his discharge papers and he'd recently been hired by Value-X, a mega-retailer with headquarters in Seattle. Value-X was one of America's most notable success stories. New stores were opening every day all across the United States and Canada.

His course was set for the future, thanks largely to Natalie Nichols. They'd met two years earlier through mutual friends. Natalie was smart, savvy and ambitious; Value-X had recognized her skills and she'd advanced quickly, being promoted to a vice presidency before the age of thirty.

Vaughn had been attracted by her dedication and purpose, and he'd admired her ambition. His own work ethic was strong; as he'd come to realize, that was increasingly rare in this age of quick fixes and no-fault living. Natalie was the one who'd convinced him to leave the army. He was ready. When he'd enlisted after finishing college, he'd done so intending to make the military his career. In the seven years since, he'd learned the advantages and drawbacks of soldiering.

He didn't mind the regimented life, but the career possibilities weren't all he'd hoped they would be. What he lacked, as Natalie had pointed out, was opportunity. He was limited in how far he could rise through the ranks or how quickly, while the private sector was wide-open and looking for promising employees like him. He'd been interviewed by three headhunters who recruited candidates for a variety of corporations and in just a few weeks had six job offers.

At first he'd felt there might be a conflict of interest, taking a position with the same company as Natalie. However, she didn't view it that way; they would be a team, she'd told Vaughn, and with that remarkable persuasive skill of hers had convinced him to come on board. He wouldn't officially start until after the first of the year, but he was already on assignment.

Value-X was buying property in Buffalo Valley, North Dakota. Since Vaughn was going to be in the vicinity, visiting his parents in nearby Grand Forks, Natalie had asked him to pay the town a visit. It wasn't uncommon for a community to put up token resistance to the company's arrival. In most cases, any negative publicity was successfully handled, using a proven strategy that included barraging the local media with stories showing the company's "human face." After a recent public-relations disaster in Montana, Natalie was eager to avoid a repeat. She'd asked Vaughn to do a "climate check" in Buffalo Valley, but it was important, she insisted, that he not let anyone know he was now a Value-X employee, not even his parents. Vaughn had reluctantly agreed.

He'd done this because he trusted Natalie's judgment. And because he was in love with her. They'd talked about marriage, although she seemed hesitant. Her reasons for postponing it were logical, presented in her usual no-nonsense manner. She refused to be "subservient to emotion," as she called it, and Vaughn was impressed by her clear-cut vision of what she wanted and how to achieve it. They'd get married when the time was right for both of them.

He was eager to have her meet his family. Natalie would be joining him on December twenty-seventh, but he wished she could've rearranged her schedule to travel with him.

On this cold Friday afternoon two weeks before Christmas, Vaughn had decided to drive into Buffalo Valley. Because of Hassie Knight, he didn't need to invent an excuse for his parents. Hassie was the mother of his namesake. She'd lost her only son—his parents' closest friend—in Vietnam three years before Vaughn was born. Every birthday, until he'd reached the age of twenty-one, Hassie had mailed him a letter with a twenty-five-dollar U.S. Savings Bond.

In all that time, he'd never met her. From first grade on, he'd dutifully sent her a thank-you note for every gift. That was the extent of their contact, but he still felt a genuine fondness for her—and gratitude. Hassie had been the one to start him on a savings program. As a young adult Vaughn had cashed in those savings bonds and begun acquiring a portfolio of stocks that over the years had become a hefty nest egg.

An hour after he left Grand Forks, Vaughn slowed his speed, certain that if he blinked he might miss Buffalo Valley entirely. Value-X could put this place on the map. That was one benefit the company offered small towns. He wasn't sure what kind of business community existed in Buffalo Valley. He knew about Knight's Pharmacy of course, because Hassie owned that. Apparently the town was large enough to have its own cemetery, too; Hassie had mailed him a picture of her son's gravesite years earlier.

Buffalo Valley was directly off the road. You didn't take an exit the way you would in most places. You just drove off the highway. He slowed, made a right turn where the road sign indicated. The car pitched as it left the pavement and hit ruts in the frozen dirt road. He'd gone at least a hundred feet before the paved road resumed.

He passed a few scattered houses, and as he turned the corner, he discovered, somewhat to his surprise, a main street with businesses lining both sides. There was even a hotel of sorts, called Buffalo Bob's 3 of a Kind. The bank building, a sprawling brick structure, seemed new and quite extensive. This was amazing. He wasn't sure what he'd expected, but nothing like this. Buffalo Valley was a real town, not a cluster of run-down houses and boarded-up stores, like some of the prairie towns his parents had told him about.

Hassie's store caught his attention next. It was a quaint, old-fashioned pharmacy, with big picture windows and large white lettering. Christmas lights framed the window, flashing alternately red and green. In smaller letters below KNIGHT'S PHARMACY, a soda fountain was advertised. Vaughn hadn't tasted a real soda made with hand-scooped ice cream and flavored syrup since his childhood.

He parked, climbed out of his rental car and stood on the sidewalk, glancing around. This was a decent-size town, decorated for the holidays with festive displays in nearly every window. A city park could be seen in the distance, and the Buffalo Valley Quilting Company appeared to take up a large portion of the block across the street. He remembered an article about it in the file Natalie had given him.

The cold stung his face and snow swirled around him. Rather than stand there risking frostbite, Vaughn walked into the pharmacy. The bell above the door jingled and he was instantly greeted by a blast of heat that chased the chill from his bones.

"Can I help you?" He couldn't see who spoke, but the voice sounded young, so he assumed it wasn't Hassie. The woman or girl, whoever she was, stood behind the raised counter at the back of the store.

"I'm looking for Hassie Knight," Vaughn called, edging his way down the narrow aisle. This pharmacy apparently carried everything: cosmetics, greeting cards, over-the-counter medicine, gourmet chocolate, toothpaste and tissues—just about anything you might require.

"I'm sorry, Hassie's out for the day. Can I be of help?"

He supposed he didn't need to see Hassie, although it would have been nice.

"I'm Carrie Hendrickson." A petite blonde in a white jacket materialized before him, hand extended. "I'm an intern working with Hassie."

"Vaughn Kyle," he said, stretching out his own hand. He liked the way her eyes squarely met his. Her expression held a hint of suspicion, but Vaughn was prepared for that. Natalie had mentioned the North Dakota attitude toward strangers—a wariness that ranged from mild doubt to outright hostility. It was one reason she worried about this proposed building site.

"Hassie and I have never officially met, but she does know me," he added reassuringly. "I was named after her son."

"You're the Vaughn Kyle?" she asked, her voice revealing excitement now. "Did Hassie know you were coming and completely forget? I can't imagine her doing that."

"No, no, it was nothing like that. I just happened to be in the area and thought I'd stop by and introduce myself."

Her suspicion evaporated and was replaced with a wide, welcoming smile. "I'm so pleased to meet you.

Hassie will be thrilled." She gestured to the counter. "Can I get you anything? Coffee? A soft drink?"

"Actually, I wouldn't mind an old-fashioned soda."

"They're Hassie's specialty, but I'll do my best."

"Don't worry about it." On second thought, he decided something warm might be preferable. "I'll have a coffee."

She led him to the soda fountain and Vaughn sat on a padded stool while Carrie ducked beneath the counter and reappeared on the other side.

"Do you know when Hassie's due back?" he asked.

"Around six," Carrie told him, lifting the glass pot and filling his cup. "You need space for cream?" she asked.

He answered with a quick shake of his head. She didn't cut off the steady stream of weak coffee until it'd reached the very brim of his cup.

The door opened, bells jingling, and a woman dressed in a black leather jacket walked into the store. She had three scarves wrapped around her neck, nearly obscuring her face.

"Hi, Merrily," Carrie called, then scrambled under the fountain barrier. "I'll have Bobby's prescription ready in just a moment." She hurried to the back of the store. "While you're waiting, introduce yourself to Vaughn Kyle."

Merrily glanced toward the counter and waved, and Vaughn raised his mug to her.

"That's Hassie's Vaughn Kyle," Carrie said emphatically. "Vaughn was named after her son," she added.

"Well, why didn't you say so?" Merrily walked over to shake his hand. "What are you doing here?" she asked, unwinding the woolen scarves.

Now, that was an interesting question, Vaughn thought. He certainly hadn't anticipated anyone knowing about him.

"He came to meet Hassie," Carrie said as she returned with the prescription. She handed Merrily a small white sack. "How's Bobby feeling?"

"Better, I think. Poor little guy seems prone to ear infections." She turned to Vaughn with a smile. "Nice meeting you," she said. She wrapped the mufflers around her face again before she headed out the door.

"You, too," Vaughn murmered.

Carrie reached across the counter and grabbed a second mug for herself. "Hassie told you about the War Memorial, didn't she? We're all proud of that." Not waiting for a response, she continued, "The town built the Memorial three years ago, and it honors everyone from Buffalo Valley who died in war. The only one most of us actually remember is Hassie's son. But there were others. We lost Harvey Schmidt in the Korean War and five men in World War II, but none of their families live in the area anymore."

"You knew Vaughn Knight?" The blonde seemed far too young to have known Hassie's son.

"Not personally. But from the time I was small, Hassie told my brothers and me about Vaughn. It's been her mission to make sure he isn't forgotten."

Vaughn had heard about Vaughn Knight from his own parents of course, since they'd both been close to Hassie's son.

Carrie sipped her coffee. "Hassie told me it was one of the greatest honors of her life that your parents chose to remember her son through you."

Vaughn nodded, disappointed that he'd missed meeting the older woman. "What time did you say Hassie would be back?"

"Around six, I guess."

Vaughn checked his watch. He didn't intend to make an entire day of this.

"If Hassie had known you were coming, I don't think anything could've kept her away."

"I should have phoned beforehand," he muttered. "But…"

"I hope you'll wait."

Vaughn glanced at his watch again. Three hours was far longer than he wanted to stick around. "Tell her I'll come by some other time."

"Please stay. Hassie would feel terrible if she learned you'd left without meeting her." She hesitated, obviously thinking. "Listen," she said, "I'll phone Leta Betts and ask if she can fill in for me for a couple of hours."

Vaughn reconsidered. He might get all the information he needed from Carrie; then he could meet Hassie on strictly social terms. He'd been vaguely uncomfortable about questioning Hassie, anyway.

"Please," she said, "it would mean the world to Hassie, and I'd be delighted to give you a tour of town."

Perfect. He'd learn everything Natalie wanted to know and more. "That's a generous offer. Are you sure you don't mind?"

"I'd consider it a pleasure," she said, and smiled.

With her looking up at him that way , smiling and appreciative, Vaughn couldn't help noticing that Carrie Hendrickson was a very attractive woman. Not that Natalie had anything to worry about, he told himself staunchly.

Most helpful customer reviews

9 of 10 people found the following review helpful.
Two Warm Hearted Tales Sure To Please....
By terrylynn
First released in 2000 and 2001, the two stories that make up A Country Christmas have been re-released just in time for the Christmas holiday and both titles are classic Debbie Macomber and a treat for any of her fans that haven't already read Buffalo Valley or Return to Promise.

In the first story, Vaughn Kyle finds himself in Bufflalo Valley, North Dakota for two reasons. First is to visit an elderly friend of the family who holds a special place in his heart and the second is to discreetly check out the small town for his new employer who has plans to bring in a large box store that will totally change the flavor of the town and probably even put several small shops out of business. What he doesn't expect is to fall in love with not only the town, but the lovely Carrie whose charm, beauty and honesty sweep him off his feet. It doesn't take long before Vaughn is questioning not only his future, but everything he ever thought he wanted for his life.

In Return to Promise Cal Patterson and his wife of five years find themselves at the mercy of a woman from Cal's past who is determined to break up Cal and Jane's marriage. When Jane has to leave Texas with her children for several weeks because her father has become ill, Cal unwittingly falls into Nicole's attempts to start some vicious rumors and before he knows what hit him, Jane is accusing him of being unfaithful, the whole town is taking sides and suddenly Jane wonders whether she should stay in California for good. Will Cal's stubborn pride allow him to lose the most important thing in his life or will he come to his senses just in time for Christmas?

Two heartwarming tales that touch on the idea that things are not always as they may first appear and when all is said and done, nothing is more important that love, family, forgiveness and the never ending magic that only Christmas can bring. Five stars for A Country Christmas.

6 of 7 people found the following review helpful.
Ever after
By wn CB
The ups and downs of a marriage, love wins over everything, but trust and communications the most important. Friends required.

4 of 4 people found the following review helpful.
Four Stars
By peggy mckay
I really enjoy Debbie s books. very relaxing.

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!! Free Ebook The Winter Lodge (Lakeshore Chronicles), by Susan Wiggs

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The Winter Lodge (Lakeshore Chronicles), by Susan Wiggs

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On the longest night of the year, Jenny Majesky loses everything in a devastating house fire. But among the ashes she finds an unusual treasure hidden amid her grandfather's belongings, one that starts her on a search for the truth, and on a path toward a life that she never imagined. The Winter Lodge, a remote cabin owned by her half sister on the shores of Willow Lake, becomes a safe refuge for Jenny, where she and local police chief Rourke McKnight try to sort out the mysteries revealed by the fire.

But when a blizzard traps them together, Jenny, accustomed to the safe predictability of running the family bakery, suddenly doesn't feel so secure. For even as Rourke shelters her from the storm outside, she knows her heart is at risk. Now, following her dreams might mean walking away from her one chance at love.

• Sales Rank: #43185 in Books
• Brand: Brand: Mira
• Published on: 2009-12-22
• Released on: 2009-12-22
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Dimensions: 6.62" h x 1.06" w x 4.21" l, .42 pounds
• Binding: Mass Market Paperback
• 416 pages

Features

• Used Book in Good Condition

From Publishers Weekly
Starred Review. In her latest bustling romance, Wiggs cooks up a rich stew of family plots past and present, spiced with plenty of generations-old Polish recipes, in this second installment of the Lakeshore Chronicles (after Summer at Willow Lake). Returning to Camp Kioga in Avalon, a small New York town where the wealthy Bellamy family has deep roots, Wiggs trains the spotlight on Avalon native Jenny Majesky, a food columnist and bakery owner who learned in the last Lakeshore tale that Phillip Bellamy is her birth father. Alone and grieving following the death of her beloved grandmother—Jenny's mom left her at age four—Jenny's life turns even worse when her house burns to the ground. Stunned, homeless and keeping afloat with a little help from the medicine cabinet, Jenny moves in with Avalon police chief and notorious lady's man Roarke McKnight, a friend she fell out with after a night of drunken, mind-blowing sex a decade before. With the ease of a master, Wiggs introduces complicated, flesh-and-blood characters into her idyllic but identifiable smalltown setting, sets in motion a refreshingly honest romance, resolves old issues and even finds room for a little mystery. The result is as appealing as the heroine's Polish Apple Strudel, the recipe for which is thankfully included. (Feb.)
Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.

From Booklist
When Jenny Majesky's home goes up in flames one winter night, she finally has the chance to follow her dreams. But what, really, does she want? After her mother ran off, her grandmother raised her. Then, just as Jenny was packing up to leave their tiny Catskills town of Avalon, and the family bakery so popular with locals and tourists alike, her grandmother had a stroke. Jenny has taken care of her widowed and disabled grandmother ever since. Now Rourke McKnight, the arrogant and handsome police chief with whom she shares a turbulent history, has complicated matters by taking her under his wing and into his home, and everyone in town seems to have an opinion about what she should do next. Wiggs cleverly structures this emotionally intense contemporary romance and continuation of her Lakeshore Chronicles around food-related anecdotes and recipes, and she adds a search for Jenny's long-absent mother and a troubled pregnant teen to the mix for even more poignancy. Lynne Welch
Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved

Review
"Especially appealing are Wiggs' evocations of timeless summer pleasures." -- Publishers Weekly on Lakeside Cottage

"Susan Wiggs paints the details of human relationships with the finesse of a master." -- Jodi Picoult

"Wiggs' thoroughly captivating tale draws readers into her characters' lives and minds in a way that makes them real . . ." -- Booklist on Lakeside Cottage

Most helpful customer reviews

28 of 28 people found the following review helpful.
terrific character driven contemporary romance
By A Customer
In Avalon, New York weekly food columnist Jenny Majesky mourns the loss of her grandma Helen, who died two weeks ago. Gram along with her late spouse Leo raised Jenny with love after her biological mother deserted her as a small child; she never knew who her dad was until recently. In spite of the townsfolk who pay their respect, Jenny feels alone. She suffers from insomnia and depression that leads to anxiety and panic attacks; her only haven is the Sky River Bakery that she inherited with Gram's death.

A fire breaks out in Jenny's residence while she visits the bakery. Chief of Police Rourke "Loverboy" McKnight panics thinking she is inside as all his years of pretending indifference melts away with the inferno. Once he calms down, he realizes she is at the bakery. He goes there, hugs her tightly and takes her to her fiery home. Rourke then takes her to his home to recover and get her house in order. Their failed past relationship leaves both wondering how they will survive their time together and even more so how will they survive their time apart after they separate as they are and have always been in love.

This is a terrific character driven contemporary romance that must be read on a full stomach because the recipes will have the audience baking all sorts of pastries. The relationship between the baker and the cop is fun to follow as each insists they're not in love, but everyone knows otherwise. Whereas Jenny meets her biological father and half-sister that adds apprehension to her issues; that also takes away from the prime plot of an amusing debate between two wonderful protagonists each pondering whether love is enough to forge a permanent relationship.

Harriet Klausner

24 of 25 people found the following review helpful.
The Winter Lodge
By Anne Marie Miller
If you read "Summer at Willow Lake" you will be sure to love this one as well. I was a little skeptical when I heard about the book, but once I started reading it, I could not put it down. I woke up early to read it and stayed up late. It is a simple book, yet keeps the attention of the reader. I look forward to Susan's next book, which will be a continuation of all the characters thus far from the two books. This is a must read if you like a little romance in a small town atmosphere.

15 of 15 people found the following review helpful.
nice read
By D. Koep
Susan Wiggs has a very easy style of reading. But also compelling enough to keep you turning pages. The Winter Lodge is a "sequel" to Summer at Willow Lake but you don't have to read the first to enjoy the second. She has good character development and believable plots. A good book for a Sunday afternoon or a day at the beach.

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? Download Ebook Triumph in Arms (The Masters at Arms), by Jennifer Blake

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Once a starveling bootblack, Christien Lenoir has risen to become the sword master known as Faucon, the Falcon. When a desperate gambler stakes his plantation in a late-night card game, sharp-eyed Christien antes up. For he wants River's Edge—and the tempestuous widow whose birthright it is. And he will stop at nothing to have both.

Reine Cassard Pingre feels trapped: the only way to keep her beloved home—and her inheritance—is to accept Christien's bold proposal of marriage. Though she instantly mistrusts his purpose, and despite rumors that she had a hand in her husband's mysterious death, Reine cannot dissuade him from wedding…and bedding…her. Their union is electrifying, but the honeymoon may be cut short by the lurid secrets at the heart of River's Edge.

• Sales Rank: #2239136 in Books
• Published on: 2010-01-19
• Released on: 2010-01-19
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Dimensions: 6.62" h x .78" w x 4.21" l, .36 pounds
• Binding: Mass Market Paperback
• 384 pages

Features

• ISBN13: 9780778327486
• Condition: New
• Notes: BRAND NEW FROM PUBLISHER! 100% Satisfaction Guarantee. Tracking provided on most orders. Buy with Confidence! Millions of books sold!

From Booklist
When her father gambles away their beloved estate, River’s Edge, Reine Cassard Pingre has two options: marry Christien, the new owner, or pack up her bags and leave. Of course, once Christien hears the rumors that Reine may have had something to do with her first husband’s untimely death, he just might change his mind. Much to Reine’s surprise, Christien is not worried one bit about marrying a black widow, perhaps because as one of New Orleans’ famous Maîtres d’Armes, Christien believes his skill with a sword is enough to keep him safe. As the date of their wedding approaches, Reine does her best to convince Christien that marrying her is a mistake, but Reine is the one who ends up changing her mind with one kiss. With a wonderful sense of atmosphere and a perfectly crafted antebellum Louisiana setting, Blake brings her Masters at Arms series to a captivating conclusion with a plot rich in passion, peril, and plenty of dark secrets. --John Charles

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.


River's Edge Plantation August 1847

Somebody coming, madame, stranger coming down the road!"

Reine Marie Cassard Pingre put down her pen as the warning was called out from downstairs. She closed the ledger in which she was copying figures from the bills of lading for goods that had been delivered at the plantation steamboat landing that morning. Rising to her feet, she grimaced at the ink staining her fingers. She should hurry and wash her hands before descending to greet the visitor.

But really, what was the point? The gentleman was doubtless only a crony of her father's. He would join him where he rested on the lower gallery, which was comfortably shaded by massive live oaks at this hour. With glasses of Madeira in hand, the two of them would discuss the price of cotton and the latest political scandals. She would be free to return to her desk work once the obligatory compliments were out of the way.

Stretching a little, she moved to her sitting room's French doors, which stood open to the morning air. Sunlight lay in a broad swath over the canvas that carpeted the gallery floor, reflecting from its white surface with blinding brilliance. Reine shaded her eyes with one hand as she gazed out at the front drive that curved its way down to the river road.

A horseman cantered toward the house, kicking up puffs of dust that formed a small comet tail behind him. Tall and broad of shoulder, he sat his saddle with the ease of one born to it. A wide-brimmed planter's hat of summer straw shaded his face, while the folds of a long gray dust coat protected his clothing. He was too far away for his features to be visible, yet something about him seemed familiar.

Reine felt a small frisson run down her spine. She was not a fanciful female by any means, yet it seemed the sun dimmed as if a cloud passed over it. The heat of the day waned, leaving her chilled and unaccountably disturbed.

A goose walking on her grave, she told herself with an abrupt shake of her head. That was all. Turning with decision, she crossed to the hallway and made her way down the stairs.

Alonzo, the white-haired butler who had been a fixture at River's Edge since before she was born, awaited her at their foot. She asked him to see that refreshments were provided on the lower gallery. As he moved away to do her bidding, she drew a deep breath and walked out the open front door, pausing on the steps of the white-columned portico.

The visitor had just reached the gate that closed off the pathway through the front garden. He was definitely not a friend of her father's, Reine saw; the muscular grace with which he swung from the saddle was that of a man in his prime, one no stranger to physical exertion. He did not lack for assurance, for he tossed his reins to the stable boy who came running and pushed open the gate in the picket fence as if returning home instead of paying a social call. The way he gazed around him, taking in the grass-covered rise of the Mississippi River levee, the front garden behind its fencing, the big white house and waving fields of young cane behind it, was keenly appraising. No master on watch for signs of negligence could have been more thorough.

Alonzo, his assignment completed, stepped through the front door and came to a halt behind Reine. She was heartily glad of his silent support. The arrival of Chalmette, her brother's big, rawboned bloodhound that emerged from his cool wallow under the hydrangea shrubs, also improved her feelings. She did not reprove the dog as he raised his ruff with a low growl and planted himself in front of her.

"Good day, monsieur" she greeted the visitor in polite tones. "May we be of service?"

He turned toward her, reaching at the same time to remove his hat. Lowering it to rest against the swinging fullness of his long dust coat, he stood square-shouldered and grim of face before her.

"You!"

Shock wrenched that single word from her. The tone of her voice disturbed the hound, for he growled again in deep-throated warning. She put a quieting hand on his head.

"As you say, Madame Pingre," the visitor answered with a brief tip of his head. "Christien Lenoir, at your service."

Dark hair with the black satin gleam of a swamp panther's pelt, deep-set dark eyes, strong features that carried a copper-bronze tint: this was the man who lived nightly in Reine's dreams, yes, and her nightmares. It was he who had saved her and Marguerite from being mangled by carriage wheels or worse on that terrible night four months ago. For an instant, she was back in his arms again, lying against his hard length, caught to him in a hold so secure it seemed nothing could harm her, not then, not ever.

The urge to sink into that infinite protection had been so seductive she was forced to steel herself against it. Anger at her weakness and the impossibility of ever having someone to share her blighted existence washed over her in that instant. Though it pained her to remember it now, she had screamed at this man like a harridan as she scrambled up and dragged her daughter away from him.

The heat of a flush rose to her hairline. It was all she could do to sustain his piercing gaze. What mischance had brought him to River's edge she could not imagine, but the sooner he was on his way, the better. "I ask again if I may direct you, monsieur."

"I've come on a matter of business with your father. That is, if he is at home."

"What could you possibly have to discuss with him?" The question was less than gracious, though the best Reine could manage at the moment.

"You doubt my invitation to call?"

A dangerous undertone shaded Christien Lenoir's voice, she thought. It was a reminder of a similar dark peril seen in his eyes as they had faced each other in a muddy street. Fear had meshed with the anger inside her as she recognized it, but beneath both had been a strange exhilaration. They had been muddy, disheveled, bruised and shaken, but for a brief instant there flashed between them an awareness so searing she had felt branded by it. They had stood staring at each other, a heartbeat away from quarreling, until Marguerite began to cry.

Just thinking of it now made Reine feel as if her blood had turned hot and scouring in her veins, mounting to her brain. It was difficult to recall what he had just asked.

"I…I must confess to being surprised," she said finally. "My father is expecting you, then?"

"He should be," he said in cryptic reply.

She hesitated, then stepped back, gesturing toward the side gallery. "That way, if you please. Alonzo will take your hat and dust coat, then show you to him."

"You're very kind, madame."

His voice was dry, the look in his eyes ironic as he came up the steps toward her. He seemed a veritable paladin, impossibly tall and wide of shoulder and with his coat flowing around his heels like a cloak. If the presence of the bloodhound troubled him, he gave no sign but only held out a hand for him to sniff. Chalmette availed himself of that privilege, gave a wag of his tail, then trailed away in the direction of the hydrangea again.

Reine gave the dog a jaundiced look. As she glanced back at the visitor, she caught a glimpse of amusement in his eyes, as if he understood her annoyance at Chal-mette's defection. She only inclined her head in leave-taking before turning away to reenter the house.

It was possible he paused to watch her departure. She could not be sure for she did not look back.

The visitor's arrival was such a distraction that it was difficult to return to her paperwork. When she had placed half a dozen sums in the wrong column, entered one set twice and added a column three times with as many different answers, she flung down her pen and left the writing table once more.

A small mirror hung in a gilded frame above the console table between the French doors. She stepped to it, frowning at her reflection. Her hair, never particularly neat, had sprung into a mass of wild wisps around her face in the souplike summer air. Her face was flushed in a less-than-attractive fashion, and, yes, that was a smudge of India ink on her chin.

With an exclamation of annoyance, she slipped her handkerchief from the embroidered, drawstring pocket that dangled at her waist along with her keys. She moistened it with her tongue and scrubbed hard at the stain. Not that she cared what she looked like, of course. She had never been more than passably attractive, but she preferred at least to be clean.

What business could Monsieur Lenoir possibly have at River's Edge? She could not think her father required instruction in the use of fencing foil or sword; he had been proficient once, though that was years ago. He owned no property on the Passage de la Bourse that might be rented out as a sword master's atelier as far as she was aware. He was of too mild of a temper to contemplate engaging a maître d'armes to rid himself of an enemy. That was, of course, if Monsieur Lenoir could be brought to hire out his sword for such a purpose; only the least respectable of the fencing masters were so lost to honor as to stoop to such arrangements.

The only other thing she could imagine was a debt of honor. Her father was a fine man but had one vice, an addiction to games of chance. It had been years since he allowed it to overcome his better judgment, though Reine's mother sometimes spoke of the days before their marriage when he had won and lost several fortunes. Regardless, he came up short of funds now and again after a particularly long night of play. Yes, and there had been that evening not so long ago when he had come home only as the roosters crowed.

Dismay seeped over Reine as she became certain she had hit upon the reason for the sword master's visit. Her father owed a gambling debt.

Cash to pay it off was in short supply; she knew that well enough, having spent the morning toting up the accounts. Not that such a state of affairs was unusual; most planters lived on their expectation of future profit. Harvest time usually saw their hopes rewarded, but not always. A single crop destroyed by drought, insects, disease or storms, and ruin could overtake them. That was unless friends or a benevolent banker came to their rescue.

Her father had been fortunate in his friends and business acquaintances thus far. A convivial man, he was generous to a fault when in funds, always cheerful in company and as affable when losing as when winning at the card table. He made few enemies, which he often proclaimed to be the secret of a good life.

Reality and her dear papa were not on close terms, however; he made a habit of ignoring unpleasant facts for as long as possible. More than that, he did not believe in burdening females with financial worries. This in spite of it being Reine who kept track of plantation profits and expenditures. Though her affection was deep and abiding, her knowledge of his faults gave her a bad feeling about this unusual visit.

The need to know precisely how matters stood between her father and Monsieur Lenoir became more acute with every passing moment. It was a relief when Alonzo appeared to tell her that she was required on the gallery.

The visitor and her father rose at her approach, then sank back into their seats as she took a wicker chair and folded her hands in her lap. Her father made a hearty show of recalling the identity of their guest to her memory and expressing yet again his gratitude for his good services in preventing injury to Reine and Marguerite outside the theater. With that out of the way, he fell uncharacteristically silent, glancing from her to his visitor with a worried frown between faded blue eyes. He shifted his gaze out over the gallery railing to the moving patches of sunlight under the oaks. He looked at the caller again, cleared his throat and pursed his lips.

Her father was growing older, Reine noticed with a small clutch at her heart. Liver spots marked the backs of his hands, his features were grooved with lines and his dark hair streaked with silver. A bon vivant as a young man, he had married rather late in life so had been almost forty when she was born. Events these past few years had taken their toll, stealing the spring from his step and the sprightliness and laughter from his smile. For much of that she was to blame, as she knew far too well.

"Yes, Papa?" she asked after a moment. "You have something you wish to tell me?"

"Indeed. There is a matter… That is, I must relate… Oh, it's a damnable thing, and I'm more sorry than I can say. It concerns you more than any other, and it seemed best that I let you know first so you can… Ah, chère!"

Reine's apprehension, already strong, turned to alarm. She sat forward. "What is it? Has something happened? Tell me at once!"

Her father opened his mouth and closed it again with a shake of his head. Reine, feeling the gaze of the sword master upon her face, swung toward him in hope of clarification.

Thankfully, he did not disappoint her.

"What your father is trying to tell you, Madame Pingre," he said, his voice as steady as his black gaze, "is that he has lost title to this property. The house, its furnishings, workers and acreage has passed from him over the gaming table. His loss is my gain. I am the new owner of River's Edge."

The words he spoke were clear enough, but her mind refused to accept their meaning. This was worse, so much worse, than she had feared. "What? What did you say?"

"It's true," her father said in mournful concurrence as she turned back to him. "Everything is gone. The town house in the Vieux Carré, as well."

"I am sorry," Lenoir said.

Reine closed her eyes, unable to bear what was surely the spurious regret in his voice or the implacability in his features. "Gaming," she said, the damning word no more than a whisper in her own ears.

"Euchre." Her father's voice regained strength now that the news was out. "My luck was abominable. Truly, I never saw it so bad. I was sure it would turn as the night went on, but alas, it never happened." He gave a fatalistic shrug.

Most helpful customer reviews

6 of 6 people found the following review helpful.
super historical romance
By Harriet Klausner
In New Orleans Christien Lennoir takes one look at Widow Reine Cassard Pingre and feels he took a sword to his gut as he instantly wants her; love at first sight. In 1847 in a card game with her gambling-addicted father, he wins her and the family home River's Edge.

Christien offers Reine a proposal of marriage. If she accepts, her family can stay in their home. She prefers to say no as one abusive marriage was enough, but she has to care for her five year old daughter Marguerite so she considers the proposition, but also reminds her suitor that rumor is she killed her husband while he slept. Christien remains resolved so Reine takes a chance on him when she watches how gentle the swordsman is with Marguerite who saw her papa murdered. However, all hell breaks loose during their wedding ceremony; leading to Christien having to choose between the Maitres D'Armes Brotherhood and Reine.

This sixth Maitres D'Armes historical romance is a terrific entry with a strong cast, but made fresh by the hero as he displays a wide range of feelings from fierce protectiveness of his beloved to loyalty for his Brotherhood and kindness to Marguerite, etc. The story line is fast-paced and filled with plenty of action including a super spin as Christien ironically got what he covets, but before he can win Reine's love his latest Brotherhood assignment will earn him her contempt. Jennifer Blake provides a Triumph in Arms.

Harriet Klausner

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
Triumph in Arms
By Angel M. James
Like the saying goes, all good things come to an end. This being (I believe), the final in series. Wasn't a disappointment. I've enjoyed every book by Jennifer Blake. I also purchased the series last night. They are definitely going to be read over and over again. Hope I don't wear out my Kindle. I've also purchased several of her other titles. Can't get enough.

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
Wonderful Book
By I Love Amazon.com
Entertaining although not as meaty as some of the other Jennifer Blake books. I love her historical novels where you are learning something about history. Still, it was a great story & entertaining.

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