Welcome to Book Readers Heaven! Find Books, Reviews, Short Stories, Authors, Publicity, a little poetry, music to complement...and other stuff including politics, about life... "Books, Cats: Life is Sweet..."
My heart will heal because I love myself more than I ever loved him.
Even though I have my own studio, Candid Moments, and a very successful career, Corey only sees my photography as a hobby. That’s an argument I curve every time.
“Make sure she looks good.” “Are you assuming that I wouldn’t do that naturally?” I ask with my lips pursed. While shaking his head, he says, “Nah. You got this. Like I said, worth every penny.” “Every,” I utter as he walks off. When my light’s adjusted, we begin. Halani is a natural and the shoot is a breeze. It takes longer than expected because the journalist kept interrupting. So, it’s after four when I leave my studio. I race home and storm inside of my bathroom as soon as I enter my condo. I’m too excited for this date with Denim. If I wasn’t in my late twenties, I would describe my entire mood as giddy, like a teenager. Honestly, I don’t care what we do or where we head tonight. I’m just elated to see him again. Although Denim and I were forced together because of two selfish cheating pieces--the resulting connection is organic, honest, and electrifying. He has single handedly restored my faith in men. He is proof positive that real ones do exist and they know how to properly treat a woman. After switching his flight to my airline, he upgraded my ticket to first class and we flew comfortably together back to Crescent Falls. When he escorted me to my door and wrapped his muscular arms around me, I wanted to beg him to come in. I had no desire for him to go. My body instinctively molds to his and I’m already addicted to his mouth and hands. Unadulterated chemistry and attraction are rare and when they are with a sexy, educated, and solicitous, fine ass, Black man, it’s practically a miracle. I’m lucky because that miracle happened to me. While in my shower, I take a mental tour of my closet and decide on my chocolate denim skirt set and brown, distressed, over-the-knee, heeled boots. By the time he rings my bell, my skin is thoroughly hydrated with my Brown Sugar Bae Rich Aunty body oil, my hair is bone straight and luxurious, and I’m dressed, looking sexy as hell. As soon as I open the door, a smile spreads across my face. His chocolate skin and the color burgundy are a match made in melanin heaven. He looks sexy as hell in a burgundy and black turtleneck, burgundy jeans with specks of black, and burgundy Air Force ones. His single platinum chain and watch only accentuate his handsome look. Without saying a word, he steps to me, wraps his arms around me, then kisses me like it’s our first kiss. The moment he releases my mouth, I moan. Damn. “You look amazing,” his baritone sings and I blush. “So do you. Where are we going this evening? I would hate to waste all of this sexiness standing in my doorway.” “Our first destination is a surprise but the last one is your choice. Just know, at that location... His words flow through my ears, travel down my body, then land in the very spot he’s promising to place his head. This man! “Then that better be right here at your place,” I say. “Again, lady’s choice.” His hand swipes across my ass then he grabs it before releasing me from his hold. “Let’s go. We have a reservation.” We leave my place, take the elevators downstairs, then get into his ride. During the entire ride, his right hand rests on my thigh and I practically drool over his sexy side profile. Although he is close-lipped about our first location, I start to get a clue when he hops on the Parkway. However, when he takes the Garden Street exit, butterflies fill my stomach, pun intended. We are going to the Butterfly Garden.
He listens. “Denim! My favorite spot,” I gush when he pulls up to valet. “I promised this would be our first date.” “You are going to love it here.” Excitedly, I practically jump out when the valet opens my door. Denim meets me and we walk up to the main entrance. The Butterfly Garden is a beautiful, indoor, dome-shaped glass structure that houses an array of butterflies, flowers, and plants. Patrons are free to tour and explore the garden year-round. The back entrance of the garden has a stoned path that leads to the Bella House, a historical home converted to an event space and upscale restaurant. There’s a huge iron butterfly, colored by beautiful flowers at the entrance of the garden and wrought iron benches with butterfly shaped backs are stationed throughout the garden for patrons to sit and enjoy nature in its glorious state. Even during the winter months, the garden is vibrant and full of color. As soon as we enter, I walk him over to the digital display board. The curators constantly update it with the current species inhabiting the garden. A black butterfly with yellow and blue on the tip of his wings fills the screen followed by its name, Mourning Cloak. According to the screen, it’s one of the few butterflies that spends their winters as adults. “I’ve never seen a black butterfly,” he utters. “You will tonight,” I say, beaming. I really love this garden. Butterflies are so amazing and the species and variations of them provide an almost unlimited supply of beauty. The second butterfly appears on the screen and this one is just as colorful. It’s golden and black, resembling a bee. Just like the Mourning Cloak, this Angel-Wings also spends its winter as an adult. When the screen changes again and it’s back to Mourning Cloak, we walk through the garden. A few times, I catch the awe in his hazel eyes as he marvels at the pretty creatures fluttering around the garden. At the back entrance, we check in at the hostess stand then walk across the path of sea glass stepping stones. Each stepping stone has a unique butterfly design. This date is already perfect and we haven’t even sat down for dinner. The restaurant has three dining rooms and he has reserved a table in the Metamorphosis. It’s the butterfly-themed room. One thousand species of butterflies have been hand painted on the walls and ceiling. It’s truly amazing. I only have one regret and that’s leaving my camera at home. The moment we are seated, a sommelier approaches the table with wine glasses and a bottle of the Metamorphosis Room house selection, Butterfly Effect Blend. As he explains the wine and pours our samples, two waitresses and what looks like a chef approaches. We both taste the wine and agree to a glass. After the sommelier pours the wine, the chef and waitresses approach. “Good Evening, Dr. Morris. I’m Chef Roland Piqueen. I will be preparing the tasting menu for your enjoyment tonight,” he says and I’m impressed. Denim pulled out all of the stops. He clearly put a lot of thought into this date. “First up is this delicious artichoke soup with winter truffles and tiny brioche crisps on top. Bon Appetit.” The chef walks off and the two servers place the small soup bowls in front of us. They also tip over our other glasses on the table and fill them with ice water. It appears we each have a waitress. The moment they walk off, I grab his hand. Truly appreciative, I squeeze it, then express my sincerest gratitude. “Denim, this is absolutely…everything. Thank you. Listening to me when I speak and following through with what you said means a lot. This night is beautiful.” “Not as beautiful as you,” he says before raising our intertwined hands and kissing the back of mine. “I’m just glad that you like this.” “I love it and the chef and his tasting menu is…hell, chef’s kiss,” I say and we both laugh. “But hey, sorry,” he says and my eyebrows furrow. Nothing about tonight warrants an apology. “Sorry for what?” I ask. “Not telling you to get your camera. I’ll remind you next time.” The fact that he even thought about my camera widens the smile on my face. He acknowledges and shows interest in my passion. How can I not adore this man already? “I can live in the moment with you tonight. No camera needed,” I admit.
~~~~
The plot is not unusual, but the characters involved are... Two couples who have been involved for months are attending a reunion. Corey is the graduate while Jamila is his guest... Readers will begin to form their own opinions about these two being involved shortly after starting to read...
The second couple is Maddox and Denim, who have been together for 12 months...Maddox is the coordinator for the reunion and readers will quickly begin to wonder whether she brought Denim along for his muscle--only... Ok, it doesn't take long, to have the plot entirely switch... Because Maddox and Corey are caught by the other two in a private room almost immediately... Like, they couldn't even wait? Duh!
Now I can also share that Jamila had already kinda met Denim as they were passing each other and Denim was certainly worth of being eye candy for her to follow a few seconds... If you know what I mean...
A smile creeps across her face then she shakes her head. “For your momma and because I’m pretty pathetic and homeless right now in this shitty ass town, I will but can I see your license?” “My license?” “Yes, please,” she insists with her hand held out. “My name is Denim.” “Okay. Your license please, Denim.” After pulling my wallet from my pocket, I produce my driver’s license and place it in her awaiting hand. She examines it. “Crescent Falls? I definitely know where this is and so do my Manor cousins,” she says, smirking. The Manor neighborhood is notorious in Crescent Falls. She knows my town. “Are you from Crescent Falls?” I ask. “Born and raised in The Manor but currently reside in The Millennium,” she says proudly. CFers will represent and I love that about us. “I’m Jamila, by the way.” “Nice to meet you, Jamila. You good now?” She presses her phone dramatically, then looks up to me. “License sent. Now, I’m good. And for the record, I do have a taser and mace.” “Calm down, killer. You won’t have to use either on me. Scouts’ honor, I am a gentleman and I’m my momma’s son.” While eyeing me suspiciously, she asks, “Were you even a boy scout?” After pressing the up button on the elevator, I mumble, “Hell no.”
We don't really know if it was an actual switch of partners... What we do know is that once Jamila and Denim caught the other two, they promptly concluded their connections... Both planned to immediately go back home. But a snow storm interfered. And a shortage of rooms resulted in Jamila having to accept Denim's invitation to share the small suite which included a couch, bed, and kitchenet... Soon, however, you will discover the Jamila you will soon get to know, when she immediately asks to see Denim's license--proof of identify! LOL Hey, She'd been dating Corey for 18 months and only that day learned that Corey was a nickname and not his full name! Caution? Thy name is now Jamila... and she was not in the mood to be fooled again!
The thing is, Denim is just the opposite of Corey in all ways that were important to Jamila. If you begin to feel like Jamila has just met Prince Charming, you just might be right... For this certainly appears to become a "happily-ever-after" merger being negotiated, of course, starting that first night of betrayal that both of them had suffered through together...
His hand grazes the side of my face then lands under my chin. After lifting my head, he locks his mesmerizing eyes with mine. The lust and desire in his eyes match mine because I want this. I want him. “What else are you ready for?” he utters in a deep, sexy timbre. “You,” I admit honestly.
This story is short, sweet, and sexy... The POV moves between Jamila and Denim, so you learn what each is thinking as we read...
Fate or some other fxxxed up thing brought us together and I don’t know why but I do know I’m glad it did. She’s unlike any woman I’ve been with, definitely a stark contrast to Maddox. Even when I invested in her business, Maddox wasn’t as passionate about it as Jamila is about her photos. Her eyes don’t sparkle with excitement like Jamila’s.
BTW, no music was involved in this book, so all videos are of my choice and my memory of songs that seemed appropriate to the storyline... Yeah, oldies but goodies, don't you think? Both Denim and Jamila seemed to know immediately that they had wasted months with somebody else, but, fate seemed to have brought the right match for each... exactly at the right time....
“Never live your life according to the idiots’ rules. Because they’ll drag you down to their level, they’ll win, and you’ll have a damned awful time in the process.”
When a red pickup pulled up outside, she got quickly to her feet and told herself not to act like an idiot. They don’t know you, she reminded herself. To them, you’re just a stranger who knows nothing about them, about Amy or the town. The thought made her smile. The man who stepped out of the car wasn’t Andy; she was certain of that. There was something tense and reluctant in his movements that didn’t tally at all with the warm voice on the phone or with the descriptions in Amy’s letters. “Tom,” he said. “Sara,” she replied automatically, blinking at him in confusion. There was a web of fine laughter lines around his eyes, but he wasn’t smiling. His eyes were the same deep grayish-green color as the sea in November, and they were radiating about as much warmth. His body language exuded distance and irritation. She didn’t know what she could have done to make him dislike her already, but there was no doubt about it. Dislike her he did. For a moment, her world was thrown off-kilter, just like it had been with Jimmie Coogan Street. Only by a few degrees—enough to make everything seem distorted and unreliable, but not enough that she could put her finger on exactly what had changed. He was dressed in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, which made her gray pants seem ridiculously inappropriate. She was no longer under any illusion that her pants made her legs look in any way elegant. They were back to their usual, scrawny selves, and she was back to being utterly plain. This has happened before, Sara, she told herself. If you were stupid enough to think that things would change just because Amy’s youngsters were involved, then it’s your own fault. Mascara! You idiot. She found a certain consolation in that, or she was used to it, at least. “Andy asked me to give you a ride,” Tom said, as though it was, in some way, her fault. “I could’ve walked.” “Sure.” She thought about turning around and heading back inside. She didn’t think she would be able to cope if Andy turned out to be this unfriendly too. But Tom had already opened the car door, and now he gave her arm a gentle boost to help her up into the seat. “So you’re Sara,” he eventually said. He sounded tired, but apparently he still believed in trying to make polite conversation. Small talk was not something Sara excelled at. She couldn’t think of anything to say, so she stayed silent. Without realizing it, she was clutching her jacket pocket, where she had shoved a paperback just to be on the safe side. She didn’t think she could really take it out, even though Tom obviously had no desire to talk to her. People were strange like that. They could be completely uninterested in you, but the moment you picked up a book, you were the one being rude. As soon as they turned out of the little lane that led to Amy’s house, the cornfields appeared again. She couldn’t decide whether they were protective or threatening. “Sara who likes reading.” For a second, she wondered if he could read her mind. “You’ve got a book hidden in your pocket.” He was sounding more and more dismissive. “People are better in books,” she muttered. She said it so quietly she didn’t think he could have heard her, but when she stole a glance at him, she thought she could see one of his eyebrows twitch. “Don’t you agree?” she asked defensively. “No,” he said. She knew that most people would disagree with her. “But they’re so much more fun and interesting and…” Friendly, she thought. “Safer?” “That too.” She actually laughed. But then he seemed to lose interest again, both in the conversation and her. “But they’re not real,” he said, as though that would put an end to the discussion. Real. What was so great about reality? Amy was dead, and Sara was stuck here in a car with a man who clearly disliked her. With books, she could be whoever she wanted, wherever she wanted. She could be tough, beautiful, charming; she could come up with the perfect line at the perfect moment, and she could…experience things. Real things. Things that happened to real people. In books, people were charming and friendly, and life followed certain set patterns. If a person dreamed of doing something, then you could be almost certain that, by the end of the book, they would almost certainly be doing that very thing. And they would find someone to do it with. In the real world, you could be almost certain that person would end up doing absolutely anything other than what they had dreamed of. “They’re meant to be better than reality,” she said. “Bigger, funnier, more beautiful, more tragic, more romantic.” “So in other words, not realistic at all,” said Tom. He made it sound as though she had been talking about some romantic schoolgirl fantasy about heroes and heroines and true love. “When they’re realistic, they’re more realistic than life. If it’s a story about a meaningless, gray, normal day, then it’ll be much more meaningless and gray than our own gray, meaningless days.” Sara thought he seemed to be struggling not to laugh. But then his smile vanished as suddenly as it had appeared. “The books you got Amy to order arrived two days before her funeral,” he said, and with that, the conversation was definitely over. Just at the same moment, Sara was feeling selfish enough to think, So where are they, then? Her thirteen books wouldn’t last long at all. Especially if she continued going through them at the rate she had been. • • • The Square was a large, bulky building surrounded by empty parking spaces. Twenty minutes outside of town, it rose in lonely majesty above the asphalt. Tom stopped the car and looked around as though he too was seeing the bar for the first time. Then he shook his head and opened the door for her. “Maybe I should warn you about Andy and Carl,” he said. “They’re…well, they’re together. Everyone’s very understanding. We don’t talk about it.” “I know,” she said. Tom raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. There were only two other customers in the entire bar. One appeared to be sleeping, and the other, with a John Deere cap on, was eating nonstop from a bowl of peanuts. Sara hadn’t realized that people in the United States actually wore hats that advertised tractors, but when she turned around to comment enthusiastically, Tom looked so unimpressed she decided now wasn’t the right time. He gestured for her to keep going and followed her over to the bar. She climbed carefully up onto one of the bar stools, and he pulled out the one next to her and sat down in a single relaxed movement. When he caught sight of Andy, Tom smiled the first real, genuine smile she had seen from him. It made him look younger. Andy didn’t look at all like she had imagined from Amy’s letters. The only similarity was the boyish glint in his eye, which somehow suggested he still expected life to be full of adventure. He grinned at her as though he was sure they would get along, a grin that was impossible to resist. Then he looked back and forth between Tom and Sara in a way which made her cheeks burn and Tom straighten his stool so he ended up farther away from her. “Welcome to the Square,” said Andy. “A piece of history, a constant source of alcohol, a gathering point in Broken Wheel long before I was here.” He gestured around him. Sara blinked. “I only took over”—he looked questioningly at Tom—“seven years ago? Can it really have been that long? When Abe departed this life. By then, he’d become worryingly obsessed with female country musicians.” Sara felt increasingly relaxed the more obvious it became that she wasn’t expected to take part in the conversation. Andy seemed to be doing fine on his own. He leaned forward across the bar. “His wife left him. And it wasn’t Cash or Williams or Nelson he turned to for comfort but Dolly, Emmylou, Patsy, Loretta, and Tammy. For five years, their lovesick, miserable voices put a downer on things here in the Square, right until the Dixie Chicks put a stop to all that.” “Oh, for God’s sake, Andy.” Tom had clearly heard this story one too many times...
~~~
In this age of world-wide communication, we meet two women of different ages who became friends through letters... Sara lives in Sweden and Amy lives in Iowa. Their mutual interest was books and they discussed various books during each of their letters to each other... Amy did not share her actual health issues but spent all of her time sharing with Sara her love of her home town, Broken Wheel... So much so that Sara had become so interested, and, as well, needing to break from the tedium of her life as an assistant in a bookstore, that when Amy invited her to visit and they talked about it, Sara had decided to grab the adventure that she would never have, at least she thought, if she didn't take this opportunity...
Everything in the planning stage went well, except that, on the day that Sara was to arrive, most of the town was empty as they were attending the funeral and burial...of Amy!
But Amy had many friends and was a revered member of this little community. So much so, that all of the leading business owners and town leaders had known that Sara was coming. Soon, that entire group would take on the role of greeting, meeting and doing as much as possible to ensur Sara did not feel that she was caught in an impossible situation and think she must immediately return home...
Everybody agreed that she would stay in Amy's home just as was planned... And every place that Sara would visit, she was not charged for food or drinks, just as it would have been while visiting with her friend. Everybody knew that Sara's letters had become an important part of Amy's last months before she died. And never saying a word to Sara about the real situation of her health.
Sara was even more of a fanatic reader than I've ever been. She carried books and brought one out, moving into the story no matter where she was... Sara was an introvert and had never found it easy to participate in small talk... She found it hard to be in a home where there was only the belongings of her friend, Amy, knowing that she had only her memories of her letters since they would never meet...
But when Sara got brave enough, or one of the hosts or appointd drivers came to her door to drive her to anywhere she wanted to go, she began to see Broken Wheel as it was in the present. Things that had been described to be sure to see by Amy was no longer as she had been told. Many of the storefronts were boarded up or the glass windows broken, even a street no longer had appeal as had been described... Amy had been sharing of the town she once lived in...
Still, Sara soon found peace and quiet when she allowed herself to explore Amy's home and discovered a major library that was full of more books than she could read in a lifetime! So she was able to enjoy being able to choose any book that claimed her attention and, when finished, move on to a new one immediately. But, Sara began to feel that she could not continue to live in a home without paying rent or accept food without paying for it. She began to feel guilty and ill at ease as to what she could do to starting paying her way...
Sara found she was enjoying meeting the people who were still in this "almost" ghost town. But it did bother her when she would walk down the main street and see a group of men standing on the corner watching her. Not in a bad way, but, she realized, in a way that she began to realize that this little town was barely making it... Many had left when land was sold to grow corn as the major product, so that the entire community was shut off from sight as miles of nothing but growing corn engulfed the town...
Sara began to take walks from Amy's home into town and noticed a building that drew her attention... It started her thinking. Wouldn't that make a wonderful cozy booknook... Once she knew how she could do it, she started asking how to get approval to open a shop... And, as they say, that was the beginning...
Maybe this shop had her attention because its windowpanes were still intact or because it didn’t seem to have been treated quite as badly as the others. It was dirty, but only with two, maybe three years’ worth of dust. “When did this shop close?” she asked George as soon as he came out. She leaned in toward the window and rubbed a circle to look through. There was a counter in the middle of the space and a couple of shelves against the walls. Two chairs had been left behind, and both seemed to be in one piece. The lighting consisted of a lone naked bulb, and though the sun was managing to make it through the dirt on the windows, it was hard to tell what color the walls and few furnishings were. “Amy’s?” he asked. “This is Amy’s shop?” Was, she thought, but he didn’t seem to notice that she’d used the wrong tense. “Yeah,” he said as he fiddled with his car keys. He looked around as though he was worried someone might hear them. “Her husband bought it. It was never much of a success while he was alive, but I guess it kept him away from her for a couple of hours a day at least.” The expression on his face was uncharacteristically grim. “She closed it as soon as he died. Not a day too soon.” It wasn’t clear whether George meant the shop closing or Amy’s husband dying. “When was that?” “Almost fifteen years ago, but she kept on cleaning it. I don’t really know why. I don’t think she thought she’d be renting it out. She stopped, of course, when…when she got worse.” Sara could just picture Amy cleaning her dead husband’s shop year after year. Neat and tidy. “What kind of shop was it, when it was open?” George looked even more disapproving. “A hardware store.” Then he said nothing more about it. He drove her home in silence. • • • That evening, Sara sat in the kitchen enjoying the first warm meal she had made for herself since arriving. She had one of Amy’s books wedged beneath the edge of her plate so that she could eat and read at the same time. The warm food gave Sara renewed courage. She didn’t even bother to go around and switch on all the lights before it got dark. The light in the kitchen was the only one she needed. She was starting to feel like she might manage, like she might get her reading holiday, her stories and her adventure, after all. She had told people at home she was going to Broken Wheel to get away for a while, to have a real holiday, to read and to meet Amy, but that hadn’t been the whole truth. She had wanted to experience something…big. To be able to say to people, though she didn’t quite know who, that she had once spent two whole months in a small town in America. “Amy,” she said, “did you know that over three hundred thousand new books are published in the United States every year? And now here I am.” Regardless of how it all turned out, she would have done something for once. Two hours later, she had spread Amy’s books out on every available surface and was sitting contentedly in one of the rocking chairs on the porch, a forgotten cup of coffee by her side. She had three books on her lap but wasn’t reading any of them. She was listening to the sounds of the evening breeze playing in the old house. Somehow, her discovery of Amy’s books had changed the atmosphere of the place. It was as though it had become Amy’s once again, and Sara her guest. The constant noises had made her nervous those first few days, but now they were a comforting addition to her evening. The branches rapping at the window upstairs made her feel less alone, like the tree and the window were keeping her company. The rattling pipes, the constantly creaking wood—it seemed like something was still present in the house, as though it would never be completely empty, even once she had gone back home.
~~~
Sara's quiet, but friendly interaction was compelling. Soon volunteers and furnishings were donated... But when it was done and opened, nobody came, except to say hello or bring her a tea or coffee from next store...
Until one day, two young boys stopped in front of the shop. Sara was sitting in an armchair reading. She didn't notice the boys, so they kept watching her, wondering how long she would sit there reading without stopping... Soon other neighbors came to see what was going on and stood there watching...
But that afternoon, she was sitting in one of the armchairs, and her reading caused two of the town’s children to pause outside the window. They were on their way home from the school bus and in no hurry at all to start their homework. From the street, Sara looked like part of the window display. The name of the bookshop was painted on the window, and she was sitting directly beneath the welcoming yellow letters that spelled out the words Oak Tree Bookstore in a broad arc. Her hair fell like a curtain around her face as she sat curled up with a book in her lap, an enormous pile of books on the table next to her. Her long, slender fingers were turning the pages so quickly that the two boys wondered how she had time to read them. It made them stay standing there. At first, they had stopped only in the hope that she would nod to them or shoo them away, but now an hour had passed and she hadn’t even noticed that they were there. When George appeared, the younger boy was amusing himself by making a face at Sara, his nose pressed against the window. Even that didn’t lead to any obscenities or a weary request for them to leave. Strange. “What’re you up to?” George asked. He was slightly overprotective when it came to Sara. “We’re seeing how long she can read in one go,” said the elder. “She hasn’t even noticed us,” said the younger. George leaned forward and peered in through the window, curious despite his better nature. “How long have you been standing here?” “An hour.” “And she hasn’t looked up once?” “Nope.” The younger joined in. “Even though I’ve been making faces.” George frowned at him and moved back from the window, in case Sara looked up at that moment and thought he was part of the whole thing. “We’re gonna stand here till she looks up,” the younger said confidently. “We’re gonna time her. Right, Steven?” His big brother nodded. “I’m going to anyway. Go home if you want.” He said it in that nonchalant tone big brothers resort to when they know their younger siblings are going to copy them anyway. If they had known that Sara had just settled down with Douglas Coupland’s All Families Are Psychotic, they might have chosen a different day for their experiment. A day when she was reading a weighty biography, for example, or something else that made breaks seem more necessary. As things stood, she just kept reading. Every now and then she laughed or smiled to herself. Their group grew steadily as the afternoon wore on. By the time Jen and her husband came by, ten people were standing there. Her husband had decided to go with her to visit the tourist his wife was always talking about, and she had graciously taken him along to do so. She wasn’t the slightest bit amused to find a crowd blocking her way into the shop. Once the children had told her everything, she threatened to ruin the entire thing by going inside and telling Sara. “It’s not good manners,” Jen said. Whether she meant standing outside, watching Sara like she was a circus animal, or preventing her from going into the shop was unclear. George agreed, but he couldn’t help suspecting that Jen’s disappointment stemmed partly from the fact that she hadn’t come up with the idea herself. Her husband announced that he intended to stand there and watch too. Jen, on the other hand, still seemed prepared to march in and alert Sara. She loved her husband, of course, but that wasn’t the same as letting him decide what she should do. She put a hand on the door. “Wouldn’t this be something to put in the newsletter?” her husband asked. Jen paused. She stood for a few indecisive seconds before turning around to go and fetch her camera from the house. “Wait here,” she said. “Don’t go anywhere. If Sara looks up while I’m gone, stand here till I get back. I mean, just let me get my camera and we can always take a posed picture.” But when she got back, everyone was still there, and Sara was still reading. Jen immediately took a photo of Sara sitting in the window with her book. “Who the hell wants to watch someone reading?” Grace asked from the doorway of her diner. She had lit a cigarette, but it was more an excuse to see what everyone was up to. “What else is there to do?” asked Steven. “That’s true, I suppose,” Grace admitted after a moment. “You’re gonna need food,” she said. “Help me carry the grill out from the backyard and I’ll cook you all hamburgers.” As she was getting everything she needed ready, she realized that while food was good, it would be even better with beer. She made a quick call to Andy, who came straight over with Carl, some crates of beer, and their regular customers. • • • Tom saw the crowd of people before he saw the bookstore, since the group gathered in front of it had, by that point, completely hidden the shop from view. He had been on the way home from work when he saw everyone. For a moment he was determined to drive straight past them, but he suddenly found himself stopping and parking his car without really having made a conscious decision to do so. He could feel the tension from work lessening with each step he took toward the shop, and that bothered him. For some reason, he seemed to relax when he was around Sara. He had felt it the first time they were in the car together, when she had demonstrated so clearly that she wasn’t expecting anything of him. It had actually seemed more like she wanted him to just leave her alone. And later, when they had been sitting outside Amy’s house, he had felt an almost physical sensation of peace. He hadn’t been thinking about work or about John or about anything else that should have been on his mind. That was what made Sara’s company so unsettling. He swore he wouldn’t make the same mistake again this evening. He would just go over and see what was going on. Nothing more. Five minutes, tops. There was something subdued about the scene. Everyone seemed to be straining to whisper. Andy sought him out as he reached the edge of the group, giving him a beer and taking him to the front. It was already dark, but the light from Amy’s shop was spilling out onto the street. Sara was curled up in an armchair holding a book, her eyes fixed on it. She turned the page. At one point, she pushed a strand of hair from her eyes. It felt strangely private, seeing her read. Like watching her when she sleeps, he thought. She was so obviously unaware of their presence. At least there were no tears this time. Thankfully. Beside him, Andy was whispering loudly. Tom caught fragments of it, but he wasn’t really listening. “Reading…” “Been waiting here since this afternoon…” “Changed the book but didn’t look up…” “Got a sandwich with the book still in her hand…” Sara smiled. Her expression was so comical that Tom found he was intrigued despite himself. Her face was open and expressive when she thought no one was watching, warm and friendly and disturbing to his peace of mind. She had never smiled at him like that. Maybe you need a book to coax that kind of smile out of her, he thought, even though he had never bothered trying to make her smile. Maybe I’ll actually try it sometime, he found himself thinking. He forced himself to look away. Next to him, Andy was still talking. “Shouldn’t you be at the Square?” Tom asked him. Andy laughed. “No point. It’s all happening here tonight. Grace called us, so we packed a couple crates of beer, closed up, and came over. Everyone’s here tonight.” “Why…?” “To watch Sara read, obviously.” Andy explained the backstory. “Incredible, right? She started a new book two hours ago, but she’s barely looked up. Like a relay, you know?” Tom shook his head. Sara continued to read. • • • Until she didn’t. She read the last line, smiled as though at an old friend, and closed the book. She unfurled her legs and stretched. When she finally saw the crowd outside, she stood up suddenly and went confusedly out to them.
“My friends!” Steven shouted when she stepped through the door. “That was exactly five hours and thirty-seven minutes.” Sparse applause broke out. The smell of charcoal, grilled meat, and beer filled the air, and empty beer bottles littered the ground. There was a spontaneous party atmosphere to the whole thing, and people began talking more loudly now that they no longer had to worry about Sara hearing them. Sara blushed and blinked at them. She had never been good at being the center of attention. • • • It happens occasionally. Certain groups seem to exist only to make one person, the one we are meant to see, appear more clearly. It rarely happens like it does in movies, where rooms filled with people unconsciously part to give the heroine a glimpse of the hero, or the other way around. And yet for some people, there are similar moments of insight when they turn to a group of people and instead see only one. For Sara, it was when she stepped out of the bookshop that evening and found herself faced with betting and crowds and beer and hamburgers. It was that evening when, for several confused moments, all she saw was Tom. Someone had thrust a beer into her hand and she drank it gratefully while Grace and Jen talked away next to her. “For God’s sake, woman, don’t you have anything better to do with your time than read?” Grace asked. “What were you reading? Can I have some book tips for the newsletter?” Jen asked. Her camera flashed before Sara had a chance to reply. It was as though all previous thoughts of avoiding Tom had vanished. She was acutely aware of exactly where he was the entire time. As though quietly murmuring radar, placed high in her chest, was keeping track of where he was standing and who he was with. She wanted both to avoid him and for him to come over to her. Every time she saw him talking to someone else—and he seemed to be determined to talk to everyone except her—she found herself thinking that he should be talking to her instead, standing next to her, smiling at her.
~~~
This is clearly a character-driven drama. In addition to the main character, we watch as a number of those that have lived in Broken Wheel all of their lives, find themselves involved in rethinking--and acting--upon their lives as they have lived it. Issues of sexuality, race, religion, divorce, and more wind up being explored as the town of Broken Wheel becomes more loving and kind as they come together... Especially several love stories including for Sara!
The ending is, simply, a communal love reaction to what residents had seen since the "tourist" came to town and brought her love of books and the wonderful stories to be found when a book is found for each of the residents... Heartwarming and joyous!
Peyton hurried away, giving thanks for a few seconds of privacy. This was the first moment she’d had alone the entire day. As she rinsed and dried her hands, she heard someone coming into the restroom. She didn’t want to talk to anyone, so she scurried into the last stall in the bathroom, the handicapped one. It had enough room for her and her dress.
When the bathroom door opened, she recognized her future sister-in-law’s voice. Roberta was talking to her cousin, Miranda Willis. “I still don’t get it,” Miranda complained. “Why do your parents like Peyton so much? Her family is nothing but poor white trash. That sister of hers has a baby but no husband, and her mother is an awful social climber.”
Roberta sighed. “I know, but Mother and Daddy like Peyton because when Drew’s with her he behaves better. He’s always acted buck wild, and the older he gets the worse he is.”
Watching through the crack in the stall, Peyton saw Miranda apply fresh lipstick. “I don’t know that he behaves so much better with Peyton around. What about Megan Thomas?”
“Oh, you should have heard Daddy.” Roberta giggled. “He told Drew if he didn’t make up with Peyton he’d disinherit him.”
“No!”
“Yes. To get Daddy’s money, Drew’s been sucking up to Peyton for weeks now.” Miranda ran a comb through her fine, blonde hair. “Maybe he really is sorry for what he did.”
“I don’t think so. Before Daddy threatened him, he said Megan was a lot more fun than Peyton, and he was glad he didn’t have to marry her.”
Miranda looked shocked. “I had no idea.”
“We’d better hurry. The ceremony’ll be starting soon. Let me borrow your lipstick.”
Peyton gave them plenty of time to get away before she came out of the stall. So Drew had more fun with Megan, did he? Adrenaline racing through her veins, she ran back to Ashley who waited in the brides’ room. As she burst into the room, Ashley jumped to her feet, a frightened look on her face.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m not marrying Drew!” Peyton ripped off her veil and kicked off her expensive designer heels. “Unbutton me. Hurry!” She felt Ashley’s fingers fumbling at the buttons on the back of the dress. “Rip ‘em off if you have to, Ash.”
“I’ve got the last one.” Peyton shimmied out of her dress and stomped it for spite, taking satisfaction when a nearby chair pricked the heavy fabric. “I’m getting out of here, but don’t tell anyone.”
She grabbed her dress, veil, and shoes and stuffed them behind a folding screen that stood in the corner. “You tell Mother you went to the bathroom, and when you came back out, I was gone. Wait as long as you can. I want the whole church to know I stood him up.”
“But why? Why now? What happened?”
Peyton jerked her tee shirt over her head which slightly muffled her voice and caused her expensive hair style to tumble around her shoulders. “I’ll explain later. I’m leaving town right now. I’ll call you tonight to tell you where I am.”
~~~
Rest Thy Head
By Elaine Cantrell
Isn't the title, Rest Thy Head, simply wonderful? And I love the complementary cover that shows a place where, if you were trying to escape, then this would be just the place, don't you think?
...My husband and I stayed there on our wedding
night. The rooms are fabulous! They’re filled
with antiques, and every one of them has a fireplace.
The food’s good too. For breakfast they even
served us homemade biscuits.
I’ll never forget how good they were...”
She rounded one more curve and saw Rest Thy
Head for the first time. Oh my! This place
absolutely took her breath away.
Even in the dark she could see the picture in the
brochure hadn’t done it justice.
Rest Thy Head looked like a calendar
picture come to life.
~~~
Peyton might not be the first bride to leave her intended at the altar. But, for me, it was he and his family that certainly deserved to be humiliated! Even her mother was being selfish--she wanted Peyton to marry into the wealthy family just so it would increase her status in society and allow Peyton to help her financially, especially when she was older... Not a way to be happy going into the, supposedly, best day of the rest of your life...
She was heading for... freedom and wherever it might take her. Jumping in her car, she headed out until she needed gas and food. And while there, she discovered a brochure for Rest Thy Head. The picture was beautiful and she remembered her own dream to own and operate an Inn...just like this one!
She took off after her kind waitress had given such a great recommendation room!
It is expected that those who run an Inn will be cordial and welcoming. Indeed the Innkeeper that welcomed Peyton was perfect... But two brothers ran the Inn and the second brother was...not so nice... But Peyton loved the placed so much that when she was able to stay on and work, she gladly accepted...And even, later, when she saw another vacancy open, she called Ashley and she and her son came to stay as well. Cantrell's placement of the lead male character as a veteran with several burns on his body was thought-provoking. Before he had been in the service, he was a handsome man with many friends. The Inn had been a family place but after their parents died, and Jake was injured, he had returned, with no other place to go--and not a place to work, given his appearance. Jake now did the cooking and baking...and Peyton was placed under his supervision. Some may think that the story tells itself...and the burn victim gets the girl. No surprise in this book. However, it is all of the characters, including the staff and neighbors who are able to come together in an amazing survival story that takes nothing else other than love and acceptance...and friendship to someone in need... Take a break and enjoy this lovely tale of two people...make that four people...who come to love each other and find a permanent place at Rest Thy Head! A family-oriented drama that speaks to what may and does happen with the return of military service veterans in America... Highly recommended. GABixlerReviews
Born and raised in South Carolina, I hold a master's degree in personnel services from Clemson University and am a member of Romance Writers of America, EPIC authors, and Alpha Delta Kappa, an international honorary society for women educators. I've been married for thirty five years to my college sweetheart. We have two sons-a physicist and a fraud investigator. They've given us three wonderful grandchildren-one girl and two boys. We also have two mean cats and one sweet, brown dog.
I've been writing since 2001 when my son asked me to proofread a book he'd written. I figured if he could, so could I. My first published novel, A New Leaf, was the winner of the 2003 Timeless Love contest. If I wasn't sold on writing before, that did it. I've been writing ever since and don't have any plans to stop. Frankly, I don't think I could even if I wanted to. Writing is a strange compulsion that drives me to spend long hours in front of a keyboard when I could be doing important things like napping or eating chocolate. My house isn't dusted as often, I rarely cook, and who cares if the laundry got done or not. Yeah, no doubt about it, I'm addicted.
When I'm not writing or teaching I enjoy gardening, quilting, and trying new restaurants with my friends. You can learn more about me at my web site http://www.elainecantrell.com and at http://www.myspace.com/elainecantrell I also have a blog at http://www.elainepcantrell.blogspot.com
Suzie shivered at Carson Snotte’s words, not the March air with its hint of lingering winter. “Under the circumstances, I don’t think we should see each other.” He threw their relationship to the wind whipping around the Bradford pear tree in her small, grassy yard. Everything spun out of control. Suzie struggled to stand upright on the cement drive in front of her brick condo. An image of her and Carson entering Blue Mountain, North Carolina’s largest charity event as the King and Queen begged her to hold on to her destiny. The grandeur of his black and white tuxedo, the promise of being seen as the ideal couple, hovered over them as she had floated next to him in her long purple gown.
“Don’t say that. I promise I’m going to get to the bottom of this. I’ll fix it.”
Carson’s thin lips snarled, ruining his fine features, his blue eyes staring at Suzie like pieces of stone. “You’ve made a mess of our lives. Who introduced you to drugs? Are you seeing some hood on the side?”
“No, I told you the doctor said I have a foreign substance in my system.” She didn’t add that the physician had said he couldn’t treat her because the labs couldn’t identify it. Carson was already upset.
He guffawed. “Right, can’t they figure out cocaine, or is it heroin?” Suzie’s heart broke in a million pieces. “I’ve never taken illegal drugs in my life. I don’t even take prescription medicine, and no, I haven’t seen anyone but you in three years.” Carson waved his long, thin hand then blew air from his mouth. “Seriously, our relationship has deteriorated beyond repair. I’m not sure if you’re actually hooked on something, or if you’re a hypochondriac. Let’s say hypochondriac, and we’ll both be lots happier.” The fair-haired, athletic guy with broad shoulders pivoted and walked away.
Suzie stood with tears rolling down her cheeks. Maybe he was right. There was nothing wrong with her. The ailment was all in her head. Why look even more foolish trying to find someone to cure a disease that didn’t exist? She plunked down on her front stoop and wiped her eyes. The azalea bush beside her blurred with her tears and morphed into an Impressionist painting.
See Dr. Granger. Was she losing it? See Dr. Granger.
Who was Dr. Granger? She’d heard the name but couldn’t recall him.
See Dr. Granger. You need to see Dr. Granger. The words persisted as though they resounded from a stuck CD player.
~~~
Barely Above Water
By Gail Pallotta
Well, I have to say that the first line I read drew a surprising question...why, oh, why, did the author give a character the last name of Snotte? But by the time I'd read the first chapters, I knew why... The man had simply verbally abused Suzie, without remorse...The man was indeed a snot! Now, when readers meet the next guy in Suzie's life, we are bound to love him after that! Right? Well, at least I did...and so did Suzie... But, she was still soooo afraid...
When Snotte walked out on Suzie, she didn't know that it was the best thing for her. But almost immediately she was given a message--I believe by the Holy Spirit--to go to a certain doctor, a Dr. Granger...
When she got such a message from God, she knew to listen. Suzie immediately started making plans. She quit the job that she loved, agreed to take time to train her replacement, and then packed up to move to Destin, Florida, where Dr. Granger had his practice.
What was a hot chick like Suzie doing
looking for summer employment as a
coach in Destin, especially
considering her qualifications?
Lots of people dreamed of living at
the beach.
He stared at her application.
His instincts told him there were
some facts missing, but apparently
nothing that would affect her work.
~~~
Suzie does not know what is wrong with her. She has gone to many doctors who have turned her away, indicating they couldn't treat what they could not diagnose...
Fortunately Dr. Granger did not depend upon having a diagnosis. He just declared that he could help! And readers will watch as he and his staff start working to heal Suzie, beginning with their prayers for her...
While this is going on, readers have a wonderful time since, fortunately, Suzie has been able to snag a temporary summer job as a swimming coach. Her new boss, Matt Combs, is a little curious about why she left her good job, but is so relieved to have found somebody who had the qualifications he needed for the job, that he hired her that first day! Both Suzie and Matt had bad experiences with their last relationships but as Matt got to know her he thought about...something more. Matt had invited her to lunch to welcome her to the job and was surprised when all she ate was a sweet potato and broccoli...but he kept asking her out and many evenings after dinner, they would walk along the beach getting to know each other... Matt also wound up spending a lot of time with Suzie as she started her job... She was coach for a new group, made up of children of employees from the company where they worked. The money was so tight that handling more than what they had budgeted was a problem. For instance, on the first day, all 40 of the children were brought for the swim team. They were all ages...some did not even know how to swim... When Matt realized how much extra work had been placed on Suzie than was in her job description, he had chosen to try to supplement her salary by taking her out for meals...From an emotional standpoint that really had not been a good idea, as each of them felt both the draw toward each other, as well as the fear of being hurt, especially Suzie who had not shared that she was ill. The fun part of the book is the children and the swim team activities. Suzie was an excellent coach and easily worked with each age group while Matt had responsibility for the rest of the children until their age group was called... Children who had not known each other before the team was formed soon became a group working together to perform as best as they could... Suzie does not find out what her disease is until later in the book. I had heard of it, of course...but I had never known what it can do to those individuals infected. Seeing what was happening to Suzie, especially with her not knowing what was wrong, was heartbreaking and readers cannot help but empathize and then start hoping and looking forward to whether Dr. Granger's help would make a difference. I was greatly impressed with how Pallotta merged this illness into a story that was both enjoyable to read, as well as extremely informative about something that could happen to anybody...and often does! It certainly shows how faith and prayer is a primary part of turning your life over to God when you face unknown turmoil and fears. Also, the tension between Matt and Suzie is intriguing as both face the growing attraction while knowing there is something between them that could totally destroy their love. And then God took a hand in Matt's life and he was nearly arrested! LOL He got off with a warning on the promise that he would start going to sunrise services on the beach. It's funny because he had agreed to take Suzie but had backed out...when he had finally been told Suzie was ill... Matt had the law on him now... He asked Suzie for forgiveness and to go with him that first morning...
“It’s more than that. I should have told you. My mother was diagnosed with liver cancer and died two weeks later.” Matt’s eyes grew teary. “I’ve had such a hard time dealing with it.” Suzie put her hand on top of Matt’s on the steering wheel. “That must have been so difficult for you.” “Yes, but I had no right to transfer it to your situation and let it ruin everything between us.” “No worries. No hard feelings. We’re friends.” “That’s a start.”
The salty breeze bent the sea oats in front of them to the right. Matt grabbed two folding chairs from the trunk, the slam piercing the soft sound of the ocean lapping in the distance. He put his other arm around her waist and guided her down a lighted wooden pathway between high sand dunes. Within seconds, they reached the beach, where fifty people sat in folding chairs facing the sea. Reddish-orange colors with a yellow ball in the center danced on the horizon, casting pink and golden hues over white foam as the waves curled ashore. The minster, wearing a white suit, rose from the first row of chairs and stood in front of the podium as Matt and Suzie settled in their seats. With opened arms, the preacher motioned for those gathered to stand. “We’ll begin by singing ‘Morning Has Broken.’” As the sweet sound filled the air, the colors low in the sky rose slowly, breaking through the cloud cover, brightening the world as the soft washing of waves lulled it.
The minister motioned for them to sit down. Then he turned to a place in the Bible marked by a burgundy ribbon. He read from Matthew nine, verses twenty-seven through twenty-nine. The Scripture told the story of two blind men who followed Jesus and asked him to have mercy on them. Jesus asked if they believed he was able to heal them. They answered “Yes,” and Jesus told them it would be done according to their faith. The preacher then flipped the pages to another place and read from Matthew seventeen, verse twenty, “I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.”
Nothing impossible? Suzie mouthed the words. They should have filled her with assurance, but they didn’t. Margaret’s information about the bacteria that still lived in her body sounded much louder in her mind.
The minister held up a small, clear jar. “You probably can’t see this from where you’re sitting, so I’ll pass it around. It’s a mustard seed. Take a few seconds to look in the container and observe how much faith you need to move a mountain.” The pastor held out the specimen. A man wearing white pants on the first row sprang up and accepted it. The guy peered at it with interest for a few moments then passed it to a woman sitting next to him. She handed it to Suzie, the sunlight bouncing off it. Suzie stared at the tiny seed. Surely, she could have that much faith. That’s all it would take for God to heal her. That must have been God’s intention when he sent her to Dr. Granger. Why wasn’t she well?
She handed the mustard seed to Matt and turned her attention back to the minister. “Jesus told us, when we pray, we should ask that God’s will be done. If we think God isn’t answering a prayer, maybe it’s because He knows what we need, or don’t need, better than we do. Then, too, the Bible tells us to wait on the Lord. He will respond to our prayers in His time. That may be very different from ours.” Suzie absorbed the minister’s words. Unfortunately, she’d learned first-hand that evil existed. The world was imperfect, but the minister was giving Suzie a new perspective like the optometrist when he put the corrective lenses over her eyes. God was with her, making it possible for her to move, coach, write, walk on the beach, swim, and meet someone nicer than Carson. She had to admit, the Lord seemed to be taking a long time healing her, and she wanted to get well in her time. That was only human, wasn’t it?
She glanced at Matt. He squirmed a little as though he was ready to go. Did something about the sermon disturb him? The minister picked up a hymnbook. “Turn to page three hundred three.”
The congregation stood and sang “Holy, Holy, Holy.” The powerful song filled Suzie’s pores with strength for living. The reverend raised his arms.
“Go forth into the world in peace. Be of good courage. Hold fast to that which is true. Render to no one evil for evil. Strengthen the faint-hearted. Support the weak. Help the afflicted. Honor all. Serve the Lord with gladness, rejoicing in the power of the Holy Spirit and the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God the Father, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit, be with you all.”
~~~
I hope this last part hasn't given too much of the story ending away, but, I got such enjoyment spending the time at the beach service with Matt and Suzie... I wanted my blog readers to enjoy it too.
This is a lovely inspirational book that is well worth reading. I do hope you accept my high recommendation for it.
GABixlerReviews
Award-winning author Gail Pallotta’s a wife, mom, swimmer and bargain shopper who loves God, beach sunsets and getting together with friends and family. A former regional writer of the year for American Christian Writers Association, she won Clash of the Titles in 2010. Her teen book, Stopped Cold, was a best-seller on All Romance eBooks, finished fourth in the Preditors and Editors readers’ poll, and was a finalist for the 2013 Grace Awards. She’s published five books, poems, short stories and two-hundred articles. Some of her articles appear in anthologies while two are in museums. Visit Gail’s new website at http://www.gailpallotta.com
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