Kamis, 30 April 2015

What the stars see, by Holly Christiana

What the stars see, by Holly Christiana

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What the stars see, by Holly Christiana

What the stars see, by Holly Christiana



What the stars see, by Holly Christiana

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What the stars see is Holly Christiana's first poetry collection. Full of poems that show the connections between all of us, the book moves both the romantic and the cynic. With language that is plainspoken yet ardent, the poems tell stories of mothering and daughtering, friending and loving. This book appeals to those who love poetry, and even those who are quite sure they don't. Whether funny or poignant, the poems are sure to pull you in and show you things about yourself you might never have considered.

What the stars see, by Holly Christiana

  • Amazon Sales Rank: #5468997 in Books
  • Published on: 2015-06-24
  • Original language: English
  • Number of items: 1
  • Dimensions: 10.00" h x .27" w x 7.00" l, .48 pounds
  • Binding: Paperback
  • 116 pages
What the stars see, by Holly Christiana


What the stars see, by Holly Christiana

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0 of 0 people found the following review helpful. Poems that take you to the stars By Mathew Paust Holly's unique voice reaches me as a magical cocktail of 3/4 girlish heart and 1/4 hearty broad with a dash of bold and a sprig of sly. The combination tastes heavenly and can knock you on your can when you least expect it. She's a dreamer, a lover and a loving schemer. She's a regular reader of these poems at an open mic in her neighborhood. I'll bet it's a hopping place.[Reviewed from a gifted copy of What the Stars See]

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful. Beautiful collection of poems By Diane I LOVE this collection of poems. Ms Christiana writes in a voice that connects to so many parts of me. The funny, the inspiring and the exquisitely lovely, they are all here. Quickly has become a favored re-read.

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What the stars see, by Holly Christiana

What the stars see, by Holly Christiana

What the stars see, by Holly Christiana
What the stars see, by Holly Christiana

The Green Helmet and Other Poems, by William Butler Yeats

The Green Helmet and Other Poems, by William Butler Yeats

Reviewing guide The Green Helmet And Other Poems, By William Butler Yeats by on the internet could be also done easily every where you are. It seems that hesitating the bus on the shelter, hesitating the checklist for line up, or various other areas feasible. This The Green Helmet And Other Poems, By William Butler Yeats can accompany you because time. It will certainly not make you feel weary. Besides, in this manner will certainly likewise boost your life high quality.

The Green Helmet and Other Poems, by William Butler Yeats

The Green Helmet and Other Poems, by William Butler Yeats



The Green Helmet and Other Poems, by William Butler Yeats

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I swayed upon the gaudy stern The butt end of a steering oar, And everywhere that I could turn Men ran upon the shore. And though I would have hushed the crowd There was no mother's son but said, "What is the figure in a shroud Upon a gaudy bed?"

The Green Helmet and Other Poems, by William Butler Yeats

  • Amazon Sales Rank: #4841257 in Books
  • Published on: 2015-06-12
  • Original language: English
  • Number of items: 1
  • Dimensions: 9.00" h x .9" w x 6.00" l, .14 pounds
  • Binding: Paperback
  • 36 pages
The Green Helmet and Other Poems, by William Butler Yeats

About the Author William Butler Yeats is generally considered to be Ireland s greatest poet, living or dead, and one of the most important literary figures of the twentieth century. He was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1923.


The Green Helmet and Other Poems, by William Butler Yeats

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2 of 2 people found the following review helpful. Reconsidering Yeats Dramatic Work By Anthony J. Gillespie Published in 1910 The Green Helmet and Poems is a fair collection of mid-period Yeats. There are a few of the frequently anthologized hits, "No Second Troy" and "The Fascination of What's Difficult," as well as plenty of more obscure and less successful poems. This slim volume does contain the brief and beautiful "A Drinking Song," which I think is Yeats' most moving love poem and one you should read right now if you haven't before.The real surprise here is the verse drama The Green Helmet, which combines Celtic mythology, Irish politics, social criticism, and medieval legend in a tightly plotted folk tale. The play's rhymed dialogue is clear and readable, even more than the poems that precede it. With a plot that echoes Gawain and the Green Knight, Yeats's Irish heroes Laegaire (read as Leary), Conall, and Cuchulain battle each other as they try to outwit a faerie-like, fox-eyed trickster known as the Red Man. While there's plenty of political commentary in the lines ("Here neighbour wars on neighbour and why there is no man knows, / And if a man is lucky all wish his luck away, And take his good name from him between a day and a day."), the language is free of Symbolist influence and the mythological allusions don't overwhelm. This is both an accessible and a satisfying short play.

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful. He Writes Prose Too By propertius I admit to being in love with Yeats' poetry as ones loves his first paramour and indeed Yeats was close to being my first. Therefore I write this to admit that I find his verse more appealing than his plays and I tend to read his plays with an eye toward his verse. That being said this collection is a fine compromise but I would not suggest for the first time reader of Yeats. In fact I would advise the uninitiated to read his works backwards and then begin at his earliest period again.The mythology and arcane history that Yeats used to literally create the Irish experience has nothing to match it in literary history although a case may by made for Homer and the Greeks. Yes, William Butler Yeats is that much of a profound artist.

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful. Many famous poems - and an odd play By Classics Lover This book is a collection of Yeats' poems - many well known, all interesting - and a short one-act play, "the green helmet", which is given by a mysterious, mystical man to a group of warriors at the price of one of their own's life. The play is, to me, extremely obscure and odd, but - as always with Yeats - it is a religious allegory, of one of the men willing to willingly, Christ-like, lay down his life for this treasure, the helmet, to be given to all (or so it seems to me at first reading, at any rate). Some of Yeats' writing aged badly or is obscure to those who are not Catholics, but the poems are very often beautiful and well worth reading.

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The Green Helmet and Other Poems, by William Butler Yeats
The Green Helmet and Other Poems, by William Butler Yeats

Selasa, 28 April 2015

Pieces of a Poet's Heart, by Derry Jackson

Pieces of a Poet's Heart, by Derry Jackson

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Pieces of a Poet's Heart, by Derry Jackson

Pieces of a Poet's Heart, by Derry Jackson



Pieces of a Poet's Heart, by Derry Jackson

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A short book of my own personal poems. If you're a person who appreciates the writings of another, then you will like these poems.

Pieces of a Poet's Heart, by Derry Jackson

  • Amazon Sales Rank: #2138637 in eBooks
  • Published on: 2015-06-28
  • Released on: 2015-06-28
  • Format: Kindle eBook
Pieces of a Poet's Heart, by Derry Jackson


Pieces of a Poet's Heart, by Derry Jackson

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0 of 1 people found the following review helpful. Pain In A Poets' Heart! By Dianne Herbert Derry I interpret these poems to represent the never ending pain throughout your life. It is good to write about your pain than it is to hold it in. Congratulations on your first published work and continue to express your feelings through your poetry. I enjoyed your your piece.

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Pieces of a Poet's Heart, by Derry Jackson

Pieces of a Poet's Heart, by Derry Jackson
Pieces of a Poet's Heart, by Derry Jackson

Minggu, 26 April 2015

I hope you're happy, and other love poems: Please Don't Sue Me, I Don't Make Any Money Writing,

I hope you're happy, and other love poems: Please Don't Sue Me, I Don't Make Any Money Writing, by Raul Castro

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I hope you're happy, and other love poems: Please Don't Sue Me, I Don't Make Any Money Writing, by Raul Castro

I hope you're happy, and other love poems: Please Don't Sue Me, I Don't Make Any Money Writing, by Raul Castro



I hope you're happy, and other love poems: Please Don't Sue Me, I Don't Make Any Money Writing, by Raul Castro

Ebook PDF Online I hope you're happy, and other love poems: Please Don't Sue Me, I Don't Make Any Money Writing, by Raul Castro

A book of candid, confessional poetry.

I hope you're happy, and other love poems: Please Don't Sue Me, I Don't Make Any Money Writing, by Raul Castro

  • Amazon Sales Rank: #1870254 in eBooks
  • Published on: 2015-06-22
  • Released on: 2015-06-22
  • Format: Kindle eBook
I hope you're happy, and other love poems: Please Don't Sue Me, I Don't Make Any Money Writing, by Raul Castro


I hope you're happy, and other love poems: Please Don't Sue Me, I Don't Make Any Money Writing, by Raul Castro

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0 of 0 people found the following review helpful. 10/10 By Heidi Metro Amazing work. I've read it at least 10 times and plan of rereading many more times in the future.

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful. awesome! By Jazmin Quijada Poems about what hurts and how it hurts. Love it :)

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I hope you're happy, and other love poems: Please Don't Sue Me, I Don't Make Any Money Writing, by Raul Castro

I hope you're happy, and other love poems: Please Don't Sue Me, I Don't Make Any Money Writing, by Raul Castro

I hope you're happy, and other love poems: Please Don't Sue Me, I Don't Make Any Money Writing, by Raul Castro
I hope you're happy, and other love poems: Please Don't Sue Me, I Don't Make Any Money Writing, by Raul Castro

Selasa, 21 April 2015

Sea Shells, C'est Gratuit, by Matthias Leue

Sea Shells, C'est Gratuit, by Matthias Leue

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Sea Shells, C'est Gratuit, by Matthias Leue

Sea Shells, C'est Gratuit, by Matthias Leue



Sea Shells, C'est Gratuit, by Matthias Leue

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Sea Shells, C'est Gratuit takes place during the time span of 1996 to 2002. It is a collection and recollection of travel stories, with a dash of humor, and involving culinary tidbits for the reader to devour. The stories usually take place during summer on the way to see family and relatives in Germany and France. Cultural observations are duly noted and expanded upon on these trips. Further travel stories take place in the USA, exploring California, Oregon and Arizona. A brief visit to the East Coast is included too. In the last story, written in 2012, some domestic observations about my Oakland neighborhood are brought to life. Numerous watercolors and drawings enhance what has not been left to the reader's imagination.

Sea Shells, C'est Gratuit, by Matthias Leue

  • Amazon Sales Rank: #2747737 in eBooks
  • Published on: 2015-06-01
  • Released on: 2015-06-01
  • Format: Kindle eBook
Sea Shells, C'est Gratuit, by Matthias Leue


Sea Shells, C'est Gratuit, by Matthias Leue

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0 of 0 people found the following review helpful. An enchanting collection of tales that transports you across the globe that encapsulate the essence of foreign food and culture By Lucinda I would firstly like to thank the author Matthias Leue for sending me a copy of his book `Sea Shells: C'est Gratuit' to read, as I am a huge fan of his work having previously read `Fish Camping and other travel stories'.Similarly to his other work this small volume takes one on the most unforgettable journey to France, Germany and Oregon that captures the vibrant culture of each place that is touched upon. Ideal for any budding expeditionary and an exquisitely drawn account of the author's adventures, his personal perspective upon life and discoveries is simply magnetic! Thoroughly entertaining and compelling, each account/ observation contains so much passion and enthusiastic delight I could not help but catch the infectious energy from the words. Powerfully evocative prose with a sprinkling of piquant zest, this collection of stories {or anthology} is a real treat!Sea Shells, C'est Gratuit takes place during the time span of 1996 to 2002. It is a collection and recollection of travel stories, with a dash of humor involving culinary tidbits for the reader to devour. The stories usually take place during summer on the way to see family and relatives in Germany and France. Cultural observations are duly noted and expanded upon on these trips. Further travel stories take place in the USA, exploring California, Oregon and Arizona. A brief visit to the East Coast is included too. In the last story, written in 2012, some domestic observations about my Oakland neighbourhood are brought to life. Numerous watercolours and drawings enhance what has not been left to the reader's imagination...This wonderful selection of entertaining stories is an ideal book to take with you on your own travels and holidays, as it will enhance any voyage of discovery or relaxation - including culinary holidays. I am really impressed by Matthias Leue's work that fills you with such warmth, satisfaction and fulfilment; all the signs of a good book. I would categorize this book as a travel guide {to fine food and foreign culture} with a personal perspective. This is certainly something not to miss!4.5 stars!!

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Sea Shells, C'est Gratuit, by Matthias Leue

Sea Shells, C'est Gratuit, by Matthias Leue

Sea Shells, C'est Gratuit, by Matthias Leue
Sea Shells, C'est Gratuit, by Matthias Leue

Senin, 20 April 2015

#Poser (Hashtag), by Cambria Hebert

#Poser (Hashtag), by Cambria Hebert

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#Poser (Hashtag), by Cambria Hebert

#Poser (Hashtag), by Cambria Hebert



#Poser (Hashtag), by Cambria Hebert

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I am a man who had nothing but found everything. I'll never go back to nothing ever again. I vowed to protect her, and that's exactly what I'm gonna do. The pictures I stumbled upon haunt me still; the secret I shoulder is heavy. They say secrets put distance between two people, but the truth is far more destructive than keeping it will ever be. I won't ever tell. She can't ever know. When I look in the mirror, my reflection is of who I'm afraid I'll become and not the man I am. It makes me feel like a poser, no better than all the others pretending to be exactly who they aren't. How does a man keep it together when everything is unraveling right here in his hands?Contains mature themes.

#Poser (Hashtag), by Cambria Hebert

  • Amazon Sales Rank: #8667915 in Books
  • Published on: 2015-10-22
  • Formats: Audiobook, MP3 Audio, Unabridged
  • Original language: English
  • Number of items: 1
  • Dimensions: 7.40" h x .60" w x 5.30" l,
  • Running time: 12 Hours
  • Binding: MP3 CD
#Poser (Hashtag), by Cambria Hebert

About the Author Cambria Hebert is the bestselling author of more than twenty books, including the Heven and Hell series and the Death Escorts series. Cambria went to college for a bachelor's degree, couldn't pick a major, and ended up with a degree in cosmetology. She currently lives in North Carolina with her husband and children.Born and raised in Southampton, England, Shaun Grindell is an accomplished actor who trained at the Calland School of Speech and Drama and the Lee Strasberg Actors Institute in London. An AudioFile Earphones Award-winning audiobook narrator, Shaun has narrated many titles in different genres.Jillian Macie loves narrating audiobooks, especially racy stories with strong female protagonists. When not in the recording booth, you can find her running on the trails near her home or chauffeuring her children to all of their various activities.


#Poser (Hashtag), by Cambria Hebert

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5 of 5 people found the following review helpful. Hells Yea! By Melissa Stickney These books bring back a saying that is now pretty famous, "I don't have friends, I have family", this one phrase completely encompasses the Hashtag series and it's even stronger in #Poser.#Poser definitely made me giggle. Cambria has given these characters life, but they way that they grab at your heart strings is something that really amazes me. I have felt things for characters before, but these characters make you want to have them in your life for reals."Missed you, bro," Romeo whispered. "Times two," I replied, while what follows will make you giggle, this one statement shows that the bromance between B and Romeo is still strong even though Romeo is off playing with the NFL. These two have an amazing connection that most biological brothers don't have. They are willing to do anything for each other and it really leaves you in awe the amount of love that this book really contains.One of my other favorite parts is the names for each part of the book. Cambria's sense of humor is amazing and there were a couple of times that the part names made me bust out laughing. Seemingly such a small part, but definitely helps to bring to the book together in it's own way.As the story evolves we get a deeper look into Zach's head. I have to admit he really is a strong character. "I was good at hiding what was really inside me. The best actually.", shows just have manipulative Zach really is. In #Poser Zach and Missy bring decption to a whole new level.We also get a deep look into Zach and there are some items that blew my mind. Making it easier to understand why he is the way he is, but not enough to even think about forgiving him for me. Some people just make you shiver by hearing their name and Zach is one of those people.#Poser is an amazing addition the the Hashtag series. Cambria Hebert brings us the characters we have fallen in love with and makes them weave their way into our hearts just a little more. There are some difficult parts to this book. It really made me feel for Ivy even more, but Cambria Hebert has done an amazing job evolution of this story.So for me #Poser is five stars all the way.

1 of 1 people found the following review helpful. My heart bled for what was going on with Ivy ... By Leah Garcia My heart bled for what was going on with Ivy. My heart started going into panic mode when Ivy and Braeden started drifty apart. I could not put this book down. I HAD to finish it and find out the outcome.

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful. Cambria did it again!!! Go Braeden :) By Lexi Cambria does it again!!! I didn't know I could fall more in love with her and her characters after #selfie, but I did.#Poser has everything you could want in a book. There's drama, humor, love and a whole lot more. Cambria does an amazing job of keeping you invested into the story and not wanting to put it down for one minute.You'll fall more in love with the gang (Romeo, Rimmel, Ivy and especially Braeden) and you'll have to come up with your own thoughts on Zach. I know there will probably be some back and forth for him, but I did like that you get a little more understanding on why Zach is...well Zach.All in all, you'll laught, you'll cry (mainly because you laughed so hard) and then you go through the angry stage because there's only ONE book left. I don't know what I'll do with myself after this series is over!!

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#Poser (Hashtag), by Cambria Hebert

#Poser (Hashtag), by Cambria Hebert

#Poser (Hashtag), by Cambria Hebert
#Poser (Hashtag), by Cambria Hebert

Minggu, 19 April 2015

Time Out Lisbon (Time Out Guides)From Time Out (COR)

Time Out Lisbon (Time Out Guides)From Time Out (COR)

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Time Out Lisbon (Time Out Guides)From Time Out (COR)

Time Out Lisbon (Time Out Guides)From Time Out (COR)



Time Out Lisbon (Time Out Guides)From Time Out (COR)

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Time Out Lisbon is an unrivaled escort for visitors to Europe's westernmost and arguably most stunningly sited capital. Lisbon offers a wide array of choices for the visitor due to its rich ethnic mixture. Written and researched by Lisbon residents, this award-winning Time Out Guide escorts you around the coffeehouses of the Chiado, the bars and restaurants of the Bairro Alto, the clubs of the Docas and Santa Apolónia, down into the city’s deepest African and Brazilian dives and out to the finest beaches of the Caparica Coast. A section on suggested out of town trips is also included.

Time Out Lisbon (Time Out Guides)From Time Out (COR)

  • Amazon Sales Rank: #202439 in Books
  • Brand: Time Out (COR)
  • Published on: 2015-06-02
  • Original language: English
  • Number of items: 1
  • Dimensions: 7.60" h x .50" w x 5.10" l, .0 pounds
  • Binding: Paperback
  • 256 pages
Time Out Lisbon (Time Out Guides)From Time Out (COR)

About the Author All Time Out Guides are written by a team of local journalists.


Time Out Lisbon (Time Out Guides)From Time Out (COR)

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2 of 2 people found the following review helpful. Fresh tourist information and inciteful articles about the culture by locals By dj-1984 We used the book everyday to plan our journey within the city and excursions to nearby towns. The itineraries were helpful, as we had a limited amount of time. Their up-to-date recommendations for restaurants, coffee shops and nightlife were accurate and reliable - just what you expect from Time Out.Do not miss going to the "Time Out Mercado da Ribeira" (page 94) to sample the best food and desserts from more than 30 restaurants, and be a part of the vibrant atmosphere in a vast room filled with hundreds of locals and tourists. The only thing I would add to the book is a contour map of Lisbon - one centimeter on a flat map of this city can account for a 1000 foot change of elevation. Plan accordingly and bring a good pair of shoes - the cobbles are slippery with leather soles.

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful. Thanks to this guide by trip to Lisbon was fantastic. It is very thorough and it has a ... By Amazon Customer Thanks to this guide by trip to Lisbon was fantastic. It is very thorough and it has a lot of useful and detailed information. Very easy to use and understand.

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Time Out Lisbon (Time Out Guides)From Time Out (COR)
Time Out Lisbon (Time Out Guides)From Time Out (COR)

Jumat, 17 April 2015

Defending Hearts (Boys of Fall), by Shannon Stacey

Defending Hearts (Boys of Fall), by Shannon Stacey

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Defending Hearts (Boys of Fall), by Shannon Stacey

Defending Hearts (Boys of Fall), by Shannon Stacey



Defending Hearts (Boys of Fall), by Shannon Stacey

Download PDF Ebook Defending Hearts (Boys of Fall), by Shannon Stacey

They were the golden boys of fall: Stewart Mills High School's legendary championship football team. Fourteen years later, they're back to relive their glory, save the team-and find themselves again . . . Globetrotting photographer Alex Murphy returns to Stewart Mills for a football fundraiser but stays to document the football team and the town's changes. Since his project includes photos of the Walker farm, he rents a room there. Needing money to save the family farm, Gretchen Walker doesn't have time to deal with the sexy photographer in her house. After all, Alex is a man with no sense of home, and to her, home is everything. But when she finds herself falling for him, she'll be forced to decide where her dreams really lie.Contains mature themes.

Defending Hearts (Boys of Fall), by Shannon Stacey

  • Published on: 2015-10-27
  • Formats: Audiobook, MP3 Audio, Unabridged
  • Original language: English
  • Number of items: 1
  • Dimensions: 7.40" h x .60" w x 5.30" l,
  • Running time: 7 Hours
  • Binding: MP3 CD
Defending Hearts (Boys of Fall), by Shannon Stacey

Review "Shannon Stacey always takes readers on a compelling journey to happiness." ---Jaci Burton, author of The Perfect Play

About the Author Shannon Stacey is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of contemporary romance and romantic suspense, including the Kowalski Family series and the Devlin Group series. Shannon lives with her husband and two sons in New England. Visit her at shannonstacey.com.Chandra Skyye loves bringing characters and stories to life through voice acting and singing the blues. A lover of life, she spends her spare time being creative, appreciating nature, and sharing fun times with nice people and good dogs.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Praise for the novels of Shannon Stacey

Jove titles by Shannon Stacey

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter 01

Chapter 02

Chapter 03

Chapter 04

Chapter 05

Chapter 06

Chapter 07

Chapter 08

Chapter 09

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Special Excerpt from Homecoming

01

Dodging bullets had a way of making a man realize he wasn’t young anymore. Dodging them for no good reason made the realization a lot harder to shove to the back of his mind.

Alex Murphy sat on the thin mattress in his shitty motel room and looked at the photo on his phone’s screen again. It wasn’t one of the many he’d taken during his week in the volatile region, using instincts and years of experience to capture on film a population on the brink of revolution. It was one some random passerby had taken with his cell phone and it had gone viral. It was the photo the world would remember.

Alex would still sell his pictures. They told the story in a way one viral camera shot couldn’t. But times and technology were constantly changing, and sometimes he felt like a dinosaur. Photojournalismasaurus.

Burnout. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, even to himself, a decade of freelancing and travel—only to be scooped by a teenager with a cell phone and an Instagram account—had taken its toll, and it might be time to take a break. The idea of going back to Rhode Island didn’t appeal to him, though. The apartment in Providence was a place to keep his stuff, but it had never felt like a home.

Using his thumb, Alex navigated to a recent photo album he’d set up on his phone, titled Stewart Mills, NH. After almost a decade and a half away, he’d recently spent about ten days there and, when it was time to leave, he’d found himself wishing he could stay a little longer.

He flicked through the photos, pausing over each one. Not with a technical eye, but to gauge his emotional response. Old friends laughing. People he’d known most of his life, but who were practically strangers. A town that had once been his entire world. And Coach McDonnell, who had taken the ragtag group of boys making up the Stewart Mills Eagles football team and made them men.

Alex had been on the first Stewart Mills Eagles football team to win the championship back in the day and, when the town cut the football team’s funding, he’d been one of the alumni players who returned to help out with a fund-raising drive to save it. He’d gone out of love for Coach McDonnell, but rediscovering his hometown had also reminded him of how nice it could be to have roots. He hadn’t felt grounded to any one place in a very long time.

He wanted to go back.

The plan was taking shape in his mind even as he closed out the photo app and pulled up his contacts. Calculating time zones was second nature to him at this point, so he knew it was safe to call Kelly McDonnell, the coach’s daughter and a police officer for the town. She’d given him her cell number when he was in town, and he tapped it.

She answered on the third ring. “Hey, Alex.”

“Are you busy right now?”

“Nope. I’m actually sitting in my cruiser, making sure everybody slows down and doesn’t hit the power company guys replacing a transformer. What’s up? Did you forget something?”

He laughed. “Nope. How are things in Stewart Mills?”

“Pretty good. Everybody’s still on a bit of a high from Eagles Fest, for which I can never thank you enough.”

“The Eagles are why I’m calling, actually,” he said. “I was looking through the photographs I took while I was there, and the story’s unfinished. I’m thinking about coming back for a while and following at least the opening of the team’s season.”

“Following them professionally, you mean? Like for a story?”

“If I can get releases from everybody, I’d like to do a story, yes. Or maybe even a book. There are a lot of towns going through what Stewart Mills has faced, and what you all did is pretty inspirational. And I’d like to broaden the angle, too. Make it about the entire town and not just the team, though that’s the core story, of course.”

“Wow.” There were a few seconds of silence while she digested what he’d said. “That sounds really great, as long as you respect privacy where it’s requested and recognize there are some things people wouldn’t want shared.”

He chuckled. “Don’t worry, Officer McDonnell. I won’t hurt anybody and I won’t share anything people don’t want shared.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem, then.”

“Perfect. I called you because I’m hoping, since you know the community in and out, that you could recommend a place to stay. I know the motel’s closed up, but maybe somebody is willing to rent an apartment or even a house on a month-to-month, short-term basis?”

“With so many people losing their homes, the rental market’s incredibly tight right now.” She sighed and he gave her a moment to think. “You know, Gretchen was talking to me about renting a room at the farm. She hasn’t because she’s nervous about having a stranger living with her grandmother, but renting to a friend can end badly when there’s money involved.”

“I’m not a stranger, but I’m not exactly a friend, either.” He remembered Gretchen Walker from school and he’d had a chance to talk to her a few times during Eagles Fest. She was an attractive woman, but she was definitely a closed book. “All I need is a place to sleep and it wouldn’t be long-term, so maybe I’m a good opportunity for a trial run.”

“That’s what I was thinking. The room has its own bathroom and you’d have access to the kitchen, not that her grandmother would let you go hungry. I’ll talk to Gretchen and have her get back to you. She’ll have to talk it over with Gram, too. Can she call you at this number?”

“The time zones will be a horror show for the next few days, so email’s the best bet.” When she said she was ready, he gave her his email address. “It sounds perfect on my end, so I’ll look forward to hearing from her.”

Once he hung up with Kelly, Alex flopped back on the mattress and stared up at the peeling ceiling. Maybe it was the professional version of a midlife crisis, but he needed a break, and Stewart Mills seemed like the perfect place to regroup and make a plan for his future.

Chronicling the current state of his hometown and the Eagles while rediscovering his roots would simply be a bonus.

“You have to stop trying to sit on Gram’s lap,” Gretchen Walker told the sixty-pound chocolate Lab looking up at her with adoring eyes. “You’re not good for the circulation in her legs.”

Cocoa tilted her head sideways and blinked before raising her paw for a high five. Gretchen sighed and gave her one. It seemed to be the only trick the newest member of the Walker family knew, so it was her answer to everything.

It had been the nurse at her grandmother’s doctor’s office who suggested a dog might be good company for Gram, since Gretchen had her hands full trying to work the farm, and Gram had immediately agreed. Gretchen had driven her to the shelter in the city, anticipating a fluffy little lapdog who would be content to curl up with Gram and watch her knit the days away.

Instead, Gram had fallen in love with a big Lab the color of rich hot chocolate, and Gretchen had to admit she felt an immediate connection with the dog, too. The entire household budget had to be recalculated to accommodate the beast’s food costs, but it was nice to get a high five every once in a while. And Cocoa seemed to love the sound of Gram’s voice, so everybody was happy.

“My rocking chair isn’t big enough for both of us,” Gram pointed out. “Maybe we should trade it for one of those leather love seats with the double recliner ends and the built-in cup holders.”

Sure they should. What furniture store wouldn’t want to trade a fancy leather love seat for a decades-old glider rocker with a cushion perfectly molded to Gram’s skinny behind? “We’ll see.”

“You sound just like your grandfather when you say that. We’ll see means we can’t afford it and you don’t want to flat out tell me no.”

Gretchen didn’t bother denying it. “For now, you need to train her to curl up next to your feet on the floor. She’s too heavy to be on your lap. It’s not good for you.”

“Go wash up,” Gram said without making any promises. “Breakfast is ready.”

With a sigh, Gretchen went to the sink and washed her hands. She’d already gathered eggs from the chickens and fed the three horses they boarded for a family that lived in the southern part of the state. She’d have to clean their stalls and work in the gardens later, but at the moment she was starving.

“Maybe we can afford a new love seat, since the Murphy boy’s going to be living here,” Gram said while Gretchen took a seat at the table and took a scalding swallow of the coffee waiting for her.

“I’m still not sure this is a good idea.” It had seemed like a great idea when Kelly brought it to her and through multiple emails with Alex over the last two weeks but, now that it was actually going to happen, she couldn’t help but have second thoughts.

Gram set a plate of biscuits and sausage gravy in front of her. “Wouldn’t be fair to change your mind at this point. He’ll be here in a few hours.”

“I know. It’ll be strange having a man in the house again, though.” It had been nine years since her grandfather passed away, and it had been only her and Gram since.

“At least he’ll have his own bathroom so we won’t have to worry about falling in the toilet in the middle of the night if he leaves the seat up.”

Yeah, Gretchen thought. He’d have his own bathroom. He’d have her bathroom, the one her grandfather had built into her room years before when he realized he was going to have a teenage girl hogging the only upstairs bathroom. And Alex would also have the bedroom she’d had since she was a little girl. But giving him his own space, except for the kitchen, made more sense than sharing a bathroom with him. Gretchen had never shared a bathroom with any man, and it seemed very intimate. Intimacy was definitely not what she was going for.

“I was thinking about making a ham tonight,” Gram continued. “And maybe my scalloped potatoes and creamed corn.”

Gretchen never turned down her grandmother’s creamed corn, but she didn’t like the way this was going, and the man hadn’t even arrived yet. “Alex isn’t going to be a guest. It’s a business arrangement.”

Gram sat across the table from her with her own bowl of biscuits and gravy. “He’s paying extra to eat meals with us. That’s what you said.”

“Normal meals. You don’t have to cook anything special for him.”

“I’ll worry about what I’m cooking. Did you finish getting his room ready?”

Gretchen nodded, shoving a forkful of gravy-soaked biscuit into her mouth. She’d moved all of her belongings into the room next to Gram’s, and everything from her bathroom into the one they’d be sharing. For Alex, they’d put on fresh bedding and placed brand-new towels and washcloths in the bathroom.

Between Cocoa and Alex Murphy, they’d shelled out a lot of cash recently. Gretchen rubbed at the back of her neck. The room and board he’d be paying would help, but things were still a little tighter than she’d like.

“You’re going to come in early, right?” Gram asked. “You should clean up before Alex gets here. Maybe take a shower. Put on a little lipstick.”

Gretchen stared across the table. “What are you talking about? I don’t even own lipstick, Gram.”

“You can borrow some of mine. Oh, Cherry Hot Pants would be a great shade on you with that dark hair of yours.”

“I am not putting Cherry Hot Pants on my lips.” Gretchen didn’t even know what else to say about that. “I’ll probably say hi and point him in the direction of his room, and then I’m going back to work.”

“You’re never going to find a husband.”

Gretchen pushed her chair back and carried her dishes to the sink. This wasn’t good. Not good at all. “I’m not putting on red lipstick. I’m not looking for a husband. Alex Murphy is going to be our tenant and nothing more. I mean it, Gram.”

The older woman smiled. “My great-grandmother ran a boardinghouse in London, and she took in an Irish boarder who fell head over heels for my grandmother. It was very romantic.”

“I don’t have time for romance,” Gretchen said, shoving her feet into the barn boots she’d taken off at the back door. “I’ve got horseshit to shovel.”

Alex hit the brake pedal hard, and the used Jeep Cherokee he’d owned for three days skidded to a stop. The Jeep’s nose was about three feet past the stop sign.

Now that he wasn’t an honored fund-raiser guest and therefore exempt from minor traffic mistakes, he glanced around to make sure he wasn’t about to be busted by any of Stewart Mills’ finest.

Several stop signs had been added between the time Alex and the others had graduated and gone off to college and their return for Eagles Fest, and those weren’t the only changes. The recession had hit hard, the mills had closed, and things had gotten really hard for the people of Stewart Mills. As he drove through town, he noticed again the number of empty storefronts and real estate signs. There seemed to be fewer foreclosure auction signs, though, which was hopefully a sign the worst was behind them.

He found the turnoff to the Walker farm by memory and drove slowly up the long and bumpy dirt driveway. The big white farmhouse needed a little TLC, but it was a long way from being run-down. He knew from his last visit to town that Gretchen had been running the place alone since her grandfather died, and that her grandmother had had some health issues. Nothing serious, but basically it was a one-woman show, so he’d been expecting it to be a little more rough.

He got out of the Jeep and was greeted by a chocolate Lab who immediately made it clear they were going to be the very best of friends. Behind the dog was Gretchen Walker, though her greeting was a little more reserved.

“Welcome back,” she said, giving him a tight smile.

“Thanks. I’m looking forward to spending some time here.”

She nodded, folding her arms across her chest. Gretchen was tall and lean, with long dark hair in a thick braid down her back. Old jeans tucked into even older barn boots hugged her legs, and she’d thrown a faded flannel shirt over a T-shirt.

Strong. As the dog sat at her feet, Alex composed a mental snapshot of her, and that was the word that popped into his head. Not only did she have physical strength, but she also had an air of resolve and determination about her. He had no doubt when something—anything—needed doing, Gretchen would quietly step up and get it done.

“Pretty dog,” he said, remembering she wasn’t the chatty type and it might be up to him to carry conversations.

“Thanks. Her name’s Cocoa.”

Alex smiled. “I can’t imagine why.”

“Yeah, it’s not the most original name for a chocolate Lab, but she came with it and she seems to like it. Right, Cocoa?” The dog put up her paw and he watched Gretchen give her a high five. “She also likes high fives. A lot. She knows the basics, like sit or down. Stay is a little iffy. She has no idea what get off the couch or no dogs on the bed means, but if you’re looking for somebody to celebrate with a high five, Cocoa’s your girl.”

“Who doesn’t love a high five, right?” he asked the dog, who trotted back to him so they could slap palm to paw.

“Do you need help carrying things in?”

He shook his head. “I don’t have much. I figured I’d say hello first and meet your grandmother. I’m sure we’ve met before, but it’s been a long time.”

“She’s waiting inside.”

Alex followed her around the house to the back door, which opened into the kitchen. He hadn’t been away from New England so long that he’d forgotten that front doors were for company and political door knockers. After she’d kicked off her boots, she led him into the living room, where her grandmother was sitting in an old glider rocker. She set her knitting aside just in time for the big Lab to hop up in her lap. It took Cocoa a few seconds to wedge herself into a comfortable position, and he heard Gretchen sigh before she reintroduced them to each other.

“Sit for a few minutes,” her grandmother said. “Let’s chat.”

He perched on the edge of the sofa. “Thank you for letting me rent a room in your home, Mrs. Walker.”

“Call me Ida. Or Gram. Do you like scalloped potatoes?”

“Um.” He tried to keep up. “Yes, ma’am. Ida. Gram. Yes, I like scalloped potatoes.”

“I’m going back to work,” Gretchen said. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“You’ll need to write the Internet password down for him,” Ida told her before looking back to him. “Speaking of the Internet, you don’t have any weird proclivities, do you?”

“Gram!” Gretchen stopped walking and turned back, holding her hands up in a what are you doing? gesture.

“If he’s going to live under the same roof as my granddaughter, I have a right to know.”

“No, you don’t,” Gretchen said in a low voice.

“I guess I’d wonder what your definition of weird is,” Alex said at the same time.

“Don’t answer that, Gram.”

Because they were technically his new landlords, the question could be totally illegal as far as he knew. But he wasn’t particularly outraged by the turn in the conversation. “I’ve never received any complaints about weirdness with regard to my proclivities.”

“Good.” Ida gave him an approving look. “You can never be too careful.”

“That’s so true.” He turned his gaze back to her granddaughter. “So tell me, Gretchen, do you have any weird proclivities?”

“I am not discussing my proclivities with you.”

“If I’m going to live under the same roof with you, don’t I have a right to know?”

She shook her head, but he could see her struggling not to smile. “You have a right to know the dishwasher hasn’t worked for almost a year and a half and where the extra toilet paper’s kept. My proclivities, weird or not, are off-limits.”

If not for the fact that her grandmother was watching them, Alex might have been tempted to poke at her a little more and try to get a reaction. He’d seen her during Eagles Fest, mostly from a distance, and he knew she had an infectious, musical laugh that seemed at odds with her stern exterior. When she was with Kelly McDonnell and their friend Jen Cooper, the high school guidance counselor, Gretchen had no problem letting her sense of humor show through. He could see glimpses of it now, and he wanted to draw it out.

But she escaped into the kitchen before he could say more, and a minute later he heard the kitchen door close with a thump. Alex turned his attention back to Ida, who was rubbing between a sleeping Cocoa’s ears.

He would be in Stewart Mills for a while, so he had plenty of time to get under Gretchen Walker’s skin and make her laugh.

02

Gretchen went to the detached garage because it was the closest thing she had to whatever the female equivalent of a man cave was. It had actually served as a man cave when her grandfather was alive, though it grew to be a lot more when his eleven-year-old granddaughter had become his constant shadow.

She usually raised the overhead door to let a little of the outside come in, but the rollers needed some maintenance and it was starting to stick three-quarters of the way up. Rather than wrestle with it, she went through the side door and flipped on the overhead light.

Breathing in the scent of old wood and grease, she perched on the tall wooden stool in front of the workbench. The carburetor from the old pain-in-the-ass lawn mower sat on an oil-soaked bed of cardboard, waiting to be rebuilt, but she didn’t pick it up. She just looked around at the tools hanging from pegboard lining the walls, and the boxes and bins of garage debris her grandfather had accumulated over his lifetime on the Walker farm.

This was where she’d learned everything that mattered in her life. She’d learned the concepts of family and home. Stability and routine. Gramps had taught her to face problems head-on and that the only way to get things done was to suck it up and do them. And he’d taught her that, with determination and a little elbow grease, anything that was broken could be fixed.

He hadn’t been the kind of man who showed emotion. Love and kissing boo-boos and wiping her very rare tears had come from Gram, but Gretchen had felt how much Gramps loved her. It showed in the hours he’d spent teaching her how to use a grinding wheel and tend to a cow with mastitis and prepare Gram’s gardens for planting. With a steady hand and pride in his eyes, he’d quietly raised Gretchen to love the farm and be as capable a caretaker of it as he was.

And that’s why she’d do whatever she had to for the Walker farm, including letting a man she barely knew live in the house. An insanely attractive man with short dark hair, who smelled good and looked at her with light brown eyes warm with intelligence and humor.

Gretchen pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. She thought about texting Kelly or Jen, but she had an old flip-style phone and having to push the number keys multiple times just to make one word was frustrating. Instead she flipped it open and hit Jen’s assigned speed-dial number.

Jen Cooper was the guidance counselor at the high school and, though school wouldn’t start for a few more weeks, Gretchen knew she’d be in her office. Kelly, being on the police force, had a more erratic schedule and was less likely to be available this time of day.

Jen answered on the third ring. “Hey, Gretchen. What’s up?”

“You busy?”

“Nope. I’m eating a yogurt, wondering how the pile of crap on my desk is so tall when the kids aren’t even here yet.”

“Did Kelly tell you Alex Murphy was coming today?”

“Oh, that’s right! How’s that going?”

“Right off the bat, Gram asked him if he has any weird proclivities.”

There were a few seconds when it sounded like Jen might be choking on her yogurt. “That sounds like Gram. It probably would have been better to ask him that before he moved in, though.”

“It didn’t come up in our emails.”

“Well?”

“Well what?”

Jen’s annoyed sigh made her sigh. “Does he have any weird proclivities?”

“Do you really think he would have told Gram if he did?”

“That’s disappointing.”

Gretchen laughed. “He didn’t say he didn’t have any, actually. Just that he hasn’t received any complaints.”

“Really? And it’s only the first day. This could be interesting.”

“I didn’t call you to talk about Alex’s proclivities, weird or not.”

“Then you shouldn’t have opened with them.”

“I was opening with Gram’s outrageousness. You’re not going to believe what she suggested I do before he got here.”

“Let me guess,” Jen said. “You should do up your hair and maybe put on a little lip gloss.”

“Lip gloss? She wanted me to slap on her Cherry Hot Pants lipstick.”

“That’s . . . disturbing. The name of that shade, I mean.”

“That’s more disturbing than her trying to hook me up with our new . . . I guess tenant isn’t the right word. Boarder? That sounds old-fashioned.”

Jen chuckled. “Right now picturing Gram in Cherry Hot Pants red is more disturbing than almost anything.”

She should have called Kelly instead. “I can’t even remember the last time I saw her in makeup. If the stuff has an expiration date, it was probably in the nineties.”

“Okay, in all seriousness, you need to shut Gram down right away,” Jen said. “It’ll be hard enough having a man you barely know living in your house. Your grandmother trying to play matchmaker will make things awkward for everybody. Especially if she’s opening with fetish questions. How the hell did that come up in conversation, anyway?”

“She reminded me to give him the Wi-Fi password,” Gretchen told her. “Which apparently reminded her that she was concerned about what he might look at on the Internet.”

“Hopefully taking pictures and working on his story—or book or whatever it is—will keep him out of the house for most of the hours Gram’s awake. Since she doesn’t have Facebook, her ability to do damage is limited to face-to-face time.” Jen paused. “She doesn’t have Facebook, right?”

“Not as far as I know. None of her friends do, so I’ve managed to convince her it’s nothing she’d want, but a friend of a friend got an account to see pictures of her grandkid, so it’s probably only a matter of time.”

“Luckily you’re her only shot for grandkids, and you live in the same house, so she doesn’t need social media for that.”

“Yeah.” Luckily was one word for it. Challenging was perhaps a better one. Finding a guy who loved her enough to want to move into an old farmhouse with her and her grandmother wasn’t easy. Especially since she rarely strayed far from the farm.

“We should get together soon,” Jen said. “I don’t think the three of us have had a chance to sit down and relax since Eagles Fest.”

That sounded like a great idea to Gretchen. And she’d probably be ready to get out of the house—and away from the weirdness of a man living with them—before too long. “If you see Kelly, try to set up a day for lunch or something.”

“I’ll let you know. In the meantime, try to peek over Alex’s shoulder now and then when he’s on the Internet. We need better gossip in this town.”

“Funny.”

After she ended the call, Gretchen got off the stool and grabbed the key to the ancient ATV off the hook over the bench. It was time to head out and check the field she’d given over to pumpkins a few years back, and the four-wheeler would be faster than the tractor.

As the number of businesses who wanted to buy Walker pumpkins to resell to their customers had grown, so had the amount of land Gretchen allotted to the planting, and now it was substantial. Checking for powdery mildew and pests would keep her busy until it was time for afternoon chores and dinner.

Busy was good. The busier she was, the less time she had to think about Alex Murphy.

Alex set the last of his bags on the worn hardwood floor and used his foot to close the door behind him. So this bedroom would be his world for the near future. He’d stayed in worse. Much worse.

The furnishings were definitely more about function than décor, which he didn’t mind at all. The full-sized mattress was firm and framed by a brass rail headboard and footboard, and there was a nightstand with a lamp next to it. A solid maple dresser stood next to the open closet, and there was a comfortable-looking armchair next to the window.

During their email exchanges prior to his arrival, Gretchen had asked if he needed a desk or anything else for working, but he’d told her not to bother. He didn’t want to put her out, plus he’d trained himself years before not to tie his process to any particular work conditions. Sometimes he was in a hotel room with a desk and sometimes he was in a nylon tent with a laptop balanced on his knees. He could work under almost any conditions and this bedroom, plain and old-fashioned as it may be, was certainly no hardship.

Unpacking took him about twenty minutes, and he plugged his laptop in to charge. Later he’d start closely reviewing the photos he’d taken during Eagles Fest and decide which he’d like to include in his new work. Then he’d have to see about obtaining permission from the subjects to use them in a commercial project.

He also needed to get in touch with Coach McDonnell about Saturday. Tryouts for the football team would start at nine and he wanted to be there to capture the emotion of the morning. When the citizens reluctantly voted to cut the budget for the team at the town meeting in the spring, it was a hard blow to the boys. Playing football kept some out of trouble and gave others a reason to keep their grades up, especially when things were hard at home due to the economic downturn.

Things had looked bleak until Kelly McDonnell, Jen Cooper and Gretchen Walker got together and made the Eagles Fest fund-raiser happen. With the help of some grants and donations, they’d announced in July that Eagles football had been saved, and Alex knew their return to the field on Saturday would be even more exciting than usual. He intended to be there with his camera, with Coach’s permission.

Alex walked to the window to check out the view. His room was at the back of the house and looked out toward the barn. He could barely make out a garage to the left and a rutted dirt road that passed between the two buildings and disappeared through a break in a line of trees. He assumed it led to fields, though he wasn’t sure.

The view was considerably improved when Gretchen stepped out of the garage’s side door and headed for the barn. She had a long stride and he admired the way she looked so natural and confident in her environment.

His hand itched for his camera, but he didn’t give in to the urge to pull it out of his bag. It was bad enough he was watching her from the window. Taking photographs would cross a personal line of ethics that was sometimes blurry and a moving target, but was always there.

He allowed himself to watch her for a few more seconds, admiring the way the sun lit up the highlights in her hair. In normal lighting, it was solidly dark, though not black. But when the sun hit the thick braid just right, subtle red undertones shone through and drew his eye. He wanted to unravel her braid and run his fingers through the strands just to watch the light play with the colors.

Gretchen disappeared on the far side of the barn and then, a few moments later, emerged again on a four-wheeler that had seen better days. Sitting on the machine, with her long legs drawn up so her feet rested on the running boards, pulled the worn denim of her jeans across her thighs in a way that drew his eye in a way that was far more personal than professional.

Before he stared long enough to tip over into creeper territory, Alex turned away from the window and went downstairs. With all the travel he’d done—which included staying in bed-and-breakfasts or sometimes with host families—he didn’t have a lot of trouble making himself feel at home wherever he was. But for people like Ida and Gretchen, who weren’t accustomed to having a boarder, it could feel awkward. The less time he spent holed up in his room, the faster they’d come to feel comfortable around him.

Gretchen’s grandmother was at the computer when he walked into the living room. It was an older model perched on a big corner desk, and Ida was writing in a notebook in front of the monitor.

When he stepped on a floorboard that squeaked under his weight, she turned and gave him a smile. “How’s your room?”

“It’s perfect. And that’s a beautiful quilt on the bed. Did you make it?”

“As tempting as it is to lie and take the credit, I never had the patience for quilting. All those tiny stitches. I enjoy knitting, though. Did you get on the Internet okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Every month when she pays the bill, Gretchen makes that same growly frustrated noise my husband made when he thought something was frivolous, but I need good Internet for my business.”

Alex moved a couple of magazines out of the armchair near the desk so he could sit in it. If he sat on the couch, she wouldn’t be able to resume what she was doing while still continuing their conversation unless she turned her back to him. “Do you mind if I ask what your business is?”

“I knit matching sweaters, hats and mittens for little girls and those fancy dolls from the different time periods in history. Jen—you know Jen Cooper, right? She helped set me up a little shop on a website that lets you sell handmade stuff. People tell me what size the child wears and her favorite color, and I knit a set for her and a matching one for the doll. I don’t make a lot of money, but I’d be knitting anyway and this way I feel useful in my own little way.”

Alex smiled, making a mental note to photograph Ida knitting and posing with her creations. Her business would fit right into a story about weathering rough times. “I’m sure Gretchen would say you’re useful in countless ways.”

“She’s a good girl. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

He suspected, in this case, it wasn’t simply a common platitude. While he hadn’t seen a lot of the farm, he’d seen enough to know it would be a lot for Ida to have taken care of on her own after her husband passed away. Even without an expectation of the property providing a sustainable income for her, it would have been too much.

“I happened to glance out the window on my way down and saw her on a four-wheeler,” he said. “She works all day out there?”

Ida nodded. “She’s probably on her way to check on the pumpkins.”

“Pumpkins?”

“If you go shopping this fall and the stores are selling pumpkins, there’s a good chance Gretchen grew them. She’s always looking for ways to make the land earn money, and the pumpkins were even more successful than she’d hoped.”

Alex couldn’t miss the pride in her voice. “I can’t wait to see them.”

He’d been looking forward to delving into the emotional story of a town overcoming financial adversity, so it looked like he’d picked the right place to stay. Gretchen and her grandmother were perfect examples of Yankee resilience and ingenuity. The fact that he wouldn’t mind getting to know Gretchen a little better was just icing on the cake.

Gretchen wasn’t surprised to see ham, scalloped potatoes and creamed corn on the table when she walked into the kitchen. Once Gram set her mind on a meal, she was rarely swayed. Earlier in the day Gretchen had been concerned her grandmother would get carried away making “company” meals for Alex, but right now she was starving and it smelled delicious and she didn’t care.

Their new housemate came in from the living room as Gretchen was toeing off her boots, and he gave her a friendly smile. She returned it, feeling slightly awkward. She wasn’t emotionally demonstrative to begin with and had what Jen and Kelly called resting bitch face, so randomly smiling at people wasn’t really her thing.

“Sit down and dig in, Alex,” Gram said from the stove. “We don’t stand on ceremony around here.”

Gretchen watched as he gave her grandmother what the older woman would call a cheeky smile and shook his head. “I can wait for the ladies to sit.”

“I knew you were raised right.” Gram gave him an approving nod. “I knew your parents, of course, before they moved away. Well, your stepfather, though I knew your dad, too.”

Gretchen rolled up her sleeves and turned the faucet on to wash her hands. “You know everybody, Gram.”

“Most everybody, I guess.”

Once they were seated and served, Alex scooped some scalloped potato and ham onto his fork and took a bite. His eyes widened in appreciation, but he swallowed and wiped his lips before speaking. “This is delicious, Ida.”

Gram beamed. “Thank you. It’s one of my specialties.”

“I hope you didn’t go to any extra trouble for me.”

“Not at all. You’ll find farmer’s wives—or grandmothers, as the case may be—like putting hearty meals on the table.”

Gretchen was tempted to point out Gram hadn’t made scalloped potatoes in months, even though it was one of her favorite dishes, but she shoved food in her mouth and chewed instead. She took after her grandfather in most ways, and that included treating meals as times to eat, not chitchat. But she didn’t mind listening to Gram and Alex make small talk about the cuisine in various places where he’d traveled.

Gretchen had never heard of half the places, but it sounded like he led a pretty exciting life. She wasn’t sure why he’d want to take pictures of the Eagles practicing when he’d documented protests outside the Sudanese embassy for a big magazine, but it wasn’t really her business as long as he paid his rent.

“What made you come back to Stewart Mills?” Gram asked, clearly not too worried about what was and what wasn’t their business.

“I was a little burned out from the travel,” Alex said. Gretchen looked up from her plate in time to see him give a casual shrug, despite the fact that his expression was slightly more introspective. “When I was here for Eagles Fest, I really felt like I was connecting again. With . . . I don’t know. With people. With my hometown. I have an apartment in Providence, but it’s mostly a place to keep my stuff and sleep once in a while. I was on an assignment and I was tired, and it seemed like a great idea to come back and try to recapture how I felt during the fund-raiser.”

“And you think doing a story about the town will make you some money while you’re here?” Gram asked.

“I hope so. It’s not just about the money, though. I was looking through the Eagles Fest photos before I made the decision to come back, and the emotion in them spoke to me. The story seemed unfinished, so I’m here to finish it.”

Gretchen stopped herself from snorting at It’s not just about the money and scraped up the last of the scalloped potatoes on her plate. In her experience, people who said that had money to burn, and disposable income certainly wasn’t something she’d ever experienced.

She really hoped her grandmother wouldn’t take that as an opening to ask nosy questions about his finances. Not directly, of course, but in that friendly and curious way small-town folks had when it came to interrogating people.

But Gram was distracted by Alex’s almost empty plate. “There’s plenty enough for seconds, Alex. Just help yourself.”

He made a show of patting his very flat stomach. “One’s plenty, Ida. I don’t want to have to buy new pants while I’m here.”

Gretchen didn’t think he was in any danger of an expanding waistline anytime soon. He was tall and a big guy in general, but very fit. Of course, she wasn’t the one currently running her palm over his abdomen, but from where she was sitting, it all looked good. Really, really good.

Gram made a clucking sound with her tongue. “You need a wife to fix you good home-cooked meals.”

Alex froze just as his lips closed over his fork, and Gretchen might have laughed at his expression if she wasn’t expending all of her energy to keep herself from kicking her grandmother under the table. As soon as she got a minute alone with Gram, they were going to have to have a talk about boundaries.

After taking his time chewing and swallowing his food, Alex just plastered a polite smile on his face. “Maybe someday I’ll try marriage again, but not anytime soon.”

Gretchen almost groaned aloud. If he didn’t want to share his whole life story over meals, he’d have to learn not to open the door like that.

“You’ve been married before?” Gram asked, and this time Gretchen did kick her under the table, though gently. It was more of a nudge, really.

“I was, but my traveling turned out to be more of an issue than we thought it would, and eventually we just went our separate ways.”

“Ah.” Gram nodded. “Sounds very amicable.”


Defending Hearts (Boys of Fall), by Shannon Stacey

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0 of 0 people found the following review helpful. Find out in this smalltown romance novel - perfect for that February Valentine's reading By Paula L. Phillips Alex has been travelling all around the world as a famous photographer, but now with social media - actual photographers are in a shortage and after spending some time in his hometown after just over a decade away , he found himself missing that feeling . Now he has the time to head back home and since the community suffered during the recent recession - he has a story that he feels he needs to write . So he contacts Coach who puts him in touch with the Walkers and in particular Gretchen Walker as they have a room spare in their farm house. Gretchen Walker is the type of girl who is practical and takes more after her grandfather's personality rather than her warm, welcoming and flirtatious nature that her Grandmother Ida holds. As Alex starts to wander around town taking photographs and chatting to the current boys of the Stewart Falls football team - he realises that what he has been missing out on all these years by travelling is that feel of family and the love that comes from growing up in a small tight-knit community. As the book goes along , we see the development of Gretchen as she starts to let her walls down and welcome Alex inside but with the boarding of the room and project being only temporary - will she let Alex into her heart or be protective as she doesn't want to fall in love with him in case she gets hurt ?Will Alex decide to make his stay in Stewart Falls's more permanent as he realises this time around he has more to lose than ever before ? Has he finally found the home he has been looking for , for the past fourteen years ?Find out in this smalltown romance novel - perfect for that February Valentine's reading in Book #2 of Shannon Stacey's Boys of Fall novel "Defending Hearts" and readers if you have not read a Shannon Stacey book - what are you waiting for as I fell in love with her writing when reading her series "The Kowalski Family".

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful. An entertaining yet predictable small town romantic read.... By FromTheSouth An entertaining yet pretty predictable small town romantic read. Alex, our handsome hero, is a renown photojournalist who soon becomes torn between pursuing his career and the possibility of a HEA with Gretchen, who he rents a room from when he returns to his old hometown. He had returned earlier in Book 1 but still felt he needed to come back and reconnect some more.Though he went to high school with Gretchen, she was younger than him, and they never had much contact back then. She is a hardworking farm girl with strong family ties to her grandparents’ farm. Still recovering from the loss of her grandfather, she is fully committed to working the farm to continue his legacy, which, of course, leaves her little to no time for a social life. On top of that, she tends to have walls up around her heart after being abandoned by her neglectful parents. She pretty much only has her grandmother, a dog named Cocoa, and a posse of two best friends, Jen and Kelly.Maybe it’s because a romance featuring the hero in this occupation isn’t particularly appealing to me, or I’ve simply read too many similar themed books, but I found this one just an average read. It certainly isn’t because Shannon Stacey’s writing style isn’t appealing. She’s one of my favorite authors. I think it is more of the parameters of the storyline.Under the Lights (Book 1) was definitely more engaging for me as it featured a strong, sassy heroine, a police officer, who gets her HEA with the returning high school quarterback.Book 3 will feature Jen, a guidance counselor, and Sam, who also had returned to help the high school football team. She had a one night stand with him right before he left. He returns when they need a temporary coach to fill in.So if you are looking for romantic reads where steaminess does not highjack the storylines, you might want to consider this entire series.Title: Defending Hearts, Series: Boys of Fall (Book 2), Pages: 304, Author: Shannon Stacey, stand-alone, HEA, no cheating, no love triangle, Hero is a photojournalist, Heroine is a pumpkin farmer who lives with her grandmother, a few steamy scenes, mild angst.Book 1 – Under the Lights, 5/26/15, Pages: 304 (Chase & Kelly)Book 2 – Defending Hearts, 10/27/15: Pages: 304 (Alex & Gretchen)Book 3 – Homecoming, 4/26/16, (Sam & Jen)

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful. Good Book By abrasrose I really like Shannon Stacey’s books. I haven’t read every one (for example I haven’t read the first in this series), but I enjoy the refreshing lack of man whores, women in traditional romance novel jobs (bakery, sweetshop), florid language, insta-love, constant repetition of how hot the other MC is, and billionaires. Her characters know how to use a computer and a smartphone and often do as a part of the plot. I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve thought “oh s***, stupid plot mechanism coming up”, but it never does because someone picks up their phone or uses Google. I’ve even started using an app SS mentions in Taken with You.Specifically, Defending Hearts was a nice book. The heroine, Gretchen, is working her family farm with the help of her grandmother. Gretchen does the physical labor and all the planning and paperwork while her grandmother maintains the family garden, cooks, and knits. Gretchen loves the farm and though the work is demanding and money worries abound, she is dedicated to it.The hero, Alex, is an award winning photographer and part of the legendary high school football team who came to help the town in the first book. He’s been all over the world on photo assignments and takes pride in the fact that he makes people aware of things they never would have seen on their own. Alex has dedicated his life to photography even though the travel required was central in the collapse of his first marriage.Gretchen rents a room to Alex and he moves in so he can work on a project involving the town. They initially find each other attractive and as they go about the rhythms of daily life together they begin to fall in love. I would have liked more time inside the MCs heads, but if the choice is that or endless obsessing, I’ll take SS’s understated writing.I only have a few criticisms of this book. One is that the grandmother is only 65 yet is depicted as if she were 75. This may be a sore spot for me, I’m 54, but there is no indication that there is anything wrong with her. My family members were all still actively practicing law and going to court at 65. Gram only leaves the kitchen to knit, with the very occasional foray into the garden. She even talks about going into senior housing. WTF? The other is that there is a timeline issue at the end. Not a biggie, but it was there.Bottom line, I enjoyed Defending Hearts. The characters were smart, honorable, and their actions made sense. I won’t read the first book in the series because the romance sounds very similar, but I may read the next as that hero doesn’t seem to have any pressing reason to leave town once he falls in love with his heroine.

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Defending Hearts (Boys of Fall), by Shannon Stacey
Defending Hearts (Boys of Fall), by Shannon Stacey

Rabu, 15 April 2015

A Smart Kids Guide To CUBA AND BARBADOS: A World Of Learning At Your Fingertips, by Liam Saxon

A Smart Kids Guide To CUBA AND BARBADOS: A World Of Learning At Your Fingertips, by Liam Saxon

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A Smart Kids Guide To CUBA AND BARBADOS: A World Of Learning At Your Fingertips, by Liam Saxon

A Smart Kids Guide To CUBA AND BARBADOS: A World Of Learning At Your Fingertips, by Liam Saxon



A Smart Kids Guide To CUBA AND BARBADOS: A World Of Learning At Your Fingertips, by Liam Saxon

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Bestselling children’s author Liam Saxon is proud to presents TWO BOOKS IN ONE! Introducing "A Smart Kids Guide To CUBA AND BARBADOS". DOUBLE the fun, and DOUBLE the learning! This book uses captivating images and expertly written words to teach children about “CUBA AND BARBADOS” Perfect reading for any occasion and especially ideal for bed times, long journeys or for bonding with your child. Fun Filled Learning for Your Child (and you!) Every one of our books is lovingly researched, illustrated and put together to outstand, awe and inspire the reader. Our beautiful images help explain and enlighten each well-written fact. This book covers a range of exciting topics including: * INTRODUCTION – WHERE IS CUBA? * TELL ME A LITTLE MORE ABOUT CUBA? * TELL ME A LITTLE BIT MORE ABOUT HAVANA * WHAT IS CUBA’S CLIMATE LIKE? * WHAT IS MUSIC LIKE IN CUBA? then * INTRODUCTION – TELL ME A LITTLE BIT ABOUT THE BARBADOS * WHAT IS THE CAPITAL OF BARBADOS? * TELL ME ABOUT TRAFALGAR SQUARE * WHAT IS THE LANDSCAPE LIKE IN BARBADOS? * WHAT IS THE CLIMATE LIKE IN BARBADOS? PLUS - SO MUCH MORE!! We loved compiling this book and even learned a few things along the way and hopefully you will too. Get this book at this SPECIAL PRICE exclusive to the Amazon Store. *** Your child will love it - this is guaranteed.***

A Smart Kids Guide To CUBA AND BARBADOS: A World Of Learning At Your Fingertips, by Liam Saxon

  • Amazon Sales Rank: #4316058 in Books
  • Published on: 2015-06-09
  • Original language: English
  • Number of items: 1
  • Dimensions: 9.00" h x .11" w x 6.00" l, .17 pounds
  • Binding: Paperback
  • 48 pages
A Smart Kids Guide To CUBA AND BARBADOS: A World Of Learning At Your Fingertips, by Liam Saxon


A Smart Kids Guide To CUBA AND BARBADOS: A World Of Learning At Your Fingertips, by Liam Saxon

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0 of 0 people found the following review helpful. Very helpful book By Wanjugu This book was very helpful. Would highly recommend it to all especially if your child is working on a project

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A Smart Kids Guide To CUBA AND BARBADOS: A World Of Learning At Your Fingertips, by Liam Saxon

Minggu, 12 April 2015

Racing the Sun, by Karina Halle

Racing the Sun, by Karina Halle

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Racing the Sun, by Karina Halle

Racing the Sun, by Karina Halle



Racing the Sun, by Karina Halle

Free Ebook PDF Racing the Sun, by Karina Halle

It's time for twenty-four-year-old Amber MacLean to face the music. After a frivolous six months of backpacking through New Zealand, Australia, and Southeast Asia, she finds herself broke on the Mediterranean without enough money for a plane ticket home to California. There are worse places to be stuck than the gorgeous coastline of southern Italy, but the only job she manages to secure involves teaching English to two of the brattiest children she's ever met. It also doesn't help that the children are under the care of their brooding older brother, Italian ex-motorcycle racer Desiderio Larosa. Darkly handsome and oh-so-mysterious, Derio tests Amber's patience and will at every turn-not to mention her hormones. But when her position as teacher turns into one as full-time nanny at the crumbling old villa, Amber finds herself growing closer to the enigmatic recluse and soon has to choose between the safety of her life back in the States and the uncertainty of Derio's closely guarded heart.Contains mature themes.

Racing the Sun, by Karina Halle

  • Published on: 2015-10-27
  • Formats: Audiobook, MP3 Audio, Unabridged
  • Original language: English
  • Number of items: 1
  • Dimensions: 7.40" h x .60" w x 5.30" l,
  • Running time: 10 Hours
  • Binding: MP3 CD
Racing the Sun, by Karina Halle

About the Author Karina Halle, a former travel writer and music journalist, is the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author of more than twenty wild and romantic books, including Love, in English; Dirty Angels; and the Artists trilogy. She lives on an island off the coast of British Columbia.Erin Bennett is an actress, singer, and voice-over artist whose passion for storytelling informs her love of narrating audiobooks. Her genres vary widely from contemporary fiction to mysteries to science fiction and romance.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Racing the Sun

CHAPTER ONE

We’ve all thought about how we’re going to die. My friend Angela Kemp, whom I’ve known since we played in saggy diapers together, is convinced she’s going to choke to death on something. Every time we go out to eat, she searches the restaurant for the person most likely to know the Heimlich maneuver and tries to sit by them. It doesn’t seem to matter that I know the Heimlich maneuver; she just wants to know she’ll be safe if it happens. Personally, I’ve always thought I’d fall to my death. I think it all started when I was seven or eight years old and had dreams of my house turning over and me falling from the floor to the ceiling, dodging couches and tables. After that, my dreams turned to me falling off of balconies, getting trapped in collapsing elevators, and being in horrific plane crashes. Actually, it was never the crash that killed me, nor was it the scariest part of the dream; I was always sucked out of the airplane before the impact and fell to my death in a horrible rush of cold air and mortality. It shouldn’t surprise me, then, that I think I’m about to die in this moment, and by falling, no less. In fact, I’m sure there’s no way I can possibly survive this. It’s not just that I’m in a taxi that seems to be coughing black fumes out of its tailpipe every two seconds, or the fact that the driver, with a mustache so big that he looks like a walrus, is looking more at me and the two other backpackers in the backseat than at the road. No, it’s because, as we round the corners of the “highway” toward the postcard-worthy town of Positano, we’re going full speed and there’s nothing but a sheer cliff on my side of the vehicle. “Shit,” I swear, trying to hold on to something, anything, that would keep me in the car and prevent me from falling to my death, like my sordid dreams foretell. I look over at Ana and Hendrik, my Danish traveling companions for this leg of Southern Italy, and they don’t seem all that concerned. I’m especially not going to grab on to big, blond Hendrik since Ana has a problem with random girls touching him. Not that I’m random at this point. I met up with the couple in Rome and spent a few days with them there before we took the train down south. I know they have plans to keep going all the way to Sicily and hunker down in some beach hut with a bunch of goats (I don’t know, but whenever Hendrik talks about their plans, goats are involved somehow), but I’m starting to believe that Positano is the end of the line for me. And it’s not just because I’m certain I’m going to die on the way there. It’s because I am flat fucking broke. We all knew this day would come (and by we, I mean my parents and I). After all, I’ve been traveling for six months around the world and even though I’ve been trying to spend as little as possible, the world isn’t as cheap as you’d think. It probably doesn’t help that I went a little overboard in Europe and had a mini shopping spree in every city I was in. But I like to think of my new shawls and sandals and jewelry as souvenirs, not just clothes. I mean, do you get to wear your postcards or ceramic doodads or tiny calendars with pictures of the Eiffel Tower on them? No. But you can wear a scarf you picked up from a market in Berlin. But, of course, in hindsight, maybe I should have managed my money a bit better. I just thought that my savings were enough. And then, when my parents started bailing me out, I thought I could coast by on that. Just for a little while. Until I found out they sold my shitty 1982 Mustang convertible to help pay for this trip. After that, they just stopped putting money in my account. I’ve now eaten into the money that was supposed to pay for my return ticket home, a ticket I didn’t think I’d have to buy until I got down to Morocco, or even Turkey. So, Positano, Italy, on the Amalfi Coast, might just be the end for me. If I even make it out of this cab. As we round another bend, I can see crazy people parked on the road and selling flowers. Not the side of the road, but parked on the actual road. So now people are swerving around them, but when Italians swerve they don’t slow down—they actually speed up. I decide to close my eyes for the rest of the journey and hope I get there in one piece. Even though the journey from Sorrento to Positano doesn’t translate into many miles, it still feels like it takes forever for us to finally get there. The walrus-mustached cab driver pulls to a sudden stop, abrupt enough that I fling forward, my curly blonde hair flying all over the place. “Amber,” Ana says in her deep accent. “We’re here.” “I gathered that,” I say, and awkwardly pretend to search through my messenger bag for euros, though I don’t really have any euros to spare. Thankfully, Ana thrusts some bills into the driver’s hand and we clamber out of the cab. And so here is Positano. I’d been so busy closing my eyes and praying that I’d never really gotten a good look at the town. It’s fucking charming. I mean, it’s beautiful and stunning and photogenic as all hell, but its charm is the first thing that comes to mind. The cab dropped us off at the top of a hill and you can see just how packed the town is, with building after colorful building crammed below the cliffs, staggered down the hillsides, tucked into every nook and cranny. It makes you wonder what crazy person decided to put a town here, of all places. The one-way road leading down to the beach is narrow, with cars and pedestrians and patio seating vying for space, and lined with stores that beckon you to come inside. Actually, knowing Italy, the minute you walk past, some shopkeeper will come out and literally beckon you to come inside. Like, you can’t say no (maybe that’s how I’ve ended up with so much stuff). In the distance, the Mediterranean Sea sparkles from the sunlight—glitter on water—and hydrofoil ferries glide over it with ease. “Wow,” I say softly, trying to take it all in. “This is like the movies.” “Yes, it’s very nice,” Hendrik says blankly. He’s never really impressed with anything. When we saw the Colosseum, he said he thought it would be bigger. Well, I thought it would be bigger, too, but that didn’t stop me from being overwhelmed by the structure and history of it all. “Luckily the hostel is at the top of the hill.” That is lucky, considering if it were at the bottom of the hill on this one-way road, I’d have to lug my overflowing backpack and duffel bag uphill to catch a cab or bus when it’s time to leave. Then again . . . I have a feeling I’m going to be here awhile. I have enough money to stay at this hostel for a week, and then I’m officially fucked. I try not to dwell on that as I follow the Danes down the road for a few minutes as cars and the ubiquitous motorcycle zoom past, narrowly missing me. Even being on foot and walking at your own pace, there’s something so dizzying about this place. All these houses, the color of burnt orange and pastel yellow and faded rose, looking down on each other. When I turn around and look behind me, the steep, rocky hills rise up into the sky. It feels like the entire town could topple over at any minute. This could be a metaphor for my life at the moment. After we’ve settled into a rather pleasant-looking dorm room (pleasant compared to the fleabag we stayed at in Rome), Ana and Hendrik invite me to go with them down to the beach. I really do want to go and explore, but I have a feeling they’ll want to eat at some restaurant, and that would cost more euros than I can afford. As much as I hate it, I have to stick to my weird Italian granola bars and fruit for as long as I can. Besides, I’m sure the lovebirds would rather stroll on the Positano beach with each other and not have some broke, frazzle-haired American girl tagging along. So they leave and I take my time exploring the hostel. It’s small, but even though it’s the only one in town, it’s not as packed as I thought it would be. It’s the beginning of June, too, so I thought all college kids and post-college kids (like myself) would be flocking to this area. I guess not. That’s fine with me. After living out of a backpack for months on end and never really having any time for myself, strolling around a quaint but quiet hostel would be ­awesome—just one of the many little pleasures of a traveler’s life. I end up back at the reception desk where a girl with shiny, poker-straight, chocolate-brown hair is sipping some lemon drink. I get major hair envy over anyone with straight strands. “Buongiorno,” the girl says with a smile once she notices I’m there. Then she remembers I checked in a moment ago. “I mean, hello. Amber, right? From San Francisco?” “San Jose,” I correct her, finding her easy to talk to already. I’ve always been a fairly quiet girl, but that changed real quick once I started traveling by myself. “Listen, I was just wondering. Well, I mean, I know you work here, right?” She nods. “I hope so, otherwise I’ll be in a lot of trouble.” “Right. I was just wondering, how did that happen?” “Oh,” she says and leans back in her stool. I notice how sun-browned her skin is and gather she must have been in Italy, or at least someplace warm, for a long time. She breaks into a wide smile. “It’s kind of a long story.” I lean against the counter. “I’ve got time.” And so the girl—Amanda—launches into the story of her current life. She came here on a whim with a friend of hers but fell in love with Positano so badly that she didn’t want to leave. Her friend ended up going back home and she asked the owners of the hostel if there were any way she could work for them. They told her she could work the front desk full-time in exchange for room, board, and little bit of extra money—all under the table, of course. She jumped at the chance. “So how long are you staying here for?” I ask. “My three months is up in a month.” I make a frowny face. “That sucks.” She shoots me an impish smile. “I’ll be back. Luca is making sure of that.” “Who is Luca?” “The man I’m going to marry.” And then she launches into another story, this one far more exciting than the last one. On her second week of working here, she ended up running into a local cop. He was hot, and it was love at first sight. Now that she has to leave the country (Americans can only be here for three months at a time), Luca is building a case to bring her back in seven months. If they can prove they’re serious about each other and intend to marry one day, she can get a permit to work here for longer. “Wow,” I tell her when she’s finished. “I was just thinking this town was like a movie set, and now this is like movie love.” She blushes. “I know it’s rather fast. No one takes our relationship seriously, not even his mother. But I do love him and he loves me and I know this is the right thing to do. So why not take the chance, you know? If it doesn’t work out, at least I’ll have a hell of a story.” “You already do have a hell of a story.” I’ll admit that even though I think it’s sweet and romantic, the jaded and cynical side of me thinks it is a bit ridiculous that she’s doing all of this for a man, that you could even fall in love that fast. But that’s probably because I’ve been screwed over by men a few times already on my travels. “See,” she says, pulling out her phone and showing me a picture. “This is Luca. You’d stay for him, wouldn’t you?” I let out a low whistle. Luca is hot. Dark-skinned with piercing, light eyes. And he’s tall, too. Not that that’s too out of the ordinary—it’s just that everyone warned me that Italian men would be short and hairy. So far, I haven’t found that to be the case at all. “Nice,” I say to her. “Well, I wish you both the best and hope it all works out.” She shrugs. “Life works out the way it wants to.” “Uh-huh.” And then I remember the real reason why I came to talk to her. “Listen, I’m having some financial difficulties at the moment. You know, overdid it a bit in London and all that. Anyway, I was wondering if you knew if there was any work available for someone like me?” Her eyes narrow slightly. “Well, there’s no work here.” Relax, I think. I’m not after your job. “Oh, I don’t mean here, per se. I just meant in town. Or in the area. Even Sorrento or Salerno.” She purses her lips and thinks. “Well, there would be jobs in Salerno, but you don’t want to work there. Have you tried the English café down the street? Sometimes they need English speakers. There’s also a work notice board for foreigners. Usually the jobs posted are one-offs for guys, like a day spent painting a house or something like that. But sometimes you can get lucky.” This sounds promising. “And it’s just down the street? It’s a long street . . .” Amanda smiles, pulls out the hostel map, and begins to mark up a path for me. “Follow the road all the way to here and then take these stairs here. You’ll come to Bar Darkhouse. Beside it, kind of tucked in the back, is Panna Café.” “Thank you,” I tell her, folding the map before shoving it in my bag. I walk down the streets with an extra spring in my step. The air is fresh (when you’re not inhaling diesel fumes) and the sun is warm, baking my bare arms. I’m feeling a bit optimistic about the whole money problem now. If Amanda can find work here, I can, too. That should also go to say that if Amanda can find love here, I can, too. But thankfully, that is the last thing I’m looking for. I’ve had enough fun and heartbreak during this trip, falling for boys who either have their hearts set on someone else (like Josh in New Zealand) or who love you and leave you (like the Icelandic boy, Kel, who I spent a sex-filled week with in Prague). No, the next guy I was going to fall for was going to be a Nor Cal boy when I returned back home to San Jose. No drama, no heartache, no tragic goodbyes. No fun either, I think to myself, but I quickly push that thought away. The café is easy enough to find but it takes me a while to get there. The town is so pretty and tightly packed with storefronts, and I want to linger in every single one of them. Eventually, I get there and order an espresso at the bar. Unlike most cafés in Italy, this one actually has tables and chairs where you can sit down and sip your drink, obviously catering to tourists. But at this point I’ve gotten used to doing quick shots of coffee while standing up. It’s at least more efficient. After I ask the British barista if they’re hiring and get a big fat no, she points me to the corner of the café where the notice board is. Though most of the postings are actual flyers for parties or advertisements for ceramic sales, there are a few work notices. One of them looks fresh—none of the phone number and e-mail strips on the notice have been torn off. It reads: Need help. Want English speaking woman. Two children. Must be good to young children and help with language. Fluency needed. Italian is helpful to have. Please e-mail Felisa. Locate to Capri. I quickly take the notice off of the board before anyone else notices. Like hell I’m going to compete for this job. Even though I’m not really sure what it entails other than possibly teaching English to two kids, or what it pays, or if it includes room and board, I’m not going to give up the opportunity. If it doesn’t work out, then I’ll just put the ad back. I immediately connect to the café’s Wi-Fi on my cell phone and write an e-mail to Felisa. I make myself sound as good as possible: Graduated from San Jose State with a B.A. in English. Worked as a receptionist for a prestigious manufacturing company (before I was fired). Great with children (I think I babysat once when I was fifteen). Willing to work on Capri, provided help with housing is included. Spent a great deal of time building up life skills while traveling Southeast Asia. Know how to bake a mean tiramisu. That last part is a lie but I thought they might find it endearing. I press send and then wait. And wait. And when I realize I’m not going to get a response right away, I head to the bar next door, taking the work notice with me. I don’t get a reply until the next morning. I didn’t sleep well, between obsessing over how to get home and trying to ignore the sounds of Hendrik and Ana having sex. You’d think I’d be used to public dorm room copulation by now, but I’m not. It’s one of those things you don’t want to get used to because then that means you should probably re­examine your life. When I check my e-mail on my phone, all bleary-eyed, I see that Felisa wants me to meet her at the dock at four this afternoon. It doesn’t say anything else. Not what she looks like or if I need to bring anything or where we’re going. I mean, the dock? She’s not actually thinking of doing the job interview on the island of Capri, is she? But as many questions as I have, I’m also excited. Because this is promising. And it was so easy. One e-mail and bam! I might just be teaching English to two cute Italian children. I bet they’re just darling and say mama and eat politely. Sure, I don’t have a lot of experience with children, but I figure I might become a mother one day so this is good practice. I mean, the maternal instinct has to be in me somewhere. I tell Ana and Henrik that I’m meeting someone down at the dock. I haven’t told them about my financial problems and don’t plan on it, so they’re a bit suspicious about this meeting, even when I try to play it off as if I met a guy yesterday and I’m meeting up with him again. I mean, it could be true, in a way. I assume that the children will have a father and he might want to interview me, too. I leave at three o’clock because the hill takes its time to wind down, and Italians walk slowly (yet drive frighteningly fast). I’m at the dock with plenty of time to spare. Positano is absolutely gorgeous from the water and the pebbled beach is packed with bronzed men in Speedos and brightly-striped umbrellas and chairs. Tiny boats and Jet Skis zip back and forth, sloshing the low dock with water. I stand there and wait, my face to the sun, still pinching myself that I’m here, in Italy, and it’s a gorgeous day. Time seems to drag on a bit. I look across the dock and slowly realize that no big ships are docking here, only small boats. I look over to my left and notice a large hydrofoil pulling out from the area around the rocks. Oh shit. Is that the dock she meant? Have I been standing in the wrong place this whole time? I whip out my phone and look at the time. Four ten. Just fucking great. I’m about to start running across the beach toward the bigger ships when a woman yells out. “Hey you!” I stop in my tracks, pebbles flying everywhere and getting in my sandals, and see a woman striding toward me. She’s short and round with gray hair pulled off her face, showcasing her very sharp nose. She’s still beautiful, though, in an older, classy woman way. Or she would be if she didn’t look so scowl-y. “Show me your hands,” she says in a thick accent, stomping over to me, and for a moment I’m afraid that this is all a misunderstanding. Is she mistaking me for a thief or something? But I have no time to say anything. She grabs my hands, turning them over and back again. “Okay, fine,” she says and peers at my face. Her eyes are a light gray. “You will do. Come on.” And then she starts to storm away, hiking up her skirt so it doesn’t brush against the pebbles. What the fuck was that? “Um, excuse me,” I call after her, unsure whether I should follow or who she even is. “I think you have me mistaken for someone else.” She shakes her head and keeps walking. “No. You are Amber. Come or we miss the boat.” “Felisa?” I ask and then run after her, my soles slipping all over the place. “How did you know who I was?” “Only tourists would go to wrong dock,” she says. She eyes me over her shoulder. “Also, I Google you. You have many pictures.” Well, I have been updating my travel blog quite often. At least I know someone’s looked at it. I walk fast to keep up with this woman. I’m a short girl with short legs, and though Felisa seems to be the same height, she walks like a giraffe, with impossibly long strides. It’s not long until I’m panting, totally out of breath, and we’re standing in front of one of the hydrofoils. A few people are dragging their luggage onto metal ramps that move with the swell of each wave. “What are we doing?” I ask. Felisa hands two tickets over to the man collecting them. “You come to the house, you meet the children. And Signor Larosa.” So many things happening at once. “Wait, wait,” I protest, reaching out to grab Felisa’s elbow. She shoots me daggers so I quickly let go, but at least I’ve stopped her. “Sorry,” I say quickly. “I didn’t know I would be going to the island. How would I get back?” “Tomorrow there is a ferry. Many ferries.” The ticket guy is eyeing us warily now. “But where do I stay? I don’t have any money. I’ve paid for my hostel here in full.” “You stay in the house.” “What house?” “Signor Larosa’s. Where the children are.” “Is he their father?” She shakes her head. “Older brother. Long story.” “How much older?” “Older!” she yells. “Now come on, we will miss it.” The ticket guy clucks his tongue in agreement. I sigh, feeling all out of sorts, and follow Felisa onto the ramp and inside the ferry. She takes a seat on one side of the main aisle in the middle of the ship. I notice that everyone is kind of arranged the same way, with few people on the outer edges. I wonder why but there are bigger things to wonder about. I sit down next to her. “Okay, let’s start again.” “You start tomorrow, when you get your things back from Positano.” “But you haven’t interviewed me yet. You don’t know if I’m right for the job.” “You are on the ferry right now, aren’t you?” she asks, giving me a sharp look. “Then you are right for the job. You could have said no. Also, you have nice, strong hands and you need those when handling children. Now I have to bring you to Signor Larosa and see how you are with him. And the children.” “Why is it important to see how I get along with him?” She sighs, as if I should know all of this. “He is difficult. So are the children. But he is even more so. Hopefully he will pretend you don’t exist. If you annoy him, you will know it well.” “And who are you?” “I am the housekeeper,” she says with a slight tip of her chin. “I have kept the children and the house in line since their parents died. But now is time for the children to learn proper English. Signor Larosa speaks it well, as do I, but it is not good enough for them.” “Them?” “His parents, who made it their wish in their will. So we are looking for a teacher. The last three we had all left. Stayed one week.” Oh, Jesus. This is starting to sound like the beginning of a horror movie. “In the ad I asked if you were good with young children. You said you were.” Actually, the ad said, good to young children. And of course I thought that meant if I spoiled them with candy and gave them gold stars for effort. She waves her wrinkled hand at me. “It doesn’t matter. They will be less of a problem.” “Than?” “Their brother. Desiderio Larosa,” she repeats impatiently. She turns her head and peers at me, as if searching for cracks. “If you can handle that man, then you can handle the children. Then you can handle anything.” At that she presses her lips together, closes her eyes, and appears to fall asleep right in front of me. She doesn’t even wake up when the hydrofoil picks up speed and starts to rock back and forth violently, waves splashing high against the sides of the boat. I spend the whole ferry ride wondering if I can make it to the bathroom to puke in time and if we’re all going to die on the high seas. That would be a change from falling to my death. I’m also wondering who this mysterious Desiderio Larosa is, and just what the hell I’ve gotten myself into.


Racing the Sun, by Karina Halle

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13 of 13 people found the following review helpful. Totally In Love With Italy & Derio By Melissa Cooper Amber MacLean is a 24 yr. old American woman from San Jose, California. After backpacking and traveling around the world for the last six months, Amber is now out of money. She has landed in Southern Italy in the town of Positano on the Amalfi Coast, and can't afford a plane ticket back home. Figuring there are worse places to be stuck, & not really wanting to go home & return to reality, Amber searches for a job in the hopes of extending her adventure a little while longer.Amber answers a help wanted ad & gets a job working for a 29 yr. old gorgeous Italian man named Desiderio Larosa aka Derio. Derio recently became in charge of the family estate, & his twin siblings are now under his care. He hires Amber to teach the children proper English. She must re-locate to their home in Capri. Amber has a degree in English, but has never really been around kids much. Desperately in need of a job, Amber takes on the challenge & goes to work for Signor Larosa.Amber quickly learns that the sexy mysterious older brother that looks like a model has issues. He's moody & reclusive. He's an ex-motorcycle racer who comes from a very wealthy family. After a tragedy he's become very closed off & private. He is a brooding, damaged man who seems to have shut down. He keeps to himself & wants to be left alone. Amber tries to walk on eggshells around him & stay out of his way, but she can't help the way just the sight of him makes her body respond. She's flustered & hasn't been around a man this beautiful in a while.Amber begins spending time with Derio & the children & starts to see a different side of Derio. He has a playful side that isn't so serious or guarded. As they grow closer things heat up & turn intimate between them. Amber slowly falls for the hot, passionate Derio, & OMG is this book delicious!!!Eventually Amber's job extends to not only teaching English, but full-time nanny. As Amber and Derio fall in love, Derio isn't as broken anymore. Being with Amber he slowly is getting his joy back. She makes him feel happy & alive again. They face their fears together & are just what the other was looking for & needing in their life. They have some problems to work through as Ambers time in Italy is coming to an end. We get some angst as they try to define what they have together & deal with real life. Their connection is so strong, but they realize that relationships aren't always easy & take sacrifice & hard work.I absolutely loved this book!!! I liked it was a more emotional read too. The author takes you on the beautiful journey through Southern Italy, & makes you feel like your really there experiencing it all. Then she throws in a dreamy delicious Italian hottie that will make you swoon. I couldn't put this book down & still have Derio & Italy on my mind! :D

8 of 8 people found the following review helpful. There aren't enough stars for this book! By Nina ~ The Literary Gossip I am almost giddy when I see that Karina Halle is releasing a new story. She is quickly becoming a favorite author of mine, not only for the amazing love stories she writes, but also because with each of her stories I feel like I am leaving the confines of my home in Georgia to visit some exciting place like Italy or Spain or San Francisco or even Canada. If Karina ever decides to quit writing in the romance genre, she can definitely still find a home writing travel books because she can create the most vivid visuals in her novels and truly makes me want to visit all the places she writes about. And Racing the Sun is no different…in fact I am ready to head off to the Amalfi Coast now!In Racing the Sun we meet Amber, a girl who is backpacking through Europe….maybe putting off finding her life’s calling back in California or maybe she is someone who was just born for better things than the choices she has been handed….but as she lands in Positano, she is almost broke and desperately in need of money. When faced with a job teaching young children to speak English, she jumps on the chance to make a little cash not knowing that this job is going to change the course of her life, forever. When she comes to the Villa where she will be living, Karina describes the house and the gardens in such vivid detail I knew that it was also a hidden comparison to what she was going to find inside. It was not lost on me that the beauty of house was so in need of TLC just as the people who lived inside its walls.As Amber weaves her way into this family, and it is definitely not easy at times, she brings some much needed light and love to Derio and his siblings. Derio seems like a complex character but at the core of it, he is just a man who has lost and suffered so much…has lived with so much heartache…and is aching to have a bit of the world lifted off his shoulders. I love the strength that Amber had to chip away at Derio’s tough exterior to get to his heart. This man was truly a beautiful man…not only in his looks, but also within. It just took him time to give his hand to Amber for her to hold and for them to learn to move forward together.As silly as it is, I won’t be faulted for feeling giddy over a boy. It’s one of the best feelings in the world.I loved Annabella and Alfonso…these two children suffered just as much as Derio yet at the tender age of 7 handled it totally different. As Derio hid from the world these two children acted out against it. Amber was such a soothing balm to them and watching them acclimate to her was beautiful. Throughout this book there is much heartache, soul searching and finding oneself. The relationship that Derio and Amber develop is one of my favorites….Karina just seemed to make these two lovers from different parts of the world work and I loved every angsty, sexy, tearful, and joyful moment these two shared.Every time Karina writes a character with a different dialect than the English one I am accustomed to, I feel like she gets it so right. They might not speak it perfectly and it is the imperfections of their English that draws me even more to her characters. It gives their voice so much integrity and it’s almost as if I can hear them speaking through the pages. It is what truly draws me to men like Derio and Mateo and Linden….each time they speak I am reminded that they are not from around here.I am coming to find out that one of my favorite parts of Karina’s books is her Author Notes. I have learned so much about her writing and her life in just the few details she gives us readers. The journey she took with this book sounded like a once in a life time trip and I for one truly loved this story. With the amazing backdrop of the Amalfi Coast and this beautiful Italian family, Racing the Sun has quickly become one of my favorite novels ever. 5 “Senza di te, la vita non ha più senso” stars!

8 of 8 people found the following review helpful. Grab your kindle passport and head to Italy to meet Deiro. By Foxy Blogs fOh La La!!! I'm going to Italy with this book.My bags are packed, my passport is up-to-date, and I’m heading to the nearest airport. The only thing holding me back from becoming a world traveler is I hate to fly - otherwise I’d be using Ms. Halle’s books as my tour guide. When I read Love, in English and was transported to Spain I fell in love with the countryside. Then I read Where Sea Meets Sky and had a strong desire to go to New Zealand. I’d even ride in that 70’s van that they traveled around in.Last year Ms. Halle asked her readers where her next book should be set. Readers were given 3 choices: Amalfi Coast, South of France and Prague. I was rooting for Amalfi Coast because the photos I saw were breathtaking. I’m happy to say that Racing the Sun is located in this oasis. If you follow Ms. Halle on Instagram she has been sharing photos of her trip to Amalfi Coast. Check them out.”I am flat f**king broke.”Amber is traveling the world when she winds up broke without enough money to pay for a plane ticket back home. Which is okay with her because she really has no desire to return home just yet. The ability to roam the world beckons her and has her scrambling to find a way to continue her journey. YOLO - you only live once.”Need Help. Want English speaking woman…”Amber answers an ad to help to teach English to a family with twins as a way to earn some cash for her plane ticket home. Derio,the adult older brother, has been left in charge of his younger twin siblings as a result of their parents tragic death. One desire their parents had for their children was to know English and Amber has agreed to fill that role.”Don’t tell me you’ve fallen in love with an Italian boy.”First off, Derio is no boy. He’s all man and comfortable in his own skin. For each scene that had him in his Speedos I wish I could have switched places with Amber. Now about Speedos - our Eastern European friend was visiting, a couple years back, and when he came out on the pool deck in his Speedo he looked extremely out of place. When he asked why everyone staring at him we had to explain that in American guys wear board shorts to swim in. *lol* Okay, now back to Derio… he was a total mystery. It took me awhile to figure out why he was so standoffish and what he was doing behind closed doors!"Where you go, I go.To the land, to the sea.Always and forever."If you love 'international romance' grab your “kindle passport” and take a trip to Italy with Amber & Deiro. Also for those who have been long time Karina Halle fans you laugh at the jab that is made about EIT series.STANDALONE**Complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review.**

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