Saturday, September 29, 2012

Book Review of Twang

Book Review of Twang  
   Sponsored by Pump Up Your Book

Welcome to Books, Books, and More Books.  I am pleased to share my review of this book with you.  Thank you for visiting and please come again.

Blurb : 

The songs Jennifer Clodfelter writes and sings aren’t from her imagination. With innocence and passion, Jenny pours the pain from her childhood into the lyrics of one Billboard Country hit after another. Her manager assures her that confronting formative years wrapped in violence and poverty is a necessary evil, part of the unstoppable force of her destiny to become a Country Music Diva. And for a while, little Jenny Cloud is in heaven. She basks in the spotlight on stage and the wild applause of her fans. But as she pours herself into writing more and more autobiographical songs, Jenny begins to find the emotional fallout is staggering. When she revisits a dark memory she thought was long-buried, she begins to seriously wonder if the high price she’s paying to write her hits is worth it. Jenny’s hairdresser, Tonilynn, sees the wounded little girl beneath the star’s on-stage smiles and she attempts to fix her broken spirit along with her hair by counseling Jenny to pour yet another long-repressed story of her father into a song. Is singing for her sanity a possibility in this instance? Would another hit song be therapy enough to reconcile Jenny and her dark past? Jenny Cloud faces the music with music.

About the Author:

Julie L. Cannon is a bestselling author, speaker and teacher. She believes that using your memories to write autobiographical fiction is both cathartic and powerful, and when Julie isn’t busy writing, she can be found leading memoir workshops, encouraging others to encourage others on this journey called Life. Julie has captured many awards in the ABA as well as the CBA. She loves growing flowers and listening to country music at her home off Hog Mountain Road in Watkinsville, Georgia.


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Those first days in Nashville were happy. Happier than any I could recall. It was no accident I had Mac’s cousin pull his sputtering Vega to the curb on the corner of Music Circle East and Division Street. The Best Western was in walking distance of Music Row.

All my belongings were stuffed into two huggable paper sacks, and when I marched down that strip of red carpeting into a marble-floored lobby with a chandelier, I knew it was a palace compared to that drafty cabin in Blue Ridge with peeling wallpaper and warped floorboards. Room 316 had pretty gold and maroon carpet; gold curtains at a window with an air conditioning unit beneath it; two queen beds; two glossy wood tables—one in the corner with a lamp, an ice bucket and a coffee maker, and the other between the beds with a phone, a clock, and a remote for the television. There was even a little bitty refrigerator, a microwave, an ironing board and an iron. What else could a person need?

More curious about having my own indoor bathroom than a television, I tiptoed in there first. Nothing had prepared me for what met my eyes. Clean white tiles on the floor, a marbled sink, a blow-dryer, a stack of sweet-smelling towels and fancy soap. The washrags were folded like fans and there were free miniature bottles of shampoo and conditioner.

To say this felt like paradise would not be an exaggeration. Turning around and around until I got drunk with my good fortune, I collapsed and fell flat onto the closest bed, laughing like a maniac, some pathetic yokel finding out she’d won the lottery.

Though bone-tired on account of being so journey-proud that I hadn’t been able to sleep a wink in forty-eight hours, I couldn’t  fathom closing my eyes. I hadn’t  eaten in as long either, except for some pork rinds and a Pepsi on the ride. But I was like someone possessed; hungry only for the feel of Nashville, thirsty only for the way she looked. I promised myself for the hundredth  time I would not think about my mother and the fact I’d left no note. I told myself I’d eat some real food and get sleep later, after I’d explored my new mother. I took the elevator downstairs to find some maps.

At the front  desk, a sign said the Best Western had free breakfast; sausage, biscuits and gravy, waffles, eggs, oatmeal, muffins, toast, bagels, yogurt and fruit. The elation I felt at this was not small and I couldn’t help a happy little laugh.

A short, overweight man in a blue seersucker suit and bright orange tie bustled out of the room behind the front desk and said, “What can I do for you this evenin’, missy?” He had a tall pink forehead like you’d expect on a bald man, but his hair, and I could tell it wasn’t a toupee, was this lavish white cloud that put me in mind of an albino Elvis. I could see amusement in his startlingly blue eyes.

I didn’t bother to mention I was twenty-two, hardly a missy, because he’d said it so kindly and I was used to being mistaken for a much younger girl. “I wanted to see if y’all had any maps and stuff about Nashville, please.” I smiled back at him, noting the name engraved on his gold lapel bar: Roy Durden.

“We got maps coming out our ears! What other information you looking for?”


He nodded, turned and stepped to a bookshelf along the back wall, squatting slowly, carefully, as I watched in utter fascination to see if he’d  manage to get his enormous belly to fit down between his thighs. He unfastened the button on his suit coat and the hem brushed the sides of gigantic white buck shoes. Eventually, he rose with a loud grunt, carrying an armload of papers. “Alrighty,” he said, spreading them on the counter like a card dealer in Vegas. “Let’s see what we can do for you.”

“Thanks.”  I reached for a glossy brochure that said Tour the Ryman, Former Home of the Grand Ole Opry. It was lavishly illustrated with pictures of artifacts  from  early Opry years and old-time country music stars like Minnie Pearl and Hank Williams. There was a headline that said you could cut your own CD at the Ryman’s recording studio. Thanks to Mr. Anglin, I already had that task accomplished.

“Snazzy, huh?” Roy was nodding. “Now, that there is one hallowed institution. Tennessee’s sweet-sounding gift to the world. Place the tourists flock to.” He was talking with his eyes closed and this rapturous expression on his face. “Up until ’74, fans packed the pews of the Ryman every Friday and Saturday night. Folks loved that place so much that when the Opry moved to its current digs right near the Opryland Hotel, they cut out a six-foot circle from the stage and put it front  and center at the new place. So the stars of the future can stand where the legends stood.”  Roy had this faraway, misty-eyed expression. He grew quiet for a worshipful moment.
“There’s this one, too,” he said at last, pushing a slick brochure that read The Country Music Hall of Fame & Museum toward me.

My boss at McNair Orchards used to say he could see my face in a display hanging in the Hall of Fame, right between Barbara  Mandrell and  Tammy Wynette. Mac got my head so full of stars, I could hardly think of much else except to get to Nashville to show the world my stuff. I stared at the photograph  of a building that looked to be an architectural wonder in itself. One side was an RKO-style radio tower, while the main part had windows resembling a piano keyboard, and an end like a Cadillac tailfin. “That’s nice,” I offered.

“Yep, real nice,” Roy said, his fingertips grazing more brochures reading Belle Meade Plantation, Margaritaville, General Jackson Showboat, Wildhorse Saloon, and The Parthenon. He lifted a map of Nashville. “Be helpful  for you to know Second Avenue runs North, and Fourth Avenue runs South.”

“I didn’t bring a car.”

“That a fact?” He looked hard at me. “Well, downtown and the Hall of Fame are in walking distance, but it’s a ways to the Grand Ole Opry.”  Roy’s  index finger touched a spot on the map. “There’s  also a place called Riverfront Park you could walk to, but I got to warn you, missy, Nashville sits down in a bowl, between a couple lakes and rivers, so it feels like you’re walking through hot soup in the summertime. Can be right intolerable.” He swiped his florid face at the memory of heat as I flipped through the pages of a brochure, pausing every now and again to stare at a picture of a star singing on a stage, the crowd going wild. There was an energy in those photographs; a palpable current  of  voice and  instrument  and  the  sweet thunder of applause. For a long time I looked at a picture of Dolly Parton and Porter Wagoner, their faces suffused with a bright, joyous light.

“You like this one?” Roy asked, making me jump. “Uhm, yeah.”

“That was in ’75, night Dolly and Porter sang their last duet together. I was close enough to see Dolly’s  makeup.”  There were tears in Roy’s eyes.

“Wow,” I said. “Wow is right.”

“Can I have it? Can I have all these, please?” I tried not to look too eager, but every cell in my body wanted to scoop up the brochures, rush to my room to study them, to dream of climbing right into the beautiful photographs.

“Go ahead, little missy. You must be a first-time tourist.”

I didn’t  think of myself as a tourist. I was there because of a promise I’d  made, and the voices I’d  heard over 103.9

FM back in Blue Ridge. Mountain Country Radio assured me that Nashville was the place for a person bitten by the singer/ songwriter bug. “Uhm . . . I just like music.”

“Wellllll, you come to the right place then. We got live music right here at the Best Western.” Roy swept one arm out in a magnanimous gesture toward the other side of the lobby where I saw a doorway to what I’d figured was the dining area. A sign in the shape of a giant guitar pick said Pick’s, and next to that was another reading Great Drinks!

“Y’all need anybody to sing at Pick’s?”

“Naw. We got our bands booked a good ways in advance.” “Wonder  where musicians who’re  looking for work hang out,” I said in a casual voice, gathering the brochures. “Nashville draws musicians like honey draws flies, and a body can’t  go ten yards without bumping into one of them looking for work. Tons of wannabes in here constantly, trying to make their way.  Dreaming the dream.”

From the tone of Roy’s voice, I couldn’t tell if he were trying to give me a warning or just stating facts. “Well, thank you,” I said, turning to go.

“Wait. How long you plannin’ to stay?”

Barring any unforeseen expenses, I knew about how far my much-fingered roll of $20 bills would go. The Manager’s Special of $65 per night came out to two weeks for $910, leaving $90 for food and incidentals, and surely in that time I’d have some paid work singing. A recording contract if Mr. Anglin’s prediction came true. Seeing his dear face in my mind’s eye made a little guilty tremor race up my spine. I needed to get back to my room. “I paid for three nights up front,”  I said, turning to go again.

“Hey!” he called, spinning me on my heel to see those intense blue eyes looking at me. “You sing?”

I hesitated, then answered, “Yessir. Play and sing. Write all my own material.”

“Well, well. What’s your name, missy?” “Jennifer Anne Clodfelter.”

“Mighty big name for such a slip of a girl. Anybody ever tell you you’re a dead ringer for Cher?”

I nodded. By twelve I was constantly compared to the dark, exotic celebrity when she was young, starring in the 1970’s Sonny & Cher Comedy Hour. Tall and willowy, my straight blue-black hair fell to my waist. But, where Cher wasn’t exactly well-endowed, I was ample in the bosom department.  The other difference between me and Cher was that my eyes were green.

“So  . . . what style of music do you do,  Jennifer Anne Clodfelter?”

I borrowed some confidence from Mac’s words when he handed me my last paycheck. “I’m the next Patsy Cline.”

“Alrighty.” Roy chuckled. “Then let me guess. You do traditional? Or maybe early country?”


“You said you’re Patsy Cline. But, there’s tons of styles. Got your Nashville sound  and your country rock. Then there’s rockabilly, bluegrass, honky-tonk, outlaw, and Bakersfield sound. Cowboy western and western swing. Oh!” he clucked his tongue. “About forgot  Texas country style, and the new traditionalist, and can’t leave out the contemporary sound, and of course, alternative. Though I don’t cotton to alternative.”

My heart started racing for fear my ignorance would show. “I’m the old kind of country.”

“I see. So, you want to be a star?”

I saw mischief in those blue eyes and I didn’t know how to answer this question either. At last, I nodded.

That’s when he began regarding me with amused pity. “If that’s  the case, you’ll  really want to be here a little longer. Actually,” he paused and drew a long breath, “you’ll want to be here nine years.”


Roy cleared his throat, and it seemed he stood on tiptoes because he rose up  at least two inches. “Nashville  may be the creative center of the universe if you’re a songwriter, all kinds of resources here for learning the industry, lots of places you can sing, but folks don’t call her the nine-year town for nothing. They say it takes nine years to break into the scene, to become an overnight success. I’ve lived here all my life and I love her, but if you’re looking to break into the music business, she can chew you up and spit you out like nobody’s business.”

I  must’ve  looked  sad,  or  confused,  because Roy’s  face softened, his voice grew smooth as silk, “You got people here?” “I’m  on  my  own.”  Four  simple words—the  truth  of  it stunned me.
“I got an extra room at my house.”

“Uhm . . . thanks. No offense, but I’m fine on my own.” “Ain’t  trying to rain on your parade, but I’ve  seen plenty have to wait tables or worse. Randy Travis was a cook and a dishwasher at the Nashville Palace before he could make it on his music. Seen a good number turn around and head home, too, tail tucked between their legs. You  might need a place if—” 

“I said, I’m fine.”

Roy rolled his lips inward, considering. “Independent type, hm? Well, good luck. But don’t worry if you change your mind.” He drew in a long breath. “If you change your mind, you just come right on back and see Roy. I’m here most evenings after seven p.m. I just figured  if you’re new around town, trying to make your way in the country music scene, it’d be good if you had somebody to fall back on.”

Book Review:

This book is so much better than the title.  I would never have even picked this book up to read the blurb because the title could have made me think “lame”.   I am a huge country music fan, and the information on the music industry showed incredible accuracy.

I enjoyed the book much more than I thought I would and would encourage people to read it.  This is really a case of “Don’t judge a book by it’s cover,” or in this case it’s title.

I give this book 3 out of 5 clouds.

This product or book may have been distributed for review; this in no way affects my opinions or reviews.

Friday, September 28, 2012

Book Review of A Matter of Time

Book Review of A Matter of Time

Welcome to Books, Books, and More Books.  I am pleased to share my review of this book with you.  Thank you for visiting and please come again.

 Paperback: 326 pages

Publisher: Outskirts Press (February 29, 2012)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 143278711X
ISBN-13: 978-1432787110

Blurb : 

What is your destiny?

This question haunts 20-year-old Jamie Collins. A junior at Santa Clara University in 1986, Jamie has friends, a  professor who mentors him, and a promising future as a writer.
Then the dreams begin – nightmarish visions that transport him back to a time and place fifty years before he was born: Titanic’s maiden voyage in 1912!  Less than a week before the 74th anniversary of its sinking, Jamie discovers that his fate is inexplicably linked to that of the famous vessel. Somehow, the two timelines are overlapping, and when Titanic dies this time, Jamie will die along with it.

The dreams reveal something evil stalking the ill-fated ship, something that expedites the collision which sinks her. Jamie realizes that the only way to stop this evil and prevent his own death may be to prevent Titanic from sinking in the first place.

But how? How can he stop that ship from sinking in 1912 when he hadn’t even been born yet? And even if he can stop it – should he? What will be the effect on history if he succeeds? Jamie’s quest to fulfill his destiny ties friends and  family together  in ways he could never have  imagined.

A Matter of Time is an emotionally charged voyage into the value of friendship, the power of love, the impact of evil, and the vagaries of Fate.

About the Author:

Michael Bowler grew up in San Rafael, California. He attended St. Raphael’s School and Marin Catholic High School before attending Santa Clara University. Titanic and her tragic fate fascinated him for as far back as he can remember. He has a vast collection of artwork, memorabilia and virtually every book ever written about the disaster.

He majored in English and Theatre at Santa Clara and got a master’s in film production from Loyola Marymount University. He partnered with two friends as producer, writer, and/or director on several films, most notably “Fatal Images,” “Dead Girls,” “Hell Spa” (later re-edited and titled “Club Dead”), “Things” and “Things II.”

He has written a number of unproduced screenplays and is currently working on other novels he has outlined. He’s been teaching high school in Hawthorne, California for over twenty years.
He has also been a volunteer Big Brother to seven different boys over 28 years with the Catholic Big Brothers Big Sisters program and a volunteer within the juvenile justice system in Los Angeles for 27 years.  He is a passionate advocate for the fair treatment of children and teens in California, something that is sorely lacking in this state.

His first novel, A Boy and His Dragon, was originally written in the 1980’s before fantasy stories enjoyed a major renaissance, and has remained unpublished to this day. It is intended as the first of a trilogy.

A Matter of Time, his second novel, was originally written in the 1980’s and completed in the mid-1990’s as time permitted.


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Book Review:

            My favorite line in the book is the opening lines,
“Love is timeless, Time is heartless, and Fate is unmerciful . . .
At last a first line, but now what to do with it? He’d struggled and
fought and finally sweated out the perfect line to start his novel and now
that he’d found it, he didn’t have close to an appropriate story to do it
justice. Too bad. He liked that line. Oh, well . . . file it away for future

What a great opening line.  It shows up again also, but I love it at the beginning.  Wow this book was powerful.  Talk about true love.  Could you have a love that transcends time?  Would you choose to give your life for someone else?  What about someone besides your children?

I often think that I would give my life for my children without hesitation.. no question.  I would also probably give my life for my husband, but I might have a moment of hesitation.  This book is a definite must read.

I give this story 5 out of 5 clouds.

This product or book may have been distributed for review; this in no way affects my opinions or reviews.

Book Review of Voluspa: A Magical World

Book Review of Voluspa: A Magical World

Welcome to Books, Books, and More Books.  I am pleased to share my review of this book with you.  Thank you for visiting and please come again.

New Young Adult Fantasy Romance
Voluspa: A Magical World
by Sam D. & Ray East

Blurb : 

Centuries ago, war between aliens and humans almost destroyed the world. To prevent such a war from happening again, a mighty ruler then formed a secret society of nine powerful humans and aliens called the Bramhas. These Bramhas each wrote a book imparting ancient wisdom and knowledge. The possession of these books could bring about untold power and success. The nine books were hidden but the desire to possess those books, still cause men to fight wars and turn against each other. One such war was fought in the realm of Voluspa decades back; the consequences of that war still resonate in this magical land. Two young lovers get caught in this tussle and it changes their destinies forever.
Amy’s humdrum life takes a complete 180’ turn with the death of her stepfather. She goes to live with her grandmother – her only living relative, though she hasn’t seen her in the last five years. Among her mother’s childhood memorabilia, she finds a book ‘Legends of Voluspa’ that captures her imagination. She becomes so engrossed in the book that she starts dreaming  about the places in the book till one night she finds herself inexplicably transported to the new world – Voluspa, as described in the book. Here she meets Drake, who unknown to her is a shape shifter.  Chemistry cackles between the two from the very first and as they discover that they share a lot in common, a tenuous bond forms between the two. ‘I’ll keep you safe’ vows Drake and he remains true to his word as he befriends her and saves her from various troubles that befall her over the next couple of months.
In Voluspa, Amy discovers a new way of life. It’s a magical world inhabited by primarily four clans – Empaths, Morphus, Mendens and the Pulchrous. The Empaths have the power of mind, the Morphus are the shape shifters, Mendens are the healers while the Pulchrous possess physical perfection and strength. With the help of an old family friend, Amy takes her rightful place in the Empath clan. This marks a new chapter in Amy’s life. She realizes her own powers and subsequently starts going to a school to enhance the same. With Drake by her side, she makes some wonderful friends. However, her life is not all smooth sailing; trouble comes when she learns the truth about her biological parents. She realizes that her very existence is against Voluspan law which forbids the union between individuals belonging to two different clans. History threatens to repeat itself as she realizes that her predicament was not that different from what her mother had faced, decades back. She is totally in love with Drake, who belongs to the Morphus clan.
The enchanting world of Voluspa is far from Utopic; it has barely recovered from a devastating war fought twenty years back when the peace of the land is once again threatened by Gangrels, the evil army of aliens.  The two young lovers soon realize that besides contending with forbidden love, they have to deal with other impediments. Ancient enmities, a past war, a much coveted book, all conspire against the two lovers. Gangrels reappear in Voluspa and Drake falls in the clutches of one such evil being who would stop at nothing to realize his fiendish ambitions. Amy and her friends cross realms, face enemies, deal with challenges, solve riddles and brave possible destruction, as they set off on an adventure to rescue Drake.  The ‘Force of Sutra’ clashes with the ‘Elemental Force’ of the Gangrels as Amy and her friends are faced with an indomitable enemy. They use strategic warfare, pit adversaries among themselves and use every last drop of strength, skill and courage as they take on warriors far more ruthless and skilled than themselves.
As Amy embarks upon a quest to save Drake, her love for him is tested at every turn but she never wavers from her objective. Braving imminent death she manages to reach Drake – only to find a changed person. Gone is the man she is in love with, instead a dangerous stranger stood in his place. This Drake was teetering at the edge between becoming completely evil and retaining his own soul. He almost harms Amy but stops himself at the very last minute. His love for Amy proves to be stronger than the evil entity threatening to overpower him.  However when chips are down, Drake comes through. He sets aside his personal well-being in order to save Amy, one last time. Drake is perhaps lost forever but hope dies last – Amy is determined to get back Drake, no matter what the cost.

About the Author:

Ray East and Sam D have moved to Voluspa and live in the Forest of Skotos with their 5 year old daughter and a pet Typhon.  They visit Earth with the help of an Empath from time to time. Ray East did her masters in Phsychology from Univeristy of Sussex and has worked as a counselor for adolescents. Sam D used to teach at a SPJC before he moved to Voluspa.
Their latest book is Voluspa: A Magical World.


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No way could she follow the beast into the woods, what if it was waiting and pounced on her the moment she stepped into the shadowy darkness of the dense woods, dream or no dream she had no desire to encounter that overgrown dog again. But she couldn’t go back, she had already spent what felt like hours to get to this point and somehow she had to move forward. With trepidations, she tackled the creek and started walking along the edge of the woods hoping to get as far away from the beast as possible. Doggedly she walked on, fervently wishing her dream would now end till she came across a small rocky ridge. She had no desire to indulge in rock climbing in her totally inadequate PJs but on the other hand she was loath to enter the forest. ‘Talk about choosing between a rock and a hard place ‘ she chuckled to herself. ‘Well this time I choose rock’ she announced to no one in particular as she started negotiating her way up the ridge. She was a good ten feet above the ground when she felt a shower of loose gravels and looked up to see death staring back at her.
She forgot that she was dreaming, she forgot that the creature that was malevolently eyeing her had become extinct millions of years back and could not possibly exist.  She even forgot to breathe as she looked at what could only be described as a ’sabre toothed tiger’, poised to attack her. For the second time in the day, fear rendered her immobile – either the nightmare was going to end or her life would. A loud snarling caught the attention of the tiger – the black monstrous dog was back and it placed itself squarely between her and the tiger. With an unexpected flash of humor, Amy thought ‘ great now I have two monstrous beasts vying to make me their prey.’ What followed had to be the most primitive display of strength and violence that Amy had ever witnessed – loud snarls reverberated in the air as the beasts took each other’s measure, teeth bared, hackles raised, they circled each other. The beasts were evenly matched in size and as they used their hind legs to rear up and strike at each other, Amy could get a glimpse of their sharp claws and protruding canines. The big cat aimed for the dog’s jugular as it tried to sink its teeth into the dog’s neck, but the dog ducked away and used it massive jaws to clamp on the other beasts back. The struggle continued till the cat swiped at the dogs face, drawing first blood, the dog howled in rage and agony and retaliated by gripping the cat by the back of its neck and with all its might, tossed it aside, as the cat landed in a heap with a bone crunching thud and yelped in pain. What followed remained a mystery to Amy as she lost her footing and tumbled all the way down and landed at the bottom with a thud and blessed darkness enveloped her.
She woke to the feeling of being gently shaken by strong, firm hands. She forced her eyes open to find a stranger bent over her, engrossed in the process of trying to rouse her. Maybe she had died and gone to heaven because the boy looked like an angel. No, on second thought she must have gone southward as he looked more like a fallen angel – all dark and intense. As Amy looked her fill, she became even more fascinated -he was younger than she had first thought, probably a few years older than her, but there was nothing boyish about him. It was not as if he was very handsome , he had dark hair almost black and equally dark eyes, a roman nose which looked like it had been broken at some point, a strong square jaw  and a tall , muscular frame – handsome was too pretty a word to describe him , he was elemental – fierce, almost dangerous. He had a long gash on his cheek which looked raw and was still oozing blood.
‘You are hurt’ she blurted out pointing to the gash on his cheek.
A low rumbling laugh came from the boy as he sat u p and extended a hand to help her up. ‘You tumbled down the ridge and you tell me I’m hurt! Can you stand up? I don’t think you have any broken bones but it was quite a fall you took. You are very lucky that you survived the fall at all, that too without any broken bones. Do you realize you fell from a height of almost 10 ft. and landed on hard unyielding stone? In fact I’m still trying to understand how you are still in one piece’.
As Amy scrambled up she realized she was now inside the dense woods. ‘I… those animals…Where exactly am I?’
‘You are safe’ the boy assured her calmly. ‘At least as safe as you can be in the Forest of Skotos in Voluspa’ he added on afterthought.
But I can’t be…I mean I’m not really in your world…this is all part of an elaborate dream. I know this is going to sound strange but I don’t remember reading about you in my book so I’m wondering why you are part of my dream and you look nothing like Matt…I dreamt about him once… so I think the question is who are you?’ she babbled.
The boy stared at her as if she was crazy and in all honesty Amy couldn’t blame him. Dream or not she did sound hopelessly confused, maybe she hit her head harder than she thought when she took the fall.
Amy flinched back as the boy inched closer, almost circling around her and then he did the craziest thing, he sniffed the air around her.
‘Wake up Amy. Wake up right now’ she muttered as she pinched herself and let out a loud yelp.
‘Yup definitely human’ he uttered in resigned tones.
‘Well you look like one too’, Amy retorted under her breath, she could now feel every one of her bruises and aches and was on the verge of bursting into tears.
‘How did you get here? Humans can’t bridge the gap; are there more of you?’ he demanded suspiciously, all concern for her welfare definitely gone.
‘I know you don’t believe me but I am not really here. I have been reading this book – “Legends of Voluspa” and dreaming about it every night. You are just part of my dream and any moment now I’m going to wake up’.
He looked almost insulted as he stepped closer and took her hand, ‘Here feel this. It’s real ‘ he said as he placed her hand on the bark of the nearest tree, and ‘feel this’ and he pressed her hand on the gravel ‘and I’m real too’ he said as he placed her hand on his chest.’ And that Smilodon on the mountain was real too and if that dog hadn’t come, it would have ripped you into pieces’.
‘Where did you find me?’ Amy asked.
‘I saw you fall from the ridge and then carried you here. The Smilodon can always come back to that cliff. It probably inhabits one of the caves; it must have been protecting its cubs’ he answered.
‘Smilodon’, Amy hesitatingly pronounced the name – so the sabre toothed tiger, the black dog and everything that has been happening to her was real. Having the illusion of being in a dream ripped off from her, Amy felt achingly vulnerable and lost. ‘Look you have to help me; if this is not a dream then I need to get back right now!’
‘I can’t help you with that. I can’t even imagine how you got here in the first place’.
Amy blinked back tears of frustration and genuine fear, as she observed the boy. Realizing that she may be stuck with his company for some time she decided to at least find out his name.
‘I’m Amy by the way, what’s your name?’ she asked
‘I’m called Drake’.
‘How old are you?’ asked Amy openly curious.
‘I’ve seen seventeen winters if that’s what you mean’.
Somehow he looked older than seventeen- more self-assured, more confident.
‘You said I’d be in trouble if someone finds me here; so why aren’t you turning me in? You know calling for your people?’
Drake shrugged as if faintly embarrassed, ‘I’ve read about your world, I’ve always been curious about your human ways but I’d never imagined that I’d meet one and you don’t look like a threat to me or my people. I’ve nothing to gain by calling in the clan elders’.
Amy silently digested that piece of information, surprised to hear that the human world was not a mystery to the people of this land whereas , other realms and their occupants was hardly a topic for study in her world except in fantasy novels and sci- fi movies perhaps. Was it because of the arrogance of the human race or just limitations of the human mind, Amy wondered?
‘You can’t be wondering in these forests. We have to find some place for you to hide. Till you can go back to your world and we need to find something else for you to wear. You are still in your night clothes ‘ stated Drake, curiously looking at her pink and black ‘Hello Kitty ‘ PJs.
About to open her mouth to defend her favorite pair of jammies, Amy froze midway as she heard a sound of faint rustling of dry leaves. Drake moved in a flash and instantly pushed her behind a tree trunk of enormous girth.

Book Review:

So Romeo and Juliet, Supernatural, and Land of the Lost got together and had a book (only all the cheesy stuff was left out… so maybe include the movie “Twins” in there where they genetically engineered the perfect human and accidentally got a twin with all the flaws… that book is still languishing in someone’s closet.)  This book has all the good parts of these books, shows, etc.

Amy reads about a mythical land and accidentally winds up there.  And no, that wasn’t the strange part.  This book is a must read.

I give this book 4 out of 5 clouds.

This product or book may have been distributed for review; this in no way affects my opinions or reviews.