Praise for
CATHERINE PALMER and her novels
âCatherine Palmer pens a page-turner with aâthought-provoking plot.â
âJill Elizabeth Nelson, Romantic Times BOOKreviews on Fatal Harvest
âVeteran romance writer Palmerâ¦delivers a satisfying tale of mother-daughter dynamics sprinkled with romance.â
â Library Journal on Leaves of Hope
âEnjoyableâ¦Faith fiction fansâ¦will find this novel just their cup of tea.â
â Publishers Weekly Religion Bookline on Leaves of Hope
â Leaves of Hope i s a very emotional tale thatâs easy to relate to. Ms. Palmer ignites soul-searching conflict and carries her readers on a remarkable journey they will long remember. This is a sharer.â
â Rendezvous
âPalmer knows how to write about a sensitive subject with wisdom and kindness.â
âPatsy Glans, Romantic Times BOOKreviews on Thread of Deceit
âBelievable characters tug at heartstrings, and Godâs power to change hearts and lives is beautifully depicted.â
â Romantic Times BOOKreviews on âChristmas in My Heartâ
â Loveâs Haven is a glorious story that was wonderfully toldâ¦. Catherine Palmer did a stand-up job of describing each scene and creating a world which no reader will want to leave.â
â Cataromance Reviews
M atthew Strong bit the curlicue off the top of his dipped, vanilla ice-cream cone. A shard of chocolate shell came loose and dropped right onto his jeans pocket. He glanced at the Princeton University recruiter in the driverâs seat beside him. The manâs gray eyes were focused on the turn into Jaycee Park, so Matt flicked the melting chocolate onto the floor of the brand-new Cadillac.
He wished he looked older than sixteen. If heâd known these two men were going to take him out of class today, he might have gone to a barber. As it was, his curly black hair fell well below his ears and over the collar of his shirt. He had on his blue-and-gold striped tie, as usual. His mom had given it to him before she died. He wore the tie every day, and the mustard stain below the knot was impossible to conceal. That, along with the blob of chocolate on his jeans, made him look like a food-fight casualty.
âA perfect score on the ACT,â the recruiter said for the second time since theyâd left Artesia High School. The man was solidly built and had a blond crew cut. His immaculate red tie stood out against the pin-striped gray of his suit. He drove toward a pair of handball courts that had been built between the empty running track and the deserted softball diamond. âFor a sophomore to perform so well is amazing.â
Matt eyed his cone, wondering if he should attempt another bite. Why hadnât he ordered a sundae in a plastic bowl? Still, this wasnât too bad a deal. He had gotten out of his trigonometry class and had been treated to ice cream from Dairy Queen. In return, he would spend the next hour listening to this man and his colleague in the backseat tell him how great Princeton was. Theyâd probably show him some brochures and give him a pep talk. Theyâd go on and on about how much they wanted him to enroll and how many scholarships they could offer.
For a couple of months nowâever since he had gotten his ACT resultsâMatt had been flooded with phone calls and letters from universities. He wasnât too surprised at the score. One of his counselors told him he had the highest IQ ever recorded in the school system. These Princeton men were the first two college recruiters who had actually shown up looking for him, but he expected more would follow.
He would have liked his father by his side to help the conversation along. Matt could talk for hours about things that interested himâcomputers, logarithms, Latin grammar, the shifting of the earthâs tectonic plates. Feeding the worldâs hungry filled his thoughts these days, and he was hard at work on a plan to accomplish that goal. But small talk? Forget it. For chitchat at school, he relied on his best friend, Billy Younger, to fill in his fumbling silences. But Billy was still in class, and Mattâs father was never around. Heâd be out on the ranch right now, plowing or feeding cattle or something.
âSo youâre interested in computers,â the driver said. He pulled the Cadillac to a stop behind the solid concrete wall of the handball court. âWe understand youâre able to do some interesting things with a computer, Matthew.â