In her latest novel, Linda Castillo again creates a world of thrilling suspense and intrigue flavored with a spicy side of sizzle that leaves readers hungry for more!
Her strong protagonist,Kate Burkholder, approaches her latest case with tenacity tempered with compassion. Her complicated and precarious balance as a small town police cheif, who happens to be formerly Amish,is challenged in new and uncertain directions as her relationship with the edgy state agent John Tomasetti begins to take on a life of its own, threatening to tear down some very hard won barriers she’s built around her soul.
Unwilling to let her tumultuous feelings for Tomasetti become a distraction, Kate never loses focus in her search for a missing Amish teen. As the investigation unfolds, several cold cases rise to the top, adding a fresh sense of urgency to all involved in the hunt. Can they find the missing girl in time? Or will the innocent fall prey to the same evil as the others?
I am in love with Kate and Tomasetti, as well as the well-rounded supporting cast of this Amish series. Linda Castillo builds a world I eagerly visit and reluctantly leave with each book in this series.
I got nothin’.
Things are surprisingly quiet at the moment, and I can’t seem to come up with any cleverness to astound you with. Not that I ever DID. 🙂
Our house now has a foundation. It sure looks tiny…yet it is supposed to be 500 sq. ft. more than we have at present. Those I’ve spoken to that have had homes built assure me that this is normal. To just wait it out and have faith. Yeah, well, okay. I’m still not going to breathe a sigh of relief until we are actually living in the home. We’ve had our house on the market for a YEAR now. I hope something unforseen doesn’t happen to screw us out of this deal.
I’m starting to let myself get excited. Something I didn’t do when we picked out colors and tile and all that good stuff.
Ladybug and Girlchild have fun going by the land and seeing te progress. They are supposed to have it finished by the end of August, but I’ll be shocked to my toes if that happens.
Speaking of the girls–
They are doing splendidly. Ladybug has knocked off telling lies so much. Either that,or she’s getting better at it. The kind of fibs we had problems with her telling stemmed from insecurity and the need to make herself more that she thought she was. The fact that she has started to let that habit go is encouraging. Girlchild is seeming more secure too, more relaxed with us. Morewilling to go withthe fact we are fulfilling a parental role, without trying to replace her natural parents. Which I wouldn’t hesitate to do, if asked.
But both still speak of missing their parents, which is only natural. I pray, for the sake of these kids, that the parents can get it together.
I’m having a summer lull in my business. Ick. You know, if someone with some dough laying around wanted to toss a few thousand my way, it would be greatly appreciated. I have PayPal, just let me know. RIGHT…..
The ol’ second job at the grocery store isn’t really helping out. Much. Between my availability and their scheduling…5 hours a week isn’t going to cut it. I’m thinking about turning in my notice.
I was so excited when a friend at the salon gave me a copy of the latest PEOPLE magazine (well, last week’s anyway), pointing out Linda Castillo’s great placement and review for SWORN TO SILENCE in the “books” section. I’m tellin’ ya, this book, and Linda, really deserve all the kudos that are popping up everywhere. This is an exciting series, and not to be missed! Read this article in Cleveland.com! And this letter from Linda at a cool website I just found, She Loves Hot Reads.com!
My own writing has been nil, as usual. I just don’t know what to say about that. The excuses just aren’t cutting it any more. They are tiresome, in fact. Blah.
But it feels good to blog again, even when I don’t really have anything to say.
So began one of my first conversations with one of our new foster daughters. Noooo, I didn’t say it, thank you very much. The four-year old did. I promise. From her car seat as I looked over my shoulder at her before driving off to find a daycare.
In case you were wondering where I’ve been, I have to say I think it was in the midst of a gustnado, literally and figuratively. Summer storm season is here, and so is, thankfully, some rain. But we’ve had plenty of rainbows, too, and that’s what I’m focusing on.
Last month, we received a call from CPS, asking us if we’d take a one-year-old girl. We were excited. This was it. What we’d been working for all this time! We made all the calls to our parents, friends, and whoever else should know, only to be disappointed the next morning when we got the call that we wouldn’t be fostering that child at all, because of some snafu. Yes, Situation Normal, All Fouled Up. (Okay, military guys, I know that’s not exactly the way it goes, but I’m a mommy now, and have to clean up my act.)
But the very next afternoon, we got a call from CPS asking us if we’d take a three, nearly four, year old girl THAT NIGHT, for an emergency placement. Wow. Talk about a tailspin. Of course we would.
At that point, the storm front came through.
I was already behind at work, but I overcame that and joined Mr. Man at home, where we waited. And waited. Finally, up the sidewalk, came our little girl. Hair a-tangle, dirty, with only the clothes on her back, and miserable. Evidently, the removal had been quite a scene. We don’t have a complete picture, only what we can form from bits and pieces. I have a feeling getting a whole story will be difficult, and will probably never happen. Suffice to say, the child was in desperate need, and we were desperately ready to start giving her any help we could.
The caseworker stayed quite awhile, trying to smooth the way in the introductions, but really, how can anything make it any better? Girlchild (as she will henceforth be known) had been plucked away from her Mommy and Daddy and didn’t understand why, but had some ideas in her head about it already.
The caseworker had to leave, and, already crying, Girlchild’s heart-rendering sobs shattered the tentative silence of the room that had been laying in wait, ready for a child to come live there. Her heart was broken. Mr. Man and I tried to soothe her, but nothing we said made a difference. I held her sweaty little body as she bawled, red-faced and snotty, and clung to my neck. I felt at a loss, while at the same time, God forgive me for the fleeting thought, hoping the lice in her hair didn’t jump into my own. But I was incapable of hesitating, parasites or no. Her need outweighed my concern ten-thousand fold.
After awhile, she drew back, and took several hiccuping breaths.
“It’s my fault,” she said, her voice matter-of-fact.
“What?” I asked, not wanting to believe she’d said it.
“It’s my fault. Every time my mommy gets in trouble it’s because of me.” Hiccup.
“No, baby. It’s NOT your fault.”
“It is too.”
“My mommy doesn’t love me.” Sob.
“Yes, she does. She loves you so much.”
“No, she doesn’t.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Because she told me.”
THUD went my stomach. What could I say? “No, darlin’ your mommy does love you. I know it.” I hope I’m not lying.
Another thing her mommy said to her, according to Girlchild, came to light while she was with my mom the next day.
“My Mommy says I’m stupid. She doesn’t like me.”
“Why do you think that?” Mom asks.
“She told me.”
Ouch. Mom did her best to deflect this train of thought, and reassure Girlchild.
A few days later, we get a call, asking if we will take Girlchild’s sister, Ladybug (so called because of a recent face-painting experience.) Ladybug is five. All over the place. She’d been staying at a local assessment center with the two older siblings. Why she didn’t get placed with us at the beginning, I don’t know. (Get a running theme here? ‘I don’t know’ is a recurring phrase in dealing with this foster parenting thing, or so I am learning.) So the drama was less when Ladybug joined our household. But it’s still a sad situation, for reasons I’m not at liberty to discuss.
I have so many things that I CAN share with you though. And I will. But over time. Time…such a precious thing.
So now, we have two little girls.
And the same week, we signed a contract to build a house. Yes, it looks like we are finally going to move. The builder, nee his assistant, assures me that if we don’t sell our house by August, there will be an investor that will buy it. I just hope it all works out. I am afraid to get my hopes up, but BOOM there they are.
Oh, and did I mention the plague sinus infection/cold/whatever I’ve been fighting this past month? *COUGH*
AND our car club hosted a fundraiser for Relay for Life with PT Cruisers from 8 different states attending.
AND I still have both jobs.
Not that I’m a whiner or anything, it is what it is.
I’m thankful for the girls, for however long we are blessed with them.
I’m thankful for the opportunity for a new home.
I’m thankful that I have work, to give me money which I’ve already spent.
I’m thankful for Mr. Man, who has taken to this Daddy thing like a duck to water. What a guy.
I’m thankful for the new friends that we made, and the money that we raised to help battle cancer.
God is Great.
And with that, I am going to bed, y’all.
We love you. We Miss You.
rating: 5 of 5 stars
In Sworn to Silence, Linda Castillo creates a strong, vivid characters within a suspenseful, heart-thumping thrill-ride of a story.
Kate Burkholder,the lead protagonist, is refreshingly unique and possesses a depth that makes a reader want to know more about her, and why she abandoned the Amish life, yet came home to serve and protect the community she left behind. Kate’s counterpart, John Tomasetti, fighting demons of his own, is more than a match for her, with an intriguing multi-layered character of his own that magnetizes our attention to the page. Each struggles to come to terms with their past, while focusing on a very real evil haunting Painters Mill.
If those two weren’t enough, Sworn to Silence boasts a community of players that add rich texture and flavor to the novel.
I look forward to reading more about Kate and Tomasetti, and more intrigue in Painters Mill.