Dear Reader

Dear Reader Column 01-13-2021

Dear Reader,

Today's guest author, Melanie Benjamin, says, "I live in Williamsburg, VA with my husband and children, I mean, cats. My previous books included the New York Times Best Sellers The Aviator's Wife and The Swans Of Fifth Avenue. My new book, The Children's Blizzard is my seventh historical novel."

Melanie would love to hear from you. It's always such a pleasure to hear from readers. You can reach her at: melanie@melaniebenjamin.com

My Life in Cats
by Melanie Benjamin

First cat I loved: Angel. A black stray who adored me. She also adored eating birds and may have been the victim of poisoning by a neighbor who loved birds more than cats.

First cat who should have had a movie made about him: Sammy. Sammy was a long-haired dishrag of a cat who let me dress him up in doll's clothes. My brother and I loved Sammy passionately. Then one day Sammy didn't come home, and for a couple of months we mourned him. Until the miraculous day when he showed up at our front door, skinny but happy. Had my brother and I not been smothering him with hugs, we might have noticed a startled look on my mother's face. Decades later, we found out the story: My mother hated Sammy because he ate rabbits, and one weekend she made my father drive him out to the country and abandon him, miles and miles away. But he found his way back, and my parents were so stunned they didn't have the heart to do anything but accept him as the miracle cat that he was.

First cat I owned as an adult: Mickey. I got Mickey after an excruciatingly bad break-up, pouring all the love I couldn't give anyone else into him, and he accepted it with the good graces of a cat who knows he's landed in clover. Mickey lived a long life, even getting to know my sons until he passed on, still the bemused recipient of a household of love.

First cat my children loved: Beauty. Beauty was a rescue we got when my sons were toddlers, and she didn't like me or my husband or really anyone but my oldest son, who she would follow around like a puppy.

First cat who is an Instagram star: Loki. Another cat who knows he has landed in clover, the obsession of two Empty Nesters who are not yet grandparents. He has a companion named Luna, and the two of them have the record of the most photographs ever taken of a pair of cats. Loki is more the aloof, regal type who tolerates our affection, but Luna likes to curl up and purr against my chest so loudly all the troubles of the world vanish.

They don't take the place of our children, but shhhh--please don't tell them!

-- Melanie Benjamin

Welcome Melanie to the book club, melanie@melaniebenjamin.com

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

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

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

UNFETTERED JOURNEY (Fiction) by Gary F. Bengier

Email me at gary@garyfbengier.com to win one of ten signed copies of my new title... Dare you stretch your heart and your mind with something truly different, a cross-genre novel combining thrilling action, adventure, and a love story? "Unfettered Journey" is the near-future story of an AI scientist who seeks to create true robot consciousness. He leaves everything behind to find answers. But a mysterious woman on a personal mission interrupts his search. Fighting unjust forces, he is swept into an evil plot that neither can elude.

Go to: AUTHORBUZZ click on UNFETTERED JOURNEY to read more and to email author Gary F. Bengier, you'll get a reply.

This month's Penguin Classics book is Romance in Marseille, by Claude McKay. Start reading and enter for a chance to win a copy

Dear Reader Column 01-08-2021

Dear Reader,

The quality of writing in the 2020 Write a DearReader Contest was outstanding. Today's Honorable Mention piece was written by Mrs. Dorothy Mitchell. Thanks Dorothy for sharing your story with us.

Never Too Old!

Last year at the age of 73, my 92-year-old, sharp Aunt gave me a call. She was inquiring about me finding new friends or a new love interest. She felt that I was too "young" to be alone!

My sister, who had lived nearby, would be moving out of state. My husband had died and my sons have their own families in other states. Though, I have been active with craft projects, book clubs, hiking and genealogy pursuits; I had made no real friends here in Florida. Just enjoy calling and writing to old friends and family.

My Aunt felt that was not enough!

My persistent Aunt suggested getting involved with the senior center. I have a hard time accepting that I am a senior! However, I decided to go and ask for a tour of the place. A wonderful, caring woman was available to show me around. She had me join a group called 'Friends Connection.' People that are in similar circumstances. I reluctantly agreed!

To my surprise, I found that there were more men in the group than women. All were very welcoming.

However, being rather shy, I would leave immediately after the meetings. Others were making plans to go out for coffee and further socialize. One day, I lingered a little longer. One of the men came up to me and asked about my life. It seemed that he was very popular with everyone. At least two of the women had invited him for lunch, and had asked that he drive them to an appointment. Therefore, I thought his friendship would be fleeting!

However, I was attracted to him. I was impressed that he held doors and pulled my chair out for me. Once I told him that I was planning on visiting a local museum. Just wanted to go by myself to explore. Bill then asked if he could meet me there and then go for coffee? It all took off from there! This year, we decided to rent a house together and get married!

You never know what life has in store for you. I learned that sometimes you need to get out of your comfort zone and take a chance on a new adventure! Maybe fall in love again!

Mrs. Dorothy Mitchell
Honorable Mention, 2020 Write a DearReader Contest

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

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

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

Dear Reader Column 01-04-2021

Dear Reader,

My gift to you this holiday season has been the Book-A-Day Giveaway.

Today is the last day, so be sure to enter. Click here.

Instead of making a list of New Year's resolutions, things I wanted to do better and bad habits I wanted to change, a few years back, I decided to commit to a New Year's adventure instead. I wanted to become a seamstress, and learn how to sew--really sew. Not just sewing quilts on my machine (which I've been doing for years). I'm not discounting my quilts, they're wonderful; beautiful artistic designs. But I thought it would be a fun hobby to design and sew some of my own clothes. Start with a pattern, change-it-up a bit to fit my style, and eventually even create my own patterns. But learning something new means making mistakes, as I reminded myself when I was driving back to the fabric store, because my first attempt at sewing a skirt from scratch didn't work out.

Even though I'd borrowed a tape measure from a clerk at the fabric store and measured myself in the thread aisle, before I bought the pattern ("Excuse me, could you hold my shirt up a little bit, so I could slide this tape measure around my waist, please?"), after I cut-out the skirt and started basting it together, it was huge, gigantic,--tent-sized. Which, might have been easy to adjust, if it weren't for all the pleats in the front and back of the skirt. Trying to figure out where the pleats would fall on the skirt after I got rid of the extra material, the project was starting to feel like a job, not a fun hobby.

And that's when my 'encouraging' son stopped by to say hello, "You know Mom, you can buy a skirt for a lot less money than it costs to sew it yourself."

Don't ya' just love kids?

They 'can' say the darndest things--but they don't sound quite as cute when they're all grown up.

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

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

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

MORE THAN PROTECT YOU (Fiction) by Shayla Black

I'm thrilled to bring you this standalone novella from my More Than Words series--a story I've been dying to unfold since revealing Amanda Lund's affair with her father's best friend and the tragic aftermath of his betrayal. Strong, stoic Tanner Kirk is more than willing to protect her from those bent on revenge--but after getting her in his arms, he wants more than her safety. He's determined to win her heart.

Go to: AUTHORBUZZ click on MORE THAN PROTECT YOU to read more and to email author Shayla Black, you'll get a reply.

Dear Reader Column 12-31-2020

Dear Reader,

This New Year's Eve column has become a tradition at the book clubs. Happy New Year!

My most memorable New Year's Eve was the year my dress fell apart. Well, actually it was shedding. We'd just moved to Florida and some new friends invited us to their New Year's Eve party. We didn't know anyone else at the party, but I made, without a doubt, a big first impression. I was wearing a brand new, black velvet dress--purchased just for the occasion (and it wasn't cheap)--but it started shedding. Everywhere I walked, I left a trail of huge, black fuzz clumps behind. The dress was literally falling apart from the inside out.

I wasn't aware of what was happening until I visited the bathroom. The floor had two huge, white rugs, so it instantly became apparent that I was leaving a trail. I was horrified. I picked up my "droppings" and headed back to the party.

When I walked back into the kitchen, I looked down at the floor and sure enough, there was my dress, all over it. No one else seemed to notice the trail that I'd left around the house. But like a run in your stocking, I was sure they were aware and not saying anything just to be kind.

My first thought was to walk around the kitchen--shuffling my shoe along the floor--so I could sweep up my black fuzz balls. But then I realized that as fast as I was rounding up those little buggers in front of me, I was leaving a new crop behind. My backup plan was to find a dimly lit spot and stay put. And I did, until we left.

I can only imagine what that couple must have thought the next day when they cleaned up from the party! Maybe they thought I'd brought a pet.

* Enter the Book-A-Day Giveaway, win random books from my bookshelf

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

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

Dear Reader Column 12-28-2020

Dear Reader,

My gift to you this holiday season is the Book-A-Day Giveaway. Even though I'm on a staycation, I'm choosing winners every day, so feel free to enter every single day.

Enter today's drawing to win a random book from my bookshelf, click here.

Pajamas! Every year, when I was a kid, I got new pjs for Christmas. So one year I wrote a column, including a photo of my all-time favorite red and white pjs--and a stocking cap, that Grandma Hale gave me one year for Christmas.

After I published the column, book club readers pleasantly flooded my inbox with pajama memories and photos of their own. Reading the delightful pajama emails inspired me to have an online Pajama Party--and book club readers were invited!

Enjoy reading their stories and seeing readers in their pjs!

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

Sleep tight,

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

Dear Reader Column 12-24-2020

Dear Reader,

Years ago, I tried my hand at writing some holiday poetry for readers--an amusing version of 'Twas The Night Before Christmas, and now it's become a tradition at the book clubs.

Okay, I admit it's a bit hokey, but it's really kind of a catchy little number once you start reading it. There's a syncopated beat throughout, and if you throw in a little sing-song rhythm, you'll be smiling by the end.

'Twas The Night Before Christmas at the Book Clubs

'Twas the night before Christmas and in every house
All good book club readers were clicking their mouse.

They'd hung all their stockings, decorated their trees
And now it was time to sit down and see
What their email had brought them on this Christmas Eve.

A five-minute break to read a good book
Was just what they needed, but oh my--look...

When they opened their email, no read could be found.
"Oh no, we're afraid Suzanne went out of town.
Could she have forgotten to send us our read?
How could she do this in our time of need?"

The readers all panicked, they shivered in fright,
They pined for their emails and settled in for the night.

"Could we have misplaced them? Did we hit the wrong key?
Did it go in our deleted files?" Oh such misery.
And then in a flash, with a stroke of a key,
One by one, they discovered their Christmas Eve reads.

Their eyes how they twinkled, they laughed and they smiled
And they settled into their chairs to read for awhile.

Their hearts were delighted, they felt just like kids,
But it's still such a mystery where that email had hid.
Was it there all the time and they just didn't see?
Or did Santa step in and do a good deed?

Good boys and girls are on Santa's list
And good book club readers he vows never to miss.

It's been a long night, time to climb into bed,
So they shut down their computers and laid down their heads.

But in the quiet of night, before things came to an end,
They heard, "Thanks for reading with me,
It's so good to read with friends."

Happy Holidays. I wish you peace, good health and joy.

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

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

AUTHORBUZZ: With so many new books out every week, we promise this title deserves your attention:

(Fiction) WILD FIRE by Kristen Ashley

Go to: http://authorbuzz.com/dearreader

Dear Reader Column 12-21-2020

Dear Reader,

Peppermint sticks and grasshoppers make the perfect holiday pies.

When I was growing up every December my mother would make two pies to take to Grandma and Grandpa's house. Red and green desserts--perfect for Christmas dinner. Peppermint Stick Pie and Grasshopper Pie.

Two recipes that have never failed me.

PEPPERMINT STICK PIE

1 chocolate cookie crust
24 large marshmallows
1/2 cup milk
1 tsp vanilla
1/2 tsp salt
6 drops peppermint extract
6 drops red food color
1 cup whipping cream
2 T crushed peppermint candy

(This time of year you can easily buy a chocolate cookie crust in the grocery store to save time and it's just as good. Or you can make your own.)

Heat marshmallows and milk over low heat, stirring constantly, just until marshmallows are melted. Remove from heat; stir in vanilla, salt, peppermint extract and food color. Refrigerate, stirring occasionally, until mixture mounds slightly when dropped from a spoon.

Beat whipping cream in chilled bowl until stiff. Stir marshmallow mixture until blended, fold into whipped cream. Pour into chocolate crust. Refrigerate at least 12 hours. Just before serving, sprinkle with crushed peppermint candy.

CHOCOLATE COOKIE CRUST
(if you want to make your own)

Heat oven 350 degrees. Mix 1 1/2 cups chocolate wafer crumbs and 1/4 cup melted butter. Press firmly against bottom and side of ungreased 9-inch pie plate. Bake 10 minutes. Cool.

GRASSHOPPER PIE

1 chocolate cookie crust
32 large marshmallows
1/2 cup milk
1/4 cup creme de menthe
3 T white creme de cacao
1 1/2 cups whipping cream
Few drops green food color
Grated semisweet baking chocolate, optional

Heat marshmallows and milk over medium heat, stirring constantly, just until marshmallows are melted. Refrigerate until thickened; stir in liqueurs.

Beat whipping cream in chilled bowl until stiff. Fold marshmallow mixture into whipped cream; fold in food color. Pour into crust. Sprinkle with grated semisweet chocolate. Refrigerate until set, at least 3 hours.

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

Happy Holidays,

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

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

WILD FIRE (Fiction) by Kristen Ashley

It seems I can't leave the Chaos Compound. But when I met Dutch and Jagger, Keely and Black's boys, the brothers born of the man who was the heart of Chaos, and raised by the one who was the soul, I knew their stories had to be told. I started with Dutch, and he broke me down, and then he fixed me up. I'm so very glad Georgie came into his life. He needed a woman just like her. Now you get to read how he found her.

Go to: AUTHORBUZZ click on WILD FIRE to read more and to email author Kristen Ashley, you'll get a reply.

Dear Reader Column 12-17-2020

Dear Reader,

The quality of writing in this year's Write a DearReader Contest was outstanding. Today's Honorable Mention piece was written by Nancy Bader. Thank you very much Nancy, for sharing your story with us.

Cheap Is as Cheap Does

Floridians don't need a clock to tell time. If the summer skies open up with a sudden deluge so intense you half-expect to see drenched cats and dogs falling from the sky, you know it's 3:00 pm.

Only, in our family, we didn't call them "deluges." We called them "Jaslow Carwashes," an eponymous designation in honor of my Dad. I won't say that Dad was thrifty or a penny-pincher. No, he was downright cheap. In the more than 60 years that he owned cars, he never went to a commercial carwash, and he never soaped up his car himself. But, if we were in the middle of a conversation at his house and it started raining hard enough, he'd get up, without bothering to excuse himself, open the garage door and back his car out onto the driveway to let Mother Nature clean off the car's surface dirt. If the rain kept up long enough, he'd back my mother's car out, too.

It didn't matter what we were talking about--life, death or taxes, world-altering news or neighborhood gossip--or whether he'd "washed" the car the day before. Any heavy rain warranted a Jaslow Carwash. When I lived in Florida, near my folks, the local newspaper columnist ran a contest to find the cheapest reader. He reasoned that, in a state where the Unofficial State Bird was the "Early Bird (dinner)," there must be some real cheapskates out there. He wanted to find the worst--or the best, depending on how you looked at it. There wouldn't be any prizes. Prizes would defeat the whole idea of being cheap. But you would earn bragging rights.

I told the family I was going to write about "the Jaslow Carwash." Everyone said it was a great idea, except Dad, who couldn't fathom why we thought it implied he was cheap. He maintained that he was just taking advantage of an opportunity.

I submitted my entry, certain that Dad would be named the Cheapest of the Cheap. After all, the story had been circulated so often and so widely that not only did relatives and neighbors talk about going for a Jaslow Carwash, so did friends who had heard the story but had never even met my father.

Alas, victory was not to be. I came in second.

First place went to a couple who, each year on their anniversary, would go to a local Hallmark card store. They'd split up and go to different anniversary card aisles and peruse the offerings until they found a card they thought their mate would like. They would show the cards to each other, kiss, replace the cards on the rack and go home.

They may have earned the right to call themselves Florida's Cheapest Couple, but I bet they pay to get their cars washed.

Nancy Bader
Honorable Mention, 2020 Write a DearReader Contest

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

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

AUTHORBUZZ: With so many new books out every week, we promise this title deserves your attention:

(Fiction) THE DEAD HEAT OF SUMMER by Heather Graham

Go to: http://authorbuzz.com/dearreader

Dear Reader Column 12-16-2020

Dear Reader,

The quality of writing in this year's Write a DearReader Contest was outstanding. Today's Honorable Mention piece was written by Sheila Painter. Thank you Shelia for sharing your story with us.

I'm a city girl trapped in a country life.

Well, not trapped, exactly. You see, my husband grew up in an old farmhouse 2 1/2 hours south of us in northwest Ohio. Farm life is in his blood. The property has been in the family almost 80 years. After his mom died and his brother moved out, the siblings rented out the house and found a local man to farm part of the sixteen acres. When the renter moved out, my husband hoped to move us in. He knew I wouldn't leave my suburban life: my modern home, nearby malls, theaters, and social groups. So, he carefully broached the subject: what if he fixed up the 130-year-old house with all the modern amenities? Would I consider going down there for a week or so every month?

How could I say no? I reluctantly agreed. True to his word, he made the old homestead palatable for me. As a quilter, I needed a duplicate sewing studio, so we set up a fully equipped one in the dining room. We made the trek back and forth, bringing food in coolers, household items, my sewing projects by the dozen. It became a monthly regular routine, but I still didn't like being in the middle of nowhere. We had to drive thirty minutes to stores, restaurants and activities. The local library was inexplicably closed on Thursdays.

We had our country home activities: he killed frequent bugs and chased out random critters, I sewed my quilts. He puttered in the barns, fixing things. I sewed more quilts. He happily mowed the acre of lawn, I worked jigsaw puzzles and read books. But I was always glad to return to my 'real life' of exercise classes, quilt guild meetings and live theater performances.

And then something shifted. My husband offered to give me a tour of our property. It had been years since I had seen it all, and I had never been in our woods. He hooked up a rustic trailer to his garden tractor, placed a sturdy blanket-padded toolbox seat upon it, and I clung to the cart sides for dear life as we bumped across the 'back forty.'

Over unmarked burial sites of long-gone farm animals, through spongy grass near the old leaking pond, past the once-electrified fence, we surveyed it all. Our tour went on for a long time, and I craned my neck this way and that as my husband proudly pointed out things of interest, shouting to be heard above the rumbling tractor motor. He indicated where an aging tree recently toppled and it had taken him hours to cut up and remove it. He showed me how he had spent over two years of visits to clear a path in the woods and collect long-abandoned rusty metal for recycling. We rumbled past the tree deep in the woods where, with our permission, a neighbor sets up his hunting blind every deer season.

The farm no longer keeps animals. Now the sheep/horse barn is storage and a refuge for wild animals seeking shelter, and he explained the repairs he had made. We examined the old fruit trees on the back lawn, once so stately and bursting with peaches, apples and pears, but now aging out, sparse, dying. The grapevines near the garage no longer yield much fruit either. We saw that the local farmer who rents the crop area had recently cut hay, so it sat awaiting baling. Along with its earthy aroma, birds sang their songs, distant cicadas droned, and the sun warmed our faces. Our senses feasted on the delights of the countryside.

This is our little corner of the heartland where my husband was raised. It's his happy place, and this city girl goes along, because I love him.

Sheila Painter
Honorable Mention, 2020 Write a DearReader Contest

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

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

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

Dear Reader Column 12-15-2020

Dear Reader,

Please welcome today's guest author Stephen Mitchell.

About the Author: Stephen was born in Brooklyn in 1943, educated at Amherst, the Sorbonne and Yale, and de-educated through intensive Zen practice. He is married to Byron Katie.

Stephen Mitchell says his gift is to breathe new life into ancient classics. In The Way of Forgiveness, he offers us his riveting novelistic version of the Biblical tale in which Jacob's favorite son is sold into slavery and eventually becomes viceroy of Egypt. Tolstoy called it the most beautiful story in the world. What's new here is the lyrical, witty, vivid prose, informed by a wisdom that brings fresh insight to this foundational legend of betrayal and all-embracing forgiveness.

Please say hello and Happy Holidays to Stephen. Your email will be forwarded to him via his publisher.

Enter today's book giveaway. Stephen has 5 copies of his book, The Way of Forgiveness to give away to 5 lucky readers.

Welcome Stephen Mitchell...

The Swordmanship Exhibition

When I was a young, ardent Zen student, sent out to begin the Cambridge Zen Center, my teacher billeted on us a master of Zen swordsmanship. Two friends of mine set up an introductory exhibition for him at MIT, hired a large hall, and plastered Cambridge with posters.

Sunday comes around: the big day. The exhibition is set for noon. Its climax will be an amazing feat by the sword master: a student will lie supine on the floor with an apple on his bare stomach; a hundred yards away, the sword master, blindfolded, will run toward the student, roll across the floor in a few sword-flashing somersaults, bring the blade slashing down, slice the apple in two, halt the sword a millimeter before its edge touches the student's flesh, turn around, take off his blindfold, and bow to the audience, now in a frenzy of relief and admiration.

At ten o'clock someone discovers that a crucial element is missing: there's no apple in the house. Panic. Pandemonium. The sword master is yelling bloody murder. Zen students rush through the house like chickens at the shadow of a hawk. Furthermore, it's Sunday and the markets are closed. I, calm and confident, take control of the situation. I will drive to Somerville, where there's a fruit and vegetable stand that's open on Sunday. I don't have a car, so my house-mate Kevin lends me his.

As I drive, I am totally focused on my mission. I think only Apple, apple.

Uh-oh, a police siren. Is it me they're after? Why? The courteous policeman tells me I've been driving 30 mph in a 25-mph zone. He asks me for my registration. I open the glove compartment. There, right up front, sits a plastic bag of marijuana. The policeman asks me to take it out and give it to him. He sniffs it and looks at me as if he were a cartoon cat and I a cartoon mouse whose tail is caught under his paw. "Is this yours?" he says. I nod. I don't want to get Kevin in trouble.

The policeman hauls me off to jail. I am allowed one call. I call the Zen Center, explain where I am and why, and tell them to get someone else over to the fruit stand, pronto, bring an apple back to the sword master, then please come bail me out.

The exhibition takes place, complete with apple, to great enthusiasm.

Six months later, my record is purged with hyssop and washed whiter than snow.

-- Stephen Mitchell

Stephen has 5 copies of his book, The Way of Forgiveness to give away to 5 lucky book club readers, click here to enter.

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

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

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