Kindle Author Sponsor: L.B. Gschwandtner
The Naked Gardener
"Anyone who enjoyed Eat, Pray, Love will delight in The Naked Gardener."
HeyJudy, Amazon Top 1000 Reviewer
"I LOVED this book. It pulled me in from the first line right through to the end. LB Gschwandtner has proven to me that she's a writer to contend with in the world of women's fiction."
Karen Cantwell, author of Take the Monkeys and Run
"The novel is beautifully written, the symbols of the garden and the river fit seamlessly into the plot and portray the theme of freedom, of shedding those parts of ourselves, which hold us back, and the courage it takes to master the river of life."
Christa Polkinhorn, author of Love of a Stonemason
"I thoroughly enjoyed this tale of a woman grappling with decisions about her future. This book is a light, easy entertaining novel. Yet, the reader can ponder along with the main character life issues of stability vs. freedom and risking predictability over seeking new challenges."
Janet Leszl, author of A Pebble to Polish
Artist Katelyn Cross loves Greg Mazur and he loves her. He wants to be married but a previous relationship that went sour has made Katelyn overly cautious about any permanent commitment. And what about Greg’s first wife? He lost her to cancer and Katelyn worries that he’s only looking for a replacement. What’s a girl to do? Canoe down a river with five gal pals, camp out, catch fish, talk about life and men. The problem is, a river can be as unpredictable as any relationship and just as hard to manage. On their last day, when the river turns wild, the women face the challenge of a lifetime and find that staying alive means saving themselves first while being open to help from a most unlikely source. As Katelyn navigates the raging water, she learns how to overcome her fear of change in a world where nothing stays the same. When Katelyn returns to her garden, she’ll face one more obstacle and the naked gardener will meet the real Greg Mazur.
Book Excerpt from The Naked Gardener:
There’s something about wind and rain hitting you at the same time that seems to get to your bones. Like you have no skin. The transition from the warmth of bodies together in the tent to that howling wind and rushing rain hit us like a cruel wave. And it kept coming. Beneath my feet the ground had turned to such mush it was hard to move forward. With every step it felt as if my creek shoes were pulling me down.
Charlene kept her flashlight steady in front of us but I couldn’t hear anything she said above the wind and pounding rain. We tried to run but it was impossible.
We stopped at the first canoe, and I yelled. “Let’s drag another one next to this and store the stuff from both in one then turn it over and put the stuff under it.”
She couldn’t hear half of what I yelled so I made hand motions and she nodded. We dragged another one so they sat side by side. We transferred everything into one of them then we dragged the third up away from the river.
I didn’t say anything to Charlene but when I reached the last canoe I scanned my flashlight beam out over the water. It was starting to rise. And flowing very fast. Streams of water and mud ran past my feet onto what had been the dry riverbank. The bank where that afternoon we had pulled out had now disappeared under rising water. This meant the storm was moving from upriver of us, down to us. We were at its leading edge and there was no telling how long it would last.
We had to drag the canoes farther away into the woods where there was no mud so we could hide the gear under the overturned canoes. By the time we finished we were completely soaked through, our hair hanging, dripping water as if we were standing under a shower. We slogged our way back to the tent and backed in one at a time, taking our shoes off outside the tent flaps. The others dried us with towels. We were both shivering.
“How bad is it?” Hope wanted to know.
“Bad,” was all Charlene said.
I didn’t mention the river. I was calculating our food and water supply. No way would we be able to boil that river water now. There would be no fire for cooking breakfast. It was a different river now.
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