Free Ebooks (11-28-16)

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Hey Sheep! Let Me Sleep by Sigal Adler: “I was lying in my bed; it was already late at night, No dreams arrived, though my eyes were shut tight. I turned over my pillow and I turned it once more, But I was still wide awake just like I was before.

This book is Free on November 28, 2016

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On The Run From Santa by Melinda Kinsman: Find out what happens when Santa issues his first every TOY RECALL! A fun and entertaining rhyming story, which teaches valuable lessons about love and family. This brightly-illustrated picture book is sure to become a favorite at bedtime, especially during the build up to Christmas. Recommended for ages 3-7.

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A Day for Courage by Gloria Repp: Keena, the greedy lizard queen, brings an army of lizards to terrorize Friendship Bog. Pibbin is only a treefrog and he’s too small to fight lizards, but Carpenter Frog—one of the leaders—is missing, so Pibbin sets off to rescue his good friend.

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Trouble with Zee by Gloria Repp: Pibbin the treefrog hops into a terrible choice. Leeper wants to help Uncle Zee with his farm, but Zee turns out to be a slave-driver, and Pibbin figures out how to escape. Wait! What about Leeper? How can Pibbin leave his best friend behind?

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One Creepy Street: The Spider on the Web by Lee Jordan: This type of spider is an expert at deception… This book has been used as an internet safety course for children.

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One Creepy Street: Annica’s Broom by Lee Jordan: Annica should not have texted and tried to re-tweet, for now she was falling towards One Creepy Street!

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The Dark Verse, Vol. 3: Beyond the Grip of Time by M. Amanuensis Sharkchild: 26 award-winning short stories of occult, metaphysical, and fantastical horror that will follow you to the visions of your sleep. For fans of H.P. Lovecraft.

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Kahayatle: Apocalypsis (Book 1) by Elle Casey: My name’s Bryn Mathis. I’m 17. My dad died a year ago, along with all the other adults in the world. I’m almost out of food. The gangs of kids roaming my town are getting more vicious by the day. It’s time to go where they won’t be able to find me…

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Tender Love by Juliette Duncan: After her long-term relationship falls apart, Tessa Scott questions God’s plan for her life. Ben Williams struggles after his wife walks out on him and their teenage son. When Tessa and Ben meet, they’re drawn to each other, but can they let go of their baggage to follow a new path? Will they trust God to equip them with all they need for this journey?

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Wild Rivers West Adventure Series by Win Blevins: Ride down the greatest American rivers of the West with Native Americans, mountain men, French trappers, bold women, and mystical wanderers. Richly told historical fiction. Read it. Live it!

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That Forgotten Little War by Daniel Arias: This novel is an enigma. Based on some facts and pure fiction, ten seemingly independently narratives are woven together to create an intriguing tale based around the Falklands War. It’s not a book only about war, or love, or even espionage, but all of these elements together told in such a way that gives it a cinematographic beauty.

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Naughty & Nice: My True-Life Adventure with Santa Claus by John Phythyon: Holiday hijinks ensue in this totally true mini-memoir of a nine-year-old boy’s mad quest to catch Santa on Christmas Eve. “A Christmas Story” for a new generation.

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History Bytes: 37 People, Places, and Events that Shaped American History by Nick Vulich: Think you know American History? Think again. This book is going to change the way you look at American History.

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The Sorites Principle by Ian Gibbs: This entertaining and useful book is a powerful unification of tips, tricks, and techniques on how to achieve great things via small efforts. So, do you want to lose weight, learn a new language, become a film director or just keep your home neat and tidy? Then the Sorites Principle is just what you need. Learn how to overcome the feelings of futility, procrastination and the inevitable lack of willpower and take your first step towards your life goals.

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How to Quit Your Job with Passive Income by Dustin Heiner: In today’s world, we all are expected to live our lives working for someone else. Working 40+ hours a week at a job you hate, for a boss that is horrible, and wasting your life away for a paycheck. But there is a book that will help you escape the rat race of life and ditch the cubical, assembly line, or dead end job. How to Quit Your Job with Passive Income has been proven to help many people learn the secrets of passive income that only those who are already rich know.

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Rise from Darkness by Kristian Hall: Do you suffer from depression, or know someone that does? Rise from Darkness will give you the tools you need to overcome the illness. Read it now to start your path out of darkness.

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The Backworlds by M. Pax: After the war with the Foreworlders, Backworlders scatter across the remaining planets. Competition is fierce, and pickings are scant. Scant enough that Craze’s father decides to improve his fortunes by destroying his son. He tells his only boy their moon isn’t big enough for them both and gives Craze a ticket for the next transport leaving the space dock.

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Inborn: The Birthright (Book 1) by Amy Saunders: Rosamund has led a semi-normal life despite her alien ancestry. But everything unravels when a killer with multiple powers targets her. How Rosamund reacts will save everyone, or unleash a new era, shattering what “normal” means forever.

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Frey by Melissa Wright: Frey’s life is a lie. She doesn’t remember being bound from magic. She didn’t intend to get entangled in Council business. But she did. And now she’s on the run. As the Council trackers pursue her, Frey discovers a world beyond their lies. With the aid of a stranger, she fights to reclaim her true identity before the others hunt her down. If they find her, she will burn.

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Poacher Hunters by Jack Thanatos: The fast-paced world of the Djinn tosses an inexperienced Belial and a tracker named Eris through the grinder. This violent voyage through the seedy world of poaching and human trafficking teaches just how little they know about their world.

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True Calling by Siobhan Davis: Torn between two different worlds, and two different hearts, Ariana struggles to accept the government’s new arranged marriage policy on Planet Novo. As the Bachelor-style pageant commences, she begins to discover not everything about her new world is as it seems. For fans of The Selection and Matched.

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Guardians: The Girl by Lola StVil: Without speaking out loud, I tell him everything with one sincere, pleading glance. Marcus, choose me, choose the path that is perilous and leads to certain annihilation because it’s also the path that leads to me. They can’t understand that we are powerless to stop what we have for each other. But we know. We know that if we don’t bend to the will of this love, it will break us.

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Desert Dreams: Harvey Girl Romance Series (Book 1) by Zoe Matthews & Evelyn Michaels: Lizzy leaves her Kansas home hoping to find a new life as a Harvey Girl. She enjoys her job at the El Tovar Hotel and plans to work there for a long time. Then she meets Nicholas. Will they both be able to put their pasts aside and admit their love for each other? Based on a true historical event.

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High Witch (Book 1) by Mona Hanna: Brayden dreams for thirty nights, tortured by the vision of a beautiful woman. When Ariel Williams walks into his inn, he sees that she’s the one he’s been obsessed with in his night time journeys. But Ariel is fleeing an arranged marriage and keeps to herself — until the worst happens and she mistakenly casts a spell on a guest. Brayden works with Ariel to help her control her magic but discovers she’s a High Witch – one of only three witches in the world with a rare kind of power.

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The Basilisk’s Creed (Volume 1) by Eme Strife: What happens when an average girl meets the man of her dreams…literally?

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Sweet Revenge Diet by Rose Fox: What happens when love doesn’t go exactly to plan? Is there a way to change it and get back on track? Right from the start, even in Kindergarten, Annabelle was made fun of because of her weight. In High School, she found that it was much the same. Nobody, much less the school heart-throb Damon, would have dated her. So, increasingly in desperation, Annabelle decided to embark on a risky and dangerous diet.

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Sold to the Hitman by Alexis Abbott: Andrei has never been one to play hero, but when he sees the unimaginably perfect Cassie being auctioned off to a horde of sleazy men, he can’t help but place a bid. Can he win his newly purchased bride’s heart?

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Rock You by Candy J Starr: Ruby becomes a live-in housekeeper to escape the world. Tortured rocker Tex has his own reasons for retreating. Forced together, their hardened hearts begin to soften, but can their fledgling love shine brighter than the rock dream?

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Tiger Lily (Part 1) by Amélie S. Duncan: With a past like Lily Salomé’s, there’s not much that surprises her. So when her boss gives her a challenging proposal, she jumps at the opportunity to do the impossible: persuade sexy business mogul Jonas Crane to sign with their publishing company.

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Find Her, Keep Her (A Martha’s Vineyard Love Story) by Z.L. Arkadie: A heartbroken travel writer flees to Martha’s Vineyard to escape her life in shambles. Soon despair turns into desire when she catches the eye of a sexy billionaire. Can he make her forget her past and convince her to become his future? Or will his salacious secret extinguish their steamy-hot whirlwind romance?

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The Secret to Seduction by Ember Casey: A sizzling standalone romance from USA Today bestseller Ember Casey. Felicia has eight days to seduce one of Hollywood’s hottest bad boys. Fortunately, her oh-so-sexy boss is willing to teach her a thing or two about mastering the art of seduction…

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Crushing On You: Travis and Gabriella (An Emerald Falls Romance, Book One ) by Christine Kersey: When Gabriella inherits her aunt’s cottage in Emerald Falls, she’s ready for a change. She’s determined not to let her heart be broken again, but when she runs into a crush from her past, she wonders if taking a chance might be worth the risk after all.

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Right Under Your Nose: A Christmas Story by Holly Tierney-Bedord: When pastry chef Ariadne catches her boyfriend, Scott, cheating on her, she’s so upset that she decides to skip Christmas. After all, how can she celebrate when she’s heartbroken? Her family and friends do their best to brighten her spirits, but it takes the owner of a mysterious bookshop to open her heart to the love that was always right under her nose.

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Trudy, Madly, Deeply by Wendy Delaney: Award-winning Trudy, Madly, Deeply kicks off the Working Stiffs Mystery series with human lie detector Charmaine Digby scoring a job as the County Coroner’s new investigative assistant. Then, the unthinkable happens—a doctor reports the suspicious death of Trudy, a family friend and one of several elderly patients at the hospital whose heart mysteriously stopped. With no physical evidence of foul play, Char’s on the case.

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Winter’s Bite by Hannah Parry: Through her own recklessness, headstrong Isabella Rockwell (15), raised entirely in India in the 19th century, loses the two people she loves most in the world. Sent to England, she must recreate herself to fit in with the street children who become her family in everything but name. But intrigue beckons Isabella when the safety of her rich new acquaintance, Alix (14), comes under threat, and Isabella must look to the harsh lessons of her past.

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Gemini Rising: Mischievous Malamute (Book 1) by Harley Christensen: Arianna Jackson and her Alaskan Malamute live a normal, mundane existence, where nothing out of the ordinary ever happens – until AJ stumbles upon a body in her alley. As if that weren’t enough to upset the balance of normal, the body reveals a secret – one that could mean AJ’s entire life has been a lie.

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The Girl That Care Forgot (Books 1-3) by Andrew Sutherland: Young women are disappearing in the New Orleans area. When Al McNair’s adopted niece becomes one of the missing, he takes action. Using a combination of measured thought and brute force, Al’s relentless searching leads him to a world of exotic beauty and unspeakable terror.

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Maniacal by C.M. Sutter: A nearly decapitated body is found at a local lake and has North Bend in an uproar. Murder doesn’t happen there. As more bodies turn up, Sergeant Jade Monroe needs to act fast. Precious time is ticking away. She must find the person responsible before her loved ones, or herself, are targeted next.

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Dreamthief, Olive Kennedy: Fairy World MD (Book 1) by Tamara Grantham: Visiting Faythander is a nasty business. Forget the fairies and unicorns, most people return with amnesia and mental disorders. Olive Kennedy knows. She’s the therapist who treats patients suffering from Fairy World’s side effects. Traveling back to Faythander wasn’t on Olive’s to-do list. But if she wants to save her godson from an ancient being called the Dreamthief, she has no choice. To complicate matters, she may be losing her heart to a half-crazed Viking warlord.

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Treasured Find by Nancy Corrigan: A call for help drops Royal shifter, Rafe, into a mystery. A human is dead. A shifter child is missing. And the human female connected to both tragedies is hiding a secret. Earning Jazz’s trust before it’s too late is a must. But loving him might be more dangerous than the killer targeting her family.

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Original post: kkmalott.booklikes.com/post/1500801/free-ebooks-11-28-16

Enjoy A Sneak Peek of: TROUBLE WITH A HIGHLAND BRIDE by Amanda Forester!

A lady and a Captain find love on the verge of a devastating war Gwyn Campbell was certain that she would meet her future husband at the Campbell clan’s May Day gathering. But she did not anticipate that the English would choose that day to attack the castle, and she was certainly not expecting to happen upon the injured English Captain, Jack Lockton. The knight is…surprisingly handsome, for her clan’s hated enemy. Gwyn would never let him escape, but as she tends to his injuries, her intrigue grows—as does her heart. And with the Campbells and the English on the verge of war, a forbidden love might become their only hope for peace.

One Alnsworth Castle, 1358 “The English are coming!” A terrified herald ran through the castle making his pronouncement to the gasps of the castle populace. It was the most interesting thing that had happened all day. Gwyn dropped her wooden sword and ran out into the courtyard. She had been practicing swordplay in a spare storage room against a vicious sack of barley, her needlepoint utterly forgotten. She raced up the stone stairs to the wall walk, along with Highlanders from the many clans who had gathered at Alnsworth Castle for the May Day celebration. The English marched into the far side of the valley, several miles away. It should have been a fearsome sight, but Gwyn could not help but be excited at the prospect of adventure. She was always being sheltered from any real danger, and now here she was in the middle of it. Bells rang to warn people, and many of the populace began to run inside the safety of the caste gates as others in the castle prepared the battlements. “Get everyone inside!” commanded David Campbell, Gwyn’s brother and the laird of the Campbell clan. “Get those battlements up! Step lively now!” They had been expecting the English to come for years. It was Gwyn’s good fortune that she was visiting the castle when they finally came to play. “David!” cried Gwyn, pointing to people running toward the castle, some of them still a mile or two away. “They may no’ make it back to the castle in time.” “If any o’ ye lads are hearty o’ heart wi’ a swift mount, go for those who are far afield!” David commanded. Gwyn did not need any further incentive. Though he had unfortunately said “lads,” Gwyn was certain he was using the male pronoun in a generic, not specific, sense. Anyway, it would not do to tease him about semantics now, with him so busy defending the castle. She had a swift mount and feared nothing. Within minutes, she had suited up with her shabby, discarded pieces of armor, two mismatched gauntlets, a hauberk too small for most men to wear, and a dented helm. She ran to the stables and grabbed her mount amidst the chaos, riding out with several other men intent on rescuing the stragglers. Her horse was strong and Gwyn was a swift rider, so she quickly outpaced the others. She raced across the valley and arrived first at a group of children. A young lass who looked to be in her early teens was running as best she could with a toddler in her arms. Beside her were a young boy and girl. “Give me the bairn,” yelled Gwyn through her helm. She was starting to get hot even though it was a cool day. “We must make haste. The Sassenach are at yer heels!” The girl handed over the baby and helped the younger ones mount up behind Gwyn. The horse could carry no more. Gwyn met the eyes of the girl. How old could she be—­thirteen maybe? Only four years younger than Gwyn herself. “I will come back for ye,” promised Gwyn, reading the girl’s silent plea. “Keep running toward the castle.” Gwyn’s ride back to the castle was not as fast. She had a squirming child in one hand, the reins in the other, and small children listing one way then another behind her. When she finally arrived at the gate, she left the children with a serving maid and spun around to make one more trip. “Dinna go!” yelled someone. “The English are too close. The gates must be closed!” “There still be wee ones in the fields,” cried Gwyn. She kicked her mount and raced out of the gates. The English were marching in swiftly, closing in from the far side of the valley. The bright sun glinted off armor, shields, and the tips of their pikes in a display both impressive and terrifying. Mounted knights approached first, followed by divisions of soldiers marching in tight, precise formations. These were not serfs rounded up for a melee; these were seasoned warriors, experienced and deadly. Gwyn leaned forward, galloping across the valley as fast as she could. She hoped the girl had been able to put some distance between her and the approaching English soldiers. It would not go well for her, a young lass caught by an army of men. Finally, Gwyn spotted her. She was struggling across the fields and did not see the English scout crouching in the tall grass behind her. “Run!” yelled Gwyn. The English scout sprinted toward the girl, who screamed and broke into a run. Gwyn raced to the girl, pulling up so sharply the horse reared. The scout was almost upon them, but Gwyn reached out for the girl, pulling her up onto the horse. The English soldier grabbed for the girl, but Gwyn kicked him hard with her boot and the man fell back with the girl’s shoe in his hand. Gwyn urged her mount onward, and they raced back to the castle. Ahead, the castle gates were closing. Gwyn leaned forward, willing her mount to run faster to slip inside before the gates closed. But, no, they were too late. Gwyn was forced to pull up short as the gates closed before her. Gwyn stared at the locked gate. Could she truly be trapped outside? But, no, the gates began to open again to allow the Highland warriors to meet the English army. Gwyn sighed in relief and slipped past them into the castle. “Thank ye. Ye saved my life,” breathed the girl, slipping off the horse to reunite with her family. Gwyn attempted to contain her glee. A real lady would not enjoy such excitement. A real lady wouldn’t go running into danger. But of course, no one had ever accused Gwyn of being a real lady. Her brothers, David, Finn, and Gil, passed her, riding out of the castle to confront the English soldiers. They were resplendent in their armor and the Campbell surcoats. Even Rabbie, only thirteen, rode alongside, carrying their standard high. It was hardly fair that even Rabbie, the baby of the family, was now encouraged to do things that Gwyn, a lass, would never be allowed to do. The Campbells were followed by Laird Douglas and his knights, Grant and his knights, Laird Maclachlan and his knights, along with others. They galloped toward the English troops with a flag of parlay. Several of the men who had ridden to save the people in the valley followed behind their lairds and Gwyn followed suit. If David knew she was following behind, she would catch it something fierce, but with so many men from different clans and her own blond head hidden beneath her helm, she judged the risk of being caught minimal. She kept to the back of the pack but still edged close enough to hear what was said. It was a sunny spring day with a brisk wind that spoke of weather ahead. The English soldiers stood a ways off in perfect formation, an unmoving, inhuman mass. They were the best fighting force in the world, and everyone in the valley knew it. Yet the Highlanders were a fearsome lot and despite many attempts had never been conquered by their strong English neighbor. If it was to be a fight, it would be a bloody one. The knights all stopped about twenty yards from each other. Silence fell on the valley. Gwyn held her breath. David had always said the English would come someday to try to take Alnsworth Castle back under English rule. That day had come. The castle was the inheritance of Lady Isabelle, an Englishwoman, and thus went to David when they were wed. The Scots has used the castle to defend Scotland in the most recent war between the two countries. The castle, though on the border between England and Scotland, was in English territory. And the English wanted it back. “Hail, Alnsworth Castle,” cried an English lord when they were within bowshot of each other. “I come with a message from His Majesty the King of England and France. You are inhabiting the castle and grounds belonging to Sir John Lockton. It is hereby demanded that you remove yourselves immediately or a state of war will exist between us.” “I am the Laird Campbell,” bellowed her brother at them. “I am the rightful master of Alnsworth Castle through marriage to Lady Isabelle, the Countess o’ Tynsdale. I dinna recognize yer claim of ownership.” “Alnsworth Castle was granted to Lady Isabelle’s cousin, Sir John Lockton, by His Majesty King Edward the third.” One of the mounted knights held aloft a scroll. “Yer king is not my king. I dinna recognize his authority over me, my people, or my land. However, I am willing to negotiate a settlement for this fine castle following the terms I have set.” The knights conferred. “What are these terms?” asked a younger knight. Campbell nodded to a knight from the Maclachlan clan, who took up a bow. Gwyn gripped her reins. Was it to be war? The knight released his shaft and it flew true to the wooden shield slung at the side of one of the knights. It stuck into the wood, a small bundle of papers wrapped around the arrow shaft. He had shot their terms in a message attached to the arrow, now stuck to the shield. “Who are you to make demands of us on English soil?” cried one of the English knights. “You are trespassers here! You must leave at once. Alnsworth belongs to the Locktons by decree of the king. Leave at once or be forced out like any other base thief.” Without thinking, Gwyn urged her mount forward. The English scum had insulted her brother. If there was to be a fight, she was going to be in it, whether her bother approved or not. Fortunately, David kept a cooler head than her. “My, but yer words so quickly turn to threats. But this is the English way, no?” “Enjoy your mocking words, knave,” growled the Englishman. “They will soon be all you have to eat. When you are ready to discuss terms for your surrender, let us know. Until then, we will consider you our enemy and a state of—­” “Wait!” One of the English knights rode forward, removing his helm. Gwyn’s jaw dropped. The man was surprisingly young, with dark hair and chiseled features. It was wrong to have such a handsome man be her enemy. If there was any justice in the world, her enemies would all be troll-­like. But the man before her was the most bonny lad she had ever seen. “I am Sir John Lockton,” called the young man. “Heir to Alnsworth Castle after my fair cousin Isabelle. Let us send forth envoys to discuss your terms for a peaceable solution. I am reluctant to take up arms against the kinsman of my cousin, yet once roused to anger, the army under the Lockton flag will never be defeated.” “’Tis the youngest among ye that has the most sense,” called David. “I will agree to send an envoy tomorrow to discuss terms. Until then, enjoy the hospitality of my valley. Good day to ye, Sir John.” David spun his mount as did all the knights, and Gwyn hustled to do the same and ride off before she could be spotted. She could not help but look back once more at the handsome knight. Truly, it was a pity to waste such fine features on an Englishman. ***

 

Original post: kkmalott.booklikes.com/post/1500799/enjoy-a-sneak-peek-of-trouble-with-a-highland-bride-by-amanda-forester

Enjoy A Sneak Peek of: Girls in the Moon by Janet McNally!

Everyone in Phoebe life tells a different version of the truth. Her mother, the ex-rock star, shares only the post-fame calm that Phoebe's always known. Her sister Luna, indie rock darling of Brooklyn, preaches a stormy truth of her own making. And her father hasn't said anything at all since he stopped calling three years ago. When Phoebe visits Luna in New York, she's determined to find out how she fits in to this family of storytellers, and maybe even to continue her own tale—the one with the musician boy she's been secretly writing for months.   LEARN MORE

One   Secrets, my mother told me once, are just stories turned inside out. We were sitting in the backyard on a clear dark night, and because I could see Cassiopeia's lazy zigzag in the sky above me, I pictured a star folding in on itself until it collapsed. It would leave a blinking black space above the atmosphere, I knew, yawning and hungry and full of words. It would be insatiable. But I didn't tell my mother this. Instead, I told her that she sounded suspiciously like a lyric from one of my father's songs. I knew she'd know the one: Inside this secret are all the stories you used to tell, years and months and days ago, when I knew you so well. My mother smiled and shrugged. "Yeah, because I wrote that line." She turned her face up toward the jet-black, star-dusted sky and, true to form, wouldn't say anything else about it. This story stayed front to back and right side in, always. So I looked for proof on my own that night, like I had so many times before, sneaking back down the stairs after my mother went to bed. I went to her CD cabinet and stood in the circle of amber streetlight shining in through the window. I ran my finger over the ridged plastic of their spines until I saw his name, Kieran Ferris, and the title of his first solo record, Haven, which came out when I was three. I slipped the glossy liner notes from the case and I found the space for the song called "Secret Story." Their names—K. Ferris, M. Ferris—huddled close in parentheses after the title, a year after they broke up. In a few dozen songs, in a sprinkling of small places like this, they'd be together forever.   In three hours I'll be on a plane to New York to see my sister, Luna, but right now I'm in the kitchen, trying to get my suitcase to close. It's August and the room feels like a fever. I lie down flat on top of the case and pull the zipper as hard as I can, but its edges still won't meet. I rest my cheek on the nylon and take a deep breath. It's so hot I could almost believe all the water in my body is slowly evaporat- ing into the air. My hair slides damply across my forehead and pools on the hardwood floor. Lying there, I take out my phone and type a text, a lyric that just floated into my head. Sunbeam headed in the wrong direction, mixed-up gleam in the sky. I look at the words on the screen for a second, and then I press send. Just then, my mother's face pops up in the window closest to me and I jump. "Almost ready?" she asks. Through the screen her face is blurry, a pale oval with a mass of dark hair piled on top. She's been a little jittery since I bought my plane ticket, though I know she won't admit it. Instead, she's cleaned every inch of our house and just this morning declared war on the weeds. She's been in the backyard for hours, yanking out crabgrass and decapitating dandelions. Over her shoulder I can see the enemy combatants wilting in a sad pile at the edge of the driveway. Of course, with my mother, it's never enough for her just to do it, either. She also has to narrate it through the window while I'm eating my breakfast. The gist of it is I am woman, hear me weed, et cetera, et cetera, through my whole bowl of oatmeal. "Um, yeah, I'm almost there." I sit up and bounce lightly on top of the suitcase, finally managing to yank the zipper shut. It's Luna's old one: small and dark green, a little dirty at the corners. It's stuffed to bursting. I had a hard time making decisions about what to bring because I can't be certain which Luna I'll find when I arrive. Will it be Sweet Syrupy Luna, exhaling love and kindness with every breath, or Dormant Volcano Luna, all her energy and leftover anger channeled somewhere beneath the surface? She's always changing, shifting, and I want to be prepared. My sister last came home in April for her spring break, and that's when she told my mother she wasn't going back to Columbia for her sophomore year. Not now, she said, but she'd go back eventually. This fall, she'd tour the West Coast with her band beginning in September. "They're letting me take a leave," she said. "I went to the reg- istrar and everything." She was looking out the window instead of at my mother. The magnolia tree bloomed furiously just past the pane, pressing its long creamy petals against the glass. "I'm keeping the scholarship," Luna said. My mother didn't say anything. Her brow was furrowed and her lips were pulled thin. Luna took a deep breath. "I thought you' d understand," she said to our mother. "You left school before you finished too. And you went back. Eventually." From my spot on the couch across from her, I didn't see how Luna could expect her to understand. Our mother wouldn't even talk about her time in Shelter. How could anyone think she'd be fine if Luna left school to follow more or less the same path? "I have to do this now," my sister said. "I won't get another chance." I waited for my mother to tell her no, but she just took a breath and let it out. "Okay," she said. Then she went out to the garage and started working on a ten-foot-tall, spiky sculpture she sold a month or so later to one of the Buffalo Sabres. He had it installed in front of his McMansion way out in Spaulding Lake, where it glittered hazard- ously in all that wealthy-neighborhood sunlight. I joked to Ben later that the sculpture was basically forged out of anger. He nodded. "Hockey players need that energy," he said. "They're always bashing heads." "So what you're telling me," I said, "is that I should be happy my mother makes art from her rage, rather than the alternative— whatever it might be." He nodded. "Just checking," I said. My mother is still at the window, staring at me. Her forearms rest on the windowsill, and I can see that she is displaying her "concerned mom" face. "Nothing to see here," I say. "Just having some technical difficulties. It's under control." She ducks down again, no doubt looking for rogue ragweed tucked under the hydrangeas. She could go all day. For one thing, the woman doesn't feel the heat. She's an artist who sculpts with metal, and she's happiest with a blowtorch in her hand, its arc of blue flame as focused as a shooting star. Her art department pal Jake calls her Goddess of the Forge, and it has as much to do with her temper—like Luna's, a slow burn that leads to an eruption some- where further down the line—as the metalwork itself. She works in a studio she built in our garage, and I try to stay out of the whole thing lest I be smited (smote?) by her. My dog, Dusty (Springfield, obviously), slurps water out of her silver bowl and I walk over to refill it. When I put the bowl back on the floor, I look out the window, stuck open just more than halfway in the humidity. The inside tracks are lined with a hundred years of paint and it never goes any farther in the summer, which is one of the many charms of a Victorian house. Luna and I were born in New York, where my parents lived in a loft in the West Village, cluttered with records and amps and guitars. I was almost two when they broke up and my mother took us back to Buffalo, where my grandparents lived—where she herself had grown up. She bought our house, which was crumbling. She fixed it up. My grandparents helped as much as she'd let them, but she did practically all the work herself. Which explains this window. Looking at her in the yard right now—weeding her garden in a purple sundress, her hair in a messy bun, her feet bare and a little dirty—you'd never know her secret, the person she used to be. You'd never know that twenty years ago, my mother was the first girl on the moon. It sounds crazy, I know. But it's not what you think. There was no puffy white space suit, no sky filling with stars until it looked like a geode split open in the dark. She didn't get to stand at the edge of an empty lunar sea, ankle-deep in dust, and look back at the jewel of our planet, spinning. It was simpler than that, more earthbound and symbolic. In any case, as I've said before, she won't talk about it: the moon, the music, and all the other things that hap- pened before my sister was born. Now, I lug my suitcase over the threshold, trying to hold the door open with my foot at the same time. Dusty rushes to leave too, and we have a minor traffic jam until she frees herself by hopping over my shin. Outside I consider pitching my suitcase off the edge of the porch so I won't have to bump it down the stairs, but I think better of it. My mother is eyeing me. "Looks pretty heavy," she says. She's leaning back against the car, her hot pink gardening gloves tossed aside into the grass. "Um, not so much." I continue tugging, trying not to grunt audibly. I keep my eyes on her as I bump the suitcase down each stair, a small (fake) smile frozen on my face. At the bottom, I take a deep breath and pull out the handle to use the wheels. "On the plus side," I say, heaving the bag up into her open trunk, "I'm totally working on my muscles." I flex one bicep as a demonstration. "I can really tell," she says dryly. Dusty dances around her feet making quiet snuffling sounds, trying to convince my mother to take her somewhere in the car. "Soon, Dusty," she says, and at her words Dusty lies down in the grass, her chin on her paws. I can smell the knockout roses, sweet and heavy as vintage perfume, releasing their scent under the window as if they're ani- mals frightened by my mother's onslaught. I bend my head toward them. "Don't worry," I say in a stage whisper, "she's not coming for you." My mother smiles. "Hey," she says. "I'm an efficient weeder. It looks great out here." "Queen of the Garden," I say. She nods. "Well, I have one more thing to add to your suitcase," she says, raising her pointer finger. "It's in the studio. Why don't you take Dusty out front and I'll be ready when you come back?" This is a strategy my mother has employed since I was a toddler: distract and occupy. I open my mouth, ready to protest, but she's already disappearing into the garage. So I follow Dusty out toward the street and hum a song I tried to forget a long time ago. The sun is a gleaming white hoop in the sky and the sidewalk is hot under my bare feet. Down the street, a lawn mower whirs like a sleepy bee. I'll be gone from this spot in a few minutes, from this city in a few hours. My summer ends for real in a week. So of course this is the moment—when I'm so close to leaving, to finally being gone—that Tessa finally shows up.

 

Original post: kkmalott.booklikes.com/post/1500798/enjoy-a-sneak-peek-of-girls-in-the-moon-by-janet-mcnally

Movie Night: Forsaken

Review:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kiefer and Donald Sutherland share the screen in this brooding western about an embittered gunslinger who attempts to make amends with his estranged father whilst their community is besieged by ruthless land-grabbers.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                                    

 

                 

I probably would have rated this movie four stars instead of five but its been so long since I've been able to find a western that I really felt was worth the view and the time investment that when I finished this movie and liked it so much I was thrilled.

I don't think I've connected (emotionally) to a western like this one since Tombstone hit.

Sure there have been some okay ones along the way but Forsaken grabbed me by the heart and that says something. It wasn't big on the action impression and it felt a little long in places but I was more interested in the cast and their characters.

Its a seriously fantastic cast too but what had me so in awe in this film was Kiefer and Donald Sutherland's acting. Seriously, I was about in tears right along with them at the end.

If you haven't seen this movie check it out the bond between father and son and their hearts who have been broken by life is just beautiful.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Original post: kkmalott.booklikes.com/post/1500797/movie-night-forsaken

Movie Night: Lights Out

Review:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When her little brother, Martin, experiences the same events that once tested her sanity, Rebecca works to unlock the truth behind the terror, which brings her face to face with an entity that has an attachment to their mother, Sophie.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                                    

 

 

 

I honestly can't believe that when the creators of this movie viewed the final cut they looked at it and said "yep, this is the one we want to hit theaters."

After I watched the end of the movie I sat back and thought of how bad I felt for the actors for having been involved in this movie because really it doesn't due them justice at all. Its a great cast but the way they executed the story in this movie is just sad.

I was bummed out as a viewer because this movie had so much potential to be so much more than it turned out to be.

By the end I really felt that had I been one of the persons responsible for writing it I should have chucked out the script they used and completely re-wrote it using the same idea but I would have given it so much more.

Why they didn't cash in on its possibilities is beyond me but I'm sure this film will get slotted for half a dozen prequels and sequels. Heck they're doing them for The Ring and the Grudge why not this one too?

Lights Out wasn't horrible but it really could have been great if they'd put enough effort into it. I just hoped that it would have been much more than just a jack in the box scare film without the life it really needed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Original post: kkmalott.booklikes.com/post/1500795/movie-night-lights-out