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Barbara Ellen Brink

Color Me Happy

September 21, 2013 By Barbara 2 Comments

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Fall is edging closer today. The air is crisp with a touch of winter chill. Leaves crunch underfoot when I walk my dogs through the woods near our home. Rugby and Willow like to chase squirrels whenever they have the audacity to come down from their high tree perches and whip their tales around like a starter flag at the Indie 500. Sadly, the pups always lose that chase and content themselves with sniffing out damp, mossy ground near the edge of the path.

The white, blue, lavender and yellow wild flowers that recently bloomed throughout the woods and brightened our walks with their colorful nodding heads, are nearly all gone now. Instead, trees proudly wear autumn foliage in red, yellow, and orange. A bed of fallen leaves already covers the ground along much of the path, turning slowly from vibrant to dull and rusty. 2013-09-19 08.36.49

We walk these trails nearly every day, listening to the chatter of squirrels, birdsong, and the creaking of limbs above our heads. Not far away is the busyness of life; cars speed here and there, the high school band plays on the field behind the school, kids chatter and laugh in the yard of a daycare. But in the confines of these towering trees, for the length of half an hour or so, we feel secluded in our own little forest.

I love autumn and the changing of the season. I love wearing sweatshirts and jeans and not getting hot. I love the smell of a bonfire and no longer needing bug spray. I love toasted marshmallows and hot chocolate and watching the stars light up the night sky.

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If only it would last longer than what comes next… SNOW!

What do you love about Autumn? Leave a comment and share.

Barbara

Barbara is the author of the Fredrickson Winery novels, Entangled & Crushed, the award winning thriller, Split Sense, and Christian suspense novels, Running Home and Alias Raven Black. She lives in Minnesota with her husband and two lovable mutts.
Barbara is the author of the Fredrickson Winery novels, Entangled, Crushed, & Savor, the award winning thriller, Split Sense, and Christian suspense novels, Running Home and Alias Raven Black. She lives in Minnesota with her husband and two lovable mutts.

 

 

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SAVOR an Excerpt!

September 10, 2013 By Barbara 7 Comments

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SAVOR will be officially released September 29th, so I thought I’d let you get a taste of the 3rd Fredrickson Winery novel. Here is a short excerpt. (giveaway is now past) Don’t forget to leave a comment! Enjoy!

Chapter One

 “You surely can’t expect the bank to give us another loan based on this.” Billie shook the copy of the financial statement her brother had printed out for her. “Didn’t you even try to make us look good? I mean, really – the government puts out statements all the time that don’t divulge the entire truth. They just skim the surface. Can’t you do that for Fredrickson’s, or are you too busy playing musician every night?”

Any man of mine, better walk the line, better show me a teasing, squeezing, pleasing kind of time…Shania’s twang burst from Billie’s cell phone sitting on the desk across the room, but she was too caught up in her argument with Adam to pick up. Handel would understand she was busy and leave a text like he always did.

Adam slammed open the file cabinet. He’d been growing a scruffy beard for some reason and looked more like a deer hunter than an accountant, but apparently it was what all the happening musicians were sporting these days. “Don’t come down on me because your numbers are in the tank. You’re the one who thought you could go from being a little known lawyer to running a little known winery without any little known expertise.”

“Whoa!” Sally stepped between them, eyebrows and hands raised in self-defense. “Let me exit gracefully before you come to blows, please. I don’t want to be a witness in the trial to whatever is about to happen.” She pulled open the door and escaped down the hall.

“Thanks a lot!” Adam huffed. “Now you’ve scared Sally away from her desk and I’ll have to answer the damn phone.”

“As if! When’s the last time it rang?” She threw the papers down on Sally’s desk and crossed her arms, blowing an angry breath through her nostrils. “We are sinking here, Adam, and this is not going to help.”

He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. “I can’t change the numbers. You know that. Either the bank gives us another loan based on our forecast or they refuse based on our past. There’s no magical number crunching I can do to change their policies. We just have to hope they see a future for Fredrickson’s.”

She was silent, staring at a coffee stain in the carpet at her feet. All the anger had drained away in her tirade, but her shoulders drooped at the weight of responsibility she felt for the winery’s employees and their futures. Sally. Margaret. Even Loren and Ernesto had become good friends and were like family to her now.

“Billie,” Adam reached out and put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. “It’s going to be all right. If the bank won’t give you the loan, I’m sure Handel would love to invest in Fredrickson’s. He even – ” He broke off at the look on her face.

“You didn’t tell him that we needed the money, did you?” she demanded.

“Are you delusional? I don’t need to tell him anything. He already knows we need the money. Just because you refuse to speak with him about it, doesn’t make the problem disappear. You’re married now, Billie. Try acting like it.” He turned to open the door, but she jumped in the way.

“How dare you tell me how to act! You don’t know anything about my relationship with Handel. Fredrickson’s has nothing to do with our marriage and I intend to keep it that way.” She glared at him, arms crossed.

He just looked at her for a long moment, his face softening despite her attitude. “You might believe that, Sis, but I’m pretty sure Handel sees it differently. If you can’t even share the ups and downs of your life with the man you married, then what’s the point? Fredrickson’s is a big part of you now and it’s still a big part of who Handel is, whether he’s monetarily invested in it or not. He wants to be a part of your life, not just the man who shares your bed. If you can’t see that, then you need a heart transplant.”

He reached around her for the handle of the door and she automatically stepped away. A tight ball of fear and guilt twisted her insides, but she fought to tamp it down. Adam didn’t understand. He didn’t know how hard it was to stay in control, to keep the different aspects of her life separate. She didn’t want to worry Handel with her business woes. He had enough of his own problems, with a client he was trying to save from a murder conviction. Besides, he didn’t need her input on his court case anymore than she needed his on the winery.

And yet… Handel did share his work with her. He often asked her opinion and discussed aspects of his cases in a general sort of way without infringing on his attorney/client confidentiality clause. He cared what she thought.

Why couldn’t she do the same? Sometimes she had whole conversations with him in her head, but then face-to-face she struggled for words and many times things went unsaid. As if not saying something took away its power to hurt them.

Just this morning he’d called to talk before he went into court. He chatted about the weather, his client’s terrible new haircut, and randomly announced that when or if they had children, he knew they would be extraordinary. She’d gone all quiet, unable to get past the glibness of the comment to what lay beneath. Knowing how much he loved Davy and spending time with the boy, she was confident he would make a wonderful father, but… she wasn’t so sure about being a parent herself. She barely passed as an adult, much less an example to small clones.

She drew a deep breath and slowly expelled, loosening the knot around her chest. They really needed to talk when he got home. She missed him when he was gone overnight. This case had been taking him away far too many nights already. It would be a relief when it was over. She never slept as well when he was gone. Wrapped secure in Handel’s arms, her nightmares no longer stood a chance.

Sally pushed the door open. “All clear?”

“Everything’s fine. Don’t worry about it,” Billie said, retrieving the papers she’d thrown on the desk.

“Look,” Sally said, taking her arm and gently turning her around. “Everyone around here knows that things aren’t fine. The economy sucks. Why should Fredrickson’s have it easy?” She sighed. “You should give your brother a break.”

“I know,” she said, “and I’m sorry you were forced to witness another one of my meltdowns.”

“Meltdown? That was nothing.” She waved a hand as though shooing away a fly. “You should see the fights my family get into at Christmas. Since there’s no snow to pelt each other with, we just run the hose in the backyard and mud wrestle.”

Billie shook her head, grinning. “Someday I’ve got to meet your family. For some reason I keep imagining you as a foundling left on the doorstep of the winery.”

“Not far from the truth,” she said, slipping back into the chair behind her desk. “I’ve been here nearly that long.”

“And?” Billie asked, knowing there was always more to Sally’s stories.

“Adam’s right. Handel’s already invested in Fredrickson’s because he’s invested in you. He married you, didn’t he? So talk to him. Let him help, even if only as a listening ear for you to vent.  He needs you to trust him, to confide in him.”

“Why? Did he say something?” Billie asked, suddenly afraid her perfect world was about to crumble.

“No. He doesn’t have to. Billie, he’s your husband!” Sally dropped her head on the desk and bumped it repeatedly against the surface, auburn curls flopping.

“I suppose that’s your way of saying I’m really dense.”

She straightened, a small smile of satisfaction on her lips. “Now don’t go putting words in my mouth.”

“Right.” Billie pulled open the door but glanced back. “Thanks, Sally. If anybody needs me, I’ll be down in the cellar.”

•••••

Handel pulled into traffic and sped up, eager to be home and spend what was left of the evening with Billie. The jury had been selected, the date had been set to begin, and Judge Matthews had reminded them all that this was a high profile case and she better not hear of anyone discussing any part of the trial or she would rethink her position on sequestering. Handel wasn’t due back in court until Monday. He had the whole weekend to remind his new wife just whom she was married to. The past couple of weeks they had slept apart more than together, him spending lonely nights in the city working. He would be happy when it was over. Maybe they could get away to Maui for a few days or take a few weeks and visit all the islands – if Billie would trust her staff at the winery and leave it all behind.

Traffic slowed to a crawl on the freeway and he flipped the radio on as a distraction from the boredom of his commute. Smooth jazz played softly over the speakers, soothing the edginess he always felt sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic. Thunderclouds rolled in from the bay, but there was little chance of rain this time of year. All the hovering clouds managed to do was keep the stench of pollution at ground level. He wrinkled his nose and turned on the air-conditioner. It had climbed to eighty degrees in the heart of the city, but once he got out into the country the temp would drop into the low seventies. This time of year in the valley was usually pleasant, with gentle breezes and clear cerulean skies.

Cars began to move forward in the lane beside him and soon his lane inched forward as well. He changed the station on the radio to the evening news and listened to the drone of the newscaster with only half his attention. A familiar voice interrupted his wandering thoughts. The Deputy District Attorney usually spoke in a blustery sort of way that put his listeners on the defensive. But today Alec Melendez sounded calm and sure of himself when he’d answered the reporter’s questions outside the courtroom earlier.

“Mr. Kawasaki has maintained his innocence and pleaded not guilty,” the reporter said, “He was even quoted as saying he had nothing to hide and would testify in his own defense. Do you think that will be enough to sway members of the jury to his side?”

Melendez gave a short laugh. “Mr. Kawasaki’s attorney, Handel Parker, is a well-seasoned litigator, so I doubt he will allow his client to testify. No matter the smoke screen they throw up, I will prove to the jury without a shadow of a doubt that Sloane Kawasaki is not only guilty of illegal business practices and money laundering, but he was also an abusive husband who planned the murder of his own wife, and then proceeded to personally follow through with that murder even after a failed first attempt by a hired thug. Jimena Alvarez-Kawasaki deserves justice and I plan to see that she gets it.”

From the sound of it, the deputy DA was getting a head start on his opening statement – or running for office. He was definitely not stating proven facts, but rather innuendo from an unreliable source. Sloane’s secretary had admitted that she was jealous after he married Jimena and made up stories to anyone who would listen that her boss was connected with gangs. The so-called first failed murder attempt had been a hit and run. Someone side-swiped Jimena when she stepped out of her car on a busy downtown street. She was battered and bruised but nothing had been broken and the hit and run driver had never been found.

Other reporters yelling out further questions faded into the background as the newscaster tied up the story. “That was Deputy District Attorney Melendez outside the courtroom this afternoon after the jury selection ended and the trial date was set to begin next Wednesday.”

His cell phone buzzed over the speakers and he pushed the Bluetooth answer button. “Handel Parker here.” There was silence for a moment and he thought maybe he’d been disconnected. “Hello?”

“I have information for joo about joor murder case.” The man’s voice was deep and raspy, with a strong Mexican accent.

“Who is this?” he countered, eyes narrowed as he glanced in the rearview and changed lanes. “If you know something about Jimena Kawasaki’s murder, I am obligated to tell you to take it to the police.”

“Dat’s not going to happen. I don’t talk to no police. Only to joo.”

Handel’s mind raced. “Fine. Talk to me. What do you know?” He didn’t want to scare off a potential witness. If the man wouldn’t go to the police then he should at least hear him out. He was probably a crackpot. They’d certainly attracted plenty of them during the discovery phase.

“I don’t want to say over the phone. Can joo meet me by the dock…”

Handel cut him off. “No. That’s not going to happen,” he said, repeating the man’s words back at him. “Tell me what you know and I’ll decide whether it’s worth my time.”

All four lanes of cars came to a dead stop and Handel slammed on the brakes. He breathed a sigh of relief when the cars behind him managed to stop in time as well. Just what he didn’t need was to be in a freeway pileup.

The man sniffed. “Look, I need money. I’ll tell joo everything for two grand.”

Handel laughed. “I’m hanging up now.”

“No! Please. Listen. I’m telling the truth. I know who killed Jimena.”

The way the man said her name… it was personal. Intimate. Like he’d actually known her. Maybe he wasn’t a crackpot. “All right. I’m listening. But I need something from you before we can go any further. I’m not going to meet you or give you two-thousand dollars without a compelling reason.”

He heard traffic noise and a car horn over the speakers. “I loved her,” he said, his voice so quiet Handel had a hard time hearing. “Jimena was going to leave Kawasaki and go to Mexico with me. But her brother told her I was a heroin addict.”

“Manny?”

“Sí.” The small affirmative was filled with raw anger. “He didn’t want her to go. Said she had to stay married to that chapete,” he spit the word like a curse, “because she had made a vow.”

Handel suddenly had a heroin addict thrown into the mix of his trial. Not exactly someone above reproach, but that wouldn’t stop the prosecution from using him to prove Kawasaki had motive for killing his wife. Why hadn’t Manny mentioned this person before? Especially if the man was seeing his sister romantically and he knew about it. He rubbed a hand over his stubbly five o’clock shadow, thinking. “So you want me to believe that Jimena, a beautiful woman married to a rich man, would leave all that for you, a drug addict?”

“I quit eight months ago! I promised Jimena I was done with the life.”

“And what were you doing at the Kawasaki residence the night of the murder?”

“We were leaving for Mexico. She finally decided it was time. I went to pick her up but he…”

A guy on a Harley flew by his door, riding between lanes, and passing everyone with devil-may-care nonchalance in a leather vest and red bandanna. The loud thumping of the exhaust pipes drowned out the man’s words.

“… and when I woke up she was dead,” he finished.

Red taillights flared on the pickup in front of him as it suddenly came to a complete stop. Handel slammed on the brakes. His dream of a getaway with Billie evaporated with a glance in the rearview mirror. A truck was bearing down and there was no way it could stop in time to avoid rolling right over him. He twisted the wheel hard to the right and pulled into the next lane without knowing for sure if there was enough space between vehicles. The screech of metal on metal as he slid past the edge of the pickup’s bumper drowned out the last of the man’s words. Handel was flung forward against the steering wheel when the truck slammed from behind. An explosive sound reverberated in his head and glass exploded around him.

“Mr. Parker? Mr. Parker?” He thought he heard a voice calling and then it faded away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first two Fredrickson Winery Novels are available at all online stores:

Amazon: Entangled     Crushed     Barnes & Noble: Entangled     Crushed

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Barbara

Barbara Ellen Brink is the author of Entangled, Crushed, Split Sense (winner of the Grace Award), Running Home, Alias Raven Black, & The Amish Bloodsuckers Trilogy.
Barbara Ellen Brink is the author of Entangled, Crushed, Split Sense (winner of the Grace Award), Running Home, Alias Raven Black, & The Amish Bloodsuckers Trilogy.

 

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Clueless at Pinterest

April 3, 2013 By Barbara Leave a Comment

At one time in my life I thought I was pretty creative. In high school I could draw Snoopy on his dog house or Charlie Brown in his Halloween ghost costume as well as the next kid in study hall. I learned to sew after I got married and made all of my daughter’s little dresses and outfits. I even made a few crafts in my time. Nothing fabulous enough to be mistaken for a Martha Stewart design, but serviceable.

With the advent of Pinterest I have learned that my feeble attempts at artistry and decorating are feeble indeed.

On Pinterest people blatantly show off their artistic flair, home decorating awesomeness, and general craftiness with a total disregard for the feelings of an average, normal homemaker like myself.

Pictures of sweaters or socks knit by hand with nothing but needles and a live goat are on display for all to see. The colors are vibrant, the textures extraordinary, the design absolutely gorgeous. Of course no one can wear it because it is a work of art.

Cooks pin photos of their culinary creations and in very simple terms try to explain the process for those of us who so rarely use our ovens that we need to pull out the operator’s manual at Christmas and Easter.

Then there are those decorating freaks of nature who can pick up an old piece of driftwood and a battered tin bucket and make it look like a priceless antique end table or something to adorn that special nook you have built into a corner of the house you designed yourself.

I look at pictures of beautiful home decorating ideas, elaborate cakes, or handmade crafts that mothers do with their children and I think, “but for the grace of God I could have been born crafty.” Thank God I was actually born with absolutely no interest in those things because otherwise I wouldn’t have all this time to pore over funny pictures on facebook or chat on twitter. I wouldn’t be able to write whenever the mood takes me, but instead would feel compelled to string beads or glue together centerpieces for my dinner table or bake gluten free truffles with roses on top. Thank God I was born talent-free.

Regardless of the talents I lack, I sometimes see or read something on Pinterest that gets my attention. Nothing too spectacular, just simple things for a simple lifestyle. Like boiling eggs.

Okay, it was Easter this past Sunday and most people boiled eggs to decorate or to make into deviled eggs (because plain eggs just don’t have enough fat and cholesterol without adding mayonnaise).

Lucky me, I saw a picture of perfectly boiled eggs with directions for how to turn them into cute little deviled chicks. First off, it said to bring them to a boil and then turn off the burner and let them sit in the hot water for ten minutes. Simple, right? Honestly, I followed the directions to the letter, but the shells stuck horribly and the poor little chicks looked all mushy like they were melting, their skin pock-marked from some chicken egg disease or something. IMG_1198

Well, I’ve learned my lesson the hard way. From now on I will boil my eggs the way my momma taught me and ignore the advice of experts.

As she also taught me when I was a kid – to look and not touch – when it comes to Pinterest I’m only a wide-eyed observer.

 

Barbara

Barbara is the author of the Fredrickson Winery novels, Entangled & Crushed, the award winning thriller, Split Sense, and Christian suspense novels, Running Home and Alias Raven Black. She lives in Minnesota with her husband and two lovable mutts.
Barbara is the author of the Fredrickson Winery novels, Entangled & Crushed, the award winning thriller, Split Sense, and Christian suspense novels, Running Home and Alias Raven Black. She lives in Minnesota with her husband and two lovable mutts.
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Slaying vamps in an Amish world: RECKONING

March 25, 2013 By Barbara Leave a Comment

The final book in the Amish Bloodsuckers Trilogy is filled with exciting battles, family, and friends. Since I’ve shared excerpts of the first two books, Chosen and Shunned, here is an excerpt from Reckoning. I think it will give you a fun glimpse of Jael’s life as a vampire slayer in the Amish community.

 ReckoningB&N

Jael slipped up the stairs to her room with Bruno at her heels. She changed as quickly as she could. Scratching the big dog behind his ears, she opened the lid of her hope chest and took out her weapons. She slipped a knife in her boot, a stake in the waistband of her jeans and crawled over the windowsill. “Bark real loud if Gram knocks on the door,” she told Bruno, then jumped to the tree limb and swung down.

She made her way around the rear of the house, took the scenic path through a cluster of trees bordering the outhouse, ran the last few open yards to the barn and concealed herself behind the flatbed wagon. A flock of geese honked overhead, flying in a V toward Loon Lake. Elsa rattled around in her pen, knocking the water bucket over that Grandda had put in there earlier. Jael stilled her heart and listened.

The vamp was definitely still inside the barn. Now that she was close, her foot throbbed with a vengeance. She glanced toward the house. Time to take care of business before her grandparents realized she was MIA. She bent low and slipped under the rail fence behind the barn, making her way to the livestock door Grandda used to let horses in or out of the corral.

The door was heavy, splintery wood, gray and weathered by wind and rain. The handle, rusted but solid. She pulled it open just enough to slip inside, and let it fall closed behind her. Darkness enveloped her and she paused to let her eyes adjust.

Grasping the stake in her hand, she moved forward. A flutter of wings revealed a startled barn swallow’s nest in the rafters. She glanced up in time to see a dark shape hurtling toward her. He knocked her to the ground but she managed to shove him off and send him smashing into the wall. The old barn creaked and groaned from the assault.

Jael scrambled to her feet, searching for the stake on the straw strewn floor. The vamp growled low in his throat and rose up from beside the wall to face her. His teeth glowed in the dim light as he snarled like a wild beast and leaped at her again. She dodged left, ran at the wall, did a backflip and landed in front of him with a wide grin.

“Practice makes perfect,” she stated with personal satisfaction, then narrowed her gaze on the vampire before her. “Ever think of trying a new dentist, cause that overbite looks like it might give you some trouble.”

“The Bishop sent me to check on ya, see if ya was ready to join the fold like a true follower,” he said with a slow shake of his head, “but he doesn’t have any idea who ya really are, does he?”

“I’m Jael Shetler. And you?” She held out a hand as though it were a formal introduction.

He ignored her outstretched hand and tipped his hat back on his forehead to see her more clearly. His skin looked greasy, as though it were covered in petroleum jelly. Ick! What was that about? His lips lifted in a slow snarl. “The Chosen One. I’ve heard of you, but I didn’t know if the prophecy was true.”

“What? The Bishop doesn’t like to talk about me?” Jael asked, hoping to keep this dumb vamp blabbing long enough to get some serious information before she had to stake him. “I suppose news of my eminent victory over him and his minions could be kind of a downer for you all, right?”

His hands clenched into fists at his sides and a slow hiss whistled past his teeth as though he no longer had control of the urge to kill her. “Your death will bring me great power. The Bishop will give me vhatever I want.”

“And what is it you want, hmm?” She saw the stake behind him, dangling halfway through a crack in the floor. Great. She’d have to improvise.

He took a tentative step forward as though testing the ground, his eyes never straying from her face…or was it her neck? They were simple creatures. One-track mind. “I vant to taste the slayer’s blood.”

She smiled. “Yeah, right. I can’t help you with that. I already gave at the blood drive for Red Cross. But maybe I could give you a taste of something else. Do you like pain?”

Fangs extended, eyes red with the fires of hell, he growled low in his throat like a siren before a storm.

She anticipated his lunge with a jump kick to his chest. He flew back, hitting the ground with a thud, but was on his feet again in a flash. This vamp was faster than others she’d fought in the community – and she assumed older – if his knowledge of the Chosen One were any indication. Obviously the Bishop had not shared the prophecy with all of his followers.

The stake was still out of reach, practically under his foot. He saw her shift her gaze and looked down. The vamp’s smirk was reminiscent of her Uncle Jacob’s when he bent down to look inside her parent’s wrecked vehicle and saw her mom crushed and dying. Fury enveloped her and she moved so swiftly that it took him by surprise. She spun around, kicking him in the side of the head and sending him careening back into the support beam of the barn. The wood cracked with a sharp pop on impact and the ceiling rained down particles of dirt and sawdust around them.

Jael stooped to pry the stake out of the crack in the floor and the milking stool flew past her head, missing her by inches. Before she could get her fingers around the handle, the vamp had wrenched a garden hoe off the tool rack nearby and swung it at her. She ducked and rolled, avoiding being brained like the head of a dandelion, but now out of reach of her weapon.

“You’re not so tough without your little vooden stakes, are ya?” he taunted, flipping the hoe around like a baton master. What – did he go to martial arts school too? Terrific.

She heard Bruno bark and knew she had to step it up. “Tough enough,” she said, and grabbed the end of the hoe as he swung it at her, wrenched it from his grip, and cracked it over her leg. She tossed the tool end away and gripped the remaining splintery sharp handle. “Any last words?”

His red eyes widened and he leaped for the edge of the hayloft above their heads – at least a six-foot jump – grasped it and flipped onto the platform. Was he the missing link or something? Jael didn’t have time to think where all this was going. She had to finish off this bloodsucker before her grandparents discovered her missing. She placed the handle of the stake between her teeth and ran at the post, scaled it far enough to grasp the cross beam and swung herself up onto the hayloft platform.

She looked around. Where did he go? Did he just disappear into thin air?

The Vamp stepped out of the shadows and swung a pitchfork at her. She dodged left, grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back until she heard a crack. The pitchfork fell off the platform and landed on the ground below. He groaned and dropped to his knees. She grasped his hair and pulled his head back, looked into his eyes and plunged the stake through his heart. His body crumbled to dust in the blink of an eye. He was old. Maybe as old as the Bishop.

Bruno was still barking. She had to get back in the house, pronto!

Jael swung down from the hayloft, picked up the pitchfork and broken hoe and propped them in the corner by the tool rack. She shook straw out of her hair and dusted off her jeans. Another quick glance around and she was out the door.

“Vhy do you always lock that door?” her grandmother asked when Jael pulled it open moments later.

She gave a huge yawn and rubbed a hand over her face. “Sorry, Gram. Old habit.”

“Did you fall asleep? No wonder you didn’t hear me vhen I called. All that runnin’ after school is wearin’ ya out. You should let Miss Johnson drive ya home.” Gram turned and headed down the stairs. “Your grandda is waitin’ for his chicken and dumplin’s. Ya best hurry.”

“I’m coming.” Jael put her arm around Bruno and kissed the fur between his eyes. “Thanks buddy,” she whispered. “I owe you one.”

~~~~

I hope you enjoyed this excerpt. You can purchase this book or any of my other books at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Apple, or other online stores. Also available in paperbacks.

Barbara

Barbara is the author of the Fredrickson Winery novels, Entangled & Crushed, the award winning thriller, Split Sense, and Christian suspense novels, Running Home and Alias Raven Black. She lives in Minnesota with her husband and two lovable mutts.
Barbara is also the author of the Fredrickson Winery novels, Entangled & Crushed, the award winning thriller, Split Sense, and Christian suspense novels, Running Home and Alias Raven Black. She lives in Minnesota with her husband and two lovable mutts.
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National Get the Stress Out Month!

November 11, 2012 By Barbara Leave a Comment

This month has been hectic so far. The holidays are not here yet and I’m already stressed.  First of all, I’m trying to finish the 3rd book of my Amish Bloodsuckers Trilogy while maintaining some semblance of order around my hearth and home. (Okay, I don’t really have a hearth, so it should be pretty easy with just a home, but still…)

With my self-imposed deadline looming, I find my mind wandering more than usual. Stress does that to me. The more I feel pressed and fearful that I won’t get something done in time, the more I procrastinate and daydream. Seems normal, right?

So, here I am this evening thinking about important stuff like what is happening on Revenge, cause I skipped watching it so I could write.

I also wonder why Chipotle Chedder cheese is for a limited time only but Jalapeno Jack cheese is available every day of the week. That right there proves life is not fair!

Speaking of dairy products, why do different brands of milk taste different? After all, they all come from cows! Except for Goat milk which – obviously – doesn’t.

Have you ever wondered why dog treats smell just as bad as dog food, but dogs act like they’re getting something really special? That’s like my daughter getting excited about Sponge Bob shaped macaroni and cheese. It tastes exactly the same as regular macaroni but the noodles are square instead of round. I haven’t actually eaten them, so that is total supposition.

I also wonder how we as a society can accept the wasteful use of billions of dollars for political advertisements during this last campaign when our elected officials are supposedly working to fix the economy, create jobs, feed hungry children, and save wild horses from being turned into dog treats. (Okay, I made that last one up, but you get my drift.)

So, here I am writing down my thoughts for the day instead of writing my book. I guess everyone needs a break once in a while. Now I’ve had mine, so off I go to finish that Amish Bloodsucker Trilogy. I did leave you all hanging at the end of SHUNNED…

Barbara

Barbara Ellen Brink is the author of Entangled, Crushed, Split Sense (winner of the Grace Award), Running Home, and Alias Raven Black.
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Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: Barbara Ellen Brink, holidays, humor, stress, vampires, Young Adult series

An Amish Bloodsucker Announcement!

October 10, 2012 By Barbara Leave a Comment

The first book in my new young adult series was released just a few days ago and I wanted to make a huge announcement so everyone would know…but Oprah informed me that she doesn’t read vampire stories, and besides, nobody watches her new channel cause it sucks. (most of that is true)

So here is my huge announcement without the endorsement of any important people other than myself:

 CHOSEN (Book One)

 

A little taste to whet your appetite:

With tongue firmly in cheek and genuine Amish-made stakes at hand, The Amish Bloodsucker Trilogy sets off like a bat in a belfry. Jael the vampire slayer is ready to kick some serious bloodsucker butt. Seriously.

Move over Buffy – there’s a new slayer in town! Raised in the desert of Nevada, and destined for the Minnesota Loon Lake Amish Community, Jael Shetler is the Chosen One.

Trained by her uncle and father in twenty-one different forms of hand-to-hand combat – she also throws a knife with the speed of a bullet, and is accurate to within two centimeters of a cold, dead heart with her crossbow – she is a bloodsucker’s worst nightmare.

Her parents, forced to leave their plain and simple upbringing to escape the clutches of the new Bishop – an ancient and powerful vampire with plans to use the Amish Community as his own personal Jamba Juice – raise and train their daughter to continue the fight begun thousands of years earlier by another Jael, and to fulfill the prophecy in the Book of the Shunned.

Soon Jael is turning sweet sixteen and then … all hell will break loose.

 Jael now has her own website! Amish Vampire Slayer

There is cover art to peruse, as well as up to date information on Jael. Leave a question on the comment page and Jael will answer it on her blog. Keep checking back for new updates and announcements of upcoming releases! 

CHOSEN is available on kindle right now but in the coming days it will be made available in paperback and other formats.

Barbara

Barbara is the author of 6 novels. She lives in Minnesota with her husband and two lovable mutts.
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Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: Amish, Barbara Ellen Brink, humor, Minnesota, vampire slayer, vampires, Young Adult series

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