A solitary artisan. A legacy of bread-baking. And one secret that could collapse her entire identity. Liesl McNamara’s life can be described in one word: bread. From her earliest memory, her mother and grandmother passed down the mystery of baking and the importance of this deceptively simple food. And now, as the owner of Wild Rise bake house, Liesl spends every day up to her elbows in dough, nourishing and perfecting her craft. But the simple life she has cultivated is becoming quite complicated. Her head baker brings his troubled grandson into the bakeshop as an apprentice. Her waitress submits Liesl’s recipes to a popular cable cooking show. And the man who delivers her flour—a single father with strange culinary habits—seems determined to win Liesl’s affection. When Wild Rise is featured on television, her quiet existence appears a thing of the past. And then a phone call from a woman claiming to be her half-sister forces Liesl to confront long-hidden secrets in her family’s past. With her precious heritage crumbling around her, the baker must make a choice: allow herself to be buried in detachment and remorse, or take a leap of faith into a new life. Filled with both spiritual and literal nourishment, Stones for Bread provides a feast for the senses from award-winning author Christa Parrish. "A quietly beautiful tale about learning how to accept the past and how to let go of the parts that tie you down." —RT Book Reviews, 4.5 stars, TOP PICK! Liesl McNamara has long used her family’s tradition of baking bread as her way of hiding from the world. When she’s in the kitchen of her bakery, she can tune out everything but the loaves she’s creating. This works for a time, but eventually the world starts to push through. When Liesl meets her new delivery man, Seamus, and his precocious daughter, Cecilia, she can’t help but become emotionally attached. Because of the pain her mother caused their family when Liesl was young, however, she’s extremely hesitant to engage in a meaningful relationship. When one of her employees enters her in a TV competition, though, Liesl finds herself almost unwillingly turning to Seamus as she deals with the ever-mounting pressures of her newly publicized life. In Parrish’s (The Air We Breathe, 2012) beautifully written novel, the vitality of close relationships is powerfully depicted in Liesl’s struggle to let go of her past and embrace the future right in front of her. Readers will definitely relate to her struggle of faith and confidence. --Carolyn Richard “Parrish’s latest is a quietly beautiful tale about learning how to accept the past and how to let go of the parts that tie you down. Readers can find a great deal to identify with in Liesl’s life, from her tumultuous family background to her reluctance to accept love. All of this is entwined with a meaningful spiritual journey and amazing bread recipes that will appeal to the beginner and satisfy even the most seasoned baker.” -- Romantic Times, 4-1/2 stars, TOP PICK! “The vitality of close relationships is powerfully depicted in Liesl’s struggle to let go of her past and embrace the future right in front of her. Readers will definitely relate to her struggle of faith and confidence.” -- Booklist Christa Parrish is the award-winning author of three novels, including the 2009 ECPA Fiction Book of the Year "Watch Over Me. "When she's not writing, she'sa homeschool mother of three wonderful children. Married to author and pastor Chris Coppernoll, Christa serves with him as co-leader of their church's youth ministry as well as serving as a facilitator for a divorce recovery ministry. She is now also slightly obsessed with the art of baking bread." Stones for Bread By Christa Parrish Thomas Nelson Copyright © 2013 Christa Parrish All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-1-4016-8901-8 CHAPTER 1 I'm young, four, home from nursery school because of snow. Youngenough to think my mother is most beautiful when she wears herapron; the pink and brown flowered cotton flares at the waist andruffles around the shoulders. I wish I had an apron, but instead sheties a tea towel around my neck. The knot captures a strand of myhair, pinching my scalp. I scratch until the captive hair breaks in half.Mother pushes a chair to the counter and I stand on it, sturdy pine,rubbed shiny with age. Our home is wood—floors, furniture, spoons, bowls, boards,frames—some painted, some naked, every piece protective aroundus. Wood is warm , my mother says, because it once was living . I feelnothing but coolness in the paneling, the top of the long farm table,the rolling pin, all soaked in January. At the counter, the smooth butcher block edge meets my abdomen,still a potbellied preschooler's stomach, though my limbs aresticks. Mother adds flour and yeast to the antique dough trough. Salt.Water. Stirs with a wooden spoon. I want to help , I say. You will , she tells me, stirring, stirring. Finally, she smoothes oliveoil on the counter and turns th