Book review: Hideaway Hill

Book review for Hideaway Hill: Thank you to author, Elle A. Rose, for the digital copy. 

The story has all the elements of an enthralling read – young budding romance, heart-rending tragedy, and unsolved murder with a satisfying plot resolution. I completely understand the heroine and her choices in life. The hero is a dream-come-true for any woman. I was hoping for a happy-ending and wasn’t disappointed.

Ellle A. Rose has a natural talent for changing her ‘voice’ in storytelling to match the progression through time. Because of that, I was a little confused at the beginning with the prologue. It might have been more effective to have started in the current time and presented the different time sequences as a reference in an old diary entry. Once I understood the characters current voice, I was pleasantly surprised.

I felt like I was part of the ‘old gang’, as the presentation of the different characters’ personalities, were plausible and believable. A few of them were cliché, but I still liked them. I had no trouble putting faces on each one. Her tender and delicate style of writing, peppered with energy, was comforting and friendly. Some parts of the book seemed to be a bit choppy due to a need for more in-depth editing, but that is sometimes common and more challenging in complicated stories. She was able to capture the innocence of true love, its ability to survive the test of time, and the assurance that it will prevail.  I had a hard time putting the book down when Veronica was finally telling the true story of events of the past to Blake. The many revelations that led to the activities of the villain were gripping. The story subject was complex and I applaud Elle for maintaining clean language and content.
 © 2015 Linda Gatewood

Are we still good neighbors?

I’ve had many good neighbors, but the most incredible one I’ve ever known, wasn’t mine. She belonged to someone else, and I’ve been jealous ever since.

I met her when I was lucky enough to accompany a friend to her house. She lived in the country where farmers tended their fields and minded their own business most of the time.

Mrs. Bertram met us at the door and invited us inside to a warm and pleasant atmosphere scented with delicious smells from the kitchen. As we walked through the living room – cluttered slightly with the family’s belongings – she tidied as she led us toward the dining room, stopping first in front of a wall adorned with numerous portraits and snapshots.

“These are all of our children,” she said as she pointed to the photos.

I stared at the numerous pictures of separate individual children and couldn’t help but ponder how they could all be hers.

She saw my confusion, and with a smile, added, “We have many foster children because we’ve been doing this for twenty years.” She named each one and told a brief story of their accomplishments and how long they were part of the family.

Then she led us into the dining room where I saw an elderly woman lying in a hospital bed beside a window. Our host introduced us to her neighbor, Velma.

“Velma lived in that house right there,” she pointed through the window to a home next door that was old and timeworn. An assortment of roses climbed along the side of the house in beautiful, wild abandon, their clinging tendrils clasping the old clapboard tightly. An old wooden gate led up the lane to the house.

Velma turned slightly in her bed, an elderly, almost skeletal woman with white hair and sunken skin across her face. She smiled and nodded her head, unable to speak or move her arms.

Mrs. Bertram introduced us before adding, “That is her home over there and she can lie here and see it whenever she wants.” She patted the woman and made sure that the cover over her arm was warm enough. “When her husband passed away, Velma stayed over there alone and we looked after her for several years, since her children lived far away. After she had a stroke, her kids wanted to put her into a home, but she was so distressed to leave her house.”

We all looked through the window at the old home. “Her husband built that house after they were married and they raised their family there. She planted those roses many years ago.”

The butterflies floated gently in the twilight as a meadowlark sang his evening song, preparing all within hearing distance for the upcoming sunset. Velma watched the house with us, her eyes shining bright. I wondered what reminiscences were weaving their pleasant way into her mind.

As I began to feel tears grow in my eyes, I was humbled and so grateful for the kindness of Mrs. Bertram, a neighbor who sacrificed her home, her time, and especially her dining room, for the sake of this gentle soul, whose last wish was to be close to her memories of a lifetime.

Mrs. Bertram was a true neighbor, the kind we all want and the kind we should all strive to emulate. She not only made room in her home for many homeless children, but also a sweet, helpless, elderly woman. She had a full, generous heart with boundless love for others, and accomplished numerous kind deeds of which most will never be known.

Velma closed her eyes and fell asleep before we took our leave. Mrs. Bertram returned to her duties as we walked to our car. The stars were beginning to shine in the darkened sky above and we could sense a change in the air as it cooled under the new moon. I looked back at the two houses, one old and worn, the other, alive with lights and full of warm joy within. May we all be so blessed to have a good neighbor!  © 2015 Linda Gatewood

The book cover for Autumn Hush, the last book of the Winter Secret series, is finally finished. We are still adjusting the color for the back of the book cover. They switched the title from the top to the bottom to match my other books, but left the print color as white, unlike the other books where the color was incorporated in the print. Now we can move forward, and get a little closer to printing the book and a release date! www.amazon.com/author/lindagatewood www.lindagatewoodbooks.com

The story began...

Who could ever know that their unavoidable meeting in Idaho, on top of a dormant volcano, in the cold of winter, would lead to a dangerous adventure and promising love?
Derek Flynn is a man with multiple names from a mysterious life that he secretly yearns to resolve. Cynthia Morrison has become the target of an assassin, an innocent girl who is a victim of circumstance.
Can he protect her from those who wish her dead without bringing more danger into her life? Can Cynthia save his soul from a darkness that threatens him from within – the ghosts of his past that ravage his heart?
Start at the beginning with Winter Secret and experience an enthralling story that will grip your interest until the end and lead enticingly into Spring Promise, where a new story begins, pieced together by tantalizing clues from the past. When again, they escape threats from all directions, they must move forward, into Summer Truth, where the past continues to plague and, yet, entices with the beautiful potential of ultimate peace and love. At last, in Autumn Hush, they can understand the past and try to face the horrible, unimaginable truth that may yet destroy their dreams.
This is a series that you won’t want to miss! It’s time to start reading the story before the springtime, 2015, release of the last book, Autumn Hush. www.amazon.com/author/lindagatewood   http://www.lindagatewoodbooks.com 

Who were those little elves?

When I returned home late last night after a day of errands and Christmas shopping, I knew immediately that some little elves had been to my house. On my porch, I was greeted with a lovely decorated bag full of delicious fruit. Now, the question is who were those little elves? I searched the bag for a card or any identification of the giver, to no avail. As I pondered on the generosity of the mysterious giver, I contemplated the many times in the past that I have received similar surprises. I think I remember every single one of those moments, some more phenomenal than others, but all of them sprinkled with the magical flavor of the spirit of giving.

Sometimes I’ve played the elf, and sometimes the recipient. Each one of those designations makes me feel warm and cozy and bursting with the spirit of giving. If you don’t believe that giving can make a difference, no matter how humble the gift, you should try it. If you give, be prepared to receive more. St. Francis of Assisi said, “For it is in giving that we receive.”

Thinking of others, especially at this time of year, will ground you with a purpose and fill your heart with joy. I think that is one of the messages of Christmas, the example set by the Savior for us to emulate, the gentle reminder for us to care more for each other and find happiness in doing so. President Gordon B. Hinckley said, “As we give presents at Christmas, we need to recognize that sharing our time and ourselves is such an important part of giving.”

As I put on my elf hat, a quote by Mother Teresa weaves gently through my mind. “It’s not how much we give, but how much love we put into giving.”
© 2014 Linda Gatewood

The old star

This Christmas I realized something. When I was decorating my tree, it dawned on me that I have been putting the same star on my tree, every year, for 52 years! I can still remember when it was purchased. I was a young newlywed of 5 months and had just confirmed that I was expecting our first baby. To celebrate, we went out and bought the most beautiful star we could find. Every year, as I add the star on top of the tree, I remember.

There are other memories that have attached themselves to the star, like for instance, the year we had a fire and the tips of the star melted and bent slightly. It still worked and looked beautiful, but carried the memory after that.

Some of the brilliant gems that adorn the star, and glow so wonderfully, have faded over time, and I’ve had to replace a few of them. Each year the star becomes more beautiful because of added memories. The year our kittens climbed the tree and knocked it over, the star lost its lights and I had to finagle replacement lights. All the grandchildren who have sat beneath the star as it shone down on our Christmases have heard the stories of past memories.

Where does an old star go after so many years? It’s not a priceless heirloom or a treasured painting. It’s just an old star, which has been kept alive, year after year, waiting for its place of honor, on top of the Christmas tree.  There is one more memory that is part of the stars legacy. A reminder of the bright star that shone over Bethlehem on the night the Savior was born, a symbol and reminder of hope and honor that adorns our tree each year. It also signifies the enduring qualities of steadfastness and the tenacity to be true to our beliefs.

I think my old star will always be hanging somewhere on a tree at Christmas, preserved as an heirloom and remembered always for what it symbolizes, as it waits inside a box for the next year, so that it can once again reign supreme.   
 

Young and talented new writers of the future…

When I was asked to do a writing presentation at a Fireside recently, I was so impressed with the young and talented new writers in attendance who represent the writers of the future. Their stories and poems were poignant, beautiful and insightful, and their intelligent use of expressive words was profound. I was suddenly excited to imagine their forthcoming literary accomplishments and endeavors and hope that I impressed upon them the importance of listening to their inner voice and sharing their heartfelt messages with others in the most uplifting way.

A writer can get lost in the joy of experiencing those moments of sharing thoughts and insights of their passions. It creates a happiness inside that’s hard to compare, a companionship within that consumes and comforts. The reflection of ones feelings can be echoed endlessly throughout all time, touching the lives of many, by simply writing them down.

The great power of script was coined in a phrase from English author Edward Bulwer-Lytton in his play, Richelieu; Or The Conspiracy, written in 1839:

True, This! —Beneath the rule of men entirely great
The pen is mightier than the sword. Behold
The arch-enchanters wand! — itself is nothing! —But taking sorcery from the master-hand
To paralyze the Cæsars, and to strike the loud earth breathless! — Take away the sword —
States can be saved without it!

The idea of communication surpassing violence in efficacy will always be debated, but the veracity has been proven repeatedly.  Those who feel the inclination to pick up the pen and make a difference are truly inspired to reach a higher level. I look forward to enjoying the acquiescent gift of their endeavors.  © 2014 Linda Gatewood

Writing the last book, Autumn Hush, of the four-book Winter Secret Series

Writing the last book, Autumn Hush, of the four-book Winter Secret Series, was bittersweet because I was writing the ending of the story that has been unfolding for several years. So often, I’ve compared writing a book and getting it published to the blessing of carrying a baby for nine months and then giving birth. Now that the series if finished, I’ll miss its presence in my mind and the daily challenge of solving the story and its many mysteries. I’ll miss the characters that developed throughout the sequences and am happy that I was able to end the series in such a satisfying way. Those of you, who have been reading since book number one, will be glad that you followed until the end because the last book is the best!  If you haven’t started to read the Winter Secret Series yet, you are in for a treat! For a brief overview of each book, check out my website, www.lindagatewoodbooks.com or find them online. www.amazon.com/author/lindagatewood By the way, I’ve started a new book called Timely Moment.  It is a romantic suspense, that you’ll love, but it won’t be part of a series, the whole story will be in one book. I’ll keep you posted about the story line.  © 2014 Linda Gatewood

Winter Secret, Spring Promise, Summer Truth (Pictured below)  and Autumn Hush