Welcome to RRBC’s “ROCKIN’ 2020 AWAY” BOOK, BLOG & TRAILER BLOCK PARTY at Books By Nonnie!
Today at my stop I’m giving away…
(2) $5 Amazon Gift Cards
(1) ebook copy of OPEN, SHUT
Darcy Lynn has a few problems. Her sister, Lola, killed by a drunk driver, leaves her with an eerie message right before her death; her parents are atheists; her father drinks a little too much, and her brother, Bud, is just annoying. But, her most pressing issue is that things are mysteriously opening and closing around her and she hasn’t a clue as to why…or how.
In this short “sad but uplifting story with a wonderful message,” as one reader tags it, Author, Nonnie Jules flexes her writing chops once again, by introducing her readers to a normal, everyday family, whose lives are altered, not once, but twice by unexpected and unusual circumstances.
If you came into this story only believing in things seen with your own two eyes, and things heard with your own two ears, you walk away with a new and refreshing added sense…the ability and the courage to change, based on where your heart leads you.
February 12, 2001:
The weather is so horrible out, I’m not sure why it makes sense that we go to school today, but, Mom is insistent. More-so because Lola just got home from the hospital a few days ago, and she’s anxious to get back to school. Of course, if she wants to go, we all have to go. Bobby and I want to be upset with Lola, but, we can’t; she’s our favorite.
“Have a great day today, Kiddos.” Dad rustles by, mussing Bobby’s hair.
I smile. It’s forced, but, it’s the right thing to do.
“You do the same, Dad,” Lola chimes in. Now, her smile is genuine. It should be, though, she’s the only one happy about today.
“Hurry and finish your breakfast, kids. You don’t want to be late.” This is Mom’s Monday through Friday spiel, and like a desperate call center agent, she gives it without fail.
“I don’t mind being late at all,” I respond. I’m being honest.
Moving at full speed, mom comes to a screeching halt in front of me and I swear her hands are moving towards my throat.
“You are the most pugnacious ten-year-old-child in the world!” The dishcloth being twisted in her hands looks eerily like a noose being prepared to outfit a certain ten-year-old neck.
I’ve no idea what that word means, but coming from my mom – and directed at me – it can’t be good…
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