Potluck Club--Trouble's Brewing (The Potluck Club Book #2) , livre ebook

Baker Publishing Group - Evans Shepherd Linda , Marie Everson Eva

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219 pages

English

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Six women. More problems. New secrets. The Potluck Club is back with a yummy casserole of characters, hilarity, and adventure in Summit View, Colorado!Club leader Evie continues to find newcomer Lisa Leann too tough to swallow, especially since the former Texan's new advice column causes rumors to rise faster than her famous instant-yeast cinnamon rolls. When one member stirs things up with a new 'do and a new outlook on life, the girls find themselves in a pickle as gossip takes over the group, a long-awaited romance doesn't go as planned, and the past comes back to haunt the club's youngest member. Seasoned with loads of faith, forgiveness, and friendship, The Potluck Club--Trouble's Brewing gives readers the tasty next serving of friendship fiction that they've hungered for since the debut of this zestful, popular series.

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Publié par	Baker Publishing Group
Date de parution	01 juin 2006
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781585582648
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0202€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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the Potluck Club
Trouble s Brewing
the Potluck Club
Trouble s Brewing
A NOVEL
Linda Evans Shepherd
and Eva Marie Everson
2006 by Linda Evans Shepherd and Eva Marie Everson
Published by Fleming H. Revell a division of Baker Publishing Group P.O. Box 6287, Grand Rapids, MI 49516-6287
www.revellbooks.com
Printed in the United States of America
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means-for example, electronic, photocopy, recording-without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Shepherd, Linda E., 1957-
Trouble s brewing : a novel / Linda Evans Shepherd and Eva Marie Everson.
p. cm.-(The Potluck Club)
ISBN 10: 0-8007-3065-8 (pbk.)
ISBN 978-0-8007-3065-9 (pbk.)
1. Women-Societies and clubs-Fiction. 2. Female friendship-Fiction.
3. Prayer groups-Fiction. 4. Women cooks-Fiction. 5. Colorado-Fiction.
6. Cookery-Fiction. I. Everson, Eva Marie. II. Title.
PS3619.H456T76 2006
813 .6-dc22 2006002690
To the women in my life who have formed a prayer circle around me. (You know who you are.) I could not have survived this year without you.
-Eva Marie Everson
To my dear friends Sharon Williams, a caregiver; Pam Hyink, a therapist; and Betty Murch, a teacher. You three women are God s earth angels who have blessed and enriched not only my life, but the life of my beautiful, disabled daughter, Laura. Thank you for all you ve done to teach her to be, to love, and to live a joyful life. You were the ones who first believed in Laura when no one else could. Thank you for sharing your lives with one of God s little ones who can never say thank-you. This is my way of saying it for her.
Also, a special thank-you to the many who have cared and ministered to my precious child. I can t name you all here, but know that I love and cherish you too.
-Linda Evans Shepherd
Fiction also by Linda Evans Shepherd and Eva Marie Everson The Potluck Club
Fiction by Eva Marie Everson Shadow of Dreams Summon the Shadows
Shadows of Light
Fiction by Linda Evans Shepherd Ryan s Trials Kara s Quest
Tangled Heart
Contents
1 Good to the Last Drop
2 Donna-Grilling Interrogation
3 Half Reporter, Half Detective, 100 Percent Curious
4 Lizzie-Marriage Waffles
5 Clay s One Thing
6 Vonnie-Juicy Love Letters
7 Young Girl, Get Outta My Mind
8 Goldie-Sticky Situation
9 Puttin On the Ritz
10 Lisa Leann-Buttering Up Reporters
11 Can He Get a Witness?
12 Evangeline-Sweet and Sour Romance
13 Between a Rock and a Hard Place
14 Donna-Rye Getaway
15 Texas Lassoed
16 Evangeline-Spoiled Alliance
17 If Oprah Can Do It
18 Goldie-Tossed Together
19 Woodward and Bernstein and Shredding Machines
20 Vonnie-Stirring Good-Bye
21 Stranger in Town
22 Donna-Lavish Breakfast
23 Another Notch in the Belt
24 Lizzie-Boiling Over
25 Potluck Day
26 Lisa Leann-Taste of Disaster
27 Will the Next Mrs. Pastor Kevin Please Stand Up?
28 Donna-Serving Trouble
29 Friendship with Attitude Takes a Holiday
30 Evangeline-A Little Tart
31 Two-Finger Tango
32 Goldie-Attempt to Defrost
33 Faded Photographs
34 Vonnie-Spreading a Rumor
35 The Price of a Memory
36 Lizzie-Serving Second Chances
37 I ll Take Early Church History for 100
38 Lisa Leann-Chewing on the Facts
39 Good Old-Fashioned Snail Mail
40 Evangeline-Spilling the Beans
41 If a Picture Paints a Thousand Words
42 Goldie-Tasting a Possibility
43 Advice from a Couple a Rats
44 Donna-Sweet Peace
45 Guess Who s Coming to Dinner
46 Evangeline-Delicious Reunion
47 I ll Have What He s Having
48 Lisa Leann-Party Platter
The Potluck Club Recipes
Acknowledgments
About the Authors
Join the Potluck Club
A Sneak Peek
1
Good to the Last Drop
Clay Whitefield burrowed under the musky blankets, eking out an attempt at a few minutes more sleep before heaving himself out of bed. The weight from the quilt his grandmother had handmade upon his arrival into the world lay over him like the history of her people, the Cheyenne. But his grandmother and her people were the last thing on his mind.
Outside the window of his second-story flat, the town of Summit View, Colorado, was coming to life. With or without him. His boss, the editor and publisher of the Gold Rush News , was most likely sitting at his desk by now, wondering what time Clay would amble in. Shifts were changing at the hospital and down at the sheriff s department. Children were preparing for school. Sally Madison, owner of Higher Grounds Caf , had already unlocked the doors to her establishment. Larry, her cook, had slapped a heap of lard onto the flat grill, readying it for the morning specials. One of Sally s girls had started the coffee. The very thought of it brewing interrupted Clay s dreams, and his nose twitched.
He opened one eye. Across the room on a scarred table, his gerbils, Woodward and Bernstein, lay wrapped around each other as though they were one. Nearby, his laptop sat at attention, the screen saver banner sliding across its face, teasing him.
CLAY WHITEFIELD, it said. ace reporter.
He d worked last night until the early hours of the morning; thus his attempt at sleeping in. The big story of his career had kept him up, driving him toward a completion he feared would never come. This story-this single story-had tickled his imagination when he was a child, encouraged him to do well when he d gone off to the University of Northern Colorado to study journalism, and had propelled him back to his hometown upon graduation.
It was the story of a group of women who called themselves the Potluck Club. But it was more than their monthly gatherings that kept his fingers to the keyboard and his pen and notebook in an everready position. It was their past secrets and current escapades.
It was, most particularly, their youngest member.
Because Clay Whitefield believed, with everything his journalistic heart had in it, that Donna Vesey was carrying the deepest secret of them all.

2
Grilling Interrogation
It was a bad night to be driving in the mountains. I pulled into one of my favorite retreats, a quiet wooded area, to wait out the storm. I took a sip of my hot coffee and watched the wipers slap at the rain that had altered my view of once stick-straight pines into twisting shadows. As if to add to my concern, the voice of dispatch crackled out of my radio. Unit three, we have a report of a vehicle in trouble at mile marker eight on River Canyon Road.
Roger that. Unit three en route.
I hit my siren and raced my white Bronco down the canyon as the dark sky exploded in brilliant flashes and the rock walls throbbed in time to the rotating lights.
At mile marker eight, my headlights illuminated a frantic man who darted from behind his parked jeep, waving his arms. I reached for my radio to call dispatch. Unit three arrived at destination.
Roger. Be advised the National Weather Service has just issued a flash flood warning.
Roger. I powered down my window as rain pelted my face. What seems to be the trouble? I asked the drenched man who appeared to be in his midforties. He shivered before me in his T-shirt and jeans, his only defense against the storm s chill.
He leaned down, his eyes wide. Hurry! You may be able to save her.
Who?
The lady in the car that slid into the river.
He pointed, and I turned my attention to the raging mountain river only a few yards from the road. Normally the river would be nothing more than the peaceful gurgle of melted snow, but tonight it roared as if demons coursed down its winding path. I blinked as I observed the glowing taillights of a sedan just beneath the river s surface.
My heart sunk as I surmised what must have happened. Canyon River Road was awash in a thick cushion of water. When the driver had tried to negotiate the curve, her car had hydroplaned off the road and into the river.
I picked up the radio. Dispatch, car with occupant submerged at Canyon River Road, mile marker eight. Additional rescue units requested.
I hung up the radio, reached for a length of rope I kept beneath my seat, and stepped into the downpour. A flooded canyon road was not a good place to be without backup.
The man followed me to the river s edge.
Did you see anyone besides the woman in the car? I asked.
The man s Rockies baseball cap shielded his eyes from the deluge that rolled off his gray brim. His voice rose to compete with the angry river. Only the driver.
I looked back at the river. The current was already tugging the submerged car farther downstream.
At this point, I knew an attempt to rescue the occupant would result in certain death, either from drowning or from prolonged exposure to the ice-cold water. Even if I stood taller than five-foot-two, and even if I weighed two hundred pounds with rippling muscles as did some of my male counterparts, that current would knock me off my feet and carry any recoverable parts to a closed pine box to be displayed down at the local funeral home.
The man turned to me. What are you going to do?
I simply stared, scanning the black waters for signs of life. Suddenly, a head bobbed to the surface. It was the woman! She tried to call to us but gagged and choked against the raging current.
With the woman out of the car, I saw a chance for rescue that couldn t wait. Quickly, I knotted one end of the rope around a nearby pine and tied the other to my waist.
I m going in, I told the man before plunging into the frigid swirl of bone-chilling darkness.
The current caught me like a limp rag doll, and the force of the water made me feel as if I were tied to the tail of a kite. When I caught my breath, I called to the woman, who clung to the hood of her car, which had bobbed above the river s surface.
Let go and I ll catch you!
Brave words for a young deputy who knew she