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Interlude to a Sentimental Me

6/28/2016

About Interlude to Sentimental Me Volume 2:

A collection of emotionally driven poetry that covers the story of pain, tribulations, happiness, self-esteem and self discovery through love and heartache. The Interlude will take readers on a journey of determination and imagery, which leads to the formation of
short stories and performance poetry.

Buy Interlude to Sentimental Me:
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About Sentimental Me! Volume 1:

Sentimental Me – displays his ability to wrest good from bad, to display the courage to dig deep within himself to help others. Through an inspired melding of his unique voice and inspiring photographic images of nature, Michael provides the reader with a unique perspective of the human condition, inspiring others to follow their own creative paths without boundaries.

Buy Sentimental Me: Amazon

Guest Post by Michael Judkins:
If there is one thing you want readers to remember about you, what would it be? by Michael B. Judkins
Before I start to answer this question or attempt to provide a solid answer to this question, I want to say that I’m a poet, therapist, dog owner, friend, brother, uncle, and most of all…. a person. So, the one thing I want readers to remember about me is that I’m a funny, creative guy with a big heart. It’s the best logical answer that comes to mind.
I want my readers to enjoy the experience of my writing, my poetry, and the message of being true to yourself and others. Also, that I’m a small piece of a pie, in the world of people attempting to create a better understanding and harmony through the written word. I want to show how my journey of life created my art! It’s that simple. Although, this question was extremely hard to answer because I could write an entire 10-page essay about what I want readers to remember about me.
However, why, limit yourself to just what you believe someone would want you to say, or what is the best image to portray. Instead, sit quietly, drink a cup of chai tea with hazelnut creamer, and allow the words to smoothly run across the paper as you type the best description of yourself. As you write your mini biography, laugh hard, smile endlessly, sing your favorite song that recently played on the radio or streaming service (in today’s world) and enjoy the experience of being honest. To my readers and new readers, be yourself, and always be honest through your journey in life.

About the Author:
Michael Barry Judkins was born in the Bronx, New York, along with his four brothers and sisters. Michael’s childhood memories, although bittersweet, provided a rich foundation for him to draw upon later in life as an accomplished author.

Delightful memories of trips to the zoo or picking apples with his mother contrast greatly to daily reminders of what any hard-working family must battle in building a life in an urban setting. Domestic violence. Drugs. Gangs. All play their part in shaping a person – whether for good or bad is often an individual’s choice.

After spending years immersed in typical, reactive adolescent behaviors like skipping school, smoking and drinking, Michael began experimenting with other alternatives to developing new relationships and helping resolve social issues. As he took these first, proactive steps to be part of the solution, and not the problem, the germ of the idea for his first book – Sentimental Me – was born.

Graduating from high school a year early, and after a foray into the music business, Michael completed a BS degree in Human Services and MS in Mental Health Counseling. A daydreamer for as long as he can remember, Michael’s inability to forge a relationship with his beloved father before he passed when Michael was only two years old still haunts him today. His mother’s cherished memories of his father’s spirit and honored Armed Forces service, while providing some solace, also serve to make Michael wonder what might have been, if only…

Today, with several poetry collections and short stories in the works, Michael’s first release – Sentimental Me – displays his ability to wrest good from bad, to display the courage to dig deep within himself to help others. Through an inspired melding of his unique voice and inspiring photographic images of nature, Michael provides the reader with a unique perspective of the human condition, inspiring others to follow their own creative paths without boundaries.

Michael now resides in Allentown, P.A., and welcomes all readers to feel free to contact him at [email protected] to discuss your reaction to his work, or learn more about upcoming releases.

Connect with the author: Website ~ Twitter ~ Facebook

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The Girl From the Savoy

6/15/2016

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About The Girl From the Savoy
• Paperback: 448 pages
• Publisher: William Morrow Paperbacks (June 7, 2016)

“Once begun, I dare you to put it down.”—Kathleen Tessaro, New York Times bestselling author of Rare Objects

London, 1923: Welcome to The Savoy hotel, a glittering jewel in London’s social scene, where the lives of the rich, the famous, and the infamous intertwine.
Here, amid the cocktails and the jazz, two women with very different pasts try to forget the devastation of the Great War and forge a new life in a city where those who dare to dream can have it all.
Dolly Lane is The Savoy’s newest chambermaid, her prospects limited by a life in service. But her proximity to the dazzling hotel guests fuels her dreams—to take the London stage by storm, to wear couture gowns, to be applauded by gallery girls and admired by critics . . . to be a star, just like her idol, Loretta May.
The daughter of an earl, Loretta has rebelliously turned her back on the carefully ordered life expected of a woman at the top of society’s elite. She will love who she wants, and live as she likes. Outwardly, her star burns bright, but Loretta holds a dark secret. She alone knows that her star cannot burn forever.
When an unusual turn of events leads Dolly’s and Loretta’s lives to collide, they must both learn to let go of their pasts in order to hold on to what they most desire.

“As sweet as a love song, as energetic as a tap dance, and full of dazzling details.”—Jeanne Mackin, author of The Beautiful American

Purchase Links
HarperCollins | Amazon | Barnes & Noble

Review:
Dorothy Lane, Dolly to her friends, has always dreamed of more for herself than to be a maid. However, as World War I approaches, her love, Teddy is sent off and things change drastically for them both. Teddy returns with shell shock and Dolly has endured much in his absence. Now, Dolly chases adventure in London where she finds employment as a maid to the stars at the Savoy. While at the Savoy, Dolly takes up an advertisement for a musician looking for a muse. Perry Clements is a struggling composer, his sister Loretta May is a starlet of the stage. Dolly agrees to inspire Perry while Loretta teaches her to stand out in a crowd and brings Dolly closer to the life she has dreamed about.

A tantalizing story about love, loss, recovery and ambition that spans World War I through the Jazz Age in London. Switching points of view between Dolly, Loretta and Teddy there is a very full view of the damaging effects of the war from every angle. Dolly's was the most intriguing for me as her secrets kept during the war unravel and she begins to finally realize her dreams. Dolly is a true dreamer and adventurer. I admired her resilience and ability to chase her fantasy life. Teddy's point of view was also crucial for me, even though it didn't quite fit in with the Dolly and Loretta's shared experiences. His struggle with shell shock and remembering what he could have had was very delicately done and drew me into his experience. Finally, what drew me into the book was the setting and time period, the glamour of the Savoy was brilliantly described and the mood of the time could be imagined through the descriptions of music, theatre, dance and dress.

About the Author:
Hazel Gaynor's 2014 debut novel The Girl Who Came Home—A Novel of the Titanic was a New York Times and USA Today bestseller. A Memory of Violets is her second novel.
Hazel writes a popular guest blog 'Carry on Writing' for national Irish writing website writing.ie and contributes regular feature articles for the site, interviewing authors such as Philippa Gregory, Sebastian Faulks, Cheryl Strayed, Rachel Joyce and Jo Baker, among others.
Hazel was the recipient of the 2012 Cecil Day Lewis award for Emerging Writers and was selected by Library Journal as one of Ten Big Breakout Authors for 2015. She appeared as a guest speaker at the Romantic Novelists' Association and Historical Novel Society annual conferences in 2014.
Originally from Yorkshire, England, Hazel now lives in Ireland with her husband and two children.
Find out more about Hazel at her website, and connect with her on Facebook and Twitter.

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The Kaminsky Cure

6/9/2016

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About the Book
Title: The Kaminsky Cure
Author: Christopher New
Genre: Historical Fiction, Women’s Fiction
The Kaminsky Cure is a poignant yet comedic novel of a half Jewish/half Christian family caught up in the machinery of Hitler’s final solution. The matriarch, Gabi, was born Jewish but converted to Christianity in her teens. The patriarch, Willibald, is a Lutheran minister who, on one hand is an admirer of Hitler, but on the other hand, the conflicted father of children who are half-Jewish. Mindful and resentful of her husband’s ambivalence, Gabi is determined to make sure her children are educated, devising schemes to keep them in school even after learning that any child less than 100% Aryan will eventually be kept from completing education. She even hires tutors who are willing to teach half-Jewish children and in this way comes to hire Fraulein Kaminsky who shows Gabi how to cure her frustration and rage: to keep her mouth filled with water until the urge to scream or rant has passed.

Author Bio
Christopher New was born in England and was educated at Oxford and Princeton Universities. Philosopher as well as novelist, he founded the Philosophy Department in Hong Kong University, where he taught for many years whilst writing The China Coast Trilogy (Shanghai, The Chinese Box and A Change of Flag) and Goodbye Chairman Mao, as well as The Philosophy of Literature. He now divides his time between Europe and Asia and has written novels set in India (The Road to Maridur), Egypt (A Small Place in the Desert) and Europe (The Kaminsky Cure). His books have been translated into Chinese, German, Italian, Japanese and Portuguese. His latest novel, Gage Street Courtesan, appeared in March 2013.

Links
http://www.christophernew.com/
http://www.delphiniumbooks.com/book/the-kaminsky-cure/
http://www.amazon.com/Kaminsky-Cure-Christopher-New/dp/1883285674/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8

Review:
A young boy is growing up in a half-Jewish half-Aryan household at the dawn of World War II. He is thoroughly confused as to what all of this means, especially because his father is a Lutheran minister and his mother had converted long ago. All he is aware of is that danger is all around. His mother, Gabi is forced to enter her own fight for her survival and for the rights of her children, now classified as half Jews. The children’s education is constantly attacked and Gabi is ferocious in her determination to have her children educated. Classified as a Jewish woman, but a privileged Jewish woman since she is married to an Aryan, Gabi must be extra careful, especially when she speaks. For this, she employs the Kaminsky cure, holding water in your mouth for a minute before you speak.

Told from the point of view of the youngest Brinkmann son, a unique experience unfolds. Through his eyes, the confusion, frustration and bleakness of WWII is shown in an honest manner. With many moments of light humor, the plight of the half-Jewish Brinkmann's is portrayed. My heart bled as our narrator struggled with understanding what was happening, his confusion of being half-Jewish and whether or not he should say "Heil Hitler" or feel for the Jewish cause; as he grows and the war progresses his understanding increases and his attitude changes. Overall, a different, heartbreaking and insightful story of WWII.

This book was received for free in return for an honest review.

Excerpt:
Well here I am at five and three-quarters

It’s Christmas 1939 in a little Austrian village that’s now part of Hitler’s Third Reich and I’m just beginning to notice things. Like what my brother and sisters are about and why my parents are often crying and my father usually shouting when he isn’t crying. I think it has something to do with the war we’re fighting, which according to the wireless is due to The International Jewish Con-spiracy, whatever that is. But that’s not all. I don’t know it yet, but I was born at the wrong time and in the wrong place.

Not that it wasn’t quite an achievement getting me born at all. I arrived too early, presented myself the wrong way round (Was I trying to climb back inside? You couldn’t blame me), there was no doctor, and the midwife had to yank me out like a cork from a bottle. No wonder I protested. No wonder my mother never had another child, either—both of us had had enough. But anyway there I was, a pint-sized runt, the last of the litter, and that’s how I’ve stayed.

Achievement or not though, you could say my getting born, or conceived for that matter, was really a big mistake. First of all there’s the as yet unraised question of my paternity. (Paternity’s
going to be a favorite topic in my family.) And then there’s the un-doubted fact, though I don’t know that yet either, that my mother Gabi is a Jew (she converted to Christianity in her teens), while my very Aryan father Willibald Brinkmann—if he is my father—is a Lutheran pastor who has a sneaking admiration for Hitler. (Many Lutheran pastors have, and for some of them it isn’t sneaking, ei-ther—they’re openly trying to prove that Jesus wasn’t really a Jew.) On top of that they don’t like each other anyway.

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My Last Love Story

6/7/2016

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About the Book:

Perfect for fans of Jojo Moyesâ€™s, Me Before You, My Last Love Story is a heartbreakingly romantic tale about the complexities of trauma and whether love can right a wrong.

I, Simeen Desai, am tired of making lemonade with the lemons life has handed me.

Love is meant to heal wounds.
Love was meant to make my world sparkle and spin.
Love has ripped my life apart and shattered my soul.

I love my husband, and he loves me.
But Nirvaan is dying.
I love my husband. I want to make him happy.
But he is asking for the impossible.

I donâ€™t want a baby.
I donâ€™t want to make nice with Zayaan.
I donâ€™t want another chance at another love story.

Book Links:
Goodreads * Amazon US * Amazon IN

Advance Praise:

At once heartbreaking, delightful and completely unexpected. A must read!
~ Sonali Dev, author of The Bollywood Affair

In My Last Love Story, Kothari examines love and loss, desire and desolation, with a deft, wry touch that kept me reading late into the night and moved me to tears.
~ Julia Tagan, author of Stages of Desire

Dreamcast for My Last Love Story

Which fiction author does not dream of having her book adapted onto the big screen? I think most authors start dreaming from the first written word as we have to imagine our heroes and heroines and who better to imagine them as than movie actors?

If My Last Love Story gets a movie deal, hereâ€™s who Iâ€™d wish to cast in it:

Simeen must be played by Alia Bhatt because she fits the body type (petite and loose-limbed), the age bracket (30-ish), and their facial and other physical features match wonderfully (sweet, gamine face + wavy hair + a nose that stands out.)

Nirvaan can be played by Ranveer Singh (my current Bollywood crush!), again because having seen him in Dil Dhadakne Do, I think heâ€™d fill Nirvaanâ€™s daredevil shoes very well.

Zayaan is a toss up between Fawad Khan from Kapoor and Sons fame or Riz Ahmed from The Reluctant Fundamentalist (movie.) I feel both actors have the right savoir faire on screen and off screen to be perfect for the role.

And thatâ€™s my dream cast for MLLS. Once you read the book, let me know if you agree or disagree with my choices.

Best,

Falguni.

Read an Excerpt:

Dear Readers, thank you for coming along on the My Last Love Story Blog Tour. Hereâ€™s an excerpt to enjoy.

ONE

â€œLove is a dish best served naked.â€

As a child, those oft-quoted words of my father would have me rolling my eyes and pretending to gag at what Iâ€™d imagined was my parentsâ€™ precursor to a certain physical act.

At thirty, Iâ€™d long ago realized that getting naked wasnâ€™t a euphemism for sex.

Neither was love.

It wasnâ€™t my father wording the meme just now but my husband. Nirvaan considered himself a great wit, a New Age philosopher. On the best of days, he was, much like Daddy had been. On the worst days, he was my tormentor.

â€œWhat do you think, Dr. Archer? Interesting enough tagline for a vlog? What about â€˜Baby in a Petri Dishâ€™?â€ Nirvaan persisted in eliciting a response from the doctor and/or me for his ad hoc comedy, which weâ€™d been ignoring for several minutes now.

I wanted to glare at him, beg him to shut up, or demand that he wait in the doctorâ€™s office like he shouldâ€™ve done, like a normal husband would have. Khodai knows why heâ€™d insisted on holding my hand through this preliminary checkup. Nothing of import would happen todayâ€”if it did at all. But I couldnâ€™t perform any such communication, not with my eyes and mouth squeezed shut while I suffered through a series of uncomfortable twinges along my nether regions.

I lay flat on my back on a spongy clinic bed sheeted with paper already wrinkled and half torn. Legs drawn up and spread apart, my heels dug punishingly into cold iron stirrups to allow my gynecologistâ€™s clever fingers to reach inside my womb and check if everything was A-OK in there. Weâ€™d already funneled through the Pap test and stomach and chest checks. Like them, this test, too, was going swell in light of Dr. Archerâ€™s approving happy hums.

â€œExcellent, Mrs. Desai. All parts are where they should be,â€ he joked only as a doctor could.

I shuddered out the breath Iâ€™d been holding, as the feeling of being stretched left my body. Nirvaan squeezed my hand and planted a smacking kiss on my forehead. I opened my eyes and focused on his beaming upside-down ones. His eyelids barely grew lashes anymoreâ€”Iâ€™d counted twenty-seven in total just last weekâ€”the effect of years of chemotherapy. For a second, my gaze blurred, my heart wavered, and I almost cried.

What are we doing, Nirvaan? What in Khodaiâ€™s name were we starting?

Nirvaan stroked my hair, his pitch-black pupils steady and knowing and oh-so stubborn. Then, his face rose to the stark white ceiling, and all I saw was the green-and-blue mesh of his gingham shirtâ€”the overlapping threads, the crisscross weaves, a pattern without end.

Life is what you make it, child. It was another one of my fatherâ€™s truisms.

Swallowing the questions twirling on my tongue, I refocused my mind on why we were here. Iâ€™d promised Nirvaan weâ€™d try for a baby if he agreed to another round of cancer-blasting treatments. Iâ€™d bartered for a few more months of my husbandâ€™s life. Heâ€™d bartered for immortality through our child.

Dr. Archer rolled away from between my legs to the computer station. He snapped off and disposed of the latex gloves. Then, he began typing notes in near-soundless staccato clicks. Though the examination was finished, I knew better than to sit up until he gave me leave. Iâ€™d been here before, done this beforeâ€”two years ago when Nirvaan had been in remission and the idea of having a baby had wormed its way into his head. Weâ€™d tried the most basic procedures then, whatever our medical coverage had allowed. We hadnâ€™t been desperate yet to use our own money, which we shouldnâ€™t be touching even now. We needed every penny we had for emergencies and alternative treatments, but try budging my husband once heâ€™d made up his mind.

â€œIâ€™m a businessman, Simi. I only pour money into a sure thing,â€ he rebuked when I argued.

I brought my legs together, manufacturing what poise and modesty I could, and pulled the sea-green hospital gown bunched beneath my bottom across my half-naked body. I refused to look at my husband as I wriggled about, positive his expression would be pregnant with irony, if not fully smirking. And kudos to him for not jumping in to help me like I would have.

The tables had turned on us today. For the past five years, itâ€™d been Nirvaan thrashing about on hospital beds, trying in vain to find relief and comfort, modesty or release. Nirvaan had been poked, prodded, sliced, and bled as he battled aggressive non-Hodgkinâ€™s lymphoma. Iâ€™d been the stoic spectator, the supportive wife, the incompetent nurse, the ineffectual lover.

And now? What role would I play now?

As always, thinking about our life left me feeling even more naked than I was in the open-fronted robe. I turned my face to the wall, my eyes stinging, as fear and frustration bubbled to the surface. Flesh-toned posters of laughing babies, pregnant mothers, and love-struck fathers hung from the bluish walls. Side by side were the more educative ones of human anatomy, vivisected and whole. The test-tube-like exam room of Monterey Bay Fertility Clinic was decorated in true California beach colorsâ€”sea-foam walls, sandy floors, pearl-pink curtains, and furnitureâ€”bringing the outdoors in. If the decor was meant to be homey, it wasnâ€™t having such an effect on me. This room, like this town and even this country, was not my natural habitat, and I felt out of my element in it.

Iâ€™d lived in California for seven years now, ever since my marriage, and I still didnâ€™t think of it as home, not like Nirvaan did. Home for me was India. And no matter the dark memories it held, home would always be Surat.

â€œAll done.â€ Dr. Archer pushed the computer trolley away and stood up. â€œYou can get dressed, Mrs. Desai. Take your time. Use whatever supplies you need. Weâ€™ll wait for you in my office,â€ he said, smiling.

Finally, I can cover myself, I thought. Gooseflesh had erupted across my skin due to the near frigid clinic temperatures doctors tortured their patients withâ€”like a patient didnâ€™t have enough to suffer already. Medical facilities maintained cool indoor temperatures to deter inveterate germs from contaminating the premises and so its vast flotilla of equipment didnâ€™t fry. I knew that. But knowing it still didnâ€™t inspire any warm feelings in me for the â€œthrong of professional sadists with a god complex.â€ I quoted my husband there.

Nirvaan captured my attention with a pat on my head. â€œSee you soon, baby,â€ he said, following the doctor out of the room.

I scooted off the bed as soon as the door shut behind them. My hair tumbled down my face and shoulders at my jerky movements. I smoothed it back with shaking hands. Long, wavy, and a deep chestnut shade, my hair was my crowning glory, my one and only feature that was lush and arresting. Nirvaan loved my hair. I wasnâ€™t to cut it or even braid it in his presence, and so it often got hopelessly knotted.

I shrugged off the clinic gown, balled it up, and placed it on the bed. I wiped myself again and again with antiseptic wipes, baby wipes, and paper towels until the tissues came away stain-free. I didnâ€™t feel light-headed. I didnâ€™t allow myself to freak. I concentrated on the flow of my breaths and the pounding of my heart until they both slowed to normal.

It was okay. I was not walking out with a gift-wrapped baby in tow. Not today. No reason to freak out.

I reached for my clothes and slipped on my underwear. They were beige with tiny white hearts on themâ€”Victoriaâ€™s Secret lingerie Nirvaan had leered and whistled at this morning.

Such a silly man. Typical Nirvaan, I corrected, twisting my lips.

Even after dressing in red-wash jeans and a full-sleeved sweater, I shivered. My womb still felt invaded and odd. As I stepped into my red patent leather pumps, an unused Petri dish sitting on the workstation countertop caught my eye.

The trigger for Nirvaanâ€™s impromptu comedy, perhaps?

Despite major misgivings about the Hitleresque direction my life had taken, humor got the better of me, and I grinned.

Silly, silly Nirvaan. Baby in a Petri dish, indeed.

About the Author:

Falguni Kothari is an internationally bestselling hybrid author and an amateur Latin and Ballroom dance silver medalist with a background in Indian Classical dance. She writes in a variety of genres sewn together by the colorful threads of her South Asian heritage and expat experiences. When not writing or dancing, she fools around on all manner of social media, and loves to connect with her readers. My Last Love Story is her fourth novel.

Website * Blog * Facebook * Twitter * Pinterest * Goodreads

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A Thousand Salt Kisses

6/5/2016

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About the Book:
Publication Date: April 2016
Wise Ink Press
Series: Salt Kisses, Book One
Genre: Young Adult/Fantasy/Romance/Mer-Stories

Beautiful Crystal White is the new girl on the remote Starfish Island. During a party on the mainland, she goes for a midnight swim with other party goers where she meets the handsome, intriguing Llyr amongst the waves.
As she heads back to shore she realizes that he is not behind her and that nobody at the party remembers him. Crystal can’t seem to shake Llyr from her mind and returns to the beach in the hope of meeting him again. When she finally does, she realizes there may be more truth to the ramblings of the island folk than she thought.
To add more drama to her life, Crystal’s mother and her father are at war over a local power station that is devastating local marine life.
Over a sizzling roller coaster summer, it becomes apparent that all these events are not entirely unrelated and Crystal finds herself both caught up in a deep mystical romance and at the centre of an exploding environmental scandal…
Review:
Crystal is the new girl in Coney Bay on Starfish Island. Her father moved the family out to the small island in order to be able to advocate for the environment against SKANX, a company that is dumping toxic waste into the Atlantic. Trying to fit into island life, Crystal goes to a beach party with her new friend Rosie. When Crystal swims out too far, she is rescued by Llyr, a mysterious guy with a mysterious name. When Crystal can’t seem to find Llyr again, or any locals who even know of him, Crystal learns about a legend surrounding the island. Once she learns of Merfolk, Crystal is in for an interesting summer and a hot romance.

A Thousand Salt Kisses is a young adult paranormal romance with mermaids and strong environmental undertones. As a lover of mermaids and the environment, I did enjoy this book; however it is probably not for everyone and if the other YA paranormal romance stories out there don’t float your boat, then this probably will not, either. Crystal is kind-hearted, caring and beautiful, which is why Llyr falls for her instantly. Llyr is handsome and mysterious, which is why Crystal falls for him instantly. Yes, there is insta-love, and yes, there are more absent than present parents; two YA tropes that are not left out. I did think that the merfolk lore was very interesting and it did actually explain some of the stranger things fairly well, such as their selective invisibility, ability to change from fins to legs, some of their powers and their existence near the island. I really do wish more of the Mer realm was explored, it sounded really interesting. Also, I’m glad that the Mer were actively involved in the fight against the ocean pollution. It seemed like a lot more could have been done with the SKANX plot line and made this book a little fuller than just the romance. When the mystery and danger of SKANX did rear its head near the end, things became much more exciting. An open ending really made me want to know what happens next (winter is coming), so I will probably check out the next book. A little thing that bothered me was the age difference in the relationship between some of Crystal’s friends, seventeen year old girls with twenty-six year old men was just strange to me. Overall, a decent young adult paranormal mermaid romance that may or may not be for you.
This book was received for free in return for an honest review.

About the Author:
Josie is a 31 year-old writer from London. Her Salt Kisses books became popular on Wattpad, and are now also serialised on Radish Fiction. A Thousand Salt Kisses is her third book.
For more information please visit http://www.saltkissesbooks.com/ and https://josiedemuthwriting.wordpress.com/. You can follow author Josie Demuth on Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads, and Wattpad.

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