We Never Asked For Wings by Vanessa Diffenbaugh 

Posted on October 15, 2015 by fredreeca

  
Overview

From the beloved New York Times bestselling author of The Language of Flowers comes her much-anticipated new novel about young love, hard choices, and hope against all odds.

For fourteen years, Letty Espinosa has worked three jobs around San Francisco to make ends meet while her mother raised her children—Alex, now fifteen, and Luna, six—in their tiny apartment on a forgotten spit of wetlands near the bay. But now Letty’s parents are returning to Mexico, and Letty must step up and become a mother for the first time in her life.

Navigating this new terrain is challenging for Letty, especially as Luna desperately misses her grandparents and Alex, who is falling in love with a classmate, is unwilling to give his mother a chance. Letty comes up with a plan to help the family escape the dangerous neighborhood and heartbreaking injustice that have marked their lives, but one wrong move could jeopardize everything she’s worked for and her family’s fragile hopes for the future.
Vanessa Diffenbaugh blends gorgeous prose with compelling themes of motherhood, undocumented immigration, and the American Dream in a powerful and prescient story about family. 

Review

When I read Language of Flowers I knew this author had talent. I was unsure if she would be able to repeat it. But, repeat it she did!

Letty’s parents leave her and move back to Mexico. She must now become a real adult and take care of her own children.  Letty is a misguided mother of two who must face reality and accept responsibility for her children. She makes some mistakes and these mistakes lead her to face her past and expect more from her future. 

I love the woman Letty becomes. She grows into a tough, strong mother and nothing will stop her from achieving what is right for her children. Sometimes her plans do not work out the way she wants but, this just keeps the story fascinating. 

This tale completely captivates the reader. You get so caught up in the characters’ lives, it is impossible to stop thinking about them, even when the novel is over.  

I received this novel from Netgalley for an honest review 
  

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While You Were Gone by Kate Moretti

Posted on October 13, 2015 by fredreeca

  
While You Were Gone

By Kate Moretti

Genre: Women’s Fiction 

Book Description: 

Despite Karen Caughee’s intense focus on her music, her life is drifting out of its lane. Her alcoholic mother keeps calling from bars for early-morning rides, her boyfriend doesn’t think she gets him, and that Toronto Symphony Orchestra position she applied for ends up going to her friend, Amy. By chance, she meets American Greg Randolf just before she’s in a car accident. He pulls her from the wreckage, but after major surgery, her recovery is slow. Without her music, her life’s pursuit, Karen is pushed further adrift.

Greg stays by her side while she heals, and he sees her every time he’s in Toronto for work. Without any other support or friendship in her life, Karen craves his enthusiastic attention, and their friendship deepens to love. Though she’s fallen hard for him, he doesn’t share everything with her. In one heartrending moment, Karen’s life comes to a crossroads, and she must face the full truth about who Greg is, and about who she has become. 

Review

Karen is a violinist for the Toronto Symphony Orchestra. She has a car accident and is rescued by an American named Greg Randolph. This leads to a hot romance with many repercussions. 

I enjoyed this story, even though Karen was a little bit of a whiny character.  She tended to get on my nerves. However, the story has many twists, turns, ups and downs. 

Greg and Karen had wonderful chemistry. And with the mystery surrounding Greg, it was an added twist and made the story so much more enjoyable. 

A wonderful, quick beach read. I can not wait to read more by this author. This story has potential! 


   


Author Bio

  
 

Kate Moretti lives in Pennsylvania with her husband, two kids, and a dog. She’s worked in the pharmaceutical industry for ten years as a scientist, and has been an avid fiction reader her entire life. 

She enjoys traveling and cooking, although with two kids, a day job, and writing, she doesn’t get to do those things as much as she’d like. 

Her lifelong dream is to buy an old house with a secret passageway.

 Visit Kate: 

Goodreads page: http://bit.ly/1W4cgMS

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/katemorettiwriter

Twitter: @KateMoretti1

Blog: A Beaker’s Reflection

Red Adept Publishing Page: http://bit.ly/RAPWhileGone 

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I found this in my stash!!! 

Posted on October 9, 2015 by fredreeca

  
I think I made this card several years ago.  I found it when looking for a sympathy card for my boss. I used a mask and ink on the sides. The stamp, I believe, is Stampin Up. I added flower soft to the image.

Thanks for stopping by!!!!

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On Herring Cove Road, Mr Jew and the Goy Boy by Michael Kroft

Posted on October 7, 2015 by fredreeca

  
Overview 

Mr. Rosen, once an amusing extrovert with a reputation as a prankster, is entering his senior years as a stoic, thirty-year converted introvert who hates change, has little to no interest in people and is more than content to have his wife sit at the navigator’s seat of his life. Since becoming a practising introvert, there have been almost no changes in his life, and for the few that there were, his wife had walked him through them, including the recent move to a much smaller home in a lower/middle class neighbourhood where he lives directly next-door to a racist whose nine-year old son addresses him as Mr. Jew. 

Mr. Rosen had seen the move coming, and he is very much aware of the enormous change to come sometime in the, hopefully, far off future; though, he refuses to give it any attention. That change will come on slowly and painfully and will eventually force him to chart his own life’s route. 

This heartwarming, feel-good novel offers a rollercoaster ride of emotion as Mr. Rosen’s world of habitual routine begins to implode while on a collision course with the chaotic world of an innocent child, its troubled mother and vengeful father. 

REVIEW

I have been on a roll lately…this is another 5 star read. And if you follow this blog…you know those are few and far between. 

Avriel and his lovely wife, an elderly Jewish couple, move onto Herring Cove Road. Through an accident, they become friends with their next door neighbor and her son. This leads to many ups and down, joys and tragedies.  

I can relate to Avriel in so many ways. He is an introvert and a pharmacist. Needless to say, he was my favorite character.  But all the main characters are relatable and enjoyable…except one. And he is the one that reeks havoc on all their lives. 

This is a novel that takes the reader through a myriad of emotions.  I laughed, cried, got really angry and a little scared. There is even a part that is so emotional, I put my book down for a minute. I couldn’t leave it down, because I just had to see what happened next. 
An awesome read to say the least!! 


  

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The Lost Concerto by Helaine Mario 

Posted on October 5, 2015 by fredreeca

  
OVERVIEW

A woman and her young son flee to a convent on a remote island off the Breton coast of France. Generations of seafarers have named the place Ile de la Brume, or Fog Island. In a chapel high on a cliff, a tragic death occurs and a terrified child vanishes into the mist.

The child’s godmother, Maggie O’Shea, haunted by the violent deaths of her husband and best friend, has withdrawn from her life as a classical pianist. But then a recording of unforgettable music and a grainy photograph surface, connecting her missing godson to a long-lost first love.

The photograph will draw Maggie inexorably into a collision course with criminal forces, decades-long secrets, stolen art and musical artifacts, and deadly terrorists. Her search will take her to the Festival de Musique, Aix-en-Provence, France, where she discovers answers to the mystery surrounding her husband’s death, an unexpected love—and a musical masterpiece lost for centuries.

A compelling blend of suspense, mystery, political intrigue, and romance, The Lost Concerto explores universal themes of loss, vengeance, courage, and love.
REVIEW

I know this is a cliché. I could not put this book down! 

Maggie is grieving the loss of her husband and best friend. She believes her husband lost his life in the chase to find her godson, the son of her best friend.  This leads her into a web of danger and intrigue. 

This is a never ending, edge of your seat read. Between stolen art and musical masterpieces, you never know which way the story will turn. That being said, I loved the suspense of this novel, I just wish there had been more history attached to some of the artifacts discussed in this novel. 

The tale is a little manipulative in places, but that is ok by me. I loved the wild ride! 
  

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What I am working on

Posted on October 2, 2015 by fredreeca

These post for this album will be all through the year. My daughter is a senior this year and I found this album in some of my stash. I thought it would be perfect for this year. It is very informal and she can write her thoughts in it. I have tried to find another one, but apparently it has been discontinued. 

   
 
It is more sparkling than the picture shows. And the colors really pop more also.  

Thanks for stopping by. 

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Release Day!! The Ceruleans Series! Book 4..Devil and the Deep and GIVEAWAY

Posted on September 30, 2015 by fredreeca

   
 
Devil and the Deep Release Day Party: 30 September

 STORM CLOUDS ARE GATHERING, AND THEY WILL RAIN BLOOD. 

Scarlett is living her happy-ever-after, back in the real world. Only the ‘happy’ part is proving problematic.

For starters, there’s the isolation. Being a Cerulean among humans is fraught with risk, so her time with people can only be fleeting. Which means being with Luke but not being with Luke.

Then there’s her Cerulean light, her power over life and death. Less awesome talent, as it turns out, and more overwhelming responsibility. And it comes with rules – rules that are increasingly difficult to obey.

But what’s really pushing Scarlett to the precipice is something much bigger than herself, than her life in the cove. A force to be reckoned with:

Blood.

When long-buried truths are exposed, will Scarlett keep her head above water – or will she drown in the blood-dimmed tide that is unleashed? 

Buy links 

 

Excerpt 

It began with screaming. Shrill, ear-piercing, horrified screaming.

A girl shrieked, ‘Blood! Look, look – it’s everywhere!’ and pressed her hand to her mouth.

A man shouted, ‘Good grief!’ and another, ‘Great Scott!’

An old lady swooned gracefully and would have tipped over the balustrade of the riverboat had a lanky lad not caught her.

The cause of the excitement – a woman lying slumped on the long table on deck, cheek on her bread plate, headdress in the butter dish – twitched a little.

‘She’s alive!’ cried a lad beside her delightedly. ‘She moved!’

‘Did not,’ argued another.

‘Did too!’

‘Gentlemen,’ interjected a short, portly man with a twirly black moustache, ‘if you will forgive my intrusion, it must be noted that this woman has a bullet hole in her head and is logically, therefore, quite definitely deceased.’

Another old dear folded to the deck with a prolonged ‘Ohhhhhh’ and her husband grabbed a feathered fan and began wafting cool evening air in her face while calling, ‘Smelling salts – does anyone have any?’

I tried to keep a straight face. Really I did. I bit my bottom lip until I tasted my cherry-red lipstick. I pinched my leg through the cream satin of my gown. I dug my long cigarette holder into the sensitive flesh of my arm.

But it was no good.

The ‘What ho, chaps’ posh accents.

The buxom woman sagging in the arms of an elephant hunter wearing Converse All Stars.

The production of smelling salts in a bottle whose label read Pepto-Bismol.

The corners of the little round man’s moustache coming looser with his every word.

The fast-pooling puddle of pinkish blood on the bread plate, buffeted by the steady in-and-out breaths of the corpse.

Take it from a girl who’s really died – death on the River Dart, Devon, is hilarious.

‘Dear me, Ms Robson here appears to be quite overcome with shock,’ said the guy at my side suddenly, and he slipped an arm around me and turned me away. ‘Come, madam. Let us get some air.’

I smiled at him. Then grinned. Then choked back a guffaw. Thankfully, by the time full-scale hilarity hit me I’d been led to the rear of the boat, away from the rest of our party, and could bury my face in the bloke’s chest and shake mutely with laughter.

The gallant gentleman rubbed my back soothingly as I let it all out and said loudly, for the benefit of any onlookers, ‘There there, pignsey, there there.’

‘Pigsney?’ It was the final straw. My high-heeled sandals gave way and I melted into a puddle of mirth on the deck.

‘I’ll have you know, Scarlett Blake,’ hissed Luke, my boyfriend a.k.a. gallant gent, hoiking up his too-tight corduroy trousers so he could squat down beside me, ‘I Googled “old-fashioned terms of endearment” and pigsney’s a classic.’

I wiped tears from my eyes, dislodging a false eyelash in the process, and tried to catch my hiccupping breath as Luke went on.

‘Means pig’s eye. No idea why that’s appealing, but apparently in the seventeenth century, calling a lady pigsney was the very height of courting.’

Through his fake specs Luke’s blue eyes fixed me with a stare so earnest I almost managed to stop laughing.

‘But this is a Death on the Nile-Stroke-Dart murder mystery night, Luke,’ I managed to get out. ‘Set in the nineteen thirties, not the seventeen thirties.’

‘Ah,’ he said, ‘but my character tonight, Mr Fijawaddle, is a historical fiction writer, isn’t he? So as well as dressing like a brainy recluse – and I’m warning you now, I won’t hear another slur against this tweed jacket – he’d know all kinds of obscure terms. Like ginglyform and jargogle and nudiustertian and bromopnea and farctate and quagswag and philosophunculist.’

His showing off sobered me just enough to control the giggles. ‘You made those words up,’ I accused, poking a crimson talon into his mustard-yellow shirtfront.

He blinked at me innocently. ‘Did not. I told you before we left the house, I did my homework.’

I narrowed my eyes. ‘All right then, Mr Fijawaddle, what does that last word you said mean?’

‘Philosophunculist?’

‘Yes, that.’

‘Er…’ Luke gave me a sheepish grin.

‘Spill it,’ I said menacingly. As menacingly as a girl dressed up as a vintage Hollywood starlet with cute little pin curls and rouge aplenty can be, that is.

‘Philosophunculist,’ recited Luke. ‘Noun. A person who pretends to know more than they do in order to impress others.’

I threw my head back and laughed. ‘Busted!’

Luke slipped an arm around me and pulled me close. Really close.

‘Bet you like it when I use long words,’ he said huskily, eyes fixed on my too-red lips.

‘Bet you like it when I wear a clingy nightgown as a dress,’ I replied, eyes fixed on his too-kissable lips.

‘Brazen hussy,’ he growled at me.

‘Randy boffin,’ I murmured back.

Then neither of us said another word for quite some time. 

Megan Tayte bio

  

 Once upon a time a little girl told her grandmother that when she grew up she wanted to be a writer. Or a lollipop lady. Or a fairy princess fireman. ‘Write, Megan,’ her grandmother advised. So that’s what she did.
Thirty-odd years later, Megan is a professional writer and published author by day, and an indie novelist by night. Her fiction – young adult romance with soul – recently earned her the SPR’s Independent Woman Author of the Year award.
Megan grew up in the Royal County, a hop, skip and a (very long) jump from Windsor Castle, but these days she makes her home in Robin Hood’s county, Nottinghamshire. She lives with her husband, a proud Scot who occasionally kicks back in a kilt; her son, a budding artist with the soul of a palaeontologist; and her baby daughter, a keen pan-and-spoon drummer who sings in her sleep. When she’s not writing, you’ll find her walking someplace green, reading by the fire, or creating carnage in the kitchen as she pursues her impossible dream: of baking something edible.
You can find Megan online at:

http://megantayte.com/ 

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/13478850.Megan_Tayte 

https://www.facebook.com/megantayte 

https://twitter.com/megantayte 

https://plus.google.com/+MeganTayte

  

Rafflecopter code 

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Color me Mindful #XOXperts 

Posted on September 29, 2015 by fredreeca

 
These intricate and beautifully detailed line drawings of the world of birds are ready for you to bring to life. Relieve stress, practice your mindfulness, and discover your creative side as you unplug and slow down by filling these exquisite pages with color.

No matter our age, useful, mindfulness techniques can help re-center us amidst a world of noisy stimuli constantly vying for our attention. Coloring can act like a tranquil meditation—relax and unwind with this calming coloring book for adults featuring beautifully detailed line drawings and designs of birds and their idyllic environments.

Make your mark—inside or outside the lines—with these fifty beautiful black and white illustrations of birds soaring through the sky, nesting comfortably, and resting serenely amidst the tree foliage, just waiting for your gentle touch to bring them vibrantly to life.

Don’t miss the other adult coloring books in the Color Me Mindful series: Color Me Mindful: Underwater and Color Me Mindful: Tropical. Join the coloring craze!
  
I am not finished with this but it has great promise. I am loving this book!

Thanks Simon and Schuster for this wonderful book!! I received this from #XOXperts. 

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The Last Dreamgirl by Shane Hayes 

Posted on September 28, 2015 by fredreeca

  
Overview

For every man there’s a girl who grips his imagination and his heart as no other girl ever did or will. She may be in her teens or a mature woman. He responds to her as a boy to a girl. Whether she comes early in his life or late, there is a throne in his subconscious that she takes possession of, without trying, often without wanting to. The image he forms of her reigns there in perpetuity, even if she has left his life, or this life. Or shed the image. Or proved unworthy of it. The image endures. Her enchantment never fades or fails, and he is never immune to it. She may not be for him the last wife or paramour, but she is the last dreamgirl.

Review

Don’t let the cover of the book fool you!!! This is not your normal “Dreamgirl” read. This is not your normal love story….by any means. This is an edge of your seat, psycho read. 

Ollie is a strange man with an unusual way to live his life or rather, end his life.  He decides to “find” his dreamgirl. And to understand exactly what that means…..you must read the book! I am not giving away a spoiler.

The way the author plays on the reader’s sympathy for Ollie,  is well played. What he does is wrong,  but everyone with a heart, feels for him and his issues. 

This novel draws you in and keeps you tied up in knots all the way till the end. 

I received this novel from the publisher for a honest review.

  

PURCHASE HERE

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Molly Lee by Andrew Joyce BOOK SPOTLIGHT and GUEST POST 

Posted on September 27, 2015 by fredreeca

  
My name is Andrew Joyce and I write books for a living. Reeca has been kind enough to allow me a little space on her blog to promote my latest book, MOLLY LEE. It’s averaging 4.9 stars on Amazon. It is also available in paperback. Please check it out. Here’s the link: Amazon.  Here’s the link at Goodreads

Genre: Adventure/Historical Fiction

Description:

Molly is about to set off on the adventure of a lifetime . . . of two lifetimes.

It’s 1861 and the Civil War has just started. Molly is an eighteen-year-old girl living on her family’s farm in Virginia when two deserters from the Southern Cause enter her life. One of them—a twenty-four-year-old Huck Finn—ends up saving her virtue, if not her life.

Molly is so enamored with Huck, she wants to run away with him. But Huck has other plans and is gone the next morning before she awakens. Thus starts a sequence of events that leads Molly into adventure after adventure; most of them not so nice.

We follow the travails of Molly Lee, starting when she is eighteen and ending when she is fifty-six. Even then Life has one more surprise in store for her.

Excerpts:

I first saw him in the light of the setting sun. He sat straight and proud astride a chestnut mare, handsome in his grey lieutenant’s uniform. He rode into the yard following my pa who was driving the family wagon. In the back of the wagon lay the “Captain.”

AND

We womenfolk have it tougher than men when it comes to affairs of the heart. What you are about to read is my story. It is not a pretty story, and I am not proud of it. I think the only proud moment of my life was the day I met and fell in love with Huck Finn.

  
 I have to turn the writing duties over to my dog whose name is Danny. You see, he can be pretty insistent at times. We recently had some excitement in our lives and he can’t wait to tell you about it. For what it’s worth, this is a true story. And when you are finished reading it, please click on the link to my book and check it out. Danny is not the only genius in our household.

Danny Goes to the Beach

What a time I had yesterday! I went to the beach with my human.

Good morning, I’m Danny the Dog, teller of tales, bon vivant, all around good dog and lover of hotdogs. And oh yeah, my human’s name is Andrew. Now that you know the players, on to my story.

I like to wake Andrew up early and take him for his walk before it gets too hot. And I like our walks because there’s a whole lotta good sniffing out there. But yesterday it was Andrew that roused me from a sound sleep. I was dreaming of hotdogs. I was about to bite into a big, fat juicy hotdog when he shook me awake. I almost bit him.

Anyway, he told me we were going to the beach to watch the sun come up. When we walk, I lead the way, but when we go to the beach, Andrew drives the car because I don’t have a driver’s license. Can you believe it? Florida doesn’t give dogs driver licenses! I emailed the governor about this injustice, but I haven’t heard back from him yet. I know that not having thumbs would be problematic, how would I grip the steering wheel. But I figure I’ll worry about that after I get my license.

Sunrises, and sunsets for that matter, don’t do much for me; they have no scent, you can’t smell them. So what’s the big deal? But I allow Andrew to take me to the beach because I have my own agenda. I love to bark at other dogs. The beach we go to is secluded, and dogs are not allowed (another email I must send to the governor). However, dogs take their humans there in the early morning and as long as everyone is gone shortly after the sun comes up, there’s no trouble. And it’s a good thing for the human cops because if there was trouble I’d bite them.

So we get to the beach and Andrew sets up his folding beach chair. He’s such a wuss; can’t he just sit on the sand like everyone else? Me, he ties to a palm tree. Then he waits for the sun to come up. What does he think, it’s not going to come up unless he watching?

As I said, I have my own reasons for being there, so I start my nose a twitching. I can smell another dog from a mile away. If I were a super hero, I’d be known as SUPER SNOOT. I would sniff out my nefarious nemeses and bring them to justice. I think I’d look cool with a cape. I look good in blue, so it would be blue with a big red “D” emblazoned right in the middle of it. Danny the Dog, mild-mannered dog by day, SUPER SNOOT by night! I like the sound of that.

I digress, back to my story.

So Andrew’s getting excited because the sun is coming up (what a surprise!). And I’m sniffing for dogs when all of a sudden I detect something good, as in chicken-bone good. So I put my super snoot to the ground and start my search. Of course, being SUPER SNOOT I find the bones right away. They were only a few inches under the sand. But before I take one of those delightful bones into my mouth, I give Andrew a surreptitious glance to make sure he isn’t going to ruin my fun. I needn’t have worried, his attention was on a red ball coming up out of the ocean, turning the clouds a bright pink and orange; some clouds were still purple. So he was engaged. That’s when I bit into the first bone. CRUNCH! At the sound, Andrew turned and saw my find. I didn’t know the old guy could move that fast. He was out of his chair, and before I could do anything about it, he had my whole stash. At least I had half a bone in my mouth and he wasn’t going to get that.

The short of it is, I distracted Andrew from his precious sunrise. He took my bones, and I didn’t get to bark at a single dog. What a bust! On the ride home, I didn’t go over and lick his face as I usually do. I was mad at him and he was mad at me. But when we got home all was forgiven and he gave me a hotdog. That’s why I keep him around.

My next adventure will be published in SUPER SNOOT Comics. Look for it at your local comic book store

Redemption
Andrew Joyce
  

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