Tag Archives: Biographical Fiction

Shattered Pieces Can Still Shine Blitz

Shattered Pieces Can Still Shine banner

 

Shattered Pieces Can Still Shine cover

Georgie’s story

 

Historical fiction, Biographical Fiction

 

photo add-to-goodreads-button_zpsc7b3c634.png

 

This story loosely based on a real-life story, is about Georgie, a child
born to a single mother just after WW2 in a small village in Cumberland.
After an initially happy first few years of childhood during which Georgie
dreams of becoming a dancer, she finds herself the victim of sexual and
psychological abuse by her stepfather, and then neglect and rejection by
both her mother and her absent father. Eventually Georgie runs away to
London where, after a short period of rough-sleeping, life seems to become
more positive for a while, and she is able to kick start her dancing career.
But things go badly wrong, and Georgie finds herself imprisoned into a life
she did not choose, with little chance of escaping. She had rarely prayed to
God, but it seemed He was watching over her …

Shattered Pieces Can Still Shine paperback

EXCERPT

 

CHAPTER 12

 

Early February 1952

Disclosure

 

Life had become almost normal for Georgie once Mummy was back home. The
five-year-old felt at peace, but somehow couldn’t quite find the old
bouncing Georgie that she once was. Neither could she bring herself to call
the monster Daddy anymore. Georgie knew that Mummy had put it down to her
having grown up a lot while she was away. Pattie and Robert had appeared to
be less worried about her too, which Georgie thought was because they knew
her mummy was now there to monitor the situation.

A month passed by until one Sunday morning early in February Mummy
announced that she was popping down to see Pattie for a couple of hours for
a catchup.

“Would you mind keeping an eye on the girls for me, please, Gerald?
It would be lovely to have a bit of girlie time with Pattie on our own.
Daisy’s just gone down for a nap, so she shouldn’t be a
problem.”

Georgie had overheard what Mummy had said as she sat on the settee in the
living room quietly reading her book about the girl who became a dancer and
dreaming of her longed-for future. When Mummy popped her head around the
door to say goodbye, she asked Mummy if she could go with her.

“Not this time, Baby, you’d be bored anyway. It will just be me
and Pattie chattering away as usual. You and Daddy could play your chasing
game like you used to. I haven’t seen you two laughing together once
since I came out of hospital. Daisy’s fast asleep in her cot so you
don’t have to amuse her. Have some fun.”

Then Mummy disappeared, leaving Georgie sitting on the edge of the settee,
holding tightly on to her book. Should she stay where she was and keep
quiet, hoping not to attract the monster’s attention? Tingling fear
crept its way up her tense body, switching her mind on to red alert. Maybe
she could creep outside to the front garden and play five-stones in the
lane. Somehow, she would feel safer outside. She would still hear Daisy if
she woke up, so at least she’d know her little sister was safe. Yes,
that’s what she would do. She crept into the hallway and slipped her
coat off the stair post. She would put it on once she was outside. She
walked quietly over to the front door, holding her breath, but as she lifted
her hand to turn the knob, she jumped at the sound of the monster’s
voice.

“Where d’you think you’re going?”

It took all Georgie’s control to stop her voice quaking as she turned
to him.

“Just going out to play five-stones in the lane.”

He approached her, took her coat, and put it back over the stair
post.

“Upstairs now.”

Georgie immediately obeyed. She remembered his threat and knew that she had
to protect her little sister. He followed closely behind. At the top of the
stairs, he guided her into the bathroom and locked the door behind
him.

“Kneel down in front of the toilet.”

She obeyed.

“Open the lid.”

She obeyed. He loosened his trousers, and she immediately knew what she had
to do. He approached her.

Afterwards, he left the bathroom, leaving Georgie vomiting down the toilet.
When she’d finished, she flushed away the proof of her action, rinsed
her mouth out with water from the washbasin, and quietly exited into her
bedroom to check that Daisy was safe. Pale-faced and trembling, she knelt on
her bed to look out of the window and down the lane where she knew her mummy
was. She didn’t notice the monster return quietly to her room, so his
loud whisper made her jump.

“Get back downstairs to your book, now.”

Georgie was paralysed to the spot for a long moment. Was he going to touch
Daisy? Then she felt the harsh grip of his hand on her arm, pulling her off
the bed and guiding her out of her bedroom and down each step, including the
creaky one, until she found herself shoved back onto the settee. He picked
up her precious dancer book and for a painful moment she held her breath,
fearing that he was going to destroy it. Instead, he pushed it into her
hands before turning away and returning to the kitchen. Georgie was numb.
She sat there for several minutes, clinging on to the book, knowing that she
didn’t have the option of crying, because her mummy would notice her
red face and swollen eyes. Suddenly she heard the front door open and saw
Mummy enter.

“Don’t tell me you’re still reading that same old book of
yours, Baby?

Georgie used every bit of her willpower to force a smile onto her face as
Mummy took off her coat and placed it on the stair post over Georgie’s
coat. As she did so, there was a small cry from Daisy, and Mummy tripped
upstairs to retrieve her baby. As she came back downstairs holding Daisy,
Georgie jumped up from the settee to meet them, immediately responding to
her little sister’s open arms and taking her from Mummy.

“Ger, Ger,” the child gurgled as Mummy smiled and headed
towards the kitchen, leaving Daisy with her big sister.

Georgie was happy to be distracted from what had happened by amusing Daisy
for the rest of the day and avoiding the monster in the process. It
wasn’t until she got into bed that night, and endured Mummy and the
monster coming up together to tuck her in, that she gave way to the silent
tears that she had been swallowing since the incident. As sleep eventually
overtook her, she decided that she would disclose her secret to Mummy and
beg her not to tell. She knew she couldn’t continue the way things
were.

As it happened, Mummy broached the subject herself. Georgie came out of
school on the Monday afternoon to find Mummy, with Daisy in her pram,
waiting for her as usual. As they were walking home, Georgie holding on to
the side of the pram handle and making Daisy laugh by repeatedly leaning
towards her little sister and pretending that she was about to tickle her,
Mummy spoke.

“Georgie, Babe, what’s wrong? Won’t you tell me why you
always look so serious these days? What’s happened to your bounce? I
really miss it.”

Georgie knew that this was her opportunity, so she took a deep breath and
keeping her eyes on the ground, she opened up to Mummy, who she knew loved
her more than life itself.

“He’s been doing things to me, Mummy, and I don’t like
it. He said he would really hurt me and Daisy if I told anyone.”

It was such a relief to get the words out that Georgie allowed the tears to
trickle down her cheeks and plop to the ground.

“What do you mean, Baby? Who has been doing things to you and what
has he been doing?”

“Gerald. When you were in hospital, he did things to me in my bed,
and made me do things that made me sick.”

“What are you talking about? Why are you calling your daddy Gerald?
What things did he do to you?”

“He touched me between my legs, he put his thing in my mouth, and one
time he put his thing inside me, and it hurt me so bad, Mummy, that it made
me bleed.”

“Georgie, daddies don’t do things like that to their little
girls. These are terrible things to say about your daddy. Where on earth
have you heard such things in the first place? Have you been listening to
the bad kids in the school playground?”

Georgie gulped. She was shocked into silence. Her own mummy didn’t
believe her.

“Georgie, I never want to hear you say such outrageous things again.
Do you hear me?”

Georgie’s eyes didn’t leave the ground. She knew it was
pointless arguing. She just nodded. The rest of the way home was spent in
silence. Even little Daisy went quiet as if she sensed that something was
wrong.

 

About the Author

Gloria Eveleigh

Gloria Eveleigh has three adult children and five grandchildren. She lives
on England’s south coast but was born in South London just after WW2.
She grew up on a council estate, experiencing familial sexual, physical and
psychological abuse within a dysfunctional family. Despite this, she did
well at school and spent the first part of her career as a research
scientist. She then studied to become a social worker, specialising in the
area of safeguarding, and eventually running her own safeguarding
consultancy. She is now a champion for survivors of abuse and uses her
writing and regular posts on social media to ensure that the issue of abuse
in all its forms is kept high in the public narrative. Through this, Gloria
hopes to break down the wall of silence that often prevents victims from
reporting, and in effect protects the perpetrators.

As a child when abuse was hidden, not believed, and not acknowledged,
Gloria’s experiences resulted in an emotional life sentence. She
managed to turn this around, and is now a champion for abuse survivors,
using her writing and social media posts to keep the issue of all forms of
abuse high in the public narrative.

Contact Links

Website

Twitter

Facebook

Instagram

TikTok

BookBuzz

 

Purchase Link

Amazon

 

RABT Book Tours & PR

Comments Off on Shattered Pieces Can Still Shine Blitz

Filed under BOOKS

Salvation Virtual Book Tour

Salvation banner

Salvation cover

 

Historical Fiction / Biographical Fiction

 

Date Published: September 15, 2021

Publisher: TouchPoint Press

No one ever talks about what happened …

Summer 1971, Del Munro, a single mother of four, is struggling to make ends meet when Mother Franklin, a traveling evangelist, offers to take her daughters to the beach in Savannah.

For nine-year-old Willie June and seven-year-old Glory, restless at the end of a long, hot summer in Charlotte, it’s a dream come true. To their beleaguered mother, it’s a much-needed reprieve.

But what seemed like a blessing soon turns into a nightmare when the girls are pressed into service by the morbidly obese Mother Franklin whose needs are as outsized as her ambitions.

When the girls fail to return, Del, evasive about the details of her arrangement with Mother Franklin, panics. People begin to wonder if instead of sending her daughters on vacation, she sold them to the evangelist.

Salvation tablet

Excerpt 

 

Luther was Mother Franklin’s driver. At least that’s how he thought of himself. He spent a lot of time waiting around on her; her being so big and all meant she was a slow mover. He’d stand for what seemed like hours waiting for the old woman in one churchyard or another. This time of year, when the grass was brown and crackly and clover was the only thing showing green on the ground, he would kick at it with his shoe, grinding the clover until it disappeared in the red dirt.

That’s what that fat old woman was doing to him.Grinding him down.It wasn’t like she was really paying him.He was just part of her—what’d she call it?—retinue. My driver. A plate for my driver, she’d demand and the church ladies always did provide. It wasn’t begging. But it was charity. What he’d like was a little cash in his pocket. Even when they pulled into a filling station she’d get the bills out of her black square of a pocketbook and not let go of them ’til he was done pumping. Two dollars, she’d bawl in her wheezy old voice, and not a drop more!

Even though technically the station wagon wasn’t his, Luther watched over it like a jealous lover, noticing every little hint of trespass—fingerprints on the windows, mud on the floor, crumbs. He kept a little whisk broom under the driver’s seat and a red rag, worn soft, that he folded in half and then in thirds and tucked up under the visor. Every time they stopped for gas, he swept the floorboard on the driver side and wiped down the dash. When Mother Franklin was doing her business, he’d whisk her side of the car as well.

He was sure this dust-covered, paneled wagon would do better if they just filled it up to the top of the tank every once and again.He wasn’t anything more than a shade tree mechanic but he knew where to poke around under the hood and it was looking like there were going to be some serious problems soon enough.

About the Author

Avery Caswell

Avery Caswell is an award-winning writer whose debut novel, Salvation, will be published on September 15, 2021. Her previous work includes a collection of short stories, MOTHER LOAD, which Kirkus called “stunning” and LUCK: A COLLECTION OF FACTS, FICTION, POETRY & INCANTATIONS, which Lee Smith said was “a feast for the eyes, the intellect, and the imagination.” She studied at Iowa Writers’ Workshop, Duke Writers’ Workshop, and holds MFAs in Creative Writing and Design.

Contact Links

Website

Facebook

Twitter

Blog

Goodreads

Instagram

Purchase Links

Amazon

Barnes and Noble

Kobo

a Rafflecopter giveaway

RABT Book Tours & PR

Comments Off on Salvation Virtual Book Tour

Filed under BOOKS

Salvation Blitz

 

Salvation cover

 

Historical Fiction / Biographical Fiction

 

Date Published: September 15, 2021

Publisher: TouchPoint Press

No one ever talks about what happened …

Summer 1971, Del Munro, a single mother of four, is struggling to make ends meet when Mother Franklin, a traveling evangelist, offers to take her daughters to the beach in Savannah.

For nine-year-old Willie June and seven-year-old Glory, restless at the end of a long, hot summer in Charlotte, it’s a dream come true. To their beleaguered mother, it’s a much-needed reprieve.

But what seemed like a blessing soon turns into a nightmare when the girls are pressed into service by the morbidly obese Mother Franklin whose needs are as outsized as her ambitions.

When the girls fail to return, Del, evasive about the details of her arrangement with Mother Franklin, panics. People begin to wonder if instead of sending her daughters on vacation, she sold them to the evangelist.

About the Author

Avery Caswell

Avery Caswell is an award-winning writer whose debut novel, Salvation, will be published on September 15, 2021. Her previous work includes a collection of short stories, MOTHER LOAD, which Kirkus called “stunning” and LUCK: A COLLECTION OF FACTS, FICTION, POETRY & INCANTATIONS, which Lee Smith said was “a feast for the eyes, the intellect, and the imagination.” She studied at Iowa Writers’ Workshop, Duke Writers’ Workshop, and holds MFAs in Creative Writing and Design.

Contact Links

Website

Facebook

Twitter

Blog

Goodreads

Instagram

Purchase Links

Amazon

Barnes and Noble

Kobo

a Rafflecopter giveaway

RABT Book Tours & PR

Comments Off on Salvation Blitz

Filed under BOOKS

Under the Light of the Italian Moon Tour

Under the Light of the Italian Moon banner

Under the Light of the Italian Moon cover

 

Historical fiction, women’s fiction, biographical fiction

 

 

Date Published: March 8, 2021

 

Publisher: Amsterdam Publishers

A promise keeps them apart until WWII threatens to destroy their love forever

Fonzaso Italy, between two wars

Nina Argenta doesn’t want the traditional life of a rural Italian woman. The daughter of a strong-willed midwife, she is determined to define her own destiny. But when her brother emigrates to America, she promises her mother to never leave.

When childhood friend Pietro Pante briefly returns to their mountain town, passion between them ignites while Mussolini forces political tensions to rise. Just as their romance deepens, Pietro must leave again for work in the coal mines of America. Nina is torn between joining him and her commitment to Italy and her mother.

As Mussolini’s fascists throw the country into chaos and Hitler’s Nazis terrorise their town, each day becomes a struggle to survive greater atrocities. A future with Pietro seems impossible when they lose contact and Nina’s dreams of a life together are threatened by Nazi occupation and an enemy she must face alone…

A gripping historical fiction novel, based on a true story and heartbreaking real events.

Spanning over two decades, Under the Light of the Italian Moon is an epic, emotional and triumphant tale of one woman’s incredible resilience during the rise of fascism and Italy’s collapse into WWII.

EXCERPT

On the day of the Festa dell’Uva  the weather was blustery, and the tents of the merchants whipped and shook. No one wanted to cancel, but the conditions were less than ideal. It seemed it would rain any moment. Nina looked out the window, cursing her luck. The door to the house opened, and Corrado entered along with a gust of wind. 

“Bundle up! The festa is still on. Even if we have to huddle under blankets, we won’t be cancelling!” he announced. Everyone let out a cheer and grabbed their scarves and coats. Nina tied her chignon tight to avoid the wind making a mess of her hair. Vante, Aurora, Evira, and little Luigia tied blankets over their shoulders like capes as they marched to the piazza where the festivities would begin. 

In the Piazza Primo Novembre, the Fonzasini huddled next to each other on either side, leaving space for the parade. Nina scanned the crowd for her friends and Pietro. To her surprise, Onorina grabbed her arm and shouted at her, “Come with me!” 

Nina allowed herself to be pulled across the piazza towards a section of the crowd where Onorina’s friends stood, anticipating the celebration, next to a row of young men in linen pants and wool caps. To Nina’s nervous pleasure, Pietro was with them. 

“Squeeze in!” yelled Toni Bianchi, a wilful and brawny young man who had spent time abroad in Canada, come back to fight in the Great War and returned to find his father had died of the Spanish flu. He pulled the two girls next to him with Onorina on his side, forcing Nina between her sister and Pietro. 

“Hello there,” Pietro said, jostling as the crowd pushed and pulled to get the best view of the parade. The wind tossed his curls. “You weren’t at the festa in Frassenè!” he nearly shouted, and she didn’t have time to respond to him as the crowd cheered. Each cart rolling by celebrated winemaking and depicted a different step in the process. The first cart came through the crowd, adorned with twisted grapevines covering every surface, and one of Onorina’s old classmates, Bettina Napoli, waved from the carriage with a wreath of vines on her head. She was supposed to wear a Roman goddess costume, but with the cold and wind, whatever she wore was hidden beneath a coat. The girl held tight to her crown to keep it from blowing away. 

The crowd shoved forward and tightened, pushing Nina against Pietro on the right and her sister on her left. To her secret delight, the pressure of the crowd on Onorina’s side was rising, and she had the distinct impression Toni was instigating it, pushing closer to her sister, and forcing her into Pietro. She could feel Pietro’s warm body under many layers, and they laughed, cheering as each cart went past. Pietro’s hand brushed against hers, sending an electric current through her belly. As the carriage drove by with old men and small children stomping on grapes in a vat, the skies opened, and a light rain fell, flying about in the wind. Someone lifted a large blanket behind and above the group and Nina found herself squeezed underneath it, protected from the rain with Pietro. It was oddly intimate despite the entire population of Fonzaso and surrounding villages gathered around them. They laughed and shook their heads, unable to hear anything through the shouting crowd, accordion music, and roaring wind. They cheered along, laughing at the absurdity of the entire situation and the thrill of being close until someone released a corner of the blanket and the wind ripped it away. The group screamed in surprise as the rain drenched them. 

Pietro’s hair was soaked, his damp curls stuck to his forehead as chaos started around them, everyone running for cover from the storm. Nina imagined her hair must look wild, most of her chignon loose. The organisers announced the Alpini band would play in the Corsos’ barn. 

“Are you coming?” Pietro shouted to Onorina and Nina over the madness in the piazza and the intensifying rain. 

“We’ll see you there!” Onorina called in response, pulling Nina again with her. 

“What was that about?” asked Nina when they found cover under an umbrella someone handed them. 

“What was what about? It’s a festa!  Have fun, sorellina!  Your life is too serious!” Her sister was in an exceptionally good mood, even though her waves were damp and would soon frizz. They were the first into the Corso barn as the Alpini  band started, and the accordions hummed. 

The exhilaration of the cold and the extraordinary situation of the festival took away any inhibition Nina had of being first to dance, and she and Onorina bounced to the music as soon as they entered. Onorina was an excellent dancer, and they both swung their hips, dipping and spinning with the music. Nina finally felt free. She twirled under the timber roof, giving in to an abandon she hadn’t felt since childhood, since before the awful days of the war took it away. 

A flood of people soon joined, swaying, and waltzing around them. Nina’s cheeks hurt from smiling, and she danced with everyone. The temperature rose in the barn, making the air muggy with the earthy smell of rain and hay. Where was Pietro? The men passed bottles of wine and raised them to allow the liquid down their throats, swigging, and handing it on. Her father appeared and lifted her around, then swung her sister. Vante and her little sisters stamped past, clapping their hands, and twirling as the music played. It reminded her of the weddings she’d attended when she was small before the war. Everyone wanted to dance with her then, and she never wanted to leave the floor. Women swished their skirts, men slapped their thighs and when the Alpini  band played ‘Quel Mazzolin di Fiori’, a cheer went up for the favourite song. Nina spotted Pietro through the boisterous crowd, but as he was about to break through, a young man with red hair swung her away. “Hey, Pampo!” someone shouted at him and gave him a wink as he swung Nina on the dance floor. She wanted to get away, annoyed at his awful dancing and even worse timing. She watched as Pietro found Onorina and gave her a twirl, both of them swaying to the music. Nina tried to move away from the redhead, but the barn was too packed with bodies, and he swung her again. This time, she lost her balance and, with two steps, trying to catch her footing, fell into the crowd. 

“Whoa there,” a low voice hummed in her ear as strong arms wrapped around her, catching her from her fall. 

“I remember you telling me you could dance,” Pietro said, smirking at her in a kidding manner while he pulled her into his arms. 

“Don’t blame me. A girl has to have the right partner,” she quipped back, surprised by her own words and immediately taking in the heady scent of his cologne: wood and spice mellowed by dried rain. 

‘La Monella’ played, and Pietro put his hand on Nina’s lower back, guiding her in an easy waltz to the quick tune. No one had ever held her in such a way; his palm was firm on her lower back, possessive, as though sending a message to everyone in the room. He was smooth on his feet, confident. They spun around in the packed space until the other dancers parted enough to allow them to travel. As the pace of the song picked up, Pietro became animated; he raised his eyebrows dipping her, and teasing with his movements. Nina liked how he moved. He was smooth but didn’t take himself seriously, and it was exhilarating to be twirled around in his arms. His hair had dried into a wild flop covering his left eye. She resisted the urge to push it back for him. 

“Did you learn to dance like this in America?” she asked, as he spun her and then pulled her back close to him. 

“I’ve learnt a lot of things in America.” He leaned towards her and changed the subject. “Do you ever go to the movies?” he asked. When he spoke to her, he had to get close to her ear so she could hear him over the band. She felt the heat from his breath on her neck. 

Sì.  In Feltre and we’re meant to get a small picture house behind the church soon. I especially love American films!” 

Pietro grinned at her, searching her face as if memorising her features. “Why weren’t you at the last festa?  I saw everyone else in your family but not you. Onorina was the star of the night.” 

“I’m sure she was,” Nina frowned, a chill going through her at the mention of her sister. “I had to help my mother. Babies don’t plan around events, she said, breathless and annoyed the conversation had headed again in Onorina’s direction. How many times had men tried to get information about her sister through her? Was Pietro the same? 

“You want to be a midwife, too?” It was a serious question to ask in the middle of a dance floor, but his brown eyes made her want to share her thoughts with him. 

“I want to matter to the world,” she admitted. “My mother has figured out how to do that.” He spun her again, then looked at her seriously. 

“You do and you will,” he said. Un colpo di fulmine. The lightning bolt returned as his words sunk into her like she had been waiting to hear them all her life. 

The song changed again and, this time, Corrado appeared, took Nina in his arms, and spun her around the barn. Losing sight of Pietro, she was tossed away again as Corrado seized her mother for a rare dance. She kept moving to the music as Pampo came up once more; this time she shook her head at him, unwilling to let him have her hand. He stayed nearby anyway, gesticulating towards her. For a moment, she thought she saw Pietro frowning on the other side of the barn as the annoying ragazzo danced at her.  Nina smiled awkwardly, feeling uncomfortable, not wanting to be rude but miserable about the change in circumstances. Pampo grabbed her wrist and twisted her roughly again. This time, she stepped with intention away from him and inched into a corner of the barn where observers sat on stacks of hay. She searched the space until a flash of burgundy drew her attention. On the other side of the barn, there was Onorina, again in the arms of Pietro. He had her sister’s scarf tied around his neck and was making the same animated faces at Onorina he had made at her. Nina felt the blood drain from her face, and her urge to dance died, replaced by the desire to escape. Her siren of a sister could enchant any man; and why shouldn’t he fall in love with her? Hours before, it seemed like Onorina was steering Pietro her way, but, as she batted her eyes and grasped onto the ends of her scarf around his neck, it was clear she was interested, too. Nina wove her way through the crowd to the exit, pushing away tears with the palms of her hands, and ran up the moonlit stones of the Via Calzen and home to her bed.

About the Author

Jennifer Anton

Jennifer Anton is an American/Italian dual citizen born in Joliet, Illinois and now lives between London and Lake Como, Italy. A proud advocate for women’s rights and equality, she hopes to rescue women’s stories from history, starting with her Italian family.

In 2006, after the birth of her daughter, Jennifer suffered a life-threatening post-partum cardiomyopathy, and soon after, her Italian grandmother died. This tumultuous year strengthened her desire to capture the stories of her female Italian ancestors.

In 2012, she moved with her family to Milan, Italy and Chicago Parent Magazine published her article, It’s In the Journey, chronicling the benefits of travelling the world with children. Later, she moved to London where she has held leadership positions in brand marketing with companies including ABInbev, Revlon, Shiseido and Tory Burch.

Jennifer is a graduate of Illinois State University where she was a Chi Omega and holds a master’s degree from DePaul University in Chicago.

Under the Light of the Italian Moon is her first novel, based on the lives of her Italian grandmother and great grandmothers during the rise of fascism and World War II.

Review the book at Amazon.com, Goodreads, and Bookbub

Connect with Jennifer on Instagram @boldwomanwriting

Connect with Jennifer on Facebook @jenniferantonauthorpage

Join her mailing list at www.boldwomanwriting.com

Goodreads

Purchase Link

getbook.at/JAnton

 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

RABT Book Tours & PR

Comments Off on Under the Light of the Italian Moon Tour

Filed under BOOKS

Under the Light of the Italian Moon Blitz

 

Under the Light of the Italian Moon cover

 

Historical Fiction, Women’s Fiction, Biographical Fiction

 

Date to be Published: March 8, 2021

Publisher: Amsterdam Publishers

A promise keeps them apart until WWII threatens to destroy their love forever

Fonzaso Italy, between two wars

Nina Argenta doesn’t want the traditional life of a rural Italian woman. The daughter of a strong-willed midwife, she is determined to define her own destiny. But when her brother emigrates to America, she promises her mother to never leave.

When childhood friend Pietro Pante briefly returns to their mountain town, passion between them ignites while Mussolini forces political tensions to rise. Just as their romance deepens, Pietro must leave again for work in the coal mines of America. Nina is torn between joining him and her commitment to Italy and her mother.

As Mussolini’s fascists throw the country into chaos and Hitler’s Nazis terrorise their town, each day becomes a struggle to survive greater atrocities. A future with Pietro seems impossible when they lose contact and Nina’s dreams of a life together are threatened by Nazi occupation and an enemy she must face alone…

A gripping historical fiction novel, based on a true story and heartbreaking real events.

Spanning over two decades, Under the Light of the Italian Moon is an epic, emotional and triumphant tale of one woman’s incredible resilience during the rise of fascism and Italy’s collapse into WWII.

About The Author

Jennifer Anton

Jennifer Anton is an American/Italian dual citizen born in Joliet, Illinois and now lives between London and Lake Como, Italy. A proud advocate for women’s rights and equality, she hopes to rescue women’s stories from history, starting with her Italian family.

In 2006, after the birth of her daughter, Jennifer suffered a life-threatening post-partum cardiomyopathy, and soon after, her Italian grandmother died. This tumultuous year strengthened her desire to capture the stories of her female Italian ancestors.

In 2012, she moved with her family to Milan, Italy and Chicago Parent Magazine published her article, It’s In the Journey, chronicling the benefits of travelling the world with children. Later, she moved to London where she has held leadership positions in brand marketing with companies including ABInbev, Revlon, Shiseido and Tory Burch.

Jennifer is a graduate of Illinois State University where she was a Chi Omega and holds a master’s degree from DePaul University in Chicago.

Under the Light of the Italian Moon is her first novel, based on the lives of her Italian grandmother and great grandmothers during the rise of fascism and World War II.

Review the book at Amazon.com, Goodreads, and Bookbub

Connect with Jennifer on Instagram @boldwomanwriting

Connect with Jennifer on Facebook @jenniferantonauthorpage

Join her mailing list

Goodreads

Preorder Link

getbook.at/JAnton

 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

RABT Book Tours & PR

Comments Off on Under the Light of the Italian Moon Blitz

Filed under BOOKS