Summer Memories with Caridad Pineiro

I want to thank April for having me here today to share some summer memories with you!

Summer is my favorite time of year and my mind is filled with wonderful recollections of my early summers on Long Island, or Lawn Guyland, as the locals are sometimes accused of saying.

I grew up in Levittown, the nation’s first planned housing development which created what we now know as the modern suburb.  It was a great place to grow up since Levitt had mapped out village greens, small stores, swimming pools and a nearby library as part of his master plan.  Luckily, Levittown was also a short drive from Jones Beach and I spent a lot of time there with my friends and family since whenever any parent had a day off, they would drive us all to the beach.  If we didn’t go to the beach, we would cool off in one of the public pools.

But while the beach and local pools were an attraction on a hot summer day, they weren’t my top spot for beating the heat!

My favorite place to go was the library, but not just on account of the air conditioning (a true luxury in my old neighborhood!).  I loved going to browse the shelves and checking out all the various books.  Settling into a chair beside my grandmother and sister and cracking open the cover. Sitting there reading for an hour or so before we began the walk back home.

On days when it was either way too hot to walk that long distance to the library or I had already run out of books to read before our usual trip, there was the visit of the bookmobile a block or two away from our house.  We’d walk over to the bookmobile and exchange the books we had for new adventures to read.

My favorite read one summer was WUTHERING HEIGHTS.  I took it out of the library so often that at one point the librarian told me I couldn’t take it out anymore because it was their only copy!

It was thanks to those library visits that I got my love of books.  It was also because of the great public school system in Levittown that I was first challenged to write my first book.  Right after a lovely summer off, my fifth grade teacher assigned a project to write a book for a class lending library.  I haven’t stopped writing.

Those were wonderful summers filled with both physical and mental activity.  Swimming or hanging out on our quiet tree-lined block.  Games like stickball, hopscotch or putting on little shows for the kids in the neighbor hood.  Those stacks of books, providing transportation to very different worlds and people.  Opening new horizons for me that were far from my little town.

It sounds idyllic and it was.  I know I’m very lucky to have had such nice summer memories and am thankful for it every day.

Thanks again for having me with you, April!

**************  

I want to sincerely thank Caridad Pineiro for taking the time to write this delightful and wonderful guest post.  This is our final post for August and I want to deeply thank everyone for participating!  I greatly look forward to reading and posting more guest posts each and every month.  Remember, the theme for September is "School Days", so please share your thoughts, poems, stories or whatever your creative mind comes up with!!

*********************

Caridad Piñeiro® is a multi-published and award-winning author whose love of the written word developed when her fifth grade teacher assigned a project – to write a book that would be placed in a class lending library. She has been hooked on writing ever since.

From the start, Caridad’s novels have received acclaim and have helped redefine the landscape of modern romance novels. In 1999, Caridad was published by Kensington as part of Encanto, the first line of bilingual Latino romance novels. In 2000, Caridad was one of the first Latino authors featured at the launch of BookExpo America’s Spanish Pavillion. In December 2006, Caridad helped Silhouette launch its successful Nocturne paranormal line with DEATH CALLS, one of the novels in the award-winning THE CALLING Vampire series. In addition, Caridad has appeared at BookExpo America on numerous occasions and has captained both the multicultural and vampire genre panels at the RT BookClub Conventions.

Caridad’s CHICAS novels, including her seventeenth release, SOUTH BEACH CHICAS CATCH THEIR MAN from Simon & Schuster’s Downtown Press, have garnered praise from both fellow authors and reviewers and are helping to make Latina fiction a vital part of the publishing mainstream.

In recognition of her work, Caridad has received various awards and honors. In 2007, a year marked by the debut of six novels from Harlequin and Pocket Books, Caridad received the Golden Apple Award Author of the Year Award from the New York City Chapter of the Romance Writers of America. Other honors that Caridad has received include the selection of DANGER CALLS and DEATH CALLS as the Top Fantasy Books of 2005 and 2006 by CATALINA magazine, the Cataromance Reviewers Choice Award for Best Nocturne in 2006 and the New Jersey Romance Writers Golden Leaf award in 2001 for Best Short Contemporary. Her other titles have received a number of nominations, such as the Harlequin Readers Choice Awards and RIO Reviewers Choice Awards. Both DANGER CALLS and SEX AND THE SOUTH BEACH CHICAS have been book club selections.

Caridad’s eighteenth novel, MOON FEVER, a paranormal anthology with Maggie Shayne, Susan Sizemore and Lori Handeland, debuted in late September 2007 as #32 on the New York Times Extended Bestseller list and #123 on the USA TODAY Bestseller List. HOLIDAY WITH A VAMPIRE, a paranormal anthology with Maureen Child, made the BookScan Top 100 Adult Fiction list.

In 2009, Caridad will debut a new paranormal romantic suspense series with Grand Central Publishing. The first novel in the series, SINS OF THE FLESH, will be released in November 2009.

Caridad has appeared on Romance Novel Television, Fox Television’s Good Day New York Early Edition , New Jersey News’ Jersey’s Talking with Lee Leonard and WGN-TV’s Adelante Chicago. Articles featuring Caridad’s works have appeared in the New York Daily News, Catalina, RT BookClub, NJ Monthly, Star Ledger, Home Tribune News, Sun Sentinel, Variety Yahoo! Online News, Latina and the Waterbury Republican-American.

When not writing, Caridad teaches workshops on various topics related to writing and heads a writing group. Caridad is also an attorney, wife and mother.

Also about the Author:

Caridad was born in Havana, Cuba, and settled in the New York Metropolitan area. She attended Villanova University on a Presidential Scholarship and graduated magna cum laude. Caridad earned her juris doctor from St. John’s University and became the first female partner of Abelman, Frayne & Schwab, an intellectual property firm in midtown Manhattan.

Summer Memories with Joanie Buettgen

My Little Girl

By Joanie Buettgen

All mothers dream of their daughter’s wedding day. Typically, the average ceremony takes a year to plan and prepare. Last summer, we knew, we needed the expertise of a planner. It was our hope and dream to have a lovely and uneventful day.

The day started out with black skies and threatening storms. An old wives tale states, If it rains on your wedding day, its good luck. So after the storms stopped, baby blue skies appeared.

Then there was a knock at the door.

A white haired gentleman appeared and introduced himself as our driver. I noticed that he had parked a green and white trolley on the street. It was complete with vintage detailing, wooden seats and full of charm. This vehiclewould transport the bride and her maids to the church. I followed close behind the trolley to make sure I got to the church on time. Typically, this route would have taken ten minutes on the freeway. Today the road was a parking lot. Our driver was then directed to take all the side roads leading to the church. This route caused us to be 30 minutes late.

We finally arrived at the ceremony site for some quick photos. Then we were rushed into a secret room. Rene’ (my daughter) didn’t want Jim to see her before she walked down the aisle. As the guests arrived, they were greeted and handed paper fan programs. The temperature was 93 degrees and humid.

After the bridal party had made their entrance, the ceremony began. As it progressed I noticed Joe, the best man, sweating profusely. Jim, the groom, kept glancing back and forth at his best friend. Suddenly, Joe collapsed. All of the groomsmen rushed to his side and offered him water. After a few minutes, they dashed Joe out to a cool hallway.

The wedding ceremony and the bridal party tried to continue.

Then Karrie, the maid of honor, blacked out. She was rushed out by the Kassie, the matron of honor, who was five months pregnant. After a cool drink, the matrons returned to their spot.

Finally, Rene’ and Jim were pronounced man and wife. Then they headed out to sign their marriage certificate. At the altar, the matron of honor and maid of honor grabbed the only groomsmen left, and with huge smiles on all of their faces, they walked out.

In the lobby, our guests waited for the paramedics to transported Joe to the hospital. We found out later that he was diabetic, and had not consumed any food or water. Joe never did make it back to the reception.

We arrived at the venue, and were greeted with table lines in cool summer colors of lemon yellow, lime green, and fuschia. The tables were decorated with tall, white coach lanterns with bright green pillar candles. There were tied with hot pink ribbon, and they had wooden table numbers glued to the ribbon. It was so hot that even in the air conditioned room the wooden numbers fell off.

At a reception table, there was a three-tiered cupcake station. It was complete with white, footed, ceramic stands tied with bright pink ribbon. And off to one side were decorated boxes tied with lime green and yellow ribbon. These cupcakes were gifts, for our guests, to take home and enjoy.

As the happy couple entered the room, Rene’ asked, “The cupcakes don’t resemble what I had picked out.”

Her mother-in-law, Kim stated, “We had an emergency. Tom (the baker) was found unconscious at his apartment and was rushed to the hospital. So, we had another baker step in yesterday, and they baked and decorated these.”

All night long we all line-danced, drank wine, and toasted the lovely couple.

After their honeymoon we had a gift opening. Many close family members were present and we all shared the drama that had occurred that day.

My tears flowed easily as we said our good byes and drove away.

Sadly, the next day they were headed back to South Dakota to start their new life together. 

A week has passed and all the decorations and her dress are being stored for the time being. It was then that I re-read the card that Rene’ gave us. She literally handed us this memory card as she was about to walk down the aisle.

It read: I know that you’ve been thinking about this day your entire life and now it is here. Thank you for a strong example of what it takes to have successful marriage. And lastly, thank you for being with me today. Your little girl, Rene’.

Who is Joanie Buettgen?

Joanie Buettgen is “Just another columnist trying out this new stuff.”

Published: More.com, Minnesota Moments Magazine, Thankful-Home.tv, Carver County Historical Society, Kansas City BBQ Society, Carver County News, National Barn Alliance, and Ridgeview Medical Center newsletter.

Memberships: National Society of Newspaper Columnists, Toastmaster’s, Minnesota Newspaper Association, Erma Bombeck Writers’ Workshop attendee.

Social Networking: Blog:http://joanie19.wordpress.com, http://twitter.com/joaniebuettgen,www.linkedin/com/in/joaniebuettgen.

Summer Memories with Ralph Couey

Adieu, la Saison de L'ete; Adieu, Doux Jours de la Jeunesse

(Farewell, the season of Summer;

Farewell, the Sweet Days of Youth)

Youth is like a summer’s day. Seemingly endless in its passage, it is a curious mix of living in the moment and racing to the next. There are times of manic energy, and others of perfect indolence. Time has no meaning, for tomorrow is just another version of today, a fresh canvas upon which to paint the portrait of our memories. The only measuring stick is the number of days left until September, when the clanging of the school bell once again makes the clock and calendar relevant and meaningful.

Youth, like summer, is a time for games. The rules are made up on the spot, and any infraction can be whisked away by the liberating words “do-over!” Interest in one game will wane, only to be quickly replaced with another. Alliances among friends shift constantly as the teams change. And in-between, the restful moments in the shade, sipping lemonade from glasses also sweating in the heat.

There is never a schedule, never a plan. The dawn of each day heralds a new adventure, one to be explored to its fullest. Maybe today it’s swimming, or ball, or fishing. We’ll play with our toys, and live for a few hours in a pretend world of our own making. Or maybe we’ll just race aimlessly around the yard, if for no other reason than we’re young and we can.

Our imagination runs wild and free. An empty box becomes a fort on some lonely frontier, an airplane soaring among the clouds, or a starship on a mission to distant planets. A bicycle gives us wings, the wind streaming past our ears with an exhilarating sense of speed. Maybe today we’ll clothes-pin a couple of cards on the rear wheel and become a lone warrior on a Harley, roaring across the limitless expanse of the Great Plains, racing the sunset towards the horizon.

The long, glorious days are broken only by special interludes. There is the family vacation, loading up the car, and cresting the distant horizon to marvel at worlds we never knew existed. Trips to the zoo, the amusement park, or the county fair. The ballpark also clings to memory. The warm, humid nights sitting in bleachers while far above, bugs of infinite variety orbit hypnotically around the bright lights.

Popsicles and ice cream; movies and popcorn. Dad firing up the grill on Saturday evening, sending the delicious smell of hamburgers wafting across a yard already made aromatic with fresh-cut grass. And those long, purple twilights, when even the sun seems reluctant to go away as we relentlessly squeeze every last remaining moment from the day.

Once the sun is gone, perhaps there is still time to lie in the grass, look up, and wonder at the stars while sharing deep secrets with your best friend. Maybe Mom will help set up the tent in the back yard, and for one special night, what was familiar territory becomes as exotic as the wild Serengeti.

Youth, like summer, is meant to be savored and treasured; lingered over until the last vestiges are gone. As children, we rush along, impatient to grow up. We then spend our adulthood sadly wondering why we didn’t take our time. And as the years inexorably pass, those wonderful, golden memories become dreamily indistinct, viewed through the frosted glass of time.

As we turn the calendar and mark the passing of the memorable days of summer, we also bid farewell to the sweet days of youth.

Because when the sun finally sets on this most special of seasons;
when carefree youth gives way to careworn age;
when the endless hours finally do end,it is a day, and a time, that is gone forever.

Adieu, la Saison de L'ete; Adieu, Doux Jours de la Jeunesse

About Ralph Couey:

Ralph Couey writes weekly for the Johnstown, PA Tribune-Democrat and the Somerset, PA Daily American.  He also contributes to the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, the Waterbury, CT Republican-American, and the Independence, MO Examiner.  


He blogs at http://race-the-sunset.blogspot.com.

Review: What Happens in Vegas by Natasha Deen

What Happens in Vegas
By: Natasha Deen

Format: Kindle Edition (Nook Format)

File Size: 211 KB

What can I say? Only that What Happens in Vegas is one of the most delightfully fun books that I have read in a while.  Don't get me wrong, I have read several excellent books, but this one was an absolute hoot!  I literally laughed out loud in places and felt the heat and sizzle steaming from my Nook as I read.

The character of Binda is a complete lovable klutz that I adored.  Her fixation with chocolate syrup, whipped cream and cherries melds very nicely with Corin's love of pudding. Ah, Corin. What a spicy and delectable character...

Together, Binda and Corin go in search of Corin's brother as well as a stolen and incredible rare diamond. There are bits of mystery intertwined with a very healthy dose of sexual tension and humor. What Happens in Vegas is the absolute perfect book to snuggle down with and toss the cares and stresses of the world away. Not only is it a fun read but it is a fast read. The characters are awesome, the dialog is excellent and the story is just plain fun. I truly cannot recommend this enough to anyone looking for a fun read. I am now a huge fan of Natasha Deen and cannot wait to indulge within her other works!

Here's a fun little teaser from the book:

I had tripped over my feet, head-butted a gangster in the crotch, got a mouthful of criminal penis, and the man thought I was brilliant.  If that wasn't a sign we were meant to be together, fornicating and discovering the various uses for honey and warmed chocolate, than I didn't know what was.

About What Happens In Vegas:

Jewel of the Night

It’s not that Binda Morningstar’s an idiot—the girl’s got more degrees than a thermometer—but there’s something about a crisis that makes her lose her mind…and accidentally injure anyone within a ten-foot radius. But if she’s going to rescue her boss from a cursed jewel, she’s going to have to keep it together. Unfortunately for her, the cop on the case, Corin Hawthorne, has her losing her mind and her heart…and if he gets any more drool-worthy, she’s going to lose her inhibitions, too. To save her boss and win her man, she’s got to out run a mobster, out wit the YIFFS at a sex-fetish convention, and out think an ex-wife—and she’s got to do it all without breaking an arm or inadvertently hitting anyone with pepper spray…it’s all got Binda hoping that what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.



About Natasha Deen:

When I was little, there was only one thing I wanted to be: a superhero. But there came a day when my dreams were broken, and that was the day I realized that being a klutz was not, in fact, a super power, and my super weakness for anything bright and shiny meant a magpie with self-control could easily defeat me in a battle of wills. I turned to writing as a way to sharpen my mental super-hero skills. I don’t get to orbit the earth in a space station (and thank God, because I get sick on merry go round), but I do get to say things like: “Stand aside! This is a job for Writing Girl!!”

Where to reach Natasha Deen:

Facebook
Twitter
Blog
Website

Review: The Lantern by Deborah Lawrenson

The Lantern
By: Deborah Lawrenson

• Hardcover: 400 pages
• Publisher: Harper (August 9, 2011)

*copy provided by publisher for TLC Book Tours

Hauntingly seductive and poetically written, The Lantern teases at the reader's romanticism as well as their intrigue of the unknown.

The Lantern has already been compared multiple times to Rebecca by Daphne Du Maurier. While they do share many of the same characteristics such as the questioning and haunting of a past spouse, the gothic aura and mixture of romance, mystery and ghost story, The Lantern is a tale all it's own.

In the beginning, we learn about the meeting and instant deep fixation, magnetism, of Eve and Dom. Together they make a life for themselves at Les Genevriers where they leave behind modern technology and ways of living to indulge within a simplistic and luscious life. However, there are questions surrounding Dom and the life he lived before meeting Eve - particularly questions about his ex-wife, Rachel. As Eve digs deeper into's Rachel's life and tries to discover what truly happened to her, she runs the risk of finding answers that she is in no way ready for.

The Lantern alternates between Eve's story as well as Benedicte Lincel's, who had grown up within the walls of Les Genevriers. Both are haunted by ghosts of the past, secrets that hold tightly to remain hidden for the sake of sanity. Deborah Lawrenson does an amazing job bringing both of these characters to life and the gradual development of, not only these two characters, but also the secondary characters is delightful and engaging. The Lantern, like Rebecca, will hold the reader captivated from beginning to end. The writing is gorgeous and vivid, allowing the reader's senses to fully come to life. Fields of lavender and heliotrope spring forward within the minds eyes as their scents mingle and tickle the noses of the readers.

A wonderful and engrossing story, The Lantern is a delight to delve into. Once becoming absorbed within its pages, I found myself within the worlds of Eve and Benedicte, feeling what they were feeling, aching when they ached and seeing what they were seeing. Yes, the story is that vivid and encapsulating. Fans of Rebecca and similar tales of gothic intrigue, romance and suspense will love The Lantern. I highly recommend this to anyone looking for an amazing and unforgettable story. I greatly look forward to reading more work by Deborah Lawrenson!

About The Lantern:

A modern gothic novel of love, secrets, and murder—set against the lush backdrop of Provence
Meeting Dom was the most incredible thing that had ever happened to me. When Eve falls for the secretive, charming Dom in Switzerland, their whirlwind relationship leads them to Les Genévriers, an abandoned house set among the fragrant lavender fields of the South of France. Each enchanting day delivers happy discoveries: hidden chambers, secret vaults, a beautiful wrought-iron lantern. Deeply in love and surrounded by music, books, and the heady summer scents of the French countryside, Eve has never felt more alive.

But with autumn’s arrival the days begin to cool, and so, too, does Dom. Though Eve knows he bears the emotional scars of a failed marriage—one he refuses to talk about—his silence arouses suspicion and uncertainty. The more reticent Dom is to explain, the more Eve becomes obsessed with finding answers—and with unraveling the mystery of his absent, beautiful ex-wife, Rachel.

Like its owner, Les Genévriers is also changing. Bright, warm rooms have turned cold and uninviting; shadows now fall unexpectedly; and Eve senses a presence moving through the garden. Is it a ghost from the past or a manifestation of her current troubles with Dom? Can she trust Dom, or could her life be in danger?

Eve does not know that Les Genévriers has been haunted before. Bénédicte Lincel, the house’s former owner, thrived as a young girl within the rich elements of the landscape: the violets hidden in the woodland, the warm wind through the almond trees. She knew the bitter taste of heartbreak and tragedy—long-buried family secrets and evil deeds that, once unearthed, will hold shocking and unexpected consequences for Eve.

Excerpt:

The rocks glow red above the sea, embers of the day’s heat below our balcony at the Hotel Marie.

Down here on the southern rim of the country, out of the mistral’s slipstream, the evening drops like viscous liquid: slow and heavy and silent. When we first arrived, the stifling sultriness made sleep impossible; night closed in like the lid of a tomb.

Now, in the few hours I do sleep, I dream of all we have left behind: the hamlet on the hill and the whispering trees. Then, with a start, I’m awake again, remembering.
Until it happens to you, you don’t know how it will feel to stay with a man who has done a terrible thing. Not to know whether the worst has happened or is yet to come; wanting so badly to trust him now.

We cannot leave France so, for want of anywhere better to go, we are still here. When we first settled in, it was the height of summer. In shimmering light, sleek white yachts etched diamond patterned wakes on the inky blue playground and oiled bodies roasted on honey-gold sand. Jazz festivals wailed and syncopated along the coastline. For us, days passed numberless and unnamed.

As the seasonal sybarites have drifted away to the next event, to a more fashionable spot for September, or back to the daily work that made these sunny weeks possible, we have stayed on. At this once-proud Belle Époque villa built on a rocky outcrop round the headland from the bay of Cassis we have found a short-term compromise. Mme Jozan has stopped asking whether we intend staying a week longer in her faded pension. The fact is, we are. No doubt she will tell us in her pragmatic way when our presence is no longer acceptable.

We eat dinner at a café on the beach. How much longer it will be open is anyone’s guess. For the past few nights, we’ve been the only customers.

We hardly speak as we drink some wine and pick at olives. Dialogue is largely superfluous beyond courteous replies to the waiter.

Dom does try. ‘Did you walk today?’

‘I always walk.’

‘Where did you go?’

‘Up into the hills.’

I walk in the mornings, though sometimes I don’t return until mid-afternoon.

We go to bed early, and then on to places in our dreams: places that are not as they really are. This morning, in the shallows of semi-consciousness, I was in a domed greenhouse, a ghost of itself: glass clouded with age; other panes shattered, glinting and ready to fall; ironwork twisted and corrupt with rust. No such edifice exists at Les Genévriers, but that was where I was.

In my dream, glass creaked audibly above my head as I stood mending bent iron shelves, frustration mounting as I failed repeatedly to straighten the corroded metal. Through broken glass the pleated hills were there, always in the background, just as in life.

By day I try not to think of the house and the garden and the hillside we have left behind, which ensures, of course, that my brain must deal with the thoughts in underhanded ways. Trying is not necessarily succeeding, either. Some days I can think of nothing else but what we have lost. It might as well be in a different country, not a few hours drive to the north of where we are now.

About Deborah Lawrenson:

Deborah Lawrenson grew up in Kuwait, China, Belgium, Luxembourg, and Singapore. She studied English at Cambridge University and has worked as a journalist for various publications in England, including the Daily Mail, the Mail on Sunday, andWoman’s Journal magazine. She lives in Kent, England, and she and her family spend as much time as possible at a crumbling hamlet in Provence, France, the setting for The Lantern.

Connect with Deborah:

• At her website
• On her blog
• On Facebook

Other great blogs also on tour:

Tuesday, August 9th: A Soul Unsung

Wednesday, August 10th: Wordsmithonia

Thursday, August 11th: nomadreader

Friday, August 12th: Life In Review

Tuesday, August 16th: Unabridged Chick *

Wednesday, August 17th: Books Like Breathing

Thursday, August 18th: The Road to Here *

Friday, August 19th: The Lost Entwife

Monday, August 22th: Sara’s Organized Chaos

Tuesday, August 23rd: Dolce Bellezza *

Wednesday, August 24th: Rundpinne

Thursday, August 25th: Bookstack

Friday, August 26th: Café of Dreams *

Monday, August 29th: Raging Bibliomania

Tuesday, August 30th: Colloquium

Wednesday, August 31st: JenandthePen *

Thursday, September 1st: Book-a-rama

Tuesday, September 6th: Book Dilettante

Thursday, September 8th: Book Hooked Blog

Summer Memories with Chynna Laird!

Today I am delighted to welcome Chynna Laird to Cafe of Dreams as she shares her Summer Memories! I am also going to be doing a character interview with her next month, so please be on the lookout for that as well!

Lessons in the Rain

by Chynna Laird

The other afternoon, I was doing research for my newest novel. Most of the story takes place in a tiny town where my family had a cabin called West Hawk Lake. I grew up hearing all about the history behind the lake but, for accuracy’s sake, I had to be sure of the small details. And as I came across each picture my heart lurched as I was taken back to one of the happiest times in my childhood.

When I was a little girl, my family had the good fortune of owning a cabin at West Hawk Lake, Manitoba. I spent every summer of my childhood up there. No matter what chaos or confusion surrounded me the rest of the year, I got to leave it all behind in the city for two months. And, in many ways, having that place—even for a short time—saved me. It was my sanctuary.

One summer, I must have been eight-years-old, my Uncle Rick came up for a visit. At that time he was going to Law School in Toronto so we only got to see him a couple of time a year: once in the summer then again at Christmas. I adored Uncle Rick and loved any time I could spend with him because he was one of those outdoorsy types of guys. People who know me now may find it hilarious that I actually loved the outdoors. But one of my favorite things to do is go out where the lights, noise and stress of the city have never touched and simply listen to the silence of nature. And Uncle Rick was the same.

So that summer, Uncle Rick was going to take me fishing for the first time! Unfortunately, the weather wasn’t cooperating with our plans. It rained almost every day and on the days we were blessed with a few rays of sunshine, the mosquitoes were starving, eating us alive if we stood still too long. I was so disappointed because Uncle Rick only came out for a couple of weeks and we’d already wasted half of his time with us playing cards, board games and coloring.

The first day he got there he revealed his present for me: a brand new fishing rod and reel with a small tackle box of my own filled with tiny weights, lures and extra wire. He taught me how to thread the wire through, put a hook on properly and even showed me tricks of the trade about bait. I couldn’t wait to go try everything out and prayed that Mother Nature would give us a break.

One morning, right after one of Grandma’s famous breakfasts, Uncle Rick stood in front of the floor to ceiling picture windows with one hand folded across his chest and the other gripping his third cup of coffee. I stood beside him watching the rain pouring down so hard we couldn’t see the other side of the lake.

After about five minutes, he turned to me and said, “You know what? You and me are going fishing!”

Grandma thought he was crazy but he didn’t care. He suited me up in his extra rain suits, got himself all suited up then off we went! I have to admit, I was less than impressed at first to be out there in the rain. I wasn’t getting wet or anything but the weather was just so depressing. But after a few minutes, I hardly noticed the rain because Uncle Rick was teaching me about all the wonderful things that rain did for the forest.

We saw frogs jumping in the ponds along our way, mushrooms were growing on the forest floor for all the animals that needed food, and, as Uncle Rick reminded me, “No mosquitoes are going to bug us while we’re fishing today!”

We got to our favorite fishing spot a ten-minute walk from our cabin: a huge rock over at a smaller lake called Hunt Lake. It was a little more sheltered than the bay our cabin was on so the rain didn’t seem to be falling as hard. And the best part was the fish where jumping!

Uncle Rick baited my hook with a piece of breakfast sandwich and got me to sit in a prime spot on the big rock. And I waited. Fishing is definitely not a sport for impatience people, he kept telling me. After half an hour, my uncle practiced his asked if I wanted to learn how to cast. I eagerly agreed! It also meant I got to try a different lure called a spoon.

He showed me that I had to hold the button down on my reel with my thumb, lean my arm back (making sure no one was in front of me or behind me) then thrust the rod forward, releasing the button so the spoon would fly through the air into the water. There we were: my uncle and me casting, thrusting and reeling. We hardly said a word because he told me that you have to be really quiet or the fish would be scared off. Then the coolest thing happened: I felt a strong tug on the other end of my fishing line.

My rod bend over in a ‘U’ shape and it was hard to reel. Uncle Rick put his rod down and grabbed the taunt wire to make sure I didn’t get caught on the weeds. He tugged hard and I saw that something tugged just as hard back. “I think you got one, Chynna,” he said with a smile.

He showed me how to release a little of the wire to make the line slack then slowly reel and pull back so the fish couldn’t get away. My arms ached as the fight went on for what seemed like hours. Then I saw a fish the same length as my forearm with my spoon in its mouth just below the surface of the water.

“Hold it steady,” Uncle Rick said, scooping our net under the fish and pulling it up.

I was so excited and I could tell Uncle Rick was very proud. We decided to go home shortly after that because the rain was getting heavier and Uncle Rick said that the fish dive lower when it rains too hard.

I carried my prize fish—my first catch—on Uncle Rick’s fish chain all the way back to the cabin. My grandparents were so excited and they took a picture of me holding up my fish with Uncle Rick kneeling beside me.

I still have that picture. I framed it and keep it beside my favorite picture of my grandparents. There I am, missing all four of my front teeth, smiling my toothless grin with my fish and Uncle Rick smiling a rare grin of pride. I learned so much that summer. And to this day whenever it rains I’m taken back to that day with Uncle Rick and my lessons in the rain.

About Chynna Lind:

CHYNNA LAIRD – is a psychology major, freelance writer and multi award-winning author living in Edmonton, Alberta with her partner, Steve, and their three daughters [Jaimie (eight), Jordhan (six), and baby Sophie (three)] and baby boy, Xander (four). Her passion is helping children and families living with Sensory Processing Disorder and other special needs.

You’ll find her work in many online and in-print parenting, inspirational, Christian and writing publications in Canada, United States, Australia, and Britain. In addition, she’s authored an award-winning children’s book (I’m Not Weird, I Have SPD), two memoirs (the multi award-winning, Not Just Spirited: A Mom’s Sensational Journey With SPD and White Elephants), a Young Adult novel (Blackbird Flies) and an adult Suspense/Thriller (The Gift to be released late 2011).

Please visit Chynna’s website at www.lilywolfwords.ca, as well as her blogs at www.the-gift-blog.com and www.seethewhiteelephants.com, to get a feel for her work and what inspires her.

Book Spotlight: What Happens In Vegas by Natasha Deen

Okay, so I messed up and thought my review was set for tomorrow, when instead it is actually for today.  My extreme apologies to the author, Natasha Deen and Molly of Partners In Crime.  *smacking myself upside the head* Needless to say, I am not quite finished reading this wonderful book. Instead of a review, I am going to spotlight What Happens in Vegas today and my review will be here on Monday!  Therefore, just consider this a teaser! :)

What Happens in Vegas
By: Natasha Deen

• Format: Kindle Edition
• File Size: 211 KB

Jewel of the Night

It’s not that Binda Morningstar’s an idiot—the girl’s got more degrees than a thermometer—but there’s something about a crisis that makes her lose her mind…and accidentally injure anyone within a ten-foot radius. But if she’s going to rescue her boss from a cursed jewel, she’s going to have to keep it together. Unfortunately for her, the cop on the case, Corin Hawthorne, has her losing her mind and her heart…and if he gets any more drool-worthy, she’s going to lose her inhibitions, too. To save her boss and win her man, she’s got to out run a mobster, out wit the YIFFS at a sex-fetish convention, and out think an ex-wife—and she’s got to do it all without breaking an arm or inadvertently hitting anyone with pepper spray…it’s all got Binda hoping that what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.

About Natasha Deen:

When I was little, there was only one thing I wanted to be: a superhero. But there came a day when my dreams were broken, and that was the day I realized that being a klutz was not, in fact, a super power, and my super weakness for anything bright and shiny meant a magpie with self-control could easily defeat me in a battle of wills. I turned to writing as a way to sharpen my mental super-hero skills. I don’t get to orbit the earth in a space station (and thank God, because I get sick on merry go round), but I do get to say things like: “Stand aside! This is a job for Writing Girl!!”

Connect With Natasha:

• Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/people/Natasha-Deen/100001459364063
• Twitter: http://twitter.com/#!/natasha_deen
• Blog: http://natashadeen.blogspot.com/
• Website: http://www.natashadeen.com

Review: The Autobiography of Mrs. Tom Thumb by Melanie Benjamin

The Autobiography of Mrs. Tom Thumb
By: Melanie Benjamin

Hardcover: 448 pages
Publisher: Delacorte Press (First Printing: July 26th, 2011)

*Copy provided by Publisher for review on Pump Up Your Book Tour

I first discovered Melanie Benjamin when I read her historical fiction book Alice I Have Been.  I absolutely fell in love with her writing style and storytelling.  Needless to say when I heard about the release of The Autobiography of Mrs. Tom Thumb, I couldn't wait to get my hands on a copy.  I can truly and honestly say that I was not disappointed.

Truthfully I had never heard much about Mercy Lavinia "Vinnie" Bump prior to this story.  Perhaps I live within a sheltered cave, or severely lacking in historical knowledge.  Whatever the case may be, I know feel as though I have gotten to know this lovely, courageous and incredibly talented woman through Ms. Benjamin's tale.  What an amazing talent to take true facts and turn them into an entertaining, engaging and remarkable story, as this author does so seamlessly.

The Autobiography of Mrs. Tom Thumb begins from the very beginning when "Vinnie" was born.  The fact that she was born into a "normal" sized family, with the exception of her youngest sister, who was also incredibly small was very interesting.  Vinnie's ability to overcome the obstacles of her small size are awe inspiring.  This is a woman who proved that size truly does not matter.  Though she may have been small in physical structure, she was enormous in personality and ambition.

Have you ever read a book that simply captivated you from the very first page and you practically wept to have to put it down?  The Autobiography of Mrs. Tom Thumb is one of those reads.  Once I began reading, the flow carried me effortless through until the end.  There was never a point in which the story dragged or veered off.  The description of the time period is ideal and is done in a way that the reader feels as though they are right there with the characters.

I highly recommend The Autobiography of Mrs. Tom Thumb to anyone looking for an amazing story.  I cannot wait for future works by Melanie Benjamin.  She is truly one of my favorite authors and amazes me with her works.

About The Autobiography of Mrs. Tom Thumb

In her national bestseller Alice I Have Been, Melanie Benjamin imagined the life of the woman who inspired Alice in Wonderland. Now, in this jubilant new novel, Benjamin shines a dazzling spotlight on another fascinating female figure whose story has never fully been told: a woman who became a nineteenth century icon and inspiration—and whose most daunting limitation became her greatest strength.

“Never would I allow my size to define me. Instead, I would define it.”

She was only two-foot eight-inches tall, but her legend reaches out to us more than a century later. As a child, Mercy Lavinia “Vinnie” Bump was encouraged to live a life hidden away from the public. Instead, she reached out to the immortal impresario P. T. Barnum, married the tiny superstar General Tom Thumb in the wedding of the century, and transformed into the world’s most unexpected celebrity.Here, in Vinnie’s singular and spirited voice, is her amazing adventure—from a showboat “freak” revue where she endured jeering mobs to her fateful meeting with the two men who would change her life: P. T. Barnum and Charles Stratton, AKA Tom Thumb. Their wedding would captivate the nation, preempt coverage of the Civil War, and usher them into the White House and the company of presidents and queens. But Vinnie’s fame would also endanger the person she prized most: her similarly-sized sister, Minnie, a gentle soul unable to escape the glare of Vinnie’s spotlight.

A barnstorming novel of the Gilded Age, and of a woman’s public triumphs and personal tragedies, The Autobiography of Mrs. Tom Thumb is the irresistible epic of a heroine who conquered the country with a heart as big as her dreams—and whose story will surely win over yours.

Excerpt:

[ ONE ]My Childhood,or the Early Life of a Tiny

I will begin my story in the conventional way, with my ancestry.

About the unfortunately named Bumps, I have little to say other than they were hardworking people of French descent who somehow felt that shortening “Bonpasse” to “Bump” was an improvement.

With some pride, however, I can trace my pedigree on my mother’s side back through Richard Warren of the Mayflower Company, to William, Earl of Warren, who married Gundreda, daughter of William the Conqueror. This is as far back as I have followed my lineage, but I trust it will suffice. Certainly Mr. Barnum, when he first heard it, was quite astonished, and never failed to mention it to the Press!

I was born on 31 October, 1841, on the family farm in Middleborough, Massachusetts, to James and Huldah Bump. Most people cannot contain their surprise when I tell them that I was, in fact, the usual size and weight. Indeed, when the ceremonial weighing of the newborn was completed, I tipped the scales at precisely six pounds!

My entrance into the family was preceded by three siblings, two male and one female, and was followed by another three, two male and one female. All were of ordinary stature except my younger sister, Minnie, born in 1849.

I am told that I grew normally during the first year of my life, then suddenly stopped. My parents didn’t notice it at first, but I cannot fault them for that. Who, when having been already blessed with three children, still has the time or interest to pay much attention to the fourth? My dear mother told me that it wasn’t until I was nearly two years old that they realized I was still wearing the same clothes—clothes that should already have been outgrown, cleaned and pressed, and laid in the trunk for the next baby. It was only then that my parents grew somewhat alarmed; studying me carefully, they saw that I was maturing in the way of most children—standing, talking, displaying an increased interest in my surroundings. The only thing I was not doing was growing.

They took me to a physician, who appraised me, measured me, poked me. “I cannot offer any physical explanation for this,” he informed my worried parents. “The child seems to be perfectly normal, except for her size. Keep an eye on her, and come back in a year’s time. But be prepared for the possibility that she might be just one example of God’s unexplainable whims, or fancies. She may be the only one I’ve seen, but I’ve certainly heard of others like her. In fact, there’s one over in Rochester I’ve been meaning to go see. Heard he can play the violin, even. Astounding.”

My parents did not share his enthusiasm for the violin- playing, unexplainable Divine whim. They carried me to another physician in the next town over, who, being a less pious man than the previous expert, explained that I represented “an excellent example of Nature’s Occasional Mistakes.” He assured my increasingly distressed parents that this was not a bad thing, for it made the world a much more interesting place, just as the occasional two- headed toad and one- eyed kitten did.

In despair, my parents whisked me back home, where they prayed and prayed over my tiny body. Yet no plea to the Almighty would induce me to grow; by my tenth birthday I reached only twenty- four inches and weighed twenty pounds. By this time my parents had welcomed my sister Minnie into the world; when she displayed the same reluctance to grow as I had, they did not take her to any physicians. They simply loved her, as they had always loved me.

“Vinnie,” my mother was fond of telling me (Lavinia being the name by which I was called, shortened within the family to Vinnie), “it’s not that you’re too small, my little chick, but rather that the world is too big.”

About Melanie Benjamin:

Melanie Benjamin is a pseudonym for Melanie Hauser, the author of two contemporary novels. Her first work of historical fiction as Melanie Benjamin was  Alice I Have Been.  The Autobiography of Mrs. Tom Thumb is her second release.  She lives in Chicago where she is at work on her next historical novel.  You can learn more about Melanie Benjamin and her work by visiting her at:
www.melaniebenjamin.com.

Meg Mims Shares Her Summer Memories

I am delighted to share with readers a guest post by Meg Mims as she shares her summer memories.  I just finished reading Ms. Mims' novel, Double Crossing and I HIGHLY recommend it to readers of all genres.  It is fabulous.  I will have my review up for it soon.  It will also appear at Romancing the Book.

Summer Memories… Meg Mims

Ah, summer.

Since my birthday is in August, the first memory I have is having all my friends over for cake and ice cream on the backyard stone patio’s picnic table. While it had a fringed yellow umbrella for shade, the cake’s frosting always melted along with the ice cream. Disappointing, because cake is my favorite thing after cookies. One year, I asked for a green cake – no doubt I was in my “Hobbit” phase with J.R.R. Tolkien’s books – the frosting turned out a pastel shade of mint, not the lovely forest color I’d wanted. Sigh.

I grew up in the days when families had from 3 to 6+ kids. Imagine never getting a moment’s privacy in a tiny ranch house… even outside, kids roamed everywhere. Most of the time it was great, but I loved to read. In private. Alone. So I would seek out the crabapple tree’s measly shade and try to ignore the kids on playground’s creaking swings behind our house, the thunks of the tennis balls on the fenced blacktop court or the yells from the baseball fields. Luckily Mom would drop us off at least every two weeks at the library for a few hours while she shopped for groceries or whatever. I’d spend hours reading, flicking ants off my bare legs or swatting flies, all while following the adventures between those magical pages. I even climbed to the garage roof to get away from my pesky younger brother and sister – the shingles were gray, but still too hot to stay up there for long.

I’d read all of the Boxcar Children’s books so chose my favorites to read again. All of my best friend’s Happy Hollister mystery collection. All the Little House series at least twice (The Long Winter was grueling, but I persevered.) My oldest sister’s Nancy Drew books (too few) and lots of children’s classics (From Pooh to Charlotte’s Web) plus all of Beverly Cleary and Rosemary duJardin. And then my friend gave me the first book of the Trixie Belden mystery series.

The Secret of the Mansion thrilled me. What’s not to like about a rich girl who moves in next door to Trixie in a New York State country neighborhood (definitely appealing since I lived in the cookie-cutter ‘burbs), her thirst for adventure, a decaying mansion and a missing fortune? Book two kept my interest, although the camper adventure was not up to par to the first. The third and fourth books, however, are my favorites in the series. By that time, I knew what a better plot was compared to a weaker one, how important the villain is and how to look for planted clues. And thus, a future writer was born.

Now, one would think that all I did was read. Not true. I played softball in the girls’ league (pitcher and first baseman), braided keychains with the colorful plastic cords at the local recreation ‘day camp’ along with making other crafts such as chewing gum wrapper braids, went to the movies to enjoy air-conditioning and role-played our favorite television spy shows like “The Man From U.N.C.L.E.” or westerns like “Wild Wild West” and “Here Come the Brides.” We also held “carnivals” with games and puppet shows, skits and the like to raise money for “pagan babies.” That sure earned lots of points with our school nuns.

After my birthday, school loomed – never a sad occasion for me, because I loved the school’s library! I had books at my fingertips nearly every day.

No wonder autumn is my favorite season!

Meg Mims loves to read and write historical mysteries and suspense. Besides promoting Double Crossing and writing a sequel, she’s also is a staff writer for RE/MAX Platinum and Lake Effect Living. Her article about the one-legged Civil War veteran and lighthouse keeper of South Haven, James S. Donahue, appeared in the 2011 summer issue of The Chronicle, the magazine of the Historical Society of Michigan. Meg is a watercolor artist and amateur photographer, a lighthouse fanatic and has a whole room of bookshelves along with her new Kindle.

 

A murder arranged as a suicide … a missing deed … and a bereft daughter whose sheltered world is shattered.

August, 1869: Lily Granville is stunned by her father’s murder. Only one other person knows about a valuable California gold mine deed -- both are now missing. Lily heads west on the newly opened transcontinental railroad, determined to track the killer. She soon realizes she is no longer the hunter but the prey.

As things progress from bad to worse, Lily is uncertain who to trust—the China-bound missionary who wants to marry her, or the wandering Texan who offers to protect her … for a price. Will Lily survive the journey and unexpected betrayal?