Dear Reader

Dear Reader Column - June 28, 2022

Dear Reader,

Today’s guest author, Linda MacKillop, lives and writes in the Chicagoland area. She has worked in broadcasting, publishing, taught English at a community college, and delivered many newspapers. Her debut novel, The Forgotten Life of Eva Gordon, came out in May. In this contemporary novel, Eva Gordon is an older woman who wants to run away from her life because her memory is failing, and she's forced to live with her spunky granddaughter whose life is overflowing with misfit Characters.

Be sure to enter Linda's giveaway. (Details are at the end of her column.)

Welcome to the book club, Linda…

Hard Jobs

I spent many years working hard jobs while trying to earn money for college. For a time, I delivered newspapers in the early morning hours. Later I worked the graveyard shift at an old-fashioned answering service, monitoring calls for doctors, AAA, and other businesses who needed 24-hour service. The scariest part of that job? Waking doctors at 2am when your "emergency" didn't fit their definition.

My most risky job experience came while I still had the paper route. People were supposed to pay by leaving money in envelopes, but as anyone who has ever had a paper route knows, collecting from your customers is the difficult, thankless part of the job.

One day, I got fed up with customers who wouldn't pay me and went door to door. Most folks respectively paid me.

Then I arrived at a dilapidated trailer sitting at the outskirts of town. The customer hadn't paid in months, and I was mad. I'd had never breached the chain-link fencing surrounding his place, only leaving the paper in the designated mailbox. But on this day, I opened that gate and marched to the front door. When a scruffy man answered, I told him I was collecting for his newspaper.

"How'd you get in here?" he asked

"I walked through your gate." At that moment, two furious, barking pit bulls raced around the corner of the trailer, charging at me.

"Get inside quick," he said, pulling me inside the trailer.

I'm not sure which of my decisions that day was worse, walking through that gate or allowing him to pull me inside. (Did I mention a serial killer was murdering women in my city? Later we would learn he was Ted Bundy.) But there I stood inside this stranger's home with no way to walk out the front door without being mauled.

He began to laugh. "I can't believe you had the guts to come in here. I'm paying you everything I owe." He left the room chuckling and collected his wallet. When he returned, he handed me a wad of cash before tying up his dogs outside so I could safely leave. Weeks later, I quit the paper route.

When I finished college, thinking my late-night shifts were over, I took a job as a master control engineer for a television station--and, of course, worked the late-night shift until the wee hours of the dark mornings.

Today, I never take for granted my day job writing safely at my desk.

I love to hear from readers and respond to emails. I'm giving away five copies of my novel, The Forgotten Life of Eva Gordon, and hope you enter to win. Just send an email with your mailing address (in case you win) to linda@mackillops.com.

-- Linda MacKillop

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

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

Dear Reader Column - June 21, 2022

Dear Reader,

Today’s guest author, Kelly I. Hitchcock, is a humorous fiction author who grew up in the

Ozarks but now calls Austin, Texas home. Her work has been featured in Clackamas Literary Review, Foliate Oak Literary Magazine, and Moms Don't Have Time to Write. Her new book is Community Klepto, set in suburban Kansas City in the early 2010s, Community Klepto--a droll combination of Bridget Jones' Diary and Choke--makes incarnate the characters and shenanigans that go on in every gym in the world.

Be sure to enter Kelly’s giveaway. (Details are at the end of her column.)

Please welcome to the book club, Kelly Hitchcock…

I hated running before I loved it. When we had to do the timed mile tests in PE, I'd be the one walking and sulking the whole time while my little brother lapped me, going for a new land speed record. I wasn't fast (my brother must have gotten some mutant gene that I didn't), and I would never be fast, so I didn't see the point. Also hurdles terrified me.

It wasn't until a couple friends of mine ran a marathon that I thought distance running was in the realm of possibility for me. I didn't have to be fast--they sure weren't--I just had to keep going. I started training when I was living in Kansas City and getting roped into events for Corporate Challenge, because I was in my 20s and couldn't say no to people yet. I refused to do any sprints (not a flat-out refusal, more of a suggestion that someone with a remote chance of sprinting off the blocks was a better choice), but I agreed to run the one mile.

In my heat was a visibly pregnant woman. Suddenly I had a goal. I didn't have to be the fastest; I just had to be faster than the pregnant woman. I ran that mile in a little under 9 minutes, which

was a personal best. The next week, I ran two miles (slower, since I was by myself and didn't have any pregnant ladies to beat). The next, I ran 4. Finally, I registered for the Twin Cities Marathon, reluctantly paid my $50 fee, and started training in earnest.

And I was shocked to find out I didn't hate running after all. I didn't even hate 4 AM, which is when I'd have to start my long Sunday runs to avoid the summer heat. When I was out running early in the morning, it was the only time I could really sit with my thoughts and feelings, feel the breeze on my face, and watch the city come to life. I discovered audiobooks, which meant I could read for hours without being accused of being a lazy slug. I could top off the day with a 2,000-calorie cheeseburger and a nap.

I miss distance running, but my knees sure don't. Now that I'm pushing 40 with two young children, I'd give my left arm to have hours outside all by myself, a 2,000-calorie cheeseburger, or a nap...let alone all 3! But I'll happily settle for nice long walks with nice long books.

I am giving away 5 advance review copies of my forthcoming novel Community Klepto. To enter the giveaway, send an email with a dirty limerick (okay, the limerick is optional) to: kelly@kellyhitchcock.com along with your name and mailing address.

-- Kelly I. Hitchcock

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

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

Dear Reader Column - June 17, 2022

Dear Reader,

The Crab-Fest continues…

Book Club reader Marilyn enjoyed the crab party hat photos. If you missed them, you can see here. 

“Suzanne, the crab hat pictures were so fun! I have a  small plastic lobster clinging onto my refrigerator and chuckle each time I notice him/her. Now I have images of the crab hats floating around in my head, as well. 

Just so you know, I love reading your column each week and dutifully read the article before I enter the current contest.

Our public library has begun an extraordinary expansion effort which is sorely needed. Who said print copies of books are passe! Of course, the services of the library are so extensive these days and we are grateful! I live in a senior facility and facilitate our book club. We have 12-15 regular attendees and use only book club kits from the library. To date have used 150 kits for the club. I think that speaks volumes for public library services. Currently we are reading Jodi Picoult's NINETEEN MINUTES for further insights into school shootings. Thanks always for the latest.” – Marilyn M.

To keep the crab-fest going, I’m giving away a cute little mini stuffed crab. Perfect for little hands. To enter the drawing, click here. 

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

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

Dear Reader Column - June 14, 2022

Dear Reader,

Today’s guest author, Donald Robertson, is a cognitive-behavioural psychotherapist and the author of several books on philosophy and psychotherapy, including How to Think Like a Roman Emperor: The Stoic Philosophy of Marcus Aurelius, which has been translated into eighteen languages.  

Donald  was born in Scotland, moved to London, then emigrated to Canada, where he became a citizen, and more recently became a permanent resident in Greece. Donald is the president and founder of the Plato's Academy Centre, a nonprofit based in Athens. His latest book, Verissimus, is a graphic novel about the life and philosophy of Marcus Aurelius, will be released July 12th.

Donald enjoys hearing from readers. Drop him a line at: donald@donaldrobertson.name

To win a copy of his new graphic novel, Verissimus, send and email with your shipping information to: sarabeth.haring@stmartins.com

"Why has nobody ever tried to rebuild Plato's Academy?" Those words flashed through my mind the first time I walked through the Akadimia Platonos park in Athens. Locals take their children there to play. They walk and exercise there. I have to admit that my jaw dropped, though, when a Greek friend recently referred to it in passing as a "dog park". Plato is the most important philosopher in, well, the whole of Western history. He founded a school here, which took its name from the Akadimia recreational ground or gymnasion, where youths would wrestle, run, and dance, while older men walked under the shade of trees, talking about politics and philosophy. Everyone has heard of it, if only because every single "academy" today bears its name. It was the first institution of higher education in European history--a beacon of learning for many centuries. It became a symbol for rational and tolerant debate throughout the ancient world.

Nearly three centuries after Plato's death, the famous Roman orator, Cicero, visited the Academy, which had recently been sacked during an invasion, and was left almost deserted. Still, he and his companion, felt they were walking in the footsteps of history's greatest philosopher:

When we reached the walks of the Academy, which are so deservedly famous, we had them entirely to ourselves, as we had hoped. Thereupon [my friend] Piso remarked [...] "I am reminded of Plato, the first philosopher, so we are told, that made a practice of holding discussions in this place; and indeed the garden close at hand yonder not only recalls his memory but seems to bring the actual man before my eyes."--Cicero, De Finibus

At that time, Plato's tomb stood there--it must have felt as though his spirit still haunted the grounds of the park.

Today there's nothing there. Or rather, there's a 30 acre public park, a statue of Plato, many ruins of ancient buildings, a pleasant square with shops and cafes, and even a small digital museum commemorating Plato's legacy. However, something important is missing. It's one of the poorer suburbs of Athens, although not far from the city centre. People don't often do philosophy there. We've been talking about building an international conference centre nearby, a space for anyone to come and discuss philosophy, especially how it applies to our daily lives, in the modern world. I can't think of a better way to celebrate Plato's legacy, and bring back the "actual man before our eyes", than by bringing philosophical discussion back to the Academy, and making come alive once again, for everyone.

-- Donald Robertson

Donald at donald@donaldrobertson.name

Enter to win a copy of his new graphic novel, Verissimus, send and email with your shipping information to: sarabeth.haring@stmartins.com

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

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

Dear Reader Column - June 10, 2022

Dear Reader,

“Good morning Suzanne, Your column today gave me a good laugh because I can so relate. I prep my coffee pot the night before, so in the AM I just hit the start button. I used to set an AM timer when I was working. 

The last two days, however, that start bottom on my machine has been finicky…I think it’s on its last leg…so I promptly ordered a new coffee maker yesterday. However, I’m not happy looking at the delivery date estimates. I was about to go into panic mode when I remembered that I had my mom’s old electric coffee pot! Saved! 

Truly, I’m not a high maintenance person, I just require a good and hot cup of coffee within minutes of waking. Enjoy your day and your coffee!” – Maria M.

“Hi Suzanne, your comments today gave me a good laugh. Thank you!! I, like you, only start to function after my first cup of coffee. This time of the year it is iced, but coffee nonetheless, and always a perfect companion to a good book.” – Warmly, Karen M.

“Your newsletters are one of the first emails I read each day! I enjoy the recipes, too.”   – Catherine B.

“Hi Suzanne! I just wanted to thank you for the book and (finally!) send the photo that you requested. I was so excited to receive your email stating that I had won, and even more excited when the book arrived on my front porch the very next day. I will now forever think of you as the book fairy, making books magically appear!” – Best wishes! Kim B.

The guest authors who visit the book club not only give us a glimpse of their writing, but offer book giveaways as well. Be sure to read the guest's column, you may find a new author you just need to try. Here are some recent guest author book winners:

The winners of Nonna Maria and the Case of the Missing Bride, by Guest Author, Lorenzo Carcaterra are: Jennifer G., LueAnn L., Kelly M., Kathy D. and Eileen M.

The winners of Sand Dollar Lane by Guest Author Sheila Roberts are: Betty A., Marlys F., Lue Ann L., Carol M., and Barb H.

The winners of The Sport of Matchmaking by Guest Author Jennie Goutet are: Lori L.,  Lisa R., and Thea G.

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

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

Dear Reader Column - June 8, 2022

Dear Reader,

I believe the worst thing about being stranded on a desert island would be that there wasn't any coffee. I was visiting a friend of mine in Madison and she was supposed to pick me up at 8:30 a.m. We were going to Starbucks for coffee. 

Coffee is a big deal to me in the morning. I'm usually up and at 'em for only a mere 15 minutes before I get my first coffee infusion, and since I'd already been up for an hour and a half I was starting to experience coffee withdrawal. 

Every thought I had, had a cup of coffee attached to it. I was surrounded by coffee. There was even a coffee table for guests in the hotel's lobby. I was sitting outside, and every time someone walked through the front door, a big whiff of freshly brewed coffee would taunt me. 

Oh boy, what time is it now? I could really use a cup of coffee. Maybe I should call her? But maybe then I'd sound desperate. But I do feel desperate and I'm feeling more desperate every minute. Tall, insulated, coffee to-go cups are dancing in my head. The only reason I started writing this column was to try to think about something other than coffee. Obviously it's not working. 

Relax and breathe, Suzanne. I wonder if Lamaze breathing would deliver me from these coffee pangs. 

Okay, we said we'd meet at 8:30 it's now 8:34. Where is she? I know I'm a little over the edge this morning, but aren't you supposed to be prompt for job interviews, business appointments, and a coffee rendezvous? 

All smiles and looking totally put together, my friend showed up at 8:35. She looked so good. How did she do it? I just had to ask, "You must have already had your first morning cup of coffee?" 

No, she hadn't. In fact she doesn't even drink coffee anymore. And therein lies a valuable coffee lesson: Make sure the early morning designated coffee driver "actually" drinks coffee. 

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

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

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

KIDSBUZZ: Looking for a can't-put-it-down summer read for your middle grader? If your 8-12 year old likes mysteries, puzzles and pick-your-own-path books, then Lauren Magaziner's Case Closed #4: Danger on the Dig is the answer. For a chance to win free copies, talk with the authors, and more, see www.authorbuzz.com/kidsbuzz.

Dear Reader Column - June 7, 2022

Dear Reader,

Today's guest author, Cleyvis Natera, was born in the Dominican Republic, migrated to the U.S. at ten years old, and grew up in New York City. She holds a BA from Skidmore College and an MFA from New York University. Her writing has won awards and fellowships from PEN America, the Bread Loaf Writers' Conference, The Kenyon Review's Summer Writers Workshops, and the Virginia Center for the Creative Arts. Cleyvis lives with her husband and two young children in Montclair, New Jersey. Her first novel is, Neruda on the Park, an exhilarating debut novel following members of a Dominican family in New York City who take radically different paths when faced with encroaching gentrification.

Please email and welcome Cleyvis to the book club: cleyvis@cleyvisnatera.com

ARRIVALS

My three siblings and I left the Dominican Republic on Feb 15, 1988. I was ten years old, my younger sister Evelyn was eight, while my older brother Lindo was twelve and my older sister Shany was fourteen. According to weather data, there was a light rain that fell throughout the day in JFK, temperatures rather mild hovered in the mid to upper 40's. But for a bunch of kids from the Caribbean--we might as well have landed in the Arctic. When we stepped outside onto the JFK sidewalk, to locate the uncle who hadn't shown up as expected at baggage claim with our coats, we hollered and screeched like we were getting murdered. Mami, who'd been living in the US three years by then and had gone to the DR to get us, laughed, delighted at our exaggeration. It's not that cold, she said. In that moment I thought of how I would describe this new sensation to my father, who remained in the Dominican Republic, who would never travel to our new home.

When we arrived at my grandmother's apartment in Washington heights, we were enfolded into so many arms--aunts and uncles and my grandparents offered the warmth of family, ensuring we knew we'd just arrived at a place where we were all so deeply loved.

The day went by at high speed. There was so much food, so much to drink, we ended our first meal sated and awed. But as night descended, we came to find out our family would be further splintered--no one's apartment could accommodate four children.

We glanced at each other, worried. We'd never been apart. I asked Mami where she would go? She struggled to find the words. She reminded us she worked 24 hours a day as a home health aid in the Bronx. She would be saving as much as possible, so we'd all be living together before the start of the school year. I suddenly felt very small, cold, sad. I missed my father. When I asked about calling Papi, she said we'd have to wait until she came back--calling centers were already closed, there was no long distance calling in anyone's apartment.

When my mother came to see us the following weekend, she made good on her promise. We traipsed to the nearest calling center--a series of tempered glass covered walls with a tiny compartment that hardly fit two of us along with Mami, a phone that had no buttons, no rotary dial. When it was my turn to speak, I stepped up ready. I'd been paying attention--practicing how I would describe all that was new. But when I held the phone, all preparations flew out the window. I found myself shy and embarrassed.

Que te pasa, Papi said, knowing I was quiet on the other side. I told him I was scared I'd never learned English, that I'd never be let into any school. Then, I quickly remembered what I'd been practicing, and like a gorge falling apart, I told him all about our new life, the plentitude, but the sadness that hovered over everything with so much missing him. All in all it was only a couple of minutes, but with his laughter, and his sighs, I suddenly had the power of collapsing space. He and I were near each other, and Mami, who was listening nearby wiped away a tear. Even my siblings quieted down as if with my words we'd all been reunited, together for a precious moment.

This, then, was the day I realized I'd arrived at my true calling which from then on would be found among words.

-- Cleyvis Natera

Please email and welcome Cleyvis to the book club: cleyvis@cleyvisnatera.com

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

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

Dear Reader Column - May 31, 2022

Dear Reader,

Today’s guest author, Sheila Roberts, who’s written more than 50 books is best known for her holiday stories, women's fiction and romance novels in small-town settings. Sheila’s On Strike for Christmas was a Lifetime Network movie, and her The Nine Lives of Christmas is a perennial Hallmark channel movie favorite. 

A long-time Washington resident, Sheila and her husband recently moved to a beach cottage with a picturesque view not unlike that of Moonlight Harbor, the fictional setting for her current series.

Sheila is giving away 5 copies of the latest book in her series, Sand Dollar Lane.

To enter the random drawing, send an email with your mailing address (in case you win) to: nancy@nancyberland.com, with "DearReader Sheila Roberts Giveaway" in the subject line.

(All messages will be sent along to Sheila.) If you'd like to be added to her reader list, be sure to include a note to that effect.

When I Grow Up

Once upon a dream I wanted to be a songwriter. Music was a huge part of my family's life. My mother taught me how to harmonize when I was a little girl. We'd practice while she curled my hair with this vintage curling iron she'd gotten from who knows where. She'd set it on a stove burner to heat up and then proceed to burn my straight hair into curls. Looking back, I think the whole singing thing was to distract me from the torture of getting my hair singed!

Whatever the reason, it took. I sang in choirs, at church, in school talent shows and entered vocal competitions. In college I majored in music and dreamed of becoming a famous songwriter, all while working my way through as a singing waitress.

Falling in love and getting married didn't end my love affair with music. Somewhere along the way I discovered country music. And Nashville! Songwriter Mecca. I began to get serious about this songwriting thing, taking trips to Nashville, spending money on song demos. I look back on the money I spent trying to make that dream come true and realize I could have remodeled my house several times for what I spent.

But raising children and constantly running off to Nashville to try to peddle songs didn't go together like words and music. What to do? Keep dreaming, of course, but be open to other possibilities. Like writing, something I'd been doing since I was a child. One day I got an idea for a book and thought, why not write it?

Who'd have thought that would have turned the direction of my creative life? It did, and I've been happily making up stories ever since.

Of course, music is still in my bones. Over the years I've played in bands, served as a church musician, owned a singing telegram company and, yes, written more songs. I was finally able to enjoy seeing one I co-wrote with a friend make it onto an artist's CD. And I've even been able to make a music video--one of the most fun things ever! (Want to see me getting hauled off by Santa? Check out my song (written as Sheila Rabe), "Merry Christmas Mama," on YouTube.)

My career path didn't go exactly where I thought it would take me, but I think I'm living proof that if you walk through the doors that open in life you'll end up where you're supposed to be. And I like where I am.

-- Sheila Roberts

Enter to win a copy of Sand Dollar Lane. Send an email with your mailing address (in case you win) to: nancy@nancyberland.com, with "DearReader Sheila Roberts Giveaway" in the subject line.

Here’s the YouTube link to Sheila’ song, click here.

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

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

Dear Reader Column - May 26, 2022

Dear Reader,

It’s my birthday today! And every year I give myself the gift of rereading the story about my one-of-a-kind, romantic, loving husband...

He looked handsome in his black suit, white shirt and dark tie. His shoes were polished, there was a black chauffeur's hat on his head and dark shades covered his eyes. Every woman in the hair salon was staring at the mysterious man that walked through the door, and so was I.

"Is Suzanne Beecher just about finished?" the handsome man, who sounded like my husband, asked the receptionist.

And when the receptionist told him it would be 10 minutes before I was ready to go, the handsome man, who resembled my husband, thanked her and said, "Would you please let Suzanne know that her driver is waiting outside?" And out the door he went.

I was shocked, and within minutes every woman in the beauty shop, including me, was pressed up against the front window staring at my husband, dressed in chauffeur attire, standing beside a stunning old-fashioned MG Roadster sports car.

It was my birthday and as a gift, my husband was in "character," playing the part of my personal chauffeur, and he had rented the MG Roadster for the weekend. It was a birthday I'll never forget.

After we left the hair salon, for the rest of the day my "driver" chauffeured me around town to all of my favorite boutiques and galleries. Every time we made a stop, my husband jumped out of the car, hurried around to open my door, then he took my hand and ushered me inside the store.

My personal chauffeur never went inside the store with me, that would have been a driver's indiscretion. Instead, my "guy" would go back to his "post," with his chauffeur's hat tipped ever so slightly, legs stretched out, and he'd lean up against the side of the MG Roadster and publicly wait for me. It felt like a Cinderella birthday--everyone inside the store and outside in the parking lot was dying to know, 'Who was this woman with the fancy car and driver?'

Today's my birthday, I'm not sure what my husband has planned, but wouldn't it be fun if my driver magically reappeared? To see a photo of me and the Roadster click here. 

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

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

* This month's Penguin Classics book is People from Bloomington by Budi Darma. 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 - May 24, 2022

Dear Reader,

Jennie Goutet, today’s guest author, is an American-born Anglophile who lives with her French husband and their three children in a small town outside of Paris. Her imagination resides in Regency England, where her best-selling proper Regency romances are set. Her upcoming release The Sport of Matchmaking is full of light, witty banter and slow-burn romance. You can learn more about Jennie and her books, and sign up for her newsletter, on her author website: jenniegoutet.com.

Jennie is giving away three copies of The Sport of Matchmaking. To enter the drawing, send an email to Jennie (be sure to include your mailing address): aladyinfrance@gmail.com

Welcome to the book club Jennie Goutet…

Do you know what I love? Coffee. To be precise, I love pur Arabica black espresso (about 3-4 of them in one cup), especially when eaten with a gluten-free cake.

When I first moved to New York City as a young bohemian, I worked for an upscale wedding dress designer whose studio was located in a downscale area behind Times Square. One block over was Cupcake Bakery where Steven King was reputed to sit and write...or get coffee so he could write. (And now thirty years later, I'm questioning whether or not this was true). The designer would send me to get coffee and cake for the team, and I decided that as a fledgling New Yorker, I should learn to like coffee so I ordered some for myself. I tried it with cream and sugar but soon settled on just cream, with the sugar coming in the form of that slice of cake ordered at the same time.

From there, I discovered and latched on to the hazelnut coffee from the selection at Todaro Bros when I lived on the lower East Side for a few months; and when I moved back to Taiwan to teach English (Manhattan being the gap year for this job) I began to test sweet coffees instead of just the bubble teas. Then, following my Asian stint I moved to Paris, where I discovered from those hissing machines behind the bar the real espressos and cappuccinos that would be brought to my table with a basket of croissants and a little pot of jam. But I was not yet a purist. I would still drink coffee in powdered form with boiling water and milk, even when it was a chicory blend.

Do you know what made the great change? It was not Paris, and it was not moving back to New York with more refined tastes for the bean. It was Nairobi. My husband and I were in East Africa on a sabbatical year doing humanitarian work, and Nairobi was not by choice. It was by evacuation after 9-11. But during those four months in Kenya, we took the little matatu buses to a tiny mall called the Sarit Center. There we would order scones and the most heart-pumping little white mugs of hot coffee I have ever tasted. It was marvelous. And to this day, I seem to be trying to recreate the feeling of that delicious bitter black brew, each sip offset by the barely-sweet crumbling scones. Why?

Because culinary appreciation is part taste and part nostalgia.

-- Jennie Goutet

Jennie is giving away three copies of The Sport of Matchmaking. To enter the drawing, send an email to Jennie (be sure to include your mailing address): aladyinfrance@gmail.com 

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

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

 

* This month's Penguin Classics book is People from Bloomington by Budi Darma. I have a copy of the book to share with a lucky reader, so start reading and enter for your chance to win.