to choose from.
It’s the love of an engaging and spiritually uplifting (or challenging!)
story that brought them to the COTT judges bench, and we thank them for it.
The judges are basing their scores on the first two chapters of the
participating novels, and from what we hear, they’re loving their job!
corner, and with more and more authors participating, we’re going to need
more judges! If you’re interested, follow this link to
learn more. It’s simple, fun, and rewarding. And it’s not everyday
you get a chance to influence what might very well be the next great novel
to hit your book store’s shelf!
each gotten rave reviews from our judges, and we’d like to share a bit of
them with you. Here are the first 100 or so words from each of them.
Waterfall by Lisa T
We paused on our hike, panting and wiping our upper lips as our guide—an
old, Italian farmer who owned this land—chopped down a small sapling,
clearing the overgrown trail. “Ecco, vedi,” he said, pointing at the
ground. See, here?
“See that?” my mom cried, pushing the tree branch back farther, squatting
beside a slightly sculpted limestone paver. Not really expecting a
response, she spoke more to herself—or was it Dad’s ghost she
addressed?—than to us. But the hairs on the back of my neck prickled with
The Redemption by MaryLu
1665 – The Caribbean
Charlisse bolted upright, her heart pounding. The ship’s tiny cabin rocked
back and forth. She grabbed the bedpost to keep from being tossed onto the
floor. Books flew off the shelves. A wooden chair tumbled across the room,
crashing into the far wall. The ship bucked. She jolted off the bed, then
plunged back onto the hard mattress, smashing her elbow into the bed frame.
Pinching tremors shot up her arm. What was happening?
Charlisse tried to remember where she was. The merchant ship. She had
bartered passage from London to the Caribbean in search of her father—a man
she had never met—and the only real family she had left in the world.
A Harvest of Hearts by Laura V
Something brushed against her hair, just above her left ear. Shanna
Stoltzfus swatted at it. When she touched flesh, she jumped, her attempts
to pray forgotten, and raised her head from the steering wheel in time to
see maple stained fingers, complete with calluses and a small cut.
The hand pulled back.
“Is something wrong? Are you hurt?” a deep voice asked.
She looked up into incredible gray eyes belonging to a drop-dead gorgeous
Amish man. He grasped his straw hat in the long fingers of his right hand.
His light brown hair shone with natural-blond highlights. She’d paid big
bucks for streaks like those. Strong, clean-shaven jaw. Nice. Too bad he
hadn’t been around when she was Amish.
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