Dear Reader

Dear Reader Column - November 16, 2021

Dear Reader,

Lynn Austin, today's guest author, is the bestselling author of nearly thirty historical novels. Her newest is The Wish Book Christmas, a Christmas novella that takes place in the 1950s. She and her cat-loving husband live in the snowy Midwest and still drive a tiny, two-seater convertible. Lynn's books have been translated into eleven languages, and one of them, Hidden Places, has been made into a Hallmark movie.

Lynn loves to hear from readers. You can reach her at: [email protected]

Every November, my husband and I reminisce about a memorable Thanksgiving when we were first married. We had decided to drive from our home in Connecticut to my grandmother's house in Pennsylvania, but being young and stupid, we didn't check the weather forecast before leaving on Thanksgiving Eve--in our tiny, two-seater convertible. Big mistake!

By the time we reached the New York-Pennsylvania border, it was snowing so hard the state troopers closed the road into the Pocono Mountains where Grandma lived. We stopped at a fleabag hotel in the last town before the closure and learned that only one room remained. The desk clerk didn't know if we had gotten there first or another young couple had. We talked it over with these strangers and decided to share the room. Did I mention that we had our cat with us? Well, so did the other couple.

The room had two twin beds. The strangers crowded onto one and we squished together on the other. The bathroom down the hall was shared by everyone on our floor. The cats snarled and hissed all night. But we were thankful. Other stranded travelers had slept in the lobby or in their cars that night.

By noon on Thanksgiving Day, the road reopened. We headed into the mountains again, but the snow was falling faster than the snowplows could keep up. Twenty miles from Grandma's house, we halted in another traffic pileup in the middle of a forest. We sat until dusk, cold, hungry, and running low on gasoline as we tried to keep warm. The snow piled as high as our windowsills.

As the sun set, a family in the only nearby house took pity on the dozens of stranded travelers and invited us all into their modest home for the night--including our cat. They fed us their Thanksgiving dinner and emptied their refrigerator, too. About twenty-five of us slept on their floor that night.

The plow came through the next morning. We shoveled our car out of the snowbank and made it to Grandma's house, the only members of my family who did. We had Grandma's twenty-five-pound turkey all to ourselves. Our cat feasted, too.

That was the year we learned the real meaning of being thankful. We have never forgotten that family's generosity, and so in the true spirit of Thanksgiving, we make sure to include outsiders in our celebrations each year, whether college students or foreign visitors or people with no family nearby. And yes, their pets are always welcome, too. Happy Thanksgiving!

-- Lynn Austin
Email: [email protected]

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
[email protected]

* This month's Penguin Classics book is THE PENGUIN BOOK OF DRAGONS, edited by Scott G. Bruce. I have a copy of the book to share with a lucky reader, so start reading and enter for your chance to win.

Dear Reader Column - November 15, 2021

Dear Reader,

In the upcoming weeks I'll be featuring some Honorable Mention entries from this year's Write a DearReader Contest. People put their heart and soul into their writing, and I like to share as many great entries as I can. If you missed reading any of the first, second or third place finishers, you can find them here. 

Congratulations to every single person who took the challenge and entered this year's writing contest. Thank you for opening your hearts and sharing your stories. It was a privilege to read them.

-- Suzanne Beecher

KEYS TO REMEMBERING

One fateful, cool October day, I decided to zip to the street-side mailbox solo and barefoot, leaving my twenty-month-old daughter watching me from the front window. After retrieving the post, I refocused on my front window, my free hand raised in a wave to my daughter. The pane stood vacant.

I sprinted to the front porch. Before I turned the doorknob, I heard the breath-stealing rattle of the lock turning. No, no, no! My daughter appeared in the window next to the door as I twisted and shook the knob. My stomach roller-coastered to my feet.

Did I mention I was also six months pregnant and home alone with my daughter? I yelled through the closed window, asking my daughter to undo the lock. Anyone passing by probably would have had a good laugh at the woman miming exaggerated turning to a window. But since it was lunchtime and most neighbors were at work or otherwise occupied, not a soul witnessed my animated performance.

My daughter must have grown bored with Mom's game because she retreated to the kitchen out of sight. With my husband not due home for another six hours, I needed to find a phone--and fast--because of course my shortsightedness (or more likely "mom-brain" state of mind), also left my phone sitting inside the now locked house next to my keys. I raced next door, but no one answered. The garage door to the adjacent house stood open and I could see my neighbor inside her kitchen through the clear storm door. I knocked and rang the front bell. My neighbor's dog barked and jumped at the front window, but my neighbor refused to answer. Maybe I looked as crazed as I felt--a panicked, barefoot, and pregnant lady on her doorstep.

After an eternity of ringing and knocking on every consecutive door, one of my neighbors finally answered. She gave me her phone to call my husband. Calls to his plant go directly to security. In 911-style desperation, I explained my situation to the officer. Security put me on hold to page my husband. After waiting another forever, the officer said my husband wasn't answering, but they'd send a search party to relay my message.

Nightmarish thoughts invaded my brain. What if I left the basement door ajar? What if my daughter fell down the stairs? What if she's lying broken at the bottom and I'm helpless to get to her? Desperate to enter, I contemplated smashing a window, but that required objects heavier than our landscaping mulch. So, I circled the house banging and peering into every window, no longer caring my feet felt like blocks of ice.

With time moving at a cold molasses pace, I'd lost track of how long since my frantic call. And when my husband's car screeched around the corner and jerked to a halt on our driveway, time and I were already sworn enemies. My husband unlocked the front door, telling me he'd halved the normally twenty-minute drive to get home. We burst inside, yelling for our daughter. My heart squeezed when I saw my fear confirmed--the basement door stood open. Inhaling sharply, I peered downstairs.

My daughter sat at the base, playing with her cars.

I scooped her up into a too-tight hug and asked how she had made it down the stairs.

"Like this," she said, wiggling free. She crawled up the first few stairs and then demonstrated scooting down on her bottom as I'd taught her.

This earned her another tight squeeze and me a fleeting, proud momma moment, because I realized how differently this could have ended. And it still terrifies me, but also makes me grateful my decision didn't come at a high cost.

So, guess who never leaves the house now without her keys?

P. S. I also highly recommend footwear, even for "quick" sprints to the mailbox.

-- Danielle S. Hammelef
Honorable Mention, 2021 Write a DearReader Contest

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
[email protected]

* This month's Penguin Classics book is THE PENGUIN BOOK OF DRAGONS, edited by Scott G. Bruce. I have a copy of the book to share with a lucky reader, so start reading and enter for your chance to win.

Dear Reader Column - November 12, 2021

Dear Reader,

I'm really looking forward to Thanksgiving because relatives I haven't seen for two years, are flying in to celebrate with us this year. So I'm cooking my traditional turkey dinner with all the trimmings and everything's made from scratch. I love cooking and I make sure my table looks festive, too. But I cheat--big time.

Over the years I've learned some little tricks to "fancy things up." Guests think I've slaved over the dinner and table accents, when in fact it's simply a well-rehearsed twist of the paring knife to jazz up garnishes, and using a glue gun to add an artist's look to my water glasses and pie pedestals. I can't even draw stick men, so if I can make glasses look fancy enough so that people "ooh" and "ah," then anyone can.

Here's my secret: You'll need stemmed water or wine glasses--they don't have to match and they can be inexpensive. (Go to the local resale shop and buy some mismatched ones.) I prefer the eclectic look. Buy some ribbon (in colors that reflect the holiday, or any color theme you're using), a few silk flowers and a glue gun.

First, tie a piece of ribbon around the stem of the glass. Then snip a piece of silk flower, add some strands of a different colored ribbon and tie them into the piece of ribbon that you put around the stem of the glass. Now put a dab of hot glue on the backside of the ribbon--so it attaches to the back of the stem of the glass. And then glue the flower into place in the front. When you're done with the glasses you can just snip the ribbon and the glue peels right off. I keep some of mine decorated year-round and use them for a couple of years. When I need to wash them, I just hold them upside down and wash them by hand.

I don't decorate the glasses all in one day. Instead I leave the materials out and do one or two every day leading up to Thanksgiving.

I have step-by-step photos using glasses from last Thanksgiving and a picture of the glasses I decorated for this year.

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
[email protected]

Congratulations to the winners of Go Home, Ricky! by guest author Gene Kwak: Karen E., Marlys F., Emily C., Dorie F., Maureen O., Mildred A., Sandy J., Sharon B., Joyce B., Amy B.

* This month's Penguin Classics book is THE PENGUIN BOOK OF DRAGONS, edited by Scott G. Bruce. I have a copy of the book to share with a lucky reader, so start reading and enter for your chance to win.

Dear Reader Column - November 11, 2021

Dear Reader,

I'm in the middle of party-central at my house. Minute-to-minute I'm not sure whether I'm in the jungle or on the ocean. For the past 15 years I've hosted all of our family birthday parties and every party has had a theme. The latest was a jungle party for my 13-year-old grandson. Up until last Sunday (party day), there was a 7.4 foot giraffe, a life-sized zebra and rhino photo-cutouts standing next to my desk--keeping me company until party time. (I do admit I miss them.)

My grandkids' birthdays are only a couple of months apart, so my dressing room is always filled with the next upcoming event, or the one after that. You can't put together a jungle party, complete with sounds of the jungle, in two weeks. First I peruse the Internet looking for ideas for seagull pinatas, sea turtle napkins and jellyfish that will hang down from the ceiling. Whoops! I guess I was talking about the jungle, wasn't I? See how it happens.

It's been a lot of work, but also a lot of fun to plan the parties over the years. Yes, I'm thinking past tense, because maybe the grandkids are getting too old for themed dinosaurs, LEGO, Minions, down-on-the-farm, robots, or cats, and more cats, parties?

I was skeptical this year whether or not I could get the grandkids and the adults to wear safari hats at my jungle party, but surprisingly putting on a hat was the first thing everyone did--so maybe there's hope for more of Grandma's themed Happy Birthdays!

To see jungle party photos, click here.

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
[email protected]

* This month's Penguin Classics book is THE PENGUIN BOOK OF DRAGONS, edited by Scott G. Bruce. I have a copy of the book to share with a lucky reader, so start reading and enter for your chance to win.

Dear Reader Column - November 10, 2021

Dear Reader,

Yes, Again: (Mis) adventures of a Wishful Thinker is the debut memoir of today's guest author, Sallie Weissinger. A New Orleans-born, military brat-raised, Berkeley/Portland resident, Sallie grew up with parents who imparted their Southern heritage to her, but she speaks with a Yankee accent.

Sallie has lived in Germany, Ohio, Japan, Michigan, Louisiana, Spain, Portugal (the Azores), California, and Oregon. When she's not hanging out with her family and friends, she's pruning roses and walking her two rescue dogs, McGee and Tillie. Sallie makes a great jambalaya and loves rock and roll music.

Kirkus Reviews says Sallie's new book is, "A funny, touching, and ultimately uplifting story of a woman searching for love and purpose."

You could win one of two copies of Yes, Again. Simply email, [email protected] to enter the drawing.

WHERE A SOUTHERN ACCENT GETS YOU

By Sallie Weissinger

Twenty-some years ago, a girlfriend and I were leaving work in San Francisco to have dinner and catch up on each other's lives. As we crossed Market Street, I saw an "older" couple (probably no older than I am now, but then I was barely AARP eligible) standing at the corner of the intersection we were crossing. They seemed perplexed, looking at the city guidebook and a map the woman held in her hands. I asked if I could help them locate a destination. She answered in a distinctly Southern accent, "We're looking for a Mexican restaurant. We hear it's very good, and it's our anniversary."

I explained that the restaurant they were pointing to in the guidebook was part of a chain, and it was fine but nothing special. I gave them suggestions they might prefer for their celebratory event: my personal favorite was an Italian trattoria with linen tablecloths and subdued lighting. Their eyes lit up. As we were parting, my girlfriend Susan, knowing I'm from New Orleans, opened her mouth. I could tell she was going to ask, "Where are you from?" and gave her the stink eye and wrinkled my forehead: "NO! Don't ask them!"

Ignoring me, Susan inquired, "Where are you from?"

"We're from Looz-i-ana."

I repeated my grimace and frown. Again Susan blew me off, exclaiming, "She's from Louisiana--she's from New Orleans."

"You're from New Orleans, where are you from in New Orleans?"

The Q & A ensued: A: I'm from Uptown, near Tulane."

Q: "Where Uptown?" A: "Near Audubon Park."

Q: "Where near the park?" A: "State Street."

Q: "Where on State Street?" A: "Between Perrier and Coliseum, on the downtown side of State."

Q: "Who's your mama and your daddy?" A: "Steve and Virginia Weissinger," I answered, thinking they would head for their restaurant and we'd go on our way.

Q: "Do you mean Ginnie and the Colonel? Are Ginnie and the Colonel your mama and your daddy? We were with them last Saturday night."

I was gobsmacked and delighted at the serendipity of meeting friends of my parents on a street in San Francisco, two thousand miles from my hometown and my parents' home on State Street. Life offers us an array of coincidences, chance meetings, lovely interactions. In this case, it was because of a Southern accent and a dear friend who wouldn't take "NO!" from me.

-- Sallie Weissinger

Email Sallie at [email protected] and when you do, you'll be entered to win a copy of her new book, Yes, Again (Mis) adventures of a Wishful Thinker.

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
[email protected]

Dear Reader Column - November 9, 2021

Dear Reader,

Every other month you can sample a Penguin Classics in your book club email.

What Is a Classic Novel? I was curious.

MasterClass Articles says there are four key elements of a Classic novel.

A memorable protagonist
Exploration of the human experience
A richness that rewards multiple readings
Enduring influence

This month's Penguin Classics book is THE PENGUIN BOOK OF DRAGONS, edited by Scott G. Bruce. I have a copy of the book to share with a lucky reader. Start reading and enter for your chance to win.

If you’ve missed any of this year’s precious Penguin Classics you can sample them here.

ROMANCE IN MARSEILLE by Claude McKay
UNSUNG: Unheralded Narratives of American Slavery & Abolition by The Schomburg Center
THE WOMEN OF BREWSTER PLACE by Gloria Naylor
THE TRANSIT OF VENUS by Shirley Hazzar
THE TALE OF PRINCESS FATIMA, WARRIOR WOMAN: The Arabic Epic of Dhat al-Himma, translated and edited by Melanie Magidow

Thanks for reading with me. It’s so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
[email protected]

Dear Reader Column - November 8, 2021

Dear Reader,

It's one of my family's traditional Thanksgiving recipes, Crock Pot Dressing, and it's become a classic recipe at the book clubs, too. Every year readers email asking for the recipe (some in a panic the night before Thanksgiving, because they've misplaced their copy), so now I always share it early in the month when folks are organizing their menus for the big dinner.

If you're cooking for a crowd, or if all of your stuffing never fits in the turkey and you have to find room for another casserole in your oven, consider making my Crock Pot Dressing this year.

Crock Pot Dressing

1 cup butter, melted
2 cups chopped onion
2 cups chopped celery
1/4 cup fresh parsley
2 cups mushrooms (if you use canned, drain them)
2 eggs beaten
3 1/2 to 4 1/2 cups chicken broth, or enough to moisten well
13 cups dried bread, cubed
1 1/2 tsp poultry seasoning
2 tsp salt
2 tsp sage
1 tsp thyme
1 tsp pepper
1/2 tsp marjoram, (optional)

Melt butter in a fry pan and saute onion and celery until soft. Mix with remaining ingredients and toss well. Pack in a large crock pot. Cover. Cook on high for 45 minutes, then turn to low and continue cooking for 6-8 hours.

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
[email protected]

Dear Reader Column - November 5, 2021

Dear Reader,  

If you do something wrong there are consequences, unless you're Claire, “our a-little-bit-crazy” cat. She's really a good girl, don't get me wrong (okay, so that's what parents say, even when their kids are bad). But Claire can't always help herself. Every "child" has a different personality and Claire's behavior is inspired by a lot of nervous energy that overtakes her sometimes. I love her dearly and she's a sweetheart. But--sometimes if Claire doesn't get what she wants, she pees, where she shouldn't.

Claire only wants to eat canned Fancy Feast Delights Grilled Chicken with Cheddar Cheese. (My husband says, “if Claire gets hungry enough she'll eat what our other four cats eat.") But I've decided not to test his theory. Because from past experience, I know Claire has the upper hand. She loves her green playhouse and if you want to stay on her good side, don't ever move it to another room. When she was upset that my husband and I went on vacation, Claire's thought process, 'I'll pee on their bathroom rug.'

Claire's way of telling me she's not happy can be frustrating at times, but then again, maybe her method of letting me know she's not happy is pure genius. Maybe actions do speak louder than words? Next time I'm feeling taken advantage of when a retailer recites their ridiculous return policy, and logical reasoning doesn't work, I'll just smile sweetly, because I've brought along my secret weapon, tucked into her cat carrier.

"You won't take my defective toaster back?"

"Well, Claire, see that display of toasters?"

And if a store won't refund the peaches I purchased. No problem, Claire and I will visit the stack of unripe peaches in the produce section.

"Clean up on aisle 5!"

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
[email protected]

* Congratulations to Brittney E. the winner of the scallop pastry baking shells and to Nathanael S. the winner of the writing journal.

KIDSBUZZ: Click here to discover new books, "meet" the authors and enter to win.

An old world story with hints of modern life, THE MASK by Clayton Marshall Adams "tells an indelible story of acceptance and prejudice" (Kirkus, starred review) and can help start meaningful conversations about bullying, body image, courage and love. For kids ages 10-16. For a chance to win a free copies, to talk with the author, and more, see http://www.authorbuzz.com/kidsbuzz.

Dear Reader Column - November 4, 2021

Dear Reader,

Congratulations to Cheryl R. Price, this year's First Place winner in my Write a DearReader Contest! I personally read all of the entries submitted to the contest, and after reading Cheryl's entry, for the first time, I made a note, "Could be the winner!"

Cheryl has been a librarian for the past 27 years. Currently she's a Senior Librarian at Salem Public Library in Virginia. (All of the contest winners this year are librarians, what a wonderful coincidence.) When I spoke to Cheryl, this year's First Place winner, on the phone, I asked her to share something about herself that's unique or quirky. After a long pause, "Well Suzanne, I really do look like a librarian, I learned how to drive a tractor, and I can save baby chicks on the farm. I don't follow recipes--like ever. I look at the ingredients and consider the measurements just a loose guideline. I've never been a color-in-the-lines girl. I do own measuring spoons and cups, but just prefer using a big serving spoon to scoop out ingredients. I would've done quite well as a cook with an old-fashioned dash of this, a pinch of that and a handful of flour."

It's always a treat to call the contest winners and Cheryl was very excited about getting my call, "What a great day, Suzanne! I won't get any work done!"

Thank you so much for entering the contest Cheryl. What a great day it was when I read your entry. -- Suzanne Beecher

Locks

I have lived my entire life in a city neighborhood always remembering to lock my doors. I have consistently locked my windows, my garage, my car. I locked my tool shed. I have a locked box for important documents. I was a single mom raising four children alone and it is the safe, normal thing to do when you live in a small city. Walking through the house at night to lock up has been as routine as a bedtime story and brushing teeth.

And for all those locks, I had keys along with a decorative key holder by the front door and a small ceramic bowl for my guests' keys. Lots of locks. Piles of keys.

But then I met this old farmer. He was this crusty, retired Marine with a penchant for broken tractors, NPR, and, as it turns out, left-leaning librarians. And surprisingly, I discovered in my deadbolted, secured city life that I had a weakness for tough-skinned farmers with marshmallow hearts and blue eyes. At least, one in particular.

So, reader, I married him. I sealed up my books and grandma's china into boxes and moved with my half-grown kids to this rural county with zero traffic lights and one small grocery store that has no organic section.

The first night in my new home, a rambling 100-year-old farmhouse, I went to lock the doors, of course. It is what we do, right? No, says the old farmer, it'll get too hot. For the first time ever, I left the doors and windows wide open. I was a nervous wreck, I'm not sure I slept much. Who knows what or who could wander in?

A couple of months later, I was in the kitchen and heard a crash in the basement, my worst fear realized with all those unlocked doors and open windows. There was an intruder. I went to investigate and discovered my sheep standing at the bottom of the stairs. I started down the stairs with a "what on earth" and a "how did you get in here" and possibly a swear word, when I heard a low, long moo. Behind the sheep, there was a 900 lb black angus heifer cooling her heels on a hot summer day. A cow named Baby. And Baby was in my basement, asserting herself and making deposits everywhere. My sweet farmer had left the cellar door unlocked and open, wide open, and my farm friends decided to come on in to escape the heat. Who could blame them really? An open door is an invitation in my mind and they agreed. Eventually though, with some motivational speaking and a grain bucket, they were coaxed back outside.

My life is unlocked now. My car keys stay in the ignition. My house keys went MIA about four years ago. My garden tools stay in an old canvas bag in the barn guarded only by fierce chickens. Not a padlock in sight. I gave my decorative key holder and that ceramic bowl to the thrift store. I have learned to sleep with windows open. I don't even have curtains.

For most of my life, I thought keeping everything locked would keep me safe and it was the only way to live. My children were safe, my possessions were safe, my heart was safe. But it's good what unlocking can do. Unlocking lets in all sorts of things, good things like cows in the basement. Chickens in the backseat of your car. Muddy boots and wet dogs. Cool breezes and moonlight. Funny stories, laughter, and new friends. And most importantly, love.

-- Cheryl R. Price
First Place, 2021 Write a DearReader Contest

To see the photos of Cheryl and her straying livestock, click here.

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
[email protected]

KIDSBUZZ: Click here to discover new books, "meet" the authors and enter to win.

Dear Reader Column - November 3, 2021

Dear Reader,

Congratulations to Jill Cloonan, the Second Place winner in this year's Write a DearReader Contest!

Jill has been a librarian at the Longwood Public Library in Middle Island, New York since 1999. She loves working at the library but, "Things were different back then," Jill told me when I spoke to her on the phone. "No technology; iPads or social media. A child could sit on my lap and I could read them a story. It was reading out loud instead of 'showing.'"

Yes, things have changed over the years. Now there's flu clinics, food pantries, and even a visit to a llama farm (a favorite program that Jill organized), giving patrons the opportunity to experience some "old time" one-on-one experiences. And to Jill's delight, some of those children from (back in the day) story time, still visit the library and say "Hello", like the (all grown-up) nurse who works at the local hospital.

Reading Jill's entry brought tears to my eyes. Thank you so much Jill for entering this year's contest and sharing such a heartfelt memory. -- Suzanne Beecher

The Kiss of Life

It was a terrifying start for this brand-new life
urgency, fear, death almost certain.
But you wanted to live,
you wanted to thrive,
you wanted the world to know
you were most definitely alive.
Taken from my body and placed inside a plastic womb
Born too early; just too soon
Hard tubing pushed down your tiny throat
Pumping oxygen into your failing lungs.

I sang softly so you would know I was near
"You are my Sunshine" and "Amazing Grace",
Lullabies and songs of faith.
I sang through my sadness; I sang through my fears
hoping my words could heal you, hoping the music would heal me
I couldn't touch you, I couldn't breathe in your scent
I could only watch and pray, nothing more.
The beeping of the monitors became my rhythm,
Doctors' whispers became my rhyme.
Day after day, week after week
I ached to hold you, to inhale you, to protect you
My first born, my miracle.

One early morning when I came to sit vigil
On the all too familiar wooden rocking chair
My heart raced at the new sight.
No more tube down your throat, no more hissing of the ventilator next to you.
You turned your angelic face towards me, and I saw your pale pink lips for the first time.
I saw your chest go up and down all on its own.
I saw your heart beating beneath the thin, veined skin.
I saw life.

The nurse sobbed as she said "Today is the day you can hold your son"
Words did not suffice, but tears of joy did.
She opened your plastic home, wrapped you in your bunny blanket and placed you in my arms.
Your cry was that of a lamb, your body the weight of a cloud.
I lifted your pure, sweet face to mine and kissed your velvety soft cheek for the first time.

Oh...the kiss of life, the kiss of life

Beautiful beyond words, tender beyond love.

I am your mother; and you are my son.

-- Jill Cloonan
Second Place, 2021 Write a DearReader Contest

To see the photo of Jill at the llama farm and of her son Christopher (who is now 30 years old), click here.

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
[email protected]

KIDSBUZZ: Click here to discover new books, "meet" the authors and enter to win.

An old world story with hints of modern life, THE MASK by Clayton Marshall Adams "tells an indelible story of acceptance and prejudice" (Kirkus, starred review) and can help start meaningful conversations about bullying, body image, courage and love. For kids ages 10-16. For a chance to win a free copies, to talk with the author, and more, see http://www.authorbuzz.com/kidsbuzz.