I’m visiting Samhain and Wild Rose Press author Marie-Nicole Ryan…Come in out of the cold and say hi!
Tag Archives: Paris
More Incredible Books and Amazing Authors
Well it’s that time again. Since my last post on this subject I’ve read more and remembered more titles that stood out in my memory as books of note. I’ve just finished, The Road Home, by Rose Tremain. It was in my TBR pile and did not disappoint. Tremain is truly one of my favorite authors. Although the characters suffer through the trials and tribulations of life, remarkably, all of her work leaves me with an uplifted feeling. (See my previous post on other titles I’ve read by her.) I have just received, via interlibrary loan, an earlier work by her, Letter to Sister Benedicta. I’m curious to see how her writing style has developed. I’ve no doubt that she was just as amazing then as she is now. Something to look forward to ~ her latest, Trespass! According to the product description on Amazon, the story takes place in southern France and is “an electrifying novel about disputed territory, sibling love, and devastating revenge…” Unfortunately, it won’t be available in the States until October. I may have to go to the U.K. site and attempt to order it there. She’s that good…
Another favorite author, Sandra Gulland, is working on a new novel! Not exactly certain when it will be out but according to her blog, (which is quite interesting and also provides helpful tips for writers), it will take place in 17th century France. Ah…one of my favorite time periods to read about. So looking forward to the release! Writing fiction is challenging enough, but to write historical fiction must be doubly so. She recently returned from a research trip to France. Aside from the intellectual stimulation of the research, I’d find the travel aspect particularly rewarding. I’m certain she was probably busy with all it entailed but I hope she also set aside some time to enjoy her stay.
Again, in no particular order, more good books! Corelli’s Mandolin, by Louis de Bernieres, is set on a Greek island during the Nazi Occupation. Yes, there is a movie based on the book, but I haven’t seen it. (I always think the books are much better than the movies.) The Last Troubadour: Song of Montsegur, by Derek Armstrong. The story takes place in 13th century France and centers on the Inquisition and the Cathar “heresy”. Despite the subject matter, it is an entertaining read filled with rich characters who you won’t soon forget. I’d like to see more fiction by this very talented author, and the sequel, The Last Quest: Song of Monsegur, back in print!
Also check out: The Country Life, by Rachel Cusk, Palace Walk, by Naguib Mahfouz (the first in a trilogy taking place in Cairo), My Name is Red, and Snow, by Orhan Pamuk, a great Turkish writer. I’m getting sleepy! Stop by again for more good reads.
A Snippet of Love and Romance
As a writer of both erotica and romance, I thought I’d provide you with an excerpt of my romance novel, Second Chances, published by Bookstrand. Somewhat sweet, somewhat sensual, it is the story of three women, ranging in age from 18 to 50+, who get a second chance at life and love! The novel takes place in the U.S. and France, from a small town in the South to NYC, and from Paris to Carcassonne. In fact, the photo of the fortress currently on the header of my blog was taken in Carcassonne, and is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. It was one of the many places I visited on my honeymoon:-)…along with my beloved city of Paris. Just like the women in my novel, I found love when I least expected to;-). Second Chances is now available both digitally and in print. I hope to have some updates for you regarding a few other projects I’m working on. Hope you enjoy!
Excerpt:
Always an early riser, Jeanne rose with the sun, regardless of the time her head hit the pillow. At exactly five, her eyes popped open. Just as well. There was plenty to do. She donned her bathing cap and swimsuit, and before six had completed ten laps in the pool. Harry had given her a difficult time about installing it, but she knew if she could convince him it would be good for business the pool would be hers.
The only form of exercise that didn’t bore her, swimming sculpted her fifty-four year old body. The result was a sleek and toned look—all the incentive she needed to jump in each morning at exactly five fifteen. All thoughts drifted from her mind as her body took over, her breathing rhythmic and the movement of her arms and legs, synchronized.
* * * *
Gwen stood near the bedroom window and watched Jeanne complete lap after lap. Why, the older woman was in better shape than she was. She examined herself in the mirror and frowned, turning away. No wonder Jay left me for another woman. Look at me! Lumpy clusters of cellulite formed pockets around her thighs, and her muscle tone reminded her of one big bowl of Jell-O.
Admittedly, she had allowed all those society luncheons to go straight to her hips and thighs. Her sallow complexion gave no indication that summer had arrived. After throwing on a robe, she plopped onto the side of the bed and felt the tears coming on. A knock at the door constructed the only barrier between her composure and another crying jag.
“Gwen, are you awake?” whispered Delia. The wind chime effect of her voice surprised Gwen each time she heard it. She rose and opened the door. There stood Delia. The freshness of youth belied the effects of the festivities of the night before. Oh, to be young again.
“Hey, what do you say we go for a swim? I know it’s early, but I just love the water and I figured you could use a swim.”
“You noticed, huh?”
“Noticed what, Gwen?”
“That I need to drop a few pounds, that I need some exercise, that I’m overweight, and just not what I used to be?”
“Well, no, that’s not exactly what I meant, Gwen. You look fine to me. I just wanted some company. But, hey, if that’s how you really feel, then it can’t hurt to join me, can it?”
Gwen found herself at a loss for words. I suppose she’s right, she thought. Before she could respond, Delia interrupted.
“Larry never appreciated my opinions, but I was never one to hold back on them. I tell it like it is most times, Gwen. Now I’m going to throw on a T-shirt and shorts and I’ll meet you down there.”
Delia was already in the pool when she arrived downstairs. Jeanne, in the kitchen preparing breakfast, hummed to herself.
“Go on, Gwen. Go for a swim with the girl. She could use some company. Seems to me she’s had a hard life for a child so young.” Jeanne made a clucking sound with her tongue and shook her head. “I don’t know what the world is coming to. God only knows where her mother and father are, but I tell you, if she were mine, she wouldn’t be running around almost getting herself killed.”
“You’re right, Jeanne. She can use the company, and I can use the exercise, so off I go. But look, let’s talk later. I don’t know what Delia has in mind as far as where she’s headed, but I can’t see dropping her off on some street corner and leaving her in the hands of who or whatever is out there. She’s got a good head on her little shoulders, and you know I’ve grown quite fond of her in this short time.” Gwen knew that she couldn’t allow Delia to put her life at risk on the streets again. “Funny, though, here I am giving advice and I don’t even know where I’m going!”
“Oh, you’ll find your way, dear. You’re young and attractive. Why, you have your entire life ahead of you,” said Jeanne, sorting through a colander filled with blueberries.
“Do you really think so?”
“Have you ever looked at yourself?” Jeanne wiped her hands on the apron tied around her waist and turned to Gwen. “You probably don’t even realize how lovely you are.”
Gwen’s eyes grew moist. “Thanks, Jeanne. I really needed to hear that. Now I’d better get out there before I change my mind.” She wrapped her towel around her waist and snatched a blueberry from the sorted and washed batch. Smiling at Jeanne, she made her way down to the pool.
Delia floated on her back then broke into a leisurely backstroke when she arrived. “Come on in,” she shouted, “the water’s fine!” At home in the water, she slid under then emerged. Hair slicked back and glistening in the sun, her smile revealed even white teeth.
“Okay, Miss Mermaid, give me a moment, won’t you?” Gwen shed the towel that covered the shorts and tank top she’d hurriedly stuffed into her small luggage bag. Delia giggled and continued gliding across the sparkling surface of the water. She slipped into the pool and began the process of becoming reacquainted with the water. Never comfortable in water, it took her a few moments to get her bearings. I must have drowned in a past life, she thought as she tried to coordinate the movement of her arms and legs in addition to trying to breathe without inhaling water. She’d do okay in a swimming pool with a lifeguard nearby, but if she happened to go overboard on a cruise or sailboat in a real body of water, she’d be a goner. It wasn’t long until those swimming lessons she’d hated as a girl came back to her with each stroke.
She counted the laps in her head and decided that six would be enough for today. She lost her concentration when she detected what she thought was a muffled scream. Gwen lifted her head above the water in time to see Delia dragged—kicking and screaming—toward an old Chevy by a giant of a man.
What is the secret?
Is it ever okay to share a secret? I suppose it depends on what that secret is…There is a book by Rhonda Byrne entitled, The Secret. It promises to reveal the keys to obtaining health, wealth, and happiness via the laws of attraction. Based on centuries of the ancient wisdom culled from the religions, philosophies, and civilizations of humankind, we learn that like attracts like, the golden rule exists, and that you get back what you give. Sometimes the secret is so no secret at all…
Sounds simple enough. I haven’t read the book, but I’ll share my secret to happiness. Of course, life gets in the way at times, and certain events are out of our control, but why not control what we can, and say nay to the rest? Do you have a dream, a passion, that you’ve thought about for a long, long time? Have you told yourself that it was impossible to accomplish for a variety of reasons? Isn’t it time to explore again that dream or passion that lives inside you? George Eliot, (1819—1880), said, “It’s never too late to be what you might have been.” I find the quote inspiring. What might you have been?
I have encountered many female friends throughout life who’ve felt they were nothing if they didn’t have a man in their lives. Their passion was to find a man…I listened as they told me how each new man could possibly be “the one”. It just didn’t seem possible to me. I wasn’t judging. I just felt that finding the right one was worth the wait, that you couldn’t make it fit. It saddened me to see my friends in such a state. What if they were as passionate about their dreams, their personal goals—that didn’t involve another, as they were about finding a man? I wondered why they didn’t feel that their hopes and dreams were as important as finding the right guy. Could it be that if they pursued their dreams they would feel a sense of fulfillment and accomplishment that would in turn make them more attractive to the opposite sex?
What if they made themselves happy first by enrolling in that class, taking that trip, or moving somewhere they’ve always wanted to live? What if they picked up that paint brush, typed the first words of that novel they’d been meaning to write? What if they took that first step toward making their dreams reality? I’d bet they’d find not only themselves, but also their complementary souls…What do I know about it? It happened to me—in the process of fulfilling my dreams, I found love when I wasn’t looking. I tell you about it one day…
In the interim, check out my links section…Read one of my favorite blogs, The Bold Soul. It’s the story of a woman who decided to follow her dreams. She too, found love along the way…
Second Chances!
I’m very proud to announce that, Second Chances, will be published with Bookstrand on November 17th! This title is close to my heart because I do believe we all deserve a second chance, and that they are indeed possible. What is Second Chances about? Read the blurb below:
Chance encounters bring together three women from very different walks of life and with little in common—except for the desire to obtain a second chance at life…and perhaps even love? A mysterious birthday gift, a husband’s devastating deception, and a secret past during World War II send the women on an unforgettable journey to France that will change their lives forever.
You can get it here: http://www.bookstrand.com/product-secondchances-15948-330.html
I hope you’ll enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!
There’s something about Paris
There’s something about Paris that can have a magical effect upon a woman. One can become reborn in this city just as I did a few years back…From the first moment I spied the Eiffel Tower in the distance, I knew I would be a changed woman. I tingled with excitement and anticipation as the sights and sounds of Paris grew closer. Was it just the magnificent beauty of the City and admiration for the culture and people that had created it that caused this feeling? Or had it also something to do with the fact that the French had always valued femininity and the belief that a woman grew more interesting as she aged, that she had a story to tell that her younger counterparts perhaps did not?
Having come to the realization that I was a woman of “a certain age” in the States, I began to wonder exactly what that meant? All the emphasis in our society is on youth, looking younger than we are, acting younger (not necessarily a good thing); and yet women were chastised if they tried to look, act, or dress too young. Which one was it? I wasn’t exactly enamored of the clothing I was supposed to wear at “my age”-it felt too dowdy, I wasn’t ready to transition into the drab conventional garb designed for my age group. On the other hand, I didn’t want to don the dress of a girl. I wanted to be the woman I was, looking as good as I possibly could-for a woman of a certain age. I wasn’t ready to undergo plastic surgery to maintain a youthful appearance…I thought I was fine the way I was.
Not that I put much stock in what the media and Hollywood have to say, but if you notice, much has changed in the past few years regarding the way a leading lady should look. The prerequisites for today’s sought after actresses should be that they are under 25, have large breasts, perfect teeth, a semi-muscular body-if these qualifications are not met then they can play lesser roles and assume the role of the older woman but not the sexy leading lady. Would the stars of yesteryear make it onto the silver screen of today?
How refreshing it was to see “real” women walking the streets of Paris. “Imperfection” could be beautiful. I saw women with real breasts and teeth and hair as I strolled the avenues of the city. Each one was unique. If she chose to, she could wear her hair long and free at sixty-or short and cropped at forty. Large and beautifully ornate jewelry adorned the older woman as well as the younger…but those I noticed seemed confident and comfortable being who they were. There was no artifice. Perhaps it is something about the French style, the French look…Those who seemed most comfortable in their own skin were confident, it was revealed in their walk, the way they carried themselves down the streets of Paris. Perhaps that was the secret-they were confident. It didn’t matter what their chronological age was, their hair, make-up, and clothing choices were dictated by their personal preferences and how they reflected who they were.
Of course I’m painting both places with a broad brush stroke and making generalizations…I believe we all need to do what makes us feel better about ourselves. However, how we feel about ourselves as women has to come from the inside and not from outside sources.
I came away with a new sense of style and self…and the realization that I didn’t have to follow any preconceived notions of who I should be when I reached “a certain age.” I would be who I was. All that mattered was whether I liked the person I’d become. If not, I could recreate myself every so often. It’s good for the soul…
