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Marie at 1 Write Way

  • Three days to save on Occasional Soulmates

    July 14th, 2016

    And the sale begins! Get thee to Amazon and pick up a copy of Occasional Soulmates, Kevin Brennan’s different kind of chick lit novel, as in, it ain’t chick lit but indeed it has romance, heartbreak, great sex, heartbreak, and an ending you won’t expect but will embrace. Don’t take my word for it … get your own copy!

    Kevin Brennan's avatarWHAT THE HELL

    occasional_soulmates_ebook_coverClick cover to sample

    Alrighty, the 99 cent sale is on, muchachos y muchachas. From now through Saturday, you can nail down your reading entertainment for the weekend and save three dollars while you’re at it.

    If you’re new to my amiga, Sarah Phelan, and her offbeat take on love, both romantic and familial, here’s the scoop:

     When the thirty-eight-year-old San Francisco doctor meets her new patient, a handsome British expat with the unlikely name of Dylan Cakebread (and an uncanny resemblance to Jude Law), she’s convinced it’s the start of her own relationship novel. He’s an architect, no less — always a key piece of her most indulgent fantasies — and the heroine of a relationship novel always gets her fantasy man, right? Though their shaky start raises red flags that her oldest girlfriend, Jules, is quick to point out, Sarah can’t help it. She falls…

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  • Occasional Soulmates on sale later this week

    July 12th, 2016

    Get ready, readers … Kevin Brennan’s novel Occasional Soulmates is going on sale. Only 99 cents from Thursday through Saturday! If you know me at all, you know I love Kevin’s writing and Occasional Soulmates is one of my favorites. So mark your calendar and get thee to Amazon on Thursday to pick up a copy!

    Kevin Brennan's avatarWHAT THE HELL

    occasional_soulmates_ebook_coverClick cover to sample

    A quick note to bring you a heads up: this Thursday through Saturday you’ll be able to pick up a copy of my “chick lit, by a dude!” novel, Occasional Soulmates, for 99 cents. If you’re in the mood for a light yet poignant, funny yet heartening, quirky yet soulful story of love lost and found, look no further.

    Said one reviewer: “If I had not known that the author was male, I would have assumed the opposite.” Another: “If you are looking for an intelligent romance with a lot of heart, then this is the book for you.” And another: “A sure writer handles love and consequences with gentleness and an unflinching vision.”

    See?

    It’s been a while since I promoted good ol’ Soulmates, so take advantage of this rare opportunity!

    Don’t worry … I’ll remind you on Thursday.

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  • Living in the Moment: Mashes Sands and … more fiddler crabs #nature #fiddler crabs

    July 5th, 2016

    This is “Part 2” of our day in the fun and sun and sand and water, and frolicking with fiddler crabs.  Part 1 was spent at St. Marks National Wildlife Refuge, which was supposed to be a quick trip to check out some time lapse filming opportunities for my husband.  A ranger at the Refuge recommended that we go to Mashes Sands Beach if we also wanted to see horseshoe crabs.  The beach is a fairly recent acquisition to the park service.  We had been there years ago when we took a coastal ecosystems class with Anne Rudloe (RIP) so we were game to visit the area again.

    Look! A sign!
    Look! A sign!

    And look!  Fiddler crabs!  I’ve been playing around with the time lapse function on my iPhone.  I had to film for a number of minutes just to get this 8-second video.  I have much to learn …

    Time Lapse–Fiddler Crabs at Mashes Sands from Marie Bailey on Vimeo.

     

    IMG_0478
    Look, a boardwalk!

    I love boardwalks, especially in nature areas.  They are a wonderful way to avoid upsetting the natural environment while still allowing the visitor to feel part of that environment.

    And boardwalks are also good for fishing …

    A view of the boardwalk which gives me a sense of liminality.
    A view of the boardwalk which gives me a sense of liminality.

    What is liminality, you ask?  Well, my friend Luanne Castle at Writer Site can explain it better (and more poetically too):  “The place of change where you are different at one end than you were at the other.”  Perhaps that’s another reason I like boardwalks.  You enter at one end and exit at the other, or, in the case of this particular boardwalk, you just turn around and leave the way you came.  And thanks to the view, the opportunity to gaze into the depths of the bay without getting in it, I did feel a little different exiting the boardwalk than when I entered it.

    Lots of shallow water.
    Lots of shallow water.  Perhaps some liminality here too with the contrast between the burnished shallow water and the deep blue of the deeps.

     

    Squint and you might see a white egret.
    Squint and you might see a white egret.

    After the boardwalk, we decided to explore the beach, travel its edges on a long way back to our car.  We removed our sneakers and socks and rolled up our pants so we could wade through the warm bay waters and find creatures like this little guy.

    A baby horseshoe crab ...
    A baby horseshoe crab …
    And with my husband's foot for perspective :-)
    And with my husband’s foot for perspective …

     

    An inland storm.
    Looking back, we can see a storm is brewing inland.

    I’ve lived in this part of Florida for over 25 years now and I’ve often seen pine trees near salt water.  This dead tree in the next photo is different.  It’s not near salt water.  It’s in it.  Over the years the bay waters have steadily encroached on the land where the tree once thrived (aka “nuisance flooding“).

    Dead tree ahead ... Wait, a tree at a beach?
    Dead tree ahead … Wait, a tree at a beach?

     

    I dedicate this dead tree to Florida's Governor Rick Scott who has unofficially banned the phrase "climate change" from state agency documents. You know, pine trees and salt water don't really go together.
    I dedicate this dead tree to Florida’s Governor Rick Scott who has unofficially banned the phrases “climate change”, “global warming,” and “sustainability” from state agency documents.

     

    Was once a great tree, no doubt.
    This here was once a great tree, no doubt.
    Raccoon crabs!
    Now it provides shelter for crabs!  Nothing goes to waste in Nature.
    Another day well spent!
    Another day well spent!

    Call it what you want, sea level rising is a real deal in Florida, but I’m trying to look on the bright side.  If we stay here, maybe we’ll eventually have that beachfront property we always wanted … without having to move.

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  • Living in the Moment: St. Marks National Wildlife Refuge #Nature #FiddlerCrabs #MondayBlogs

    June 27th, 2016

    One of our favorite places to visit in Florida is the St. Marks National Wildlife Refuge.  The Refuge has over 17,000 protected acres and lies between three counties.  It is a way station for all sorts of migratory birds and butterflies, and is home to a lot of critters including black bears, bobcats, otters, and … yes, of course, alligators.  Since we moved to Florida in 1990, my husband and I have visited the Refuge numerous times, usually walking one of their well-maintained trails which takes you along dikes and bayous.

    A couple of weeks ago, we decided to go out to the St. Marks Lighthouse.  The lighthouse was built in 1842 and is still being used, although currently it’s under renovation.

    Lighthouse at St. Marks National Wildlife Refuge
    Lighthouse at St. Marks National Wildlife Refuge

    Our purpose in this trip was to scope out some good spots for photography.

    I’m not making any claims about my photographic abilities, especially since I was just using my iPhone, but the video above and the photos below should give you a nice idea of what SMNWR has to offer.

    (1) Overlooking one of the many bayous at St. Marks National Wildlife Refuge
    (1) Overlooking one of the many bayous at St. Marks National Wildlife Refuge
    (2) Overlooking one of the many bayous at St. Marks National Wildlife Refuge
    (2) Overlooking one of the many bayous at St. Marks National Wildlife Refuge
    A little color in the otherwise green and sandy gray landscape.
    A little color in the otherwise green and sandy gray landscape.
    On our way to the beach at St. Marks National Wildlife Refuge
    On our way to the beach at St. Marks National Wildlife Refuge
    The "beach" at St. Marks National Wildlife Refuge
    The “beach” at St. Marks National Wildlife Refuge

    So what is my husband looking for?  Ah, some of these little critters …

    Fiddler Crabs at St. Marks National Wildlife Refuge from Marie Bailey on Vimeo.

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  • Town Father on sale through Friday

    June 15th, 2016

    The latest novel by Kevin Brennan–Town Father–is now on sale for 99 cents (ebook version) through Friday! Today is Wednesday (in my world) so waste no time in picking up a copy. While you’re there, snatch up a FREE copy of his short story collection Our Children Are Not Our Children. And, since Father’s Day is almost here (in the US, there is), maybe you should just go ahead and get a paperback copy of Town Father for a favorite dad. You know, if Town Father were nonfiction, it would put an interesting spin on Father’s Day.

    Kevin Brennan's avatarWHAT THE HELL

    Front cover small

    Starting today and running through Friday, Town Father (the ebook) is on sale for a wee 99 cents. I started the sale the day before a Bargain Booksy feature so I could be sure the price drop was in place. That means you have a day ahead of everyone else to take advantage!

    This is my lone promo since February, thanks to rising competition at my go-to EReader News Today, and to BookBub’s failure to accept my cold hard cash. I remain agog.

    Incidentally, the other day I announced that Our Children Are Not Our Children is now permafree. Well, at the time that applied only to Amazon US, but on the advice of an astute reader I appealed to Bezos to make it free across the board. Lickity split, he waved his wand, and OCANOC is now my gift to the entire world — or at least to…

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  • Poetic medicine

    June 13th, 2016

    This post from Kate Shrewsday is welcome not only because her posts are always a delightful read, but the concept, the person she writes about is a bit of balm, I’d argue, for what many of us are feeling right now. The focus here is writing, but the healing properties of poetry in particular and writing in general are real and necessary.

    kateshrewsday's avatarKate Shrewsday

    So, it has been a while.

    I return to write here today, because yesterday a woman in a white coat told me I must make the space to write. She told me this with the conviction of a true medic; and the zeal of a true poet.

    She is The Emergency Poet, and she operates out of an ambulance.

    I was on duty yesterday: working at my Cathedral in Guildford, manning the kiddies crafts and taking photos for publicity.

    My boss and I strolled out of the great marquee – they call it a canvas cathedral- onto the lawn to watch the early visitors to the Cathedral Summer Fair.  The air was soft, moist English air which caresses the skin, and though there was the odd spot of rain it was a benign sort of day, really.

    Our eyes surveyed the scene, panning round to the large ambulance parked to…

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  • Tuesday – Anything possible – His Revenge $0.99 Sale June 9th through June 13th #RRBC

    June 8th, 2016

    Dear readers, if you like thrillers (and I know many, many of you do), here’s some exciting news: you can get yourself a dose of John Cannon for only 99 cents starting June 9 through June 13. Yup, His Revenge, the 2nd in John Howell’s trilogy starring America’s favorite unlikely hero, John Cannon, will be on sale. Get yourself a copy and enjoy!

    John W. Howell's avatarFiction Favorites

    His Revenge

    In honor of being chosen for the Book of the Month honor at Rave Reviews Book Club, I am running a sale in the US and the UK. June 9th (Thursday) through June 13 (Monday) His Revenge Kindle edition will be on sale for $0.99 in the US and £0.99 in the UK. Here are the short links should you want to grab a copy at this low price (1/3 the price of a Starbucks Latte) Don’t rush since I will run this announcement again on Thursday when the price is in effect.

    US http://goo.gl/1NuXIK

    UK http://goo.gl/GIsEnV

    Blurb

    America loves John Cannon, its newest hero, and the President wants to present him with the highest civilian medal for bravery for saving the Annapolis midshipman from a terrorist plot to destroy them. While in Washington for the award ceremony, John unwillingly becomes an accomplice in another plan by the same group to attack…

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  • A Different Kind of Book Review: Eating Bull by Carrie Rubin #MondayBlogs #bookreview @sitting_bulls

    June 6th, 2016

    Hello, dear friends.  I’m on a roll.  Make that a whole-grain roll. Here is another “different kind of book review,” this time of Eating Bull by Carrie Rubin.  Carrie is not just a writer but she’s also a physician and public health advocate, a powerful combination evidenced by her novel.  I’d add humorist as well since she’s quite adept at that humor so particular to the medical professions.  You have been warned.

    Without further ado, a different kind of book review of Eating Bull …

    ***

    Maggie stared at the plate of garlic french fries that the waitress had just placed in the middle of their table, after also depositing a black-bean burger with Provolone cheese in front of her, a quarter-pound Angus burger with blue cheese in front of Mary, and one with Brie in front of Melissa.  Beside each of their plates stood tall glasses of iced Coke Zero.  “Save room for dessert, ladies!  Today we have several kinds of cheesecake!”  The waitress trotted away from them, her blond ponytail bouncing away, her petite figure hugged gently, almost lovingly, by stretch denim.

    “Bet she doesn’t eat here.”  Melissa scowled, shrugged and then took a bite of her burger.  Melissa was thin too.  No matter what she ate or how much she ate, she had always been and, no doubt, always would be thin.  She was thin to the point of angularity, but aside from a couple of bad spells when she stopped eating because of stress, she had, best as her cousins could tell, a healthy appetite.

    And for that, Mary and Maggie harbored some resentment toward her.  They both “watched” their weight and seemed to be in a perpetual struggle to just maintain the status quo.  For Maggie, that meant walking an extra mile or two whenever the waistband of her favorite jeans was a bit too snug for comfort.  For Mary, it meant fasting until she get her jeans zipped without having to lie on the bed.

    Maggie hadn’t touched her food yet and was still staring at the fries, their delicate garlic scent making her stomach grumbled.

    Melissa looked her.  “It’s like that line in the book: ‘Like a dog in search of a bone, he longed to scamper after the scent.’  All the smells in this restaurant conspire to make us hungry, or think we’re hungry.”

    “Oh, but we are hungry.  It’s been, what, six hours since breakfast?  I don’t feel guilty about ordering this food and, Maggie, you shouldn’t either.”  Mary wiped away some blue cheese that frosted the side of her mouth. “Just skip supper tonight, or have something light.”

    Melissa snapped her fingers in front of Maggie and her cousin jerked back to awareness.

    “Sorry, I was just thinking.  Thinking of why we had decided to discuss the book here.  I mean, it’s about obesity and serial killers for goodness sake and we’re sitting here with the vehicles of death ready for consumption.”  Maggie popped a few fries into her mouth and then picked up her burger, eyeing it for the best line of attack.

    Mary snorted.  “Vehicles of death!  Well, I get it.  I have to admit, after reading Eating Bull, I didn’t think I’d ever have a burger again.  Thank goodness, we don’t have any fast-food places in this town.”

    Melissa nodded and scarfed down a few fries.  “But that’s only because we have too small a population.  Even when the slopes are open, most skiers stay across the lake, not here.  And there you do see places like Mickey D and Burger King.”

    “Well, since we’re here and we think we can rationalize eating burgers while discussing the novel, what did you think of it?”  Maggie had chosen Eating Bull for their book club so she could rationalize steering her cousins to do the discussing while she ate.

    “Oh, I loved it,” Mary mumbled through a mouthful of fries.  She swallowed, then took a big gulp of soda.  “I don’t think I’ve ever come across a thriller that made me laugh.  Carrie Rubin has that kind of humor you hear among medical and public health professionals, all very tongue-in-cheek but still spot-on.”

    “Yeah, she has that unflinching perspective.  How did she describe one character?  “Her wide ass an egg crate of dimples”?  Egad, I had to drop the book and then my pants to check out my own butt when I read that!”  Melissa laughed out loud, something she rarely did.  Her cousins stared at her for a moment, incredulous that, of the three of them, she’d be the one worried about what her ass looked like.

    “Out of context, some of her descriptions may seem harsh, like when Jeremy describes his presence as like “an orca in a kiddie pool.”  But it was Jeremy thinking that about himself, so I felt okay about laughing, but then I also felt sad.”  Mary pushed around the fries with her fingernails, as if unsure whether to have any more.

    “Yes, there’s the humor, the dark humor, but I was also impressed with how sympathetic she made the serial killer.”  Maggie pushed aside her plate, her burger half-eaten.  “I don’t know if schizophrenic is the right word or not, but he hears a voice, something telling him what to do.  He’s a very sick man and at the extreme end of the spectrum on health and fitness.  Jeremy was at the other end.  His mother, Connie, somewhere in the middle.  I thought of her as being like the rest of us.  She didn’t need to be perfect.  She just needed the tools and the support to live a healthier life.”

    “What did you think about Sue the Warrior?”  Mary smiled as she asked.  She had really liked the character of Sue but she wasn’t sure why.  They had nothing in common.

    “She was a warrior, wasn’t she?  Almost to the point of pissing me off though.”  Melissa pushed her plate away, a limp piece of lettuce being the only remnant of her burger.  “I mean, she had an uphill battle, trying to take on the fast-food industry, and I could understand why she wanted to.  As a public health nurse, she knows it’s just not fair to expect that you only need self-discipline to control your weight and be healthy.  It’s easy for people who have quick access to healthy food and safe neighborhoods, but near impossible for people like Jeremy.  Every time he walked to school, he ran the risk of being beat-up by bullies, and the only safe places for him are the fast-food places.”

    “Every time Jeremy thought of going to the vending machine, I wanted to yell “No, don’t go!”  But I understood the pull.  What’s the point of denying yourself your comfort food when you already feel like a failure?  But why did Sue almost piss you off?”  Maggie looked directly at Melissa, willing herself to not look at the chocolate peanut butter cheesecake being delivered to the table in front of her.

    “Well, maybe I’m being a little harsh.  It’s just that she was so focused on “the greater good,” that she lied by omission, keeping her husband out of the loop, endangering her life and their home.  Even keeping information from Connie.  She was playing with fire and sometimes she was just too righteous about it.”

    Maggie nodded, practically ducking as a triple berry cheesecake entered her peripheral vision.  The colors of the cheesecake also reminded her of the first killing scene in the novel. She might have to avoid red and yellow food for a while.

    Mary made a loud sucking sound with her straw and then quietly burped.  “Overall, what I really liked about this novel is the complexity of the characters.  Everyone has flaws.  Sue isn’t perfect and that makes her believable.  An imperfect warrior, if you will.  Jeremy is a sweet kid but also a coward, although understandably so.  Connie is a good mom but has lousy judgment about men.  Darwin, well, he’s a serial killer so I guess no redeeming qualities there.  But everyone else has their pluses and minuses, even the minor characters.”

    “And the novel’s not preachy, either.  Sue is preachy, but the novel overall is not preachy.  There’s a good, well-paced plot.  I also like how she wrote from different perspectives, Sue, Jeremy, and even Darwin.  It’s always creepy to get inside the head of a psychopath, but the why of his killing people is critical to the story.”  Maggie looked around for their waitress.  She waited to pay the bill and get out of there.

    “And it ends as it should end, but Rubin keeps you on the edge, especially in the last few chapters.  I swear, even though I figured out who Darwin was early on, part of me still felt unsure until almost the end.  So many people seemed capable of being Darwin, which is a scary thought by itself.”  Melissa raised her hand and snapped her fingers, calling out “Check, please” as their waitress dropped off one amaretto cheesecake and three forks to a table of three young women.  For a moment, she thought … and then she thought not.

    Mary piled their plates, a habit long held over from her summers waitressing at this same restaurant.  “At least, this isn’t a fast-food place.  I’ll grant that most of the food is high in calories, but at least it’s cooked fresh and you can make substitutions.  I can’t believe I worked here after school.  That was almost thirty years ago.”

    “Yes, well … .” Maggie smiled up at the waitress as she handed her the check.  “I am glad Jake is keeping this place in the family and not caving into super sizing everything and offering deals for more food than is safe to eat.”

    As they stood up to leave, Melissa directed her cousins’ attention to the table of three women sharing a slice of cheesecake.  “Next time,” Maggie said.  “No burgers but we could have coffee and share one of those.” The other two smiled as they followed her out of the crowded restaurant.

    ***

    Well, my friends, I hope you enjoyed this review and will waste no time in picking up a copy of Eating Bull, available at Amazon.  Bon appétit!

     

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  • A Different Kind of Book Review: Silk for the Feed Dogs by Jackie Mallon #MondayBlogs #bookreview

    May 16th, 2016

    Hello, dear friends.  It’s time for another “different kind of book review.”  The novel I chose is Silk for the Feed Dogs by Jackie Mallon.  You might already know Jackie through her blog at https://jackiemallon.com/ And if you don’t, I suggest that you make your way over there now and have a look around.  I’ll wait.

    Jackie writes about fashion and most of her posts now link to FashionUnited.  Jackie has such a wonderful way with words that even if I don’t have a clue about the designer or design she is writing about, I still enjoy reading her posts.  And I always learn something.  Much as I felt upon reading her novel.  So, without further ado, a different kind of book review …

    ***

    Maggie pulled open the little drawers of the antique Singer sewing machine.  They were full of bobbins and feet for every possible stitch.  The apparatus for the zig-zag stitch was in its own plastic green box. The machine had been her mother’s, handed down by her maternal grandmother.  Maggie’s mom had sewn most of her clothes when she was little, the machine humming through the day, somewhat like the “whirr of the Singer, which was neurotic, and monotonous” that Kat’s mom had used.

    Maggie had finished reading Silk for the Feed Dogs by Jackie Mallon and felt obliged to reacquaint herself with her sewing machine, if not sewing itself.  Maggie was a knitter, not a seamstress, and she was reconciled to that, although … .

    Mallon’s novel about a young Irish woman named Kat who goes from an Irish dairy farm to a high fashion house in Milan reminded Maggie that once upon a time she had fancied finding herself in fashion.  Like Kat, she had had an eclectic but creative edge with the clothes she made for herself:  flowing kimono-style blouses made of gold curtain material; squares of old lace handkerchiefs stitched together for short summer skirts.  Unlike Kat, she couldn’t draw to save her life.  And then she got painful bruises from the knee press of the old Singer.  Finally, she picked up a ball of yarn and two knitting needles and never looked back.

    “But, Kat, oh, what a character!”  Maggie’s cousins had barely sat down at the kitchen table when she started talking about Silk for the Feed Dogs the night before, her selection for that month’s book club.  Melissa and Mary were in attendance, but Randy was AWOL, which was okay with Maggie since she knew Mary’s fiance wasn’t really interested in reading about the escapades of a young fashion designer in Italy.

    Melissa held a lemon mini-scone in one hand and pulled the book toward her with the other.  “I do like this cover.  It’s almost like a collage, and don’t you have an old sewing machine like that?”

    “Except mine has a knee press instead of a treadle.  That’s one of the reasons why I chose this novel.  Just from the cover you can tell this will be an intriguing story.  Why is this young woman asleep at an oversized sewing machine with fabric covering her almost like a quilt?”

    “I was hooked from the first line,” Mary interjected as she pulled the book away from Melissa and flipped through the pages.  “Ahem … ‘I heard the engine of the old red Massey Ferguson fart into life and I emerged running, scrambling to get my wellies on.’  This is how we meet Kat, on her family’s farm, about to help her ‘Da’ with birthing a calf.  Her mom gets a sewing machine that Kat wants no part of and yet she winds up going to a London art school for fashion design.”

    “And at a young age, too, which suggests to me that she had a calling, a real drive to pursue fashion as a career.”  Maggie suddenly felt wistful.  What was it like to have that kind of drive when you were only in your teens?

    “The juxtaposition between where she came from and where she went is profound, but …”  Melissa paused to take a sip of her hot tea.  Maggie and Mary waited, albeit a tad impatiently.  “But, it was too fast for me.  Literally from the first chapter to the second with no idea as to why she flipped from wanting no part of her mom’s sewing machine to being almost obsessed by clothing and fashion.”

    “Well, I felt that way too at first, but …”  Maggie paused to take a sip of her tea and then a bite of her scone.  Melissa raised her eyebrows.  “But, she does weave bits of her childhood life into the novel and she has phone conversations with her mom throughout.  I got the sense that she was a headstrong young girl who was pretty much encouraged to do anything she wanted.  Yet, her family eked by.  Remember, she could only have one cat when she was growing up because they couldn’t afford to feed more.  But sewing was a part of her mother’s life and I think Kat just inherited that gene, even if she fought against at first.”

    “I agree, Maggie.  She presents the question, how did she go from this to that, but …”  Mary paused and took a sip of her tea and then just stared at the few remaining scones as if trying to decide whether she wanted another.  Maggie stifled a laugh and Melissa rolled her eyes up to the ceiling.  Mary looked away from the scones.  “But she lets the reader figure it out by weaving, as you say, bits of her childhood into the narrative.  This novel is about her adventures in the fashion world.  Perhaps there will be another novel about her childhood.”

    “Oh, that would be wonderful!”  Maggie leaned forward, apparently finished with teasing Melissa.  “This was such an entertaining novel.  Mallon is an exceptional writer, don’t you think.  Listen to this.”  Maggie took the book and flipped to a dogeared page.

    ‘Fields with low-growing crops were crinkly like raffia, those mowed smooth were like cashmere, and one farm of land was so raked and tailored right to its sharp corners defined by trim hedgerows that it reminded me of a Max Mara wool crombie with fur collar that I’d admired recently in a magazine.’

    Melissa nodded.  “From that passage you definitely get the idea that fashion is in Kat’s blood.  I don’t even know what a Max Mara wool crombie is … .”

    “Right, I had to look some of that up,” Maggie interrupted.  “But that’s fine because I’m not a fashion designer, not even into fashion, not any more anyway.”

    “And while there is a lot about fashion in this novel, the characters practically pop off the page:  Kat herself; Edward, her gay friend who entices her to Milan; Lynda, the crazy fake designer in London and her codependent assistant Celeste; Signora Silvia, Eva, Paola, and Arturo, and all the Italian men who tried to seduce her–”

    “With some succeeding,” Melissa interjected with a grin.

    “Yes, if it weren’t for Randy, I’d probably would have booked a trip to Italy after reading Silk.”

    The cousins went silent for a few moments, each contemplating their misspent youth in a small town in northern New York state where Italian men were nil.

    Maggie jerked herself out of her reverie.  “And then she gets this amazing assignment at the House of Adriani, the top fashion house.  I never knew how hard people had to work at these places and how you have to keep checking your back for knives.  She achieves her dream and then, well, it’s interesting what she does then.”

    “Yes.” Mary sat back in her chair, the mood in the kitchen suddenly somber.  “I came away from this novel with a deep respect for Kat.  She doesn’t always show good judgement, but who does and, besides, what kind of story would it be if she did.  But she had a moral code that she wasn’t going to compromise for anyone.  And you feel that it was a code she was raised with, instilled by her father and mother.  Her loyalties are put to the test a number of times, but she has integrity and a strong sense of fairness.  She understands how the fashion world works.  She just has to decide if she could work within such a system.”

    Maggie gave a soft laugh.  “If it had been me, they would have chewed me up and spit me out the first day, if I ever even got that far.”  She looked up to see both Melissa and Mary frowning at her.  “When I was in junior high, I wanted to be a fashion designer.  But I can’t draw and my imagination only went so far.  I definitely didn’t have the focus or skill set that Kat has.  Still, it was a fantasy and that’s one of the things I enjoyed about this novel.  For the time it took to read it, I could vicariously enjoy a world that I know I will never be part of it.”

    “And isn’t that why we read novels?”  Melissa poured some tea into Maggie’s cup.

    “Isn’t that why we read at all?”  Mary reached for the plate of scones.  She’d take the last cinnamon scone.

    ***

    I hope you’ve enjoyed this review, but no doubt, you’ll enjoy Silk for the Feed Dogs even more.  Head over to Amazon to pick up a copy now!

     

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  • The Storms in Life

    May 13th, 2016

    Jill Weatherholt shares a beautiful story she received recently. Her timing is perfect for me because of my own family’s struggles right now. If you or someone you love is experiencing a challenge right now, especially a health challenge, you might find comfort in this story too.

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