Tag Archives: Coming of Age

SHADOW HEART -PROMO BLITZ

shadow heart banner

shadow heart cover

Broken Bottle Series, Book 1
Coming of Age, Family Saga, New Adult
Date Published:  February 2014
Publisher: Open Heart Books
 photo add-to-goodreads-button_zpsc7b3c634.png
What if you were afraid to even turn the doorknob to your front door when coming home because of what might wait inside? What would it take to make you step out of your shadows, to once and for all break free from the twisted security of familiarity, and take a chance, a little risk, that could change everything?
Nicky Young is a woman who has come of age and is beginning to realize the first layer of her fears carried through her childhood from growing up in a family battling alcoholism. They have impacted her severely when forming relationships.
Abandonment, devaluing, fear of everything good ending—all are why she has been happy to stand back in the shadows. Watching. Observing. Stepping out only when safe. Until Ryan Tilton, a professional baseball player who also has abandonment issues of his own, promises her a relationship that could be like no other.
Now, in order to transition into a life she’d always imagined, she needs to take the first steps of risk to embrace the rise and fall, the love and heartache, and joys of life. Through small steps she struggles to trust, most importantly herself, but also others, enough to let them a little closer. The rage of her father’s addiction pushes and pulls her back, but with all her heart she wants to break free and start a life that is brilliant and unafraid of failure. But can she?
Other Books in the Broken Bottle Series:
Broken Bottle Series, Book 2
My heart is on fire. For the first time in my life I am awake and the desires I’ve pushed down are smoldering. The shadows of my youth are daring me to step away from them, and new visions are circling through my head that include having intimacy in a way I never dreamed of.
My name is Nicky Young. This is my coming of age story and family saga. I have begun to understand if I want to live differently than my parents—an alcoholic father and co-dependent mother—I need to love, forgive, trust and live with an open heart. As I look in the mirror, I am seeing a new woman emerging—one I’m not sure of and trying hard to discover.
Through family dysfunction and by the lack of affection in my household I learned not to get too close. Rage and violence lurked when we became vulnerable and the way I learned to protect myself was to build high and thick walls of defense around my heart. I dream about having a full, open, and intimate relationship. I want a real adult romance with every beat of my heart. But I can’t trust anyone enough—especially myself.
That was until I met Ryan Tilton, a very sexy professional baseball player who lost his father at only fourteen. In many ways we seem to be ancient spirits. He promises to hold me in his arms like I’ve never been held, and is offering me a chance to step out of fear and experience what is like to ask for what I want without being afraid. I feel my heart opening. I feel . . . joy.
This is my battle: A fight to break generational chains of dysfunction and addiction, to understand the choices of my parents, to love and trust myself, so that I can love and trust another. This story is about transitioning into joy. I invite you to follow me on my journey and the struggle I’m desperate to overcome.
Broken Bottles Series, Book 3
Swept into a romance with professional baseball player, Ryan Tilton, we’ve just had an evening of dreams—until I wouldn’t have sex with him. I couldn’t risk it. To me, sex means marriage. It means love and forever. I tried to explain. I didn’t hide it. But to him, it means love, acceptance, and that he wouldn’t be abandoned the same way he was when a boy of fourteen and his father was killed in the Middle East. He’s pleaded with me to tell him my feelings and openly tells me he loves me. I can’t repeat the words. Once I do, he’ll abandon me just like my parents—discounting my feelings because they can’t deal with their own. I couldn’t risk it. I knew he’d leave.
Dad battles his alcoholism. Mom embraces her co-dependency. They’ve gambled with their daughters’ mental and physical safety multiple times over the years.
I’m at a crossroads trying to understand this threshold of being an adult, yet emerging from childhood. It’s as if a tornado has taken me into it’s roar spun and tossed me around, breaking me away as I cling to the twisted security of my family—even the word “secure” sends a shiver through me. I’ve never been.
Being raised in an dysfunctional family battling alcoholism whispers, stay hidden in the shadows, be safe, don’t be noticed or share too much.
I know this is it.
I need to take a risk.
I need to let go of old fears, forgive my parents, embrace intimacy and move forward. I need to trust—especially myself—so that I can transition into joy.
Broken Bottles Series, Book 4
It’s Amazing, but for the first time in my life I have let go of the control. I’ve battled so hard to hold onto the twisted security of my family’s battle with alcoholism—it’s what I’ve known—never risking too much, holding back, so the hurt didn’t cut too deep. Now?
I feel a new life
An unknown.
Vulnerable.
It’s magnificent.
It’s . . . intimacy, being held, letting someone see into my dark places so the light, hidden since a little girl, can finally become brilliant.
It’s amazing. I’m about to shout my love for a man who seems to understand me like no one ever has. After I do, will everything fall apart? In my heart of shadows, the fear of being abandoned beats inside my head with regular rhythms.
“Please take me in your arms,” I say silently. “Accept my dark places. Help me understand you won’t leave me.” Maybe I’m dreaming when he says, “Whatever path we choose, whatever arises, we’ll overcome our fears.”
Have a finally been set free from generational mistakes that are passed forward in our family? Dare I ask for what I want and trust myself enough to share my thoughts, wishes, dreams . . . dare I actually hope in another person? Will he break his promises like my parents did to me? Can I really, really, be alive, be vulnerable, open and reach for deep, sensual intimacy? Can I take a risk and transition into joy?
Excerpt
I always prayed the same way at night: “Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take. Please bless my mother, father, sister, everyone in the world, and me. And please make my father quit drinking.”
As a child growing up in a family battling alcoholism, this is what I know:
Something bad is coming; it always does.
                         I can’t ask for help; I’m too ashamed.
                             I can’t talk about our secrets; no one understands.
                                         I can’t trust anyone; they always leave.
The evening begins when I am eight and my sister, eleven. We were trying to finish dinner before he’d unraveled. Within minutes, I’m hiding under the dining room table, cowering; praying that he won’t see my hiding place.
I hear my sister face the wrath of our father’s anger.
My small body curls into a ball.
It’s as if the desert storms from our mother’s childhood have come to us, their thunder and lightning crashing. I pray, “Please, God, protect me from the monster in my house.”
Tonight, we try to avoid our dad’s drunkenness and count down the minutes until Mom comes home from her night shift at the Juvenile Hall in San Francisco.
These evenings occur frequently in our house. Jenise and I are caught in a spider’s web, wrapped in our father’s terrible addiction.
We prepare for the coming terror.
My sister has refused to eat a scoop of creamed corn, given to us for dinner without a second thought of how we hated it.
Once he’s done with Jenise, I know he’ll turn to find me.
I clench my teeth in fear. I’m shaking under the dining room table.
About the Author

 

My passion is writing books that tell a love story and family saga of leaving old fears behind as the characters embrace intimacy and transition to joy. My first series, Broken Bottles, details those fears of growing up in a family battling alcoholism. Along with the struggle and pain of a parent’s rage, there is intelligence, strength, and survival. How to love intimately in all relationships is the challenge. For children of trauma, it can take years to let another person come close. When they do? It’s like rainbows cover their heart.
Slowly, you’ll read how my characters become vulnerable, reach for deep, sensual intimacy, and try desperately to let go of their fears. They struggle and risk everything to trust others—and themselves. My stories are about daring to take the baby steps that let them really come alive and in every way, experience and give love.
MAKING MONEY TO CREATE: The small, vacation rental/ property management company I run with my husband and son in Sonoma County, California allows me to have the money for my creative life. I love that I was born and raised in San Francisco. My father introduced me to baseball when I was six. I’ve rung a cable car bell, and went to concerts in Golden Gate Park with my sister where Jimmy Hendrix, Jefferson Airplane and Santana once played.
WHAT I’VE DONE/AM DOING – IT’S A JOURNEY OF DREAMS: Broken Bottles is a four part series. Two books, Shadow Heart and Fire Heart, are ready. Soon to follow are Jagged Heart and Amazing Heart. I’m honored to have 3 poems in an anthology called The Beats Go On, and a story in Sisters Born, Sisters Found. I have released the first book in a series for Introverts called The Introverts Guide to the Galaxy: Attending Conferences.

My Dream? To create beautifully decorated and custom journals with gorgeous paper that accompany each book series: The Introvert’s Journal, A Family Saga Journal, My Body’s Journal, and Trauma: You Can’t Stop Me Journal. Journaling was a lifesaver for me. I was in shock. You may be in shock. Don’t let that keep your heart frozen!

Contact Links
Purchase Links
 photo readingaddictionbutton_zps58fd99d6.png

Comments Off on SHADOW HEART -PROMO BLITZ

Filed under BOOK BLITZ, BOOKS

Hello Agnieszka Blitz

hello, agnieska banner

hello, agnieszka cover
Between Two Worlds, Book Two
Women’s Fiction, Coming of Age
 Date Published:  June 2014

 photo add-to-goodreads-button_zpsc7b3c634.png

Elise thought she knew her mother. But when her oldest brother attempts suicide, painful secrets are about to be revealed. Agnieszka Halverson must now tell her children a past she has kept from them.

 

As a child in the seventies, Agnieszka discovers a passion for music when she hears her grandaunt Jola, a concert pianist in Poland, give a piano recital. Jola hones her talent and feeds her dreams. But too poor to continue professional training and with a mother who fails to support her ambitions, her dreams of being a pianist are shattered.

 

Agnieszka meets Lenny Weisz and they fall in love, renewing her hopes for happiness. But her hopes are thwarted  once again by forces beyond their control.

 

Weighed down by its roots, her family casts her aside. Can music and memories of her first love help Agnieszka make a life for herself all alone? Can she rise from the loss she has suffered and get a second chance at happiness?

 

Book 2 in the family saga Between Two Worlds (BTW), Hello Agnieszka explores mother-daughter relationships in a tale of a mother’s youthful dreams, thwarted and renewed amidst the exciting promise of the 70s,  In three standalone  novels of loss, love, second chances, and finding one’s way, BTW tells the stories of three strong women who cope with issues contemporary women face.

 

Praise for Hello, Agnieszka!
“…a beautiful narrative …an intricate, heart-wrenching coming-of-age story about family and love.”―GoodbooksToday Reviews
 
“…character descriptions written to perfection with a unique POV that places you deep in her thoughts and feelings.”–★★★★★Michael Alexander Beas for Readers’ Favorite
 
“…interesting, enlightening and, in some respects, heartbreaking. … All families struggle with issues, this one more than most.”–★★★★ Kathryn Bennett for Readers’ Favorite
Other Books in the Between Two Worlds Series

 

Between Two Worlds Book 1
Published: December 2013
What would Elizabeth Bennet be like if she had been born today? What things would she have to cope with? In this modern-day tale inspired by Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, bright, beautiful law student Elise Halverson looks forward to a promising career. The last thing she needs is to fall in love with well-known playboy Greg Thorpe. Besides, he’s engaged to be married.
Greg finds Elise so unlike the women he used to date and he’s deeply intrigued. But distrusting the image she has of him, Elise tries to keep away.

 

Elise’s parents invite Greg to their frequent dinner parties. There, Greg and Elise butt heads. She’s surprised to find that, behind his rich playboy persona, he’s intelligent and engaging. They can’t help feeling drawn to each other.
The night before his wedding, they give in to their mutual attraction. Although Elise expects nothing more from that night, Greg is in for trouble. His jilted fiancée strikes back, intent on revenge.
Two years later Greg and Elise get a second chance but they find that the way to their happy-ever-after is not so easy. For one, Greg is in for a surprise. Then, his former fiancée comes back and trouble returns to haunt Greg and Elise again.
At the core of this women’s fiction is a literary and realistic romance spiced with a twist of mystery. Hello My Love is Book 1 in the series Between Two Worlds, a family saga about three strong women. In three tales of loss, love, second chances, and finding one’s way, they cope with issues contemporary women face.

Between Two Worlds Book 3
Published: May 2015
Leilani’s mother has never set foot in her school until the day she whisks her children out of their Pacific Island country, without their father and without explanation. Eighteen years later, Leilani just wants to leave the past behind, move forward.
She has settled peacefully in California and like her long-lost father, she heals people. But her tranquil existence is disturbed one evening.

 

A computer nerd and culinary whiz with a biting sense of humor, Justin is brokenhearted from the loss of his girlfriend who has left him after seven years. All he wants is to drown his sorrows. But he finds more trouble than he’s looking for when thugs assault him.
On her way home from work, Leilani sees the assault. An ace with a gun, she rescues him.
Weeks later, they meet again and find themselves attracted to each other. Fearing Justin is on the rebound, or has a rescuer complex, Leilani doesn’t want to get involved.
But Leilani cannot deny her feelings. As they begin to fall in love, her past comes back to haunt her.
A friend of her father arrives with news which forces her mother to reveal a shocking, shameful secret—the truth about the role Leilani’s father played in a deadly political web.
Can Leilani deal with the truth? But hero or villain, he is her father and only she and Justin can rescue him from the island she’d left long ago.
At the core of this women’s fiction is an Asian woman-white man interracial romance spun with international political intrigue and a young woman’s acceptance of her past. Welcome Reluctant Stranger is Book 3 in a family saga. In three tales of loss, love, second chances, and finding one’s way, three strong women cope with issues contemporary women face.
About the Author
Evy Journey is a flâneuse (a female observer-wanderer) who writes about, and illustrates (oils, pastels, digital) what she sees that intrigues her.  In a past life, with a now-dormant Ph.D., (University of Illinois at Champaign-Urbana), and the primacy of her left brain, she researched, evaluated and developed mental health programs. But writing was her first love.
Contact Links
 
Purchase Links
 photo readingaddictionbutton_zps58fd99d6.png

Comments Off on Hello Agnieszka Blitz

Filed under BOOK BLITZ, BOOKS

THE BLINK OF OENOMEL -BLITZ

the blink of oenomel - cover

New Adult, Romance, Coming of Age
Date Published: September 26, 2016
 photo add-to-goodreads-button_zpsc7b3c634.png
There is trouble in Valdosta, Georgia. And a whole lot of it.
Abram, a methodical 23 year-old, previously homeless, hopeless romantic, has a fierce devotion to his rendezvous with love, which is seemingly not on his schedule of life. Jec, an unassuming 19 year-old feminist and natural optimist, entertains her current relationship and search for a forever kind of love that is threatened by both, what her co-workers see in Abram that she refuses to believe, as well as what she does not see: Abram’s last seventeen minutes in jail before they met.
Everything around her tells her that her obsession with dragging out what Abram offers in their courtship will end in turmoil, but something about him keeps her coming back for more, leading her to a series of exchanged love letters that do not quite make sense, at least to everyone else. Just what makes sense for her is something hidden in her past, which nobody else may ever discover as far as she is concerned. Her stubborn focus leaves no room for distractions from the masses, and she does not want to hear it.
On the other hand, Abram has a secret he is adamant about keeping that way. He enrolls into college and moves into the apartments that Jec is employed by with his refund check to get off of the streets, catching a glance from the beautiful receptionist that would present an opportunity he had not seen before. Little did he know, his transition from his tent in the forest would be one from jail to his first room in almost two years. The jail cell talk without any cameras around to record make his last seventeen minutes in the pen with a sketchy bunkmate a do or die conversation that may explain why he became homeless, why he wrote the love letters in the first place, and if both were random at all.
Briefly mild erotica at maximum. Few brief sexual innuendos.
Excerpt 
 
Chapter 9
The same day in August, 2015
I think, for the price of a pizza, the experience of the novel is priceless.
      A literary ecstasy, this was not a book I wanted to lend. I had to have it.
      My co-worker interjects my thoughts, “Is that lighter fluid? What is he burning out there in our fire pit? I’m telling you Jec, that dude killed somebody. You haven’t seen him around as long as I have. The way he’s always scrunching his face, looking like a stone cold killer with all that stinking thinking. Some people struggle with who they really are. And when it goes foul, you know they don’t always catch these people.”
      He picks up and holds out the book I am reading titled Wait For You, and says, “Some novels you have to read twice to really see all the beauty in the nuances, but these plots don’t always end beautifully Jec. You should start reading more of them.”
      I take a bite out of an apple and stop scratching my thumb across a squiggled smear on my permanent marker to look out the window as I reply to my front desk co-receptionist, “Bobby, you’re being ridiculous. It just looked like he pulled some papers from a box and threw them into the pit. Hey, where’d he go?”
      Bobby answers quickly, “No really, have you seen him using his hands on the street? He’s probably practicing some lethal judo that nobody knows right now. Hi-yah!—”
      Ding-Ding.
      At the sound of the front door bell I tried to smother my giggle in professionalism, but I no longer found it necessary to suppress as the blurry silhouette of the person entering the front door became clear and my laughter came to a sudden halt.
      It is the guy from the fire pit of whom Bobby was just joking about that is now approaching the front desk where I sit, and my heart rate begins to decrease as I feel the baritone boomp-boomp in my chest getting slower. But I cannot not look away, for he looks as if he got ran over by a train this morning from this closer view and I am not sure what is about to happen next.
      I think, have we not already asked what of vanity is so serious? Or is our ultra-modern scientific understanding unresponsive to the inward call of good will? Does it need a new face?
      But there is something underneath the wreckage that is dark, and handsome. I’ve got a secret thing for bad boys, and this one looks like just the right amount of danger.
      I inhale a deep slow breath of air just before he begins to speak.
      “May I ask for the keys of the apartment I am renting please? Here is my check. My name is Abram Wedger and I am two weeks late from my move-in date.”
      I let out a long slow breath.
      He is gazing directly into my eyes and for a brief moment I felt I knew.
      “Of course” I tell him, and then proceed to retrieve the keys to his apartment in the file cabinet. As I turn in my chair, I clumsily knock the pen holder onto the floor, scattering a few pens and pencils. I blush, then kneel to the floor, placing a knee on the ground as I pick up the utensils that are nearer to my front foot. I hastily return the pen holder to the counter trying to save face before walking to the back office and realizing one of my earrings fell out of my ear.
      What is wrong with me?
      When I return, he is still standing in the exact same spot, facing in the exact same direction, as if stoic in time, space, and emotion. I swiftly pick my earring up off the floor, and place it into my ear lobe.
      As I go to hand him his key and re-washable cup, I remind him that “the lobby coffee is free”, and he glances at my name tag.
      I lazily connect my last sentence with the next, saying “Jec, for short”.
      He pauses, then shakes his head and asks “What if I want to call you something different?”
      I meet his eyes with a stare of my own, slow to respond, blink, and say “It will be okay Abram.” His face scrunches for a moment and his eyes look as though he is wondering straight through me. My glance falls deeper into the hole of an eye, and I see a marble in the night, the dark side of a full moon, which can be plucked right out of the sky to place a piece of the void heaven filled should I grab it and tuck it into my pocket.
      The ascension falling as the walls collapse to drop a cloud in his ear, a long fiber weaves my wonder, wherefore out there did he discover?
      And I conceived a thought of a single droplet, enough months from now, falling into a gravitationally absent drip time has lost, and him not.
      Before I can tell if he eased his facial expression, he walks off keys in hand without another word.
                “See, I told you. Killer” Bobby says flatly, and I just return to checking my emails.
About the Author

Jeremy lives in Colorado Springs, Colorado. He grew up in the south Atlanta area, where he eventually earned a football scholarship to Duke University. After experiencing enough life to form his own opinions, he enjoys sharing some with friends, reading, watching fantasy thriller and romance films, listening to music, and jogging when he is not writing.
He writes new adult fiction.
Jeremy would love to hear from you. Follow him on Twitter @JTRingfield, friend him on Facebook, or visit his webpage at www.jeremytringfield.com
Contact Links
Purchase Links
 photo readingaddictionbutton_zps58fd99d6.png

Comments Off on THE BLINK OF OENOMEL -BLITZ

Filed under BOOK BLITZ, BOOKS

Till The Rivers All Run Dry – Blitz

Coming of Age, Historical Fiction
 Date Published:  July 27, 2016

 photo add-to-goodreads-button_zpsc7b3c634.png

In 1941, when thirteen-year-old Ricky Parker’s family is uprooted from their home in Arkansas and relocated to Venezuela, Ricky thinks his life is over. But what he finds in a rough and tumble oil camp on the banks of Lake Maracaibo is the adventure of a lifetime. An adventure filled with Nazi spies, treachery, betrayal, true love, and even murder.
While touching on issues that remain relevant today, such as racism and America’s reliance on foreign oil, this coming-of-age novel is a page turning, high-octane suspense tale of star-crossed young lovers set in exotic wartime Venezuela. 

 Excerpt

 

One Friday evening right before the Fourth of July in the summer of 1941, I answered the front door and my whole life changed.
Two men in suits stood on the porch. One of them was an older fellow, wearing a cheap brown suit and a high starched collar that was wilting from the summer heat. The band in his rumpled fedora was stained with sweat. He had a droopy mustache that was part black and part white and an Adam’s apple that looked about the size of a baseball.
The other man was younger and had on a nicer suit. He removed his hat and showed off a thick head of blond hair. His face was pasty white, and I knew right off that he’d never done a lick of farmwork in his life.
“Is Mr. Chester Parker at home? We’d like a word with him if it would be convenient.” The younger man sounded like Mr. Hunter who taught English over at El Dorado Junior High, where I had just finished the seventh grade. They both talked real educated and proper-like.
“I reckon he’s out back,” I said. “Y’all come on in and I’ll get him.” I looked past the two men on the porch and saw some angry-looking dark clouds gathering off to the east, promising a summer rain.
The two men stepped into the living room. The older man removed his hat and scratched his bald head.
Before I could fetch Daddy, Mama stepped into the living room from the kitchen. She was wearing her big red apron that was dusty with flour from making the biscuits for supper. She had a dot of flour on her nose. “Who is it, Ricky? Did you . . .” She pulled up short in the doorway and drew in a quick breath.
“Howdy, Dixie,” the older man said. “How you been?”
Mama eyed the man like a dead garden snake she’d found on the back porch. “Evening, Mr. Taggert. I reckon I’m fine.” Mama’s tone filled the living room with a chilling frost.
The older man ignored Mama’s coldness. “This here is Mr. George Quinn. He’s from Washington. We need to have a word with Mr. Ches if we might.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Washington? What on earth would some stranger from Washington, DC, want with my father?
Mama wiped her hands on her apron. “Ricky, run on out to the shed and fetch your daddy. Be quick now.”
I scampered back through the kitchen and out the screen door and sprinted across the yard to the shed. I found Daddy hunched over his worktable lost in thought, staring at the parts of a radio he had spread out in front of him.
Daddy could fix anything as long as it was mechanical. Big machines, little machines. It didn’t make any difference. My father could fix all of them.
His pipe was clinched tight in his teeth and the sticky sweet smell of his burning tobacco filled the tiny shed.
“There’s a pair of fellows in suits here to see you,” I said, a little breathless from the ru
n across the yard. “I don’t think they want you to fix anything. I think they just want to talk.”
 Daddy smiled and stood up from the worktable. “Then I guess we better go in the house and see what’s going on.”
My father was a tall man, skinny as a rail as the saying went. He had black hair slicked back with Brylcreem. Some folks said he looked Italian, but that was mainly because he’d spent so much time out in the sun that his skin was all brown and leathery looking. He always wore a blue work shirt with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows even in the summer.
Daddy had been a drilling supervisor at Murphy Oil and a real good one from what everybody said, but one day back in ’39 something happened out on one of the rigs and Daddy came home, put his lunch pail on the high shelf up in the pantry and announced that he’d never work for Murphy or any oil company again. And that was that.
My father didn’t do much but hang around the house for a few weeks. He’d sit at the kitchen table and take old radios apart and put them back together. Finally other folks started bringing him their busted radios and percolators and mix masters and stuff to fix and Daddy cleared out a space in the old shed out near the chicken coop and went into the small appliance repair business.
Daddy never hurried anywhere. Even after I told him about the two visitors, he ambled across the yard as if he were just heading up to the house for a drink of water.
Back in the living room, Mama had served ice tea to the two men, who were sitting on the blue sofa when Daddy and I came in. They stood up and shook hands all around. Mama brought Daddy a glass of tea. He drained half of it in one gulp.
“It’s good to see you again, Mr. Ches,” Taggert said.
Daddy nodded. “What can I do for you?” He sounded unfriendly and I could tell my father didn’t have much truck with the Taggert fellow.
The first plunks of the summer rain hit the roof. The smell of Daddy’s tobacco overpowered the living room.
Taggert and Quinn sat back down, balancing their hats in their laps. Mama leaned on the doorsill, wiping flour off her hands with her apron.
“Mr. Ches,” Taggert said. “We need to talk some business if you have a few minutes.” Daddy shrugged.
Taggert turned and looked at me. “Son, why don’t you run outside and play for a while. This won’t take long.”
“It’s raining,” I said, indicated the front window where the summer storm was pelting the glass.
Taggert gnawed on his lower lip.
“Come on, Ricky.” Mama came to Taggert’s rescue. “Let’s you and me run out to the henhouse and fix up those stalls like we been promising to do since school let out.”
 I didn’t want to leave the living room. Something was going on. Something big. You could just feel it in the air. You could see it on Daddy’s face, hear it in Mama’s voice. This was important. And I had to go out and fix up the stalls in the henhouse. I was not happy.
 But I went.
 By the time Mama and I hammered all the loose boards back into the chicken stalls, replaced the straw, swept out the walkway, and went back to the house, Taggert and Quinn were gone.
Daddy sat in the chair in the living room, staring out the window at the rain. The drops pounded the glass and ran down the panes in fast flowing rivulets.
It was getting dark, but Daddy hadn’t turned on any lights. He just sat there in the chair, smoking his pipe and staring out the window. He didn’t even turn around when Mama and I came back into the house. He just sat and stared and smoked. I’d never seen him look like that.
“Daddy? Are you all right?” I stood in the doorway to the kitchen, fighting back that awful sense that something was bad wrong.
My father didn’t say anything. Blue smoke drifted out of his pipe and floated toward the ceiling. The room got darker and darker.
Two weeks later, he and Mama and I took a train down to New Orleans, got on a big ship, and headed for Venezuela.
 
About the Author
 

Jim Lester is the author of two previous coming of age novels-Fallout, which Booklist called ” a fast paced, clever coming of age story, Salingeresque in spirit and The Great Pretender, which received consistently excellent reviews on Amazon. He is also the author of the sports history book Hoop Crazy: College Basketball in the 1950s.
 
Contact Links
Purchase Links
 photo readingaddictionbutton_zps58fd99d6.png

Comments Off on Till The Rivers All Run Dry – Blitz

Filed under BOOK BLITZ, BOOKS