Synopsis

Initially optioned as a screenplay, Black Lotus was subsequently selected as a semi-finalist in the Court TV nation-wide contest for best original mystery – a contest drawing more than 2,000 entries. The novel has since been labeled by more than one critic as “filmed noir in a book.”

Written in a unique style, Black Lotus diverts from traditional mystery and becomes something more like The Office TV show – except covered in blood. It uses a real-time technique with the camera always present, following the action and recording the characters as they speak.

The narrative: African American detective Lotus Williams is fired after the death of her young daughter pushes her into a downward spiral of cocaine use. An outstanding detective before her fall, Lotus is finally given another chance with a new police department, this time in New Parise – a city controlled by two drug cartels viciously battling for supremacy.

Meanwhile, a potentially “psychotic” investigative journalist believes that the powerful New Parise officials are behind much of the city’s illegal activity. Coincidentally obsessed with the gorgeous female Chief of Police, Francesca Corelli, this nosy journalist is fired from her newspaper and ordered to get out of town – or else.

It is within this mire of possible corruption and open gang-war that Lotus Williams has her second chance. But Lotus soon finds herself caught in a web of possible deceit and lies that quickly put her own life in danger.

The denouement is a total surprise, although clues are sprinkled liberally throughout the work so the astute reader may be able to solve the mystery.

The novel is slated for publication this summer. Excerpts from and pre-order forms for the novel are available at Treasure Chest Press. A contest whereby readers offer Black Lotus characters advice is now in full-swing. The most salient, practical advice will receive a $100 Amazon gift card. There is no entrance fee; and no solicitations will ensue because of initial entry.

Black Lotus excerpts

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Review

The book is a style of writing that I’m not used to, but once I got into the groove, the book flowed quite well. The story is told from each character’s point of view and in their style, almost as if the writer is interviewing the characters. For example, Butch appears to be s somewhat less educated police officer and it comes across in the writing style.

Almost all of the characters seem to have their own agenda and everything is not as it seems. It was easy to like and dislike the characters, but as the story progressed and ended, it was easy to see how some characters weren’t the “bad guys” and others were. I enjoyed that about the story because it kept me guessing and I never suspected the ending.  There are quite a few strong characters but they do not overshadow each other which could happen.  I think it has to do with how each chapter, or section of a chapter, is from only one character.

We give this 4 1/2 paws and if you want to read this book, go below to enter my giveaway!

About the Author

Lita Lepie is a graduate of Vassar College and was awarded a Master of Fine Arts degree from Sarah Lawrence where she was a personal student of Grace Paley. Author of ten novels, several plays, dozens of short stories and poems for the past twenty years, Lita Lepie has been represented by top NYC literary agents.

Despite only marginal success in print media, her persistence is either to be admired or pitied. She feels passionately driven to write, and, like any other addiction, numerous attempts to give up her avocation have all failed miserably.

The writer lives in NYC with her Pixiebob cat, Hunter, and her African grey Timneh parrot, Pearl. She works as a high-end trainer to private clients. On a freelance basis she is available as a body guard [she has extensive mixed martial arts training] and raconteur.

Giveaway

I am giving away 2 copies of Black Lotus.  Enter below, open to US Residents only

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Synopsis

Initially optioned as a screenplay, Black Lotus was subsequently selected as a semi-finalist in the Court TV nation-wide contest for best original mystery – a contest drawing more than 2,000 entries. The novel has since been labeled by more than one critic as “filmed noir in a book.”

Written in a unique style, Black Lotus diverts from traditional mystery and becomes something more like The Office TV show – except covered in blood. It uses a real-time technique with the camera always present, following the action and recording the characters as they speak.

The narrative: African American detective Lotus Williams is fired after the death of her young daughter pushes her into a downward spiral of cocaine use. An outstanding detective before her fall, Lotus is finally given another chance with a new police department, this time in New Parise – a city controlled by two drug cartels viciously battling for supremacy.

Meanwhile, a potentially “psychotic” investigative journalist believes that the powerful New Parise officials are behind much of the city’s illegal activity. Coincidentally obsessed with the gorgeous female Chief of Police, Francesca Corelli, this nosy journalist is fired from her newspaper and ordered to get out of town – or else.

It is within this mire of possible corruption and open gang-war that Lotus Williams has her second chance. But Lotus soon finds herself caught in a web of possible deceit and lies that quickly put her own life in danger.

The denouement is a total surprise, although clues are sprinkled liberally throughout the work so the astute reader may be able to solve the mystery.

The novel is slated for publication this summer. Excerpts from and pre-order forms for the novel are available at Treasure Chest Press. A contest whereby readers offer Black Lotus characters advice is now in full-swing. The most salient, practical advice will receive a $100 Amazon gift card. There is no entrance fee; and no solicitations will ensue because of initial entry.

Black Lotus excerpts

Publisher’s Website * Twitter * Facebook

 

About the Author

Lita Lepie is a graduate of Vassar College and was awarded a Master of Fine Arts degree from Sarah Lawrence where she was a personal student of Grace Paley. Author of ten novels, several plays, dozens of short stories and poems for the past twenty years, Lita Lepie has been represented by top NYC literary agents.

Despite only marginal success in print media, her persistence is either to be admired or pitied. She feels passionately driven to write, and, like any other addiction, numerous attempts to give up her avocation have all failed miserably.

The writer lives in NYC with her Pixiebob cat, Hunter, and her African grey Timneh parrot, Pearl. She works as a high-end trainer to private clients. On a freelance basis she is available as a body guard [she has extensive mixed martial arts training] and raconteur.

 

 

Synopsis

 

The Japanese word gaijin means “unwelcome foreigner.” It’s not profanity but is sometimes a slur directed at non-Japanese people in Japan. My novel is called Gaijin…

Lucy is a budding journalist at Northwestern University and she’s obsessed with an exotic new student, Owen Ota, who becomes her lover and her sensei. When he disappears without explanation, she’s devastated and sets out to find him. On her three-month quest across Japan, she finds only snippets of the elegant culture Owen had described. Instead, she faces anti-U.S. protests, menacing street thugs and sexist treatment, and she winds up at the base of Mt. Fuji, in the terrifying Suicide Forest. Will she ever find Owen? Will she be driven back to the U.S.? Gaijin is a coming-of-age story about a woman who solves a heartbreaking mystery that alters the trajectory of her life.

 

 

 

 

Praise

 

“Against a backdrop of tea ceremonies, lotus blossoms, haikus, and the gritty reality of the difficult history of American and Japanese relationships, Sarah Sleeper weaves her deftly told story of a young woman’s memorable journey toward a greater understanding of the truths that inhabit our complex world. Written with a journalist’s eye for detail and a commitment to the truth, Gaijin is an expansive, meaningful debut.”  – Karen Osborn, author of The Music Book

“A nuanced, subtly written tale that reminds one of those Jamesian cultural clashes between ingenuous Americans and sophisticated foreigners, Sleeper’s novel shows us how we are all, at heart, gaijin.  A novel particularly relevant in today’s highly charged xenophobic era.” -Michael C. White, author of A Beautiful Assassin

“In her new life in Japan, Sarah Z. Sleeper’s protagonist, Lucy, is a fish out of water, and in over her head at the very same time. A candid, beautifully descriptive map of a young woman’s changing emotional landscape.”  – Sally J. Pla, award-winning author of The Someday Birds

“This story of the “unwelcome foreigner” is not an easy one, and it takes an award-winning journalist like Sarah Sleeper to give it the precision, sensitivity, and depth it deserves. The Far East and the Midwest are both on trial as Sleeper investigates the past and present of Japanese-American relations through a haunting, unforgettable story of love lost. Sleeper’s prose is full of natural poetry as she explores all the different shades of heartbreak where personal and political intersect.”  – Porochista Khakpour, author of Brown Album

“Told in lovely prose sprinkled with poetry, Gaijin is a story of love, heartbreak, and self-realization. After traveling halfway around the world in the hope of finding out what happened to her first love, Owen Ota, Lucy must embark on another, more personal quest. A journey of the heart set against the backdrop of a shifting and contradictory landscape.”  – Dare DeLano, award winning author, most recently of Two Cities

 

 

Excerpt – Prologue

 

Mono No Aware

 

Awareness of Impermanence

 

Love, tea and flowers. 

Impermanent, transcendent. 

Are you aware of beauty that flames up and out 

before it can root itself in the earth of truth?

Memory is truth, like brown dirt

smeared on a cherry-blossom pink canvas

—Inspired by antique Japanese porcelain gilded with makie

 

A person or a memory can sit inside you and you might have no choice about it. You don’t have to think about a person for him to be part of you. That’s what my best friend Rose told me years ago, in a moment when she saw me more clearly than I saw myself, a moment when I was restless and heartsick and about to board a plane to Japan.

“I can’t believe it,” she said. “You’re going to hunt down Owen.”

I scoffed and lied, said I never thought of him.

Now years later, I know Rose was right, that you don’t get to decide what sticks and what doesn’t, who gets in and who gets blocked. You like to think you control your destiny and choose your path, but that’s not always the case. Sometimes you’re propelled forward in the most unexpected way when something or someone takes hold of you and doesn’t let go.

That’s how it happened to me. My college love, Owen Ota, burrowed his way into me one tantalizing moment at a time, over the course of a sweltering Indian summer at Northwestern University. He etched himself into the side of my neck and he took root in the pit of my stomach. He changed the trajectory of my life, set me in motion, and then he disappeared, like a puff of smoke or a phantom I’d hallucinated. He gave no feasible explanation, stopped all communication, and fled back to Tokyo in the same startling way he’d arrived. He was gone but I couldn’t let go. I needed to find Owen, and to experience the Japan he described. I clung to the notion that my dreams of the person and the place would match the reality.

Nothing, not Rose, not the application of common sense, could have dissuaded me from leaving Chicago on that overheated afternoon at O’Hare, when car horns, screeching voices and jet engines drowned out our goodbyes. A jumble of images jostled around in my brain, crowding out logical thoughts. Delicate pink cherry blossoms on porcelain teacups, a thin ivory book of haiku, a red silk blouse on polished glass skin, steaming spicy cuttlefish served on a black lacquer tray; a dazzling collage of the things Owen had shown me.

I was naïve and grief hollowed out my heart; I was determined to solve the mystery of his disappearance, as if finding him could erase the pain I’d felt when he abandoned me. I didn’t put it together then, the folly of searching for someone who didn’t want to be found, moving to a country I didn’t understand. And so, I went, flying into the unknown with a single suitcase of clothes, clutching my computer and cell phone as if they were life preservers.

On the plane I read the latest news from Japan. There were stories about the failed economic policies of the prime minister, the scandal of the royal princess who wanted to marry a commoner, the looming threat of North Korean missiles. Of course, I’d studied Japan in college, but looking back on that day, I knew nothing of the true character of the country.

The flight took an eternity and I immersed myself in a book of Japanese art filled with photos of ancient pottery and porcelain, chipped and faded, but glowing and glorious at the same time. I was striving to be a poet back then, a person who dealt in beauty and art, not only a journalist who worked with black ink and cold data. The art book held a luminous photo of a powder blue teacup swirled with feathery gold patterns, captioned, “Makie.” I Googled and learned that it meant “sprinkled picture.” Makie was an art object sprinkled with gold or silver powder, so that it gleamed with warmth. Inspired, I wrote a little poem on the plane, which I still have today. I titled it “Mono No Aware,” Awareness of Impermanence, a Japanese term I would come to understand deeply over time.

On my way to my new life in Japan, memories of my moments with Owen colored my mind with a makie haze. The landing of the plane brought the crash of reality. I was confronted by a gritty, dangerous nation, so unlike the exotic islands he’d described to me. A place where coworkers gave me gifts wrapped in gold foil while darting disdainful glances at me. I found few of the glamorous, mannered people I’d expected, and instead found an angry schizophrenic culture, alluring and hostile by turns, that kept me constantly at bay and confounded. And as I ventured further, in my quest to discover Owen’s fate, I realized I might not be able to find him before Japan chased me out, like the gaijin I was, a foreigner, unwelcomed by my adopted country.

 

Excerpted from Gaijin. Copyright © 2020 by Sarah Z. Sleeper. All rights reserved. Published by Running Wild Press.

 

 

About the Author

 

Sarah Z. Sleeper is an ex-journalist with an MFA in creative writing. Gaijin is her first novel. Her short story, “A Few Innocuous Lines,” won an award from Writer’s Digest. Her non-fiction essay, “On Getting Vivian,” was published in The Shanghai Literary Review. Her poetry was published in A Year in Ink, San Diego Poetry Annual and Painters & Poets, and exhibited at the Bellarmine Museum. In the recent past she was an editor at New Rivers Press, and editor-in-chief of the literary journal Mason’s Road. She completed her MFA at Fairfield University in 2012. Prior to that she had a twenty-five-year career as a business writer and technology reporter and won three journalism awards and a fellowship at the National Press Foundation.

 

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Written In the Ashes by K. Hollan Van Zandt

Publisher: Harper Collins (Sept. 27, 2016
Category: Historical Fiction,
Tour Dates: October/November, 2016
ASIN:  B01CY3A8X4
Available in: ebook,  554Pages

“Written in the Ashes is one of those rare novels that sets ‘history’ afire, to bathe readers in the glow of a greater, hotter truth. Fans of The Mists of Avalon will find this romantic/alchemical/feminist/spiritual epic equally captivating.”—Tom Robbins, bestselling author of Tibetan Peach Pie: A True Account of an Imaginative Life, Even Cowgirls Get the Blues. and Villa Incognito

In the bloody clash between Christians and pagans in fifth-century Alexandria, a servant girl becomes the last hope for preserving peace in this evocative and thrilling tale—a blend of history, adventure, religion, romance, and mysticism reminiscent of The Mists of Avalon.

After she is abducted from her home in the mountains of Sinai, Hannah is enslaved and taken to Alexandria, where she becomes the property of Alizar, an alchemist and pagan secretly working to preserve his culture. Revered for her beautiful singing voice, the young slave is invited to perform at the city’s Great Library, where she becomes friends with the revered mathematician and philosopher, Hypatia, as well as other pagans who curate its magnificent collections. Determined to help them uphold pagan culture and traditions, Hannah embarks on a dangerous quest to unite the fractured pieces of the Emerald Tablet—the last hope to save the pagans and create peace.

On this odyssey that leads her to the lost oracles of Delfi and Amun-Ra and to rediscovered ancient cities and rituals, Hannah will experience forbidden loves, painful betrayals, and poignant reunions. But her efforts may be in vain. Returning to Alexandria, Hannah finds a city engulfed in violence, even as her own romantic entanglements come to a head. Now, it’s not only her future, but the fate of all Alexandria that is at stake.

Excerpt

 

This excerpt is continued from The Musings of a Book Junkie on Oct 27^th.

“Thank you, Alizar. Your words give me courage.” Hannah smiled as a flock of gold songbirds swooped over her head.

Alizar walked to the ledge, thinking to himself how all his life he had been one of those loquacious little fifes jabbering on and on about things that no one else bothered to consider. For a moment, he felt an ache of longing in his heart for the privacy of his tower, where the muse permitted him endless hours of uninterrupted contemplation and creation. This was something that Alizar had never been able to reconcile: when high in his tower, creating and inventing, he longed for adventure and the world; and when out in the world, he pined for his little tower and the universes it contained. He was nothing to himself if not this endless wheel of contradictions.

As the sun approached its zenith in the sky, the otiose caravan sought shade around the temple to escape the blaring heat. Without much else to do, they fell asleep. Late in the afternoon they awakened from their naps to devour the remainder of Jemir’s bannocks. As they argued about how long to keep waiting, a tall Egyptian in ceremonial regalia appeared beneath a slim archway in the outer wall. “The Oracle of Amun-Ra will see you now,” he said with a formal nod.

Hannah was the first to fly to her feet.

The stoic Egyptian led them through a high-walled courtyard and a narrow tunnel and into the first hall of the temple. It was a spectacle that no one could have imagined. Inside, the large rectangular limestone temple was supported by six massive columns set at even intervals around the room, and at one end, a gurgling spring bubbled cool water into a wide stone basin. “Fons Solis,” whispered Alizar, quoting again from Alexander’s journal. “The Fountain of the Sun. It feeds fresh water to the entire city.”

Seven steps led up through a tremendous archway carved of pale stone covered in hieroglyphs. Tarek translated the words set in stone above the steps. “Look down, not towards the step above, lest ye become proud.” Beyond the inscription stood the second hall, where high overhead, the body of the celestial goddess Nut stretched across the entire ceiling, her arms and feet reaching from one wall to the other, her mouth swallowing the sun. The columns, walls, and even floor had also been painted with colorful Egyptian murals, most of which depicted the god Amun-Ra interacting with his worshippers. But a few indicated the tasks of every day life. Women held blue lotus flowers before their naked bellies as men fished from small lateens encircled by crocodiles. Vertical lines of hieroglyphs bridged the images. Alizar instructed Tarek to make several quick sketches, hoping their host would afford them the time to linger a moment.

A sight at the end of the temple caught Hannah’s eye. There, beyond the swirling smoke of the thick incense, sat a long golden barge on a raised dais. Hannah looked up to the wall and noticed an identical barge in miniature captained by Amun-Ra and supported by twenty devotees, the weight of it set upon the shoulders of the god’s willing devotees. She pointed it out to Gideon, and as she did, she realized it was the first time she had thought to share something with him without wishing he was Julian… [edited for spoilers] …There were so many obstacles before them, it seemed unkind to add another.

While they marveled at the visual treasures of the temple, a door on the far side opened, and a flood of Siwans rushed in and found seats along the wall. Apparently the oracle required an audience. Alizar chuckled to himself at the vanity of the gods. The populace of Siwa was surprisingly quiet and reverent for such a large group, taking seats on the floor behind the columns to leave the center of the temple open as a playing field. When it seemed that everyone in the entire oasis was present, the temple door closed, and out from behind one of the columns stepped Omar-the-Goat clad in full-length white ceremonial robes. On his head he wore a pair of gilded ram’s horns, richly ornamented with emeralds and other precious stones, which curved around his narrow face and shoulders. He carried a long staff in his good hand, not dissimilar to the caduceus of Hermes, and approached them guided by two bare-chested young boys who led him forward by the elbows.

Alizar gestured for the others to keep silent and stepped forward to address the ceremonial hierophant.

Silence. Alizar and Omar-the-Goat bowed to each other respectfully. The remoteness of the oracle had made it all the more appealing to consult, but now, looking into the tired face of an old man, Alizar hoped they had not made the trek in vain. He held out a heavy black obsidian jar to Omar-the-Goat.

Hannah held her breath.

Omar-the-Goat unscrewed the lid, dipped a finger into the jar, and withdrew it covered in a viscous amber liquid.

Hannah smiled. Honey.

The priest accepted the gift and bowed.

This excerpt continues at Romance ‘Out Of This World’ on Nov. 16^th.

Praise for Written In the Ashes by K. Hollan Van Zandt

“In her captivating debut novel, Written in the Ashes, K. Hollan Van Zandt brings to life a fascinating and forgotten woman of history: Hypatia of Alexandria, who may have been one of the greatest female minds of all time. If you’ve ever wondered what it was like to walk the streets of long ago Egypt, then look no further. You will be enthralled!”– Michelle Moran, international bestselling author of Nefertiti and Cleopatra’s Daughter

“Van Zandt’s vivid description of the Great Library instantly transported me to a lush fifth century Alexandria. Her lyrical writing style and breakneck storytelling kept me riveted to the very last page.”– Robin Maxwell bestselling author of The Secret Diary of Anne Boleyn and Signora da Vinci.

“Going back so far in time leaves an author with little written record to rely on for fact. The burning of the Great Library at Alexandria was a monumental loss to humanity. The facts of the matter aside, this novel was truly arresting and I had a hard time putting it down to get anything done.
Ancient history fascinates me. Religion fascinates me. This book manages to tie both together in a story that resonates through time.
The book was fascinating. The characters were well developed and I really didn’t want to leave this world of ancient Alexandria. The imaginary, magical priests and the beautiful goddesses created by Ms. Van Zandt lent themselves to a mystical world that was quite believable within its context. As the story unfolded I was rooting for Hannah to fulfill her destiny and find peace with her past. I am looking forward to the next chapters in these characters lives.”-Patty Woodland, Broken Teepee

About the Author

Kaia Van Zandt is a celebrated author and teacher whose novel, Written in the Ashes, chronicles the events that led up to the burning of the Great Library of Alexandria, Egypt. Kaia’s spiritual journey began at age 14 when she founded the youth division of the Humane Society of the United States. Then as a junior in high school, she traveled to the Earth Summit in Brazil, where she taught meditation, and was given the opportunity to work with world leaders on the challenges facing humanity and the planet today, an experience that profoundly influenced her work.

She’s a graduate of Antioch University, where she focused on the intersection between the ancient Goddess traditions and modern culture. Her fascination with healing-both personally and collectively – led her to yoga. During her career she’s worked with thought leaders like Marci Shimoff and Deepak Chopra, actors like Ashley Judd, Jamie Lee Curtis, and Garry Shandling, as well as Sony ImageWorks, UCLA Medical, and the San Francisco 49ers. Her beloved writing mentor is bestselling novelist/humorist, Tom Robbins.

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Today is Mother’s Day, so first off, Happy Mother’s Day to all the moms out there whether you have the 2 or 4 legged kind of kids.  Secondly, I’m sure most of you will be able to relate to these time honored traditions of them wanting to spoil you.  But never fear, Pauline has some great tricks to help you get the most of your day!

8 Hacks for Mother’s Day (For When You Really Wish They Wouldn’t)

By Pauline Daley-Parril

1. Breakfast in Bed

It’s five minutes past dawn and you hear your kids banging cupboard doors down in the kitchen. Soon there will be syrup and pancake batter dripping from the walls, floors, countertops and overhead fixtures. Worse yet, you are about to be compelled to consume a plateful of cold pancakes that are burnt black on the outside while still remaining uncooked on the inside, all swimming in a bathtub’s worth of syrup.

The Hack: Quick. Hide the syrup. Give them a bag of chocolate chips and a package of paper muffin cups. Ask them to count all the chips into the cups. Tell them you would like a banana and twenty-thirteen chocolate chips for your breakfast. Ask Daddy to supervise. Hurry back to bed.

2.  The Card

Did your kids spend all of 47 seconds last week pouring school glue and dropping pieces of macaroni onto a piece of heart-shaped construction paper? Now you have to store that adorable handmade creation at the back of your closet for the rest of eternity with the rest of the collection of Penne necklaces and pasta shell pencil holders, right? That proves you love them right?

The Hack: Feeding them proves you love them too. Boil up a large pot of salted water, drop in the collected works, put your feet up and wait till all the noodles are al dente. Drain, toss in a handful of shredded cheese and voila! An easy mother’s day dinner is served. Don’t forget the paper plates.

3. The Husband With a Poor Sense of Timing

The minute you launch the kids on their way with the bag of chocolate chips, guess who slides back into bed beside you with less-than-minty morning breath and rough unshaven chin? Did he just scrape/nuzzle the back of your neck and offer you a “steamy” Mom’s Day present in the shower?

The Hack. You do want your pillow back right? If you want to unpoke his tongue from your ear fast, tell him he is a sweet boy and then remind him to call his Mom today to wish her a Happy Mother’s Day. Point out that an early call might be bad timing as maybe his Dad is also giving his Mom a steamy morning kiss right about now too. Use descriptive adjectives to make sure he gets the picture. Then punch him playfully in the arm and cackle, “Aren’t you just a chip off the old cock?” As he begins to gag a little, mention that you just downed a handful of chocolate chips. Mistake! Aren’t they just ripping right through you! Yell “outta my way,” jump out of bed and hop towards the bathroom with your hands pressed against your backside.

4. The Spa Day: Did you get a gift certificate for a day at the spa? Nope, neither did I. Don’t let that stop you.

The Hack: Of course the answer is to book your worthy self in for the salt scrub flotation cabin, lotus glow massage and mani-pedi with truffles as soon as possible.

5.  The Flowers

Every mother loves getting a gift of cut flowers right? Trouble is now you have to clip the stems properly on a 45 ° angle with a sharp florist’s knife, creatively arrange the blooms in a vase like the Pinterest people are watching, and change the slimy water everyday. As if you didn’t have enough to do. The baby is teething and the toddler is trying to flush the cat down the toilet and now you are in charge of freshening up those candy-pink Carnations.

The Hack: Fill a carafe with red wine and let it aerate for five minutes. If the baby is crying very loudly, feel free to skip the breathing step. Carefully arrange the blooms in the empty wine bottle. If you have too many stems, you may open a second bottle.

6. His Mother

There is no known hack for your Mother–in-Law. Deal with it.

7. Your Mother

In all the bustle and fun of enjoying your special day, did you forget to call your own mother to wish her a Happy Mother’s Day? I know. I forgot too. Kill me now.

The Hack: Google images to the rescue. Spice up your apology message with some links. Recommended search terms: “shirtless hot dudes.” “Old Spice Guy + snake. For a few blessed moments, she will probably forget that she ever had you. Of course you still owe her chocolate.

8. The Hugs and Kisses

Who needs to hack a Mother’s Day kiss and hug? It’s totally the best part. Take all the sweet squeezes and smacks that you can get—even if the chubby fingers are smeared with chocolate chips and the bearer of the lips still needs a shave.

 

 About the Author

Collette Yvonne has written more than 150 articles published in Ontario’s Dailies.  Her short story, Snapshots for Henry, was made into a short film directed by Teresa Hannigan and received a 2007 Genie nomination for Best Live Action Short Drama.  More of Yvonne’s short stories, including From the Cottage Porch and Wild Words 2010 appear in published anthologies. She is a graduate of Toronto’s York University with a BA degree in Creative Writing, creating both fiction and non-fiction works. Her latest novel, The Perils of Pauline was published by Astor + Blue Editions in January 2015.

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