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3 of 3 people found the following review helpful
Format:Kindle Edition
In 71 pages, Jacqueline Hopper creates a world that begins with the
quiet despair of a mother who can't help her hurting child, and ends
with a sense of hope and promise of healing. Keren's son Sawyer isn't
the only one hurting. Keren's scars go back 20 years, to a traumatic,
truly horrific occurrence that changed her life and that of her best
friend Jared. Now they have a chance to work backwards through the pain
and discover if they can come to terms with the brutal events of their
childhood and reconnect in time to save not only Sawyer, but other
children in jeopardy.
This book made me wish there was such a place as the Gingerbread House, to help equip parents and children against the dangers Jared and Keren faced. Ms. Hopper writes convincing characters in a well-paced story that emphasizes the ramifications of child endangerment without a hint of exploitation.
This book made me wish there was such a place as the Gingerbread House, to help equip parents and children against the dangers Jared and Keren faced. Ms. Hopper writes convincing characters in a well-paced story that emphasizes the ramifications of child endangerment without a hint of exploitation.
The Gingerbread House
Keren
Joel has a phobia and, without realizing it, she's
passed it on to her son, forcing her to seek
professional help. What she doesn't expect to find is
the man who'd been her best friend, twenty years
earlier, and his shrine to a moment that forever changed
the adults they became.
Excerpt:
Copyright 2013 Jacqueline Hopper
Some people smoked when stressed—Jared
gnawed pencils. He’d just rid himself of his last casualty but,
in light of Keren’s question, his fingers inched toward the top
desk drawer where he kept a cupful of sharpened pencils.
However, he caught himself before he allowed his nerves to rule
his actions.
Why had he called the main character of
The Gingerbread House Kizzy?
At the time, when he’d been writing
down ideas for the Gingerbread House script, the name Kizzy
seemed appropriate for the precocious star of his play.
“Never mind,” Keren said, giving her
head a quick shake, backhanding the air as if to cancel the
question. “It’s none of my business.”
“But it’s raised your curiosity,” he
said, pointing out the obvious. He watched as she rubbed her
cheekbone, a trait he’d forever associate with the girl he’d
known years ago.
“Well, you see…” She swallowed and then
smiled, as if to cover her nervousness. “That was the nickname
my best friend gave me a long time ago. Kizzy.” She repeated it,
sounding puzzled. “In fact, a lot of things about this room
remind me...”
Jared held his breath as she glanced
about his office. He didn’t need to look around to know what
she’d see—things like the model train set. It was the same one
she’d helped him put together one Christmas, and now it sat on
the shelf beneath his window. The alphabetized bug collection
they’d spent one summer garnering bumps and scrapes to assemble.
He still carried the scar on his elbow from the time she’d dared
him to net what turned out to be a hornet.
And her purple and pink polka-dotted
safari hat. Not even Peggie touched that last item—no matter how
much she pleaded.
Her gaze settled on his face again, her
china-blue eyes wide with shock, before she reached for the pile
of business cards resting on the desk between them. She took
one, read it, and then returned it. The only change in her face
was her color. She’d paled. Her freckles stood out in stark
contrast to the white of her flawless skin.
“You’ve changed your last name.” It
wasn’t a question.
“Can you blame me?”
“No.”
When he’d first started writing the
script, he’d imagined the different ways she might react to his
pet project.
Project? He’d built a shrine to the one
moment in time that had driven a wedge so completely and
thoroughly between them. The agony of the memory made him catch
his breath every time he thought about it.
He’d anticipated her initial hostility,
and then, later, tears of regret that they’d lost touch.
However, shadows shifted through her blue eyes. Her remote and
stony coldness hadn’t been on the list of probabilities. The
Kizzy he’d known never reacted with anything less than raw
emotion.
Guess things changed.
“Well, Dr. Jared Oath,” she said in a
tone he’d heard only once before—and back then it’d felt like a
punch in the gut. “Aren’t you going to give me a tour of your
theatre?”
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