The Intersection of Two Sisters

The wonderful folks at William Morrow make it easy and fun for a reader to select advanced reader’s editions titles.  THE PRECIOUS ONE is the latest from Marisa de los Santos. As I read and loved her three other novels I jumped at the change to read her latest.

The Precious One

This was a complete departure from what I was expecting.  In fact it was a little hard for me to read and return to each day.  But about halfway through I found my pace and started to be more pulled in to this novel and its characters.

Two sisters with the same father but kept from each other. A father who was difficult to deal with and finally deserting his family to make another.  When their dad suffers a heart attack he contacts his grown children from his first marriage, Eustacia (Taisy) and Marcus. Taisy’s curiosity and her need for her father’s approval and love sends her to see why her  dad (Wilson) after all these years reaches out to her.

Taisy finds that she likes her step sister (Willow) and her step mom (Caro).  Taisy it turns out is the glue this family needs.  And she also understands and likes her 16 year old sister even though Willow was not welcoming.

Old relationships are resurrected and new relationships are formed.  While this family has been broken any number of times, they find their way to a new normal as the sister’s find they love and need each other.

This story was hard for me to identify with and maybe that is what first kept me at a distance. But once again Santos’s writing and solid story telling won me over. Still not my favorite read from Santos but I look forward to her next novel.

To find out more about Marisa de los Santos visit her facebook page.  Be sure to pick up her other novels: Love Walked In, Belong to Me, and Falling Together.  Santos and her author husband, David Teague, write middle-grade fiction if you need some good reading for the kids this summer. 

 

 

Posted in Fiction, Novel | Tagged , , , , | 2 Comments

On Tour with THE SECRET OF PEMBROOKE PARK

Always a fan of Jane Austen books and those imagining what the stories might look like if they went on and on.  I am so grateful for those imagining minds.

THE SECRET OF PEMBROOKE PARK is from Julie Klassen and is on tour from February 16, 2015 through 11:59 pm PT, March 9, 2015.  It is my first novel from Klassen and I am definitely going to return to one of her many other published novels.

This Regency book starts in the Spring 0f 1818 with lead character Abigail Foster fearful she will become a spinster. Her heart has been broken by a man who has fallen for her sister.

In poor financial straits the Fosters head to London to see if another season will produce a much-needed alliance for Abigail and the family.  The family has the opportunity to stay at an abandoned estate Pembrooke Park and while it was abruptly abandoned it seems the house holds secrets and many treasures…open its pages to find out more.


 

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Chapter Five (Excerpt)

That night, Abigail went up to bed early, weary from sleeping so poorly the night before and hoping she would sleep better her second night at Pembrooke Park.

Polly helped her undress, cheerfully chatting about church—“Mr. Chapman preaches the shortest sermons. Witty too. Some folks don’t appreciate it, but I do . . .”—and about the afternoon she and Molly had spent with her parents and brothers out on their family farm. She also mentioned Duncan had just returned from visiting his mother in Ham Green, several miles away. As Abigail listened to the girl’s happy account, she was glad she had heeded Mac’s advice and given the servants the day off.

After Polly left, Abigail crawled into bed with a book she’d found in the library—a history of the Pembrooke family and manor. But she’d read only a few pages before her eyelids began drooping. She set aside the book and blew out her bedside candle. Lying there, Abigail thought back on the day’s conversation with Mr. Chapman. They had touched on so many topics—family and fear and church . . . .

Engulfed in darkness, her ears focused sharply, trying to catalogue every sound. For once identified, she would no longer need to fret about it. That howl? The wind through the fireplace flue. That rattle? A window shaken by the wind. Telling herself she would grow used to the sounds in time, she determinedly pulled the bedclothes to her chin, pressed her eyes closed, and willed sleep to come.

Then she heard something new. A creak, like a door opening nearby. Probably only Polly, she thought, checking to see if the windows in the master bedchamber had been shut after yesterday’s airing.

Faint footsteps reached her ears. In the corridor outside her room? No—it sounded more muffled, like footsteps on carpet and not wood. Was it coming from the next room? The room on that side of the wall was to be Louisa’s. Why would anyone be in there, when they hadn’t even started cleaning it yet?

A scrape—like a chair leg across wood? She was probably imagining things. It was likely only a simple creak of the house, of damp, warped walls and floorboards. After all, it was well past working hours and a Sunday yet.

Sleep, she told herself, closing her eyes again. Fear not.

In the morning, Abigail was still sound asleep when Polly came in with hot water and a breakfast tray.

“Oh. Sorry, Polly. I intended to be up before you came.” Abigail pushed back the bedclothes and hurried to the washstand. “I didn’t sleep well last night. The house makes  any odd noises. Have you noticed?”

“What sort of noises?” Polly asked.

“Oh, you know. Creaks and groans. Though last night I heard footsteps, long after you had gone to bed.”

“You likely imagined it.” The girl’s eyes twinkled. “Or perhaps the place is haunted, like the village children say it is.”

“Haunted?” Abigail echoed, drying her face. “By whom? I suppose my father and I have angered some ghost of Pembrooke past by moving in here?”

“Well, someone did die here twenty years ago. Was killed some say. Probably his ghost that does the haunting.”

“Who died here?” Abigail asked. “One of the Pembrooke family?” She recalled Mr. Chapman saying a Robert Pembrooke died twenty years ago.

Polly’s mouth slackened, face growing pale. “No, miss. I never said a word about the Pembrookes, did I? Please don’t tell anyone otherwise. I don’t know anything about the family. How could I? I was talkin’ about a servant—that’s all.”

Abigail regarded the young woman, surprised by her panic. Hoping to lighten the moment, she teased, “Which servant? A cheeky housemaid?”

But the girl did not smile. “No, miss. Robert Pembrooke’s valet. Walter something, I heard his name was, but that’s the last word I’ll say on the subject. I’ve said too much already.”

Abigail blinked. “Very well, Polly.”

The housemaid stepped to the closet. “My mouth will be the death of me yet, and you don’t want me hauntin’ the place, flapping my ghostly lips all night. Now, let’s get you dressed. . . .”

When Abigail left her bedchamber a short while later, she paused at the door of the room that would be Louisa’s. The door was closed, as it had been the day before. She opened the latch and inched it open, the mounting creak familiar. Is that what she’d heard last night?

At first glance the room seemed undisturbed. But then, in the morning light slanting through the unshuttered windows, she saw something. She frowned and bent to look closer. Yes, unmistakable. Footprints in the dust, all the way to the wardrobe. She had not even bothered to look inside yet, but someone had. The footprints appeared notably larger than her small shoes. So probably not one of the housemaids checking the windows.
Might it have been their manservant, Duncan? She didn’t like the idea of a man roaming about a lady’s bedchamber at night. Though she supposed he might have checked the windows as a favor to Polly, whom he seemed eager to help. But what business had he opening a wardrobe in an unoccupied room at night?

I thank Laurel Ann Nattress for inviting me to participate in this tour.  If you are a Jane fan or like this excerpt visit her blog to see who you have missed and to follow the tour: Austenprose – A Jane Austen Blog

Hope you are still reading as there is a giveaway:

Grand Giveaway Contest

Win One of Four Fabulous Prizes

In celebration of the release of The Secret of Pembrooke Park, four chances to win copies of Julie’s books and other Jane Austen-inspired items are being offered.

Three lucky winners will receive one trade paperback or eBook copy of The Secret of Pembrooke Park, and one grand prize winner will receive one copy of all eight of Julie’s novels: Lady of Milkweed Manor, The Apothecary’s Daughter, The Silent Governess, The Girl in the Gatehouse, The Maid of Fairbourne Hall, The Tutor’s Daughter, The Dancing Master, and The Secret of Pembrooke Park, one DVD of Northanger Abbey (2007) and a Jane Austen Action Figure.

To enter the giveaway contest, simply leave a comment on any or all of the blog stops on The Secret of Pembrooke Park Blog Tour starting February 16, 2015 through 11:59 pm PT, March 9, 2015. Winners will be drawn at random from all of the comments and announced on Julie Klassen’s website on March 16, 2015. Winners have until March 22, 2015 to claim their prize. The giveaway contest is open to residents of the US, UK, and Canada. Digital books will be sent through Amazon or Barnes & Noble. Good luck to all!

To find out more about the author Julie Klassen visit her website: http://www.julieklassen.com/News%20&%20Events.html

Posted in Books, Fiction Light, Giveaway, Historical Light, Jane Austen, Mystery, Mystery Light, Novel, Regency | Tagged , , , , , | 62 Comments

Historical Fiction Virtual Book Tour Stop: RODIN’S LOVER

It is January and that means it is time for the next Heather Webb (@msheatherwebb) historical fiction novel.  This time I was proud to join the blog tour hosted by Amy Bruno and her Historical Fiction Virtual Book Tour (@hfvbt): http://hfvirtualbooktours.com/rodinsloverblogtour/ .  This happens to be my favorite tour but Bruno has some other tours if your tastes run a different genre way.

Rodin's Lover

Camille found herself a student of Rodin who she struggled to love and at the same time get out from behind his shadow.  The relationship went from student/teacher to peers and then lovers.  In the end both of them had some touch of obsession and madness for their work and each other which jumped off the pages of RODIN’S LOVER.  Although, this was not always pleasant for the reader it was pure, raw and powerful.

Always enjoy the backdrop of Paris and to cross with the painters and other notable figures of the time including: Manet, Zola and Hugo I was intrigued. The way the emotion lifted off of the pages in this novel is lasting even for some time after you finish.  For me, I am compelled to seek out more information about Camille Claudel and go see the Rodin museum in Paris.  Okay, for now Goggle will have to suffice that itch but I never mind dreaming of my next trip to Paris.

Thanks to Amy Bruno for saying yes to me and to Plume Books for supplying the book.  And a special thanks to Heather Webb who fills my glass of historical fiction right to the top.  If you missed BECOMING JOSEPHINE you might want to pick it up.

********Enjoy the other stops on the tour*********

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Rodin’s Lover Blog Tour Schedule

Monday, January 19
Review & Giveaway at Let Them Read Books
Review & Interview at With Her Nose Stuck in a Book

Tuesday, January 20
Review at Broken Teepee
Spotlight at Boom Baby Reviews

Wednesday, January 21
Review at Oh, for the Hook of a Book!

Thursday, January 22
Review at History From a Woman’s Perspective
Interview at Oh, for the Hook of a Book!

Friday, January 23
Review at Teddy Rose Book Reviews Plus More

Monday, January 26
Review at Poof Books
Review at Ageless Pages Reviews

Tuesday, January 27
Review at Library Educated
Spotlight at The Lit Bitch

Wednesday, January 28
Review & Giveaway at Peeking Between the Pages

Thursday, January 29
Review at Book Babe
Review at The Book Binder’s Daughter

Friday, January 30
Review at Book Drunkard

Monday, February 2
Review at Unabridged Chick

Tuesday, February 3
Review at Caroline Wilson Writes
Interview at Unabridged Chick

Wednesday, February 4
Review at Brooke Blogs

Thursday, February 5
Review at A Book Geek

Friday, February 6
Review at The True Book Addict

Monday, February 9
Review at A Literary Vacation
Review at CelticLady’s Reviews

Tuesday, February 10
Spotlight at Historical Fiction Connection

Wednesday, February 11
Review at 100 Pages a Day – Stephanie’s Book Reviews

Thursday, February 12
Review at Flashlight Commentary
Spotlight at Historical Readings & Reviews

Friday, February 13
Review at The Maiden’s Court

 

 

 

 

Posted in Art, Books, Fiction, France, Historical, Historical Fiction, Novel, Reading | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

A Touching Story for the Season

christmas-train-9781476779843_lgTHE CHRISTMAS TRAIN by Rexanne Becnel from Pocket Star eBooks was a touching story that can be read in one sitting but has moments that will stay in your heart for a long time to come.  A little girl, Anna, who never knew her dad is being sent to live with him after her grandmother who raised her passed away.  Scarred and confused she is sent to him on a train.

Her mother who has all kinds of issues finds out you cannot send a child Anna’s age on a train trip alone. She dumps her daughter with an older woman, Eva and asks her to safeguard her.  However, the elder woman has some issues with reality.  Thus it becomes Anna’s role to take care of Eva. This special little girl is used to caring for her grandmother so she seems to know just what to do.

Anna tries to put aside her thoughts and fears about her dad as she tries to help Eva who seems confused for much of the trip.  She was split from her family during the Second World II, her mother told her to run to escape the Nazis and that is what she did.  Eventually she got married and had a son.  But on the train she is caught somewhere back in time and in her memories.

This story is beautiful  of relationships, caring and compassion which definitely requires tissues be kept close.  There are so many precious moments that bring this story together.

Happy Joys of the Season to you and a Wonderful New Year of Great Reads Ahead.

Posted in Bring your tissue read, Holiday Books, Novel, Reading | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Clever Book that Holds Many Cures

Novel CureTHE NOVEL CURE FROM ABANDONMENT TO ZESTLESSNESS: 751 BOOKS TO CURE WHAT AILS YOU  by Ella Bethoud and Susan Elderkin from Penguin Books is a Physicians Desk Reference but for novels.  Completely jealous that Bethoud and Elderkin thought of this clever idea to play with books.  Great timing on the part of Penguin as this is the perfect stocking stuffer for readers and those not so inclined.

This present does not require a user guide, manual nor batteries to get started enjoying this book’s contents.  Organized alphabetically by ailment and the imaginations of Bethoud and Elderkin. The introduction is priceless do not miss it, they refer to themselves as bibliotherapists and the remedies prescribed are books.

I have spent hours now reading various sections that either I am or have experienced and enjoying their novel remedies.  Just a few ailments in and I am ordering books they are recommending.  I am sure a downside of this book will by my bank account as I am ordering a number of books prescribed in its sections. Luckily there is a section aptly labeled BROKE, BEING on page 47.  There are three books they recommend for this ailment: The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald, Money by Martin Amis and Young Hearts Crying by Richard Yates.

I am happy to say I have a giveaway to share with one and all.  To enter leave a comment including an ailment and a book you think serves as a cure.  Do not forget to leave your contact information as this giveaway goes away Friday, December 19th at midnight CST. (Only open to U.S. mailing addresses.  I have been trying to do this all week and it is not that easy so my hats off to Bethoud and Elderkin.

Thanks to Penguin Books for providing a copy of this book and the giveaway copy too. Happy Holidays to all and with any luck I will be treating my ailments with a good novel or two this season.

 

 

 

Posted in Books, Giveaway, Reading | Tagged , , , , | 3 Comments

Jane Austen’s First Love, by Syrie James – Excerpt #1 – Holiday Blog Tour Stop

First LoveWhen the opportunity to join this tour was announced I jumped on it as I am interested in anything inspired by Jane Austen.  Oh and it didn’t hurt that to date I have read everything written by Syrie James.  This is my favorite cover yet, I have framed the beautiful postcard that came with my copy of the book.

I am not yet done with the book and will return with my feature but for now enjoy the preview provided by the publisher and the excerpt from chapter 1 provided by James.  I read this excerpt and knew I was going to enjoy visiting Jane’s first love with her. Still pinching myself that I have the opportunity to share this with you. Be sure to keep reading this post as there is a fabulous giveaway announcement you will not want to miss.

PREVIEW

In the summer of 1791, fifteen-year-old Miss Jane Austen is determined to accomplish three things: to do something useful, write something worthy, and fall madly in love. While visiting at Goodnestone Park in Kent for a month of festivities in honor of her brother’s engagement to Miss Elizabeth Bridges, Jane meets the boy-next-door—the wealthy, worldly, and devilishly handsome Edward Taylor, heir to Bifrons Park, and hopefully her heart! Like many of Jane’s future heroes and heroines, she soon realizes that there are obstacles—social, financial, and otherwise—blocking her path to love and marriage, one of them personified by her beautiful and sweet tempered rival, Charlotte Payler.

Unsure of her own budding romance, but confident in her powers of observation, Jane distracts herself by attempting to maneuver the affections of three other young couples. But when her well-intentioned matchmaking efforts turn into blundering misalliance, Jane must choose between following her own happily-ever-after, or repairing those relationships which, based on erroneous first impressions, she has misaligned.

EXCERPT

The summer of 1791 is so firmly fixed in my memory that I believe I can never forget it; every detail is as fresh and vivid as if it occurred only yesterday, and looking back, there are times when it seems as if my life never really began until that moment—the moment when I first met him.

It was a letter which instigated this fond remembrance—a letter I wrote to my sister Cassandra many years past, which she came upon the other day by happenstance. It was a cold morning in late November, and we had recently returned to our apartment at Bath following a lovely, all too brief holiday in Lyme. I was setting the table for breakfast, when I observed my sister seated by the window in the drawing-room, deeply engrossed in reading. An open box of old correspondence lay at her feet.

“What are you reading, Cassandra?” inquired I.

“One of your old letters,” replied she, smiling. “I came upon this box while I was tidying the wardrobe, and could not prevent myself from taking a look inside.”

“My letters? Why do you keep those old things? Re-reading them can hardly prove to make lively entertainment of a morning.”

“Oh, but it does. You wrote this one in September 1796 when you were in Kent. Here you speak of a Miss Fletcher: She wore her purple muslin, which is pretty enough, though it does not become her complexion. There are two traits in her character which are pleasing; namely, she admires Camilla, and drinks no cream in her tea.” Cassandra laughed softly. “You are a most candid and amusing writer, Jane.”

“I am flattered that you think so, but I still say: what is the point of reading my old correspondence? It is full of nothing but useless details which can no longer be of interest to anybody.”

“I beg to differ. Reading them is a source of great pleasure for me, dearest.” Turning the letter over, she continued, “Look what you write here: We went by Bifrons and I contemplated with a melancholy pleasure the abode of him, on whom I once fondly doated.”

I paused, the spoon which I had been holding forgotten in my hand. That single sentence caught at my heart, of a sudden bringing back to mind a person, and a time and place, which I had not thought about in many years—and an attachment which I thought I had long since got over.
Cassandra looked at me, empathy in her eyes. “You are thinking about that summer, are you not?”

I nodded.

“How many years has it been?”

I did the mental calculation. “Twelve and a half years.”

She carefully refolded the letter. “They say that memories fade in time—but where particular people and events are concerned, I have not found that to be the case.”

I knew that she was thinking of Tom, her own lost love, who had tragically died so many years before. Our eyes caught and held across the room.

“Nor have I.”

She came to me, removed the spoon from my hand, and set it on the table; then she took me in her embrace. “You are older and wiser now, Jane. But it is only natural that you should think of him. I know what he meant to you.”

So saying, she kissed my cheek, handed me the letter, and left the room.
I sank into the nearest chair, immediately opening and scanning the letter until I found the phrase which was of such interest to me. Then I held the missive to my chest, as a hundred memories came flooding back…

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

At that point of my life when this history occurs, I had attained my fifteenth year. I was young, I know it; but does age matter? Did Juliet, not fourteen, love her Romeo any less? What of Pyramus and Thisbe’s burning passion? Ought we to discount their raw and overpowering feelings, simply because of their youthful age? I think not. When he was near, at times my heart did not beat to its regular rhythm; in so many ways, I thought he was my perfect match.
To my mind, particularly when one took into account my education and the manner in which I was raised, I was, at fifteen, a grown-up person in every way; indeed, I felt as mature and worldly as my sister, who was three years my senior. I was not beautiful, like Cassandra; my hair was far too curly, and neither fashionably light nor dark, but a shade of brown somewhere in between; even so, I received compliments on my hazel eyes and clear complexion, and was often told that I bore a strong resemblance to my father and my six brothers, who I believed to be handsome.

I lived in the house where I was born, Steventon Rectory, in the county of Hampshire. Although not grand or elegant by any means, it was a dwelling worthy of a scholar and a gentleman and had provided me with all the comforts and joys of a happy childhood. We had a lovely garden and a big old barn, where for years my brothers and sister and I had enjoyed holding home theatricals. I had done very little travelling outside of Hampshire, other than two brief intervals away at school, and one family excursion to east Kent to visit my elderly great-uncle at Sevenoaks. I was anxious to see the world.

I had been taking dancing lessons since I was a child and loved nothing more than the idea of a ball; but an idea was all it had been, for as much as I perceived myself to be an adult, my mother still forbade me from attending the assemblies at Basingstoke. This was the greatest cross I bore at the time, for I dreamt of three things in life: doing something useful, writing something worthy, and falling in love—and how could I ever fall in love if I had to wait nearly two years before Mamma would allow me to come out?

On Thursday morning, the 18th of March, 1791, I was in my dressing-room, a smallish chamber which communicated with my bedroom and had been especially fitted up for my sister and me. I adored every inch of that room, from the chocolate brown carpet, blue wallpaper, and comforting fireplace, to the painted bookshelves and cheerful striped curtains, for it was a place of quiet and refuge, where I could write in privacy and peace.

I was seated at the small table between the windows, above which hung a looking-glass and our Tonbridge-ware work-boxes, thoroughly engaged in composing a little play I had entitled The Visit, and was just considering the next line to be spoken, when I heard the tread of footsteps on the stairs and my mother’s voice ringing out:

“Jane! Jane! Come down! You are needed!”

“I am writing, Mamma!” I doubted very much that my reply would hold much weight with her, and sadly this proved to be the case.

My mother entered the room and stopped beside me, shaking her head and clicking her tongue. “Look at you, bent over that table like an interrogation point—do sit up straight, Jane! Put down your pen and come downstairs; we have work to do.”

“What kind of work?”

“I told you at breakfast! We still have all those shirts to make for Charles, and two new pairs of breeches, and who knows how many handkerchiefs. Cassandra and I have been working all morning, and with only two pairs of hands, it is slow going.”

“May I come down in an hour, Mamma? I am right in the middle of the most amazing scene: eight people are crowded into a tiny drawing-room which only has chairs for six. Two large persons will be obliged to sit on the laps of others—only imagine the hilarity which will ensue!”
“That can wait, Jane; this cannot.”

“But, Mamma! I have the whole dialogue in my head. If I stop now, I will forget! Did Shakespeare’s mother interrupt his efforts with a pen? Did Mozart’s father oblige him to sew gowns for his sister?”

My mother raised her eyes heavenward. “I know how much you enjoy your writing, Jane. Lord knows, we all love a good laugh now and then, and if any one understands the pleasures of composition, it is I—I flatter myself that my poetry is not entirely unreadable—but it is only a hobby, Jane: an amusement for the family. We are neither of us Mozart nor Shakespeare.”

______________________________________

Honored to be on the tour and share this except provided by James.  I know this book will be big success as there are so many Austenites out there all over the world.  A perfect gift for any one that loves, Jane, history or is looking for a good read.

Syrie I have read every historical fiction novel you have written and I hope that it will be necessary to dedicate more then a shelf to your writing if you keep this up.  Congrats!

AUTHOR BIO

0Syrie James, hailed as “the queen of nineteenth century re-imaginings” by Los Angeles Magazine, is the bestselling author of nine critically acclaimed novels that have been translated into 18 languages. Her books have been awarded the Audio Book Association Audie, designated as Editor’s Picks by Library Journal, named a Discover Great New Writer’s Selection by Barnes and Noble, a Great Group Read by the Women’s National Book Association, and Best Book of the Year by The Romance Reviews and Suspense Magazine. Syrie is a member of the WGA and lives in Los Angeles. Please visit her at syriejames.com, Facebook or say hello on Twitter @SyrieJames.

GIVEAWAY DETAILS

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GRAND GIVEAWAY

Win One of Five Fabulous Jane Austen-inspired Prize Packages

To celebrate the holidays and the release of Jane Austen’s First Love, Syrie is giving away five prize packages filled with an amazing selection of Jane Austen-inspired gifts and books!

To enter the giveaway contest, simply leave a comment on any of the blog stops on the Jane Austen’s First Love Holiday Blog Tour.

Increase your chances of winning by visiting multiple stops along the tour! Syrie’s unique guest posts will be featured on a variety of subjects, along with fun interviews, spotlights, excerpts, and reviews of the novel. Contest closes at 11:59pm PT, December 21, 2014. Five lucky winners will be drawn at random from all of the comments on the tour, and announced on Syrie’s website on December 22, 2014. The giveaway contest is open to everyone, including international residents. Good luck to all!

Jane Austen’s First Love: A Novel, by Syrie James
Berkley Trade (Penguin USA) 2014 (400) pages
Trade paperback ISBN: 978-0425271353
eBook ISBN: 978-0698139268

Blog Tour

To find out more about the blog tour which runs through December 15th and its stops visit Syrie’s website: syriejames.com or visit Austenprose blog post: http://austenprose.com/2014/11/17/jane-austens-first-love-holiday-blog-tour/. Lastly, on twitter to follow the fun search hashtag #JAFLBlogTour.

Posted in Books, Historical Fiction, Jane Austen, Novel | Tagged , , , , | 72 Comments

A Love Story Across Time

I was instantly drawn to the cover of THE WIDOW’S WALK by Robert Barclay from WilliamMorrow Books.  But my affection for this book only grew as I read the story within.

Widows Walk

Elizabeth Canfield, a woman who fell to her death while waiting for her true love to return to her.  Now 170 years later she is trapped, never aging, wandering in and around the home that she once called her own.  But now something has changed and her ghostly world is flipped upside down with possibilities.

Garrett Richmond  an up and coming architect was drawn to a dilapidated old home referred to as Seaside.  He had big dreams for this home and he was willing to take a leap of faith to do so. Family and friends thought his obsession a bit strange but there was no way for them to understand the draw to this house and the beautiful spirit within.

But how can a these two, a live breathing man and this apparition find a way to believe.  Garrett thought he was loosing it and than once he started to believe a love for the ages developed. There are some lovely details of both architecture and the history of the house. Additionally, there are twists I cannot share but I was always sad to put it down when work or life called.

This love story was endearing and I did not want it to end.  Can lightening strike twice between reader and author?  I sure hope the answer is yes.  I am looking forward to reading other books by Robert Barclay.

Shh because this is going in some stockings this year for the holidays.

Posted in Books, Fiction, Novel, Romance | Tagged , , | 1 Comment