Indian Readers discussion

The minute our eyes met, I knew what to do: so I stopped in the middle of what I was doing, which was dusting off the glass shield over the ice cream buckets, and stacking up waffle cones here and sugar cones there. From the counter I grabbed a bunch of paper tissues, and bent all the way down, like, to pick something from the floor. Then with a swift, discrete shove, I stuffed the tissues into one side of my bra, then the other, ‘cause I truly believe in having them two scoops—if you know what I mean—roundly and firmly in place--

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I kissed him, so sweet and so long

Janice Spina is copy editor and an award-winning author with nine children's books. She writes poetry and novels, the first of which is Hunting Mariah. I am thrilled to discover her review of My Own Voice:

A Heartbreaking Search for Love and Acceptance!

This is the first book I have read by this talented author. My Own Voice is a powerful story of love, lust, betrayal and loss. Anita is the main character that cannot find herself. With a mother who is tough on her showing her little love and a harsh home environment that she cannot escape from, she meets Lenny, an older man one day with whom she quickly becomes smitten. Unbeknownst to Anita this older man is only looking for a replacement for his beloved wife who has Alzheimer's. Anita just happens to look like Natasha.

The author writes through the slang and uneducated voice of her main protagonist which touches the reader with its simplistic style. She makes the reader care for this poor soul and her search for love and acceptance.

An enjoyable but heartbreaking journey to read that I would recommend to all.

Get ★★★★★ MY OWN VOICE:
#Kindle http://BookShow.me/B013TA3FBS
#Nook http://tinyurl.com/voice-nb
#iTunes http://tinyurl.com/voice-appl
#kobo http://tinyurl.com/voice-kobo
#Smashwords http://tinyurl.com/voice-smsh
#audiobook http://www.amazon.com/dp/B013TA3FBS/

Spring is almost here, a time of blossom, a time to start something new... So I thought I will give you a flavor of three snippets from each of my books in the series Still Life with Memories. They bring with them a bit of the fragrance of this time. Taste them, feel them, let me know if they awaken something new in you--

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Start a new series this spring: Still Life with Memories

Next morning I’m sent home empty-handed, while my baby must stay at the hospital a few more days, to get something called colored light therapy, ‘cause like, he’s been diagnosed with jaundice. But does anyone care? Hello there? I try to call home, for Lenny to come pick me up—but as usual I end up just managing, somehow, to get back on my own. 
I open the bedroom window, and feel warm spring air coming in, blowing gently into my face, which feels like a promise.

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Warm spring air coming in, blowing in my face

Have you ever listened, I mean, really listened to the lyrics of 'Twinkle, twinkle'? The words can truly take on different meanings, which is something I explored in moments of despair and moments of hope in my novel

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A Mother's Lullaby

It ripples all around him, wave after wave. I can tell that it’s starting to sooth him. It’s so full of joy, of delight, even if to him, it’s coming across somewhat muffled. Like a dream in a dream, it’s floating inside, into his soft, tender ear--

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The nature of motherhood

And she told me to stay put, to wait for her, ‘cause she had something crucial, something real big to tell me, like, about the future. I reckon she saw some clue of what was coming—but didn’t quite grasp it, not in full, anyway, ‘cause the next thing you know, ma went out, came back a second later, picked the empty beer bottles, and took them with her. Along the way she gave me a peck, smack in the middle of my forehead, which surprised me--

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I reckon she saw some clue of what was coming

For a while I leaf through this book, which Lenny’s bought me. I bet he’s real excited. He so looks forward to becoming a father, the second time around. I can just see him in my head, like, holding the baby’s hand, guiding him already in his first steps. Then, letting go, he’s gonna take a step or two back, and hold his breath, waiting there for the little one to walk into his open arms--

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Enjoy #FathersDay together: read My Own Voice

✨ Start the summer with a bang: Here are three excerpts, specifically chosen for their impact, from each one of the novels in my series, Still Life with Memories: "That morning in training camp it was not the sound of loading, nor was it that distinct ping that alerted me to danger, but the whisper of blades of grass tearing asunder, falling with a whoosh left and right as the bullet came flying straight at me. Like a thunderbolt, it hit my shoulder--"

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Start the summer with a bang: Still Life with Memories

At such moments I find that I miss being with my ma, who threw me out of her place long ago. I miss her, because inside—where no one else can see—I’m still a child, and because with her I’m at ease, and I don’t have to torture myself, and I don’t have doubts about nothing, ‘cause she makes things cut and dried, even if she has to slap me for it--

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Make it all rise up in smoke