Welcome to Tuesday Wedding Tales blog series,
where wedding-themed stories are the fare.
Today’s guest is Ginger Solomon. Ginger will be talking about her book One Choice, which has a very interesting concept in it—a forced Bridal March. I’ll let Ginger tell you all about her book. Welcome, Ginger!
Thanks, Catherine. I’m going to start off talking about Mercies in Disguise and then introduce your readers to my book.
The other day I heard the song “Blessings” by Laura Story. It’s been around for a while, but for some reason this time something about the lyrics struck me. It’s like reading that same Scripture over and over and then one day it comes to life in your heart.
I can relate to these words in so many ways. I know that blessings can come through raindrops – the first date I had with my husband it was raining. I know that healing can come through tears – I have cried to the Lord and felt a physical hug from Him that healed the broken places in my heart. I have doubted His goodness and His love, and I have spent countless nights awake and wondering what the next day would bring. And yet, through it all He has loved me WAY too much to let me stay in a place of comfort too long.
Through the greatest disappointments in my life I know God has been beside me. I may not have felt like it at the time, but feelings are fickle creatures and should not be trusted. It reminds me of the Footprints in the Sand picture. Sometimes when we least feel God it’s because He’s carrying us rather than walking beside us.
James 1:2-3(NKJV) says, “My brethren, count it all joy when you fall into various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience.” This verse doesn’t say IF, but WHEN. We’ve all had trials, and we’re likely to have a few more before our time here on earth is complete.
In One Choice, my heroine, Cahri, is angry at God because her parents were killed in the country where they were missionaries. She felt God had abandoned her. Then she was summoned to participate in the Bridal March. She once again felt as if He had forsaken her. We all know God is always with us and will never forsake us (Heb. 13:5), but how often do we forget it when we’re in the dark places? Cahri feels God’s presence at various times throughout the book, and finally remembers how much He loves her later in the book – three long years after the death of her parents.
Will we allow God to turn our raindrops into blessings and our tears into healing? Will the sleepless nights send us to our knees crying out to God? How long will it take us to remember that God always wants the very best things for us?♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥
By Ginger Solomon
Cahri Michaels is American by birth, but Belikarian by choice. Being selected to participate in the Bridal March forces her to give up the independent life she’s created for herself. She’s not ready to be anyone’s wife, much less to a man she doesn’t know.
Prince Josiah Vallis despises the centuries old tradition—the Bridal March—that is forcing him to choose a wife from fifty women. Why does it matter that he’s twenty-five and still single?
When Cahri and Josiah meet, passion ignites. Will it spark a godly love that can see them through or will they be burned, never to be the same?
15 miles northeast
One week later
Cahri Michaels trudged through the market, tired from a week of pressures and schedule changes at work. So many people crowded the aisles, just getting to the fruit and vegetable section proved difficult. A few apples, a small eggplant, and salad ingredients were all she needed from this section. Dodging other shoppers, she plucked a few cans of broth from a shelf and then headed for the cereal aisle to grab oatmeal.
With her basket in her hand, she rounded the corner and collided with a solid wall of muscle covered in a blue cotton shirt. Strong hands kept her from falling, but she lost her grip on the basket. It plunged to the floor, scattering her groceries.
“Ozur dilerim.” She lowered her eyes as she excused herself. He released her arms. A sudden chill replaced the warmth where his hands had rested. A hand to her favorite white wool cloche made sure it remained in place and hid how much the contact affected her.
“Hicbir sorun.” The deep, velvety voiced reply of “no problem” caused goose bumps to raise the hairs on her arms. She glanced at the stranger. Tall and good-looking. Incredibly good-looking.
Embarrassed, Cahri lowered her eyes again and bent to retrieve her groceries. At the same moment, he also bent over and their heads collided.
“Oh!” Her exclamation joined his grunt. “How clumsy can a person be?” she murmured under her breath. She took a deep breath and his scent, masculine with a hint of musk, inundated her senses. It was familiar, but why?
A foreboding fell on her spirit even as her heart was drawn to him.
“Excuse me? Did you call me clumsy?” The sudden chill in his voice sent ice through her veins.
What happened to the velvety tone? Then it hit her. He understood her words. He spoke English.
She gasped and heat burned its way up her neck and into her cheeks as she glanced at his face. He had the most breath-taking pair of chocolate-brown eyes she’d ever seen, which said a lot in a country full of brown-eyed people. His gaze bore into hers, and he lifted an eyebrow, waiting for her response. Her cheeks burned, and she shifted on her feet, looking away from his scrutiny.
“No! I….” She paused and took a steadying breath. “I was talking to myself. I didn’t think… few people here understand me when I mumble to myself. Please forgive me.” Her voice grew quieter as her face grew warmer. She’d come so close to insulting him. A shudder rippled through her body at the trouble it would have caused—an American insulting a native, and if his attire meant anything—a prominent, rich man.
Her parents had reminded her every day as she grew up about how to behave around native men, to always show them deference. “It’s not like America,” they would say, “where women are considered equals. Many Belikarian men are willing to give more freedoms to women, but others are quite strict in their philosophies. You must be careful unless you know to whom you speak, you could cause undue trouble.”
Which kind of man was he?
She picked up the last can and stood. As he handed her the basket, their hands touched and an unexpected awareness filled her. Her breath caught. She released the pent-up air with deliberate care.
“Thank you.” The earlier mistake was forefront in her thoughts, so she kept her eyes averted and her words few to avoid another incident.
“You’re welcome. Do you need further assistance?” The velvety voice again. A tingle ran down her spine.
Want to read more? You can find One Choice at Amazon
About the Author:
Ginger Solomon is a Christian, a wife, a mother to seven, and a writer—in that order (mostly). She writes or reads inspirational romance of any genre, and if she’s busy homeschooling, doing laundry, or fixing dinner, books are on her mind. She’s a member of American Christian Fiction Writers, president of her local writing group, and blogs regularly for InspyRomance.com and at gingersolomon.com.
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