Tag: fiction
Let it Snow : Book Review/Recommendation
December is just around the corner and my heart is lit up like a Christmas tree because it’s time for all the snowy, holiday romances to serenade me while I sit ensconced in a warm quilt, with a cup of hot chocolate and “I am dreaming of a white Christmas” playing in the background. (Yes, I am the queen of long sentences. If I ever decide to write a book, my editor would be in for quite a tough ride)
Anywhoooo, I cannot go on without spreading a little cheer. So, if you’re like me with a warm, toasted and slightly melted marshmallow of a heart, I have a beautiful book recommendation for you! You might remember this one from it’s cover release that I posted some time back! Well, I went ahead and read it because the cover had me hooked.
It’s called Let it Snow by Cassie Cross and here’s my no-spoiler (well, a little spoiler), honest-to-god review.
It has got, in no particular order:
- Best friends (adorable ones at that) growing to realise they’re in love but scared of sabotaging their friendship.
- A road trip of dreams.
- Cut short by a blizzzzard ensuing in being snowed in, in a nondescript town.
My only complaint from this book is that the character descriptions at the very beginning are too stereotypical. We have the ex-jock (career ended due to an injury), muscular, handsome, knows-how-to-cook guy who loves to take care of his best friend, one who forgets to eats veggies, is stuck in an overworked, underpaid situation and loves all things Christmasy.
Other than that, I am happy to report that the Grinch’s heart really did grow three sizes on reading this. It is definitely a good way to get into the holiday spirit!
Please let me know if you do read it so that I can discuss it with you, because eeeeeep, ’tis the season to be jolly.
(People looking for a longer, detailed review can please email me. I did not know how to write more without spoiling anymore of the story here.)
Love in the Time of Distances
It had been a week at his new job, the one he bagged straight out of college.
“How’s office been treating you?” She asked, sleepily. Time zone differences sure take their toll.
“It’s all great…arrgh”
“What happened?”
“Oh, nothing. It’s just that the coffee here is disgusting” He replied, still trying to spit it out.
Two thousand kilometres away, only half awake, she made a mental note to get a flask to pack coffee with him to take to office.
Two thousand kilometres away, he saw her faraway, pondering and deeply concerned expression and smiled. Knowing exactly what she was thinking, he lulled her to sleep.
Boy, does distance really come in between love?
I guess not.
Conversation Starters
Always a pessimist is what he claimed himself to be. She didn’t know him too well by then (they had just started chatting on Twitter!). Yet, she decided she’d be damned if she let anything bring him down. Chirpily, she offered her services asking him to call on her whenever he was sad. She’d gladly knock some optimism into him and also some sense while she was at it. She was, after all, a self professed hopeless optimist. He laughed the notion off by saying many a good men had tried to drill their way inside his head and failed splendidly. Well, I’ll perform a lobotomy then, she announced. Not one to give up. Never one to give up.
Months later, scrolling through her messages, she came upon this conversation. Smiling, she sent him a text saying “Looks like I succeeded wink“.
He walked into the room with his phone in his hand. His smile told her the message had been received as he bent forward and kissed his wife.
Oddly enough, she’s the one prone to anxiety, panic attacks, depression and hopelessness, always second guessing and doubting herself as well as the future, while he’s the one who holds her together with infinite patience and endless calm. Switching roles from their first conversation, they work together beautifully.
Funny how things turn out.
Picture Credits: Shivani Gupta
The Crowns of Croswald by D.E.Night – #Book #Review
Reviewed a Fantasy/Magic Book – The Crowns of Croswald by D.E.Night – on my book blog. Reblogging the post here.
All those who love to read and are constantly scouring for book recommendations to add to that never-ending “To Be Read” list which, quite frankly, gives one bouts of anxiety, please visit and follow the book blog for constant reviews, news on new releases, author interviews, recommendations and updates. Thank you!
If you’re anything like me, you must have grown up on a steady dose of fairytales like Cinderella, explored the world of magic through the eyes of Matilda and went off to Hogwarts with Harry Potter and his lovable friends. Then during teenage years, binge watching The Princess Diaries would have been your one, true guilty pleasure.
If you’ve nodded along to everything above – and of course you have, because who hasn’t wanted to find out their true identity was a princess/prince as much as they wanted to find their Hogwarts acceptance letter in the next mail! (I’m still waiting for mine, to be honest) – then The Crowns of Croswald is a perfectly blended joyride for you.
Better still, it comes with tiny, adorable dragons in tow (that cannot be pierced by the Night’s King spear. Game of Thrones, I’ve still not forgiven you for Viserion). These dragons…
View original post 347 more words
#Book #Review- The Eternal Struggle
Reviewed The Eternal Struggle: An Amorous Story, by Lawrence G. Taylor on my book blog. Reblogging the post here.
All those who love to read and are constantly scouring for book recommendations to add to that never-ending “To Be Read” list which, quite frankly, gives one bouts of anxiety, please visit and follow the book blog for constant reviews, news on new releases, author interviews, recommendations and updates. Thank you!
Rating: 4/5 🌟🌟🌟🌟
The Eternal Struggle: An Amorous Story, by Lawrence G. Taylor, is a very welcome breath of fresh air in a world inundated with romantic novellas. The story, weaved with an underpinning of love, is essentially a study in human nature beautifully depicted through the two main characters of James and Maude.
The reader is introduced to James at the very beginning. He is shown to be a Guyanese hobby photographer and an upcoming fiction writer with a good taste in music. Despite being weary of discos as well as meaningless, faithless romantic encounters, he is talked into going to a particular disco one fine night by his best friend. He ends up meeting Maud, a free-spirited, staunch feminist with a strong personality. They meet and thereby hangs a tale.
The novella is the coming together of two contrasting characters, bound only by the ties of love or…
View original post 190 more words
Pulchritudinous
Sitting in his empty courtyard watching the rain fall all around him, he closed his eyes and allowed the pitter pattering of raindrops to take him back to the last time he had ever seen her.
It had been a day much like today. Nature had been haughtily showcasing her beauty in all its glory. The rain gods were also in tough competition. And the wind, oh, it couldn’t have been left behind and kept sending pleasant gusts all day.
Yet, there had been a melancholic undertone to the pulchritude that day. He could sense that every element of nature was trying to soothe him, calm him down, embalm him before the felling of a grievous blow.
Nothing could have prepared him for her departure though. It knocked the very wind out of him. It would have been one thing if he’d seen some signs of this impending doom, if he’d been able to anticipate it. Doom, yes, because that moment had been the death of him. From then on, he merely existed instead of living. Awaiting the end of his corporal self.
He did realise later, in his forced solitude, where his fault had lain. It had been too little too late. When he had finally mustered the courage to go to her, apologize and convince her to come back, even if he had to go down on his knees and beg, he found out that she was dying. She had been fading away for quite some time, not that he’d ever had the time to notice. What tore him apart was that she was so far gone she couldn’t even recognise him when he said sorry. There was no twinkle in her, no warmth in her smile. It was as if she was being forced to meet a stranger and had to be gracious about it. It wasn’t her. She had always been vibrant. He could not reconcile this frail image of her with the woman he had known and loved, no matter how hard he tried.
He never got his forgiveness. He never got his will to live back again.
Now, even though years have passed, every time there’s a day with a weather like today, he looks back to the last time he had been able to lay eyes on her, the real her. She had looked as resplendent as the day they’d met.
If only he’d have given her happiness some thought and understood her better. If only he could have mended his ways earlier. If only he could have stopped her from leaving. If only he had not forgotten the beauty in her over the years. If only…
Note: the featured image belongs to the author. Kindly refrain from sharing or using it without giving due credit. Thanks ☺️
From Fear to Freedom
Her biggest fear wasn’t of being forgotten. It was of becoming irrelevant. She had strived her entire life to not just be at the top of her game, but to be ahead of everyone else as well. She did it. She achieved the pinnacle of success in her chosen field. Yet, instead of resting on her laurels, instead of sitting back and relaxing, she was consumed with perpetual worry.
What if everything that she’d done was not enough? What if all the sacrifices she’d made as life passed her by, were all for nought? She understood and accepted that even great people, who had lived inspiring lives, were forgotten and eventually relegated to some distant corner of public memory. She even realised that public memory in itself was extremely short lived. Yet, being dead and forgotten was one thing, and being very much alive but rendered insignificant was a haunting though to her.
She recalled the meeting that had taken place today. Her entire Board of Directors had unanimously suggested that she step down from her position and let young blood carry forward her legacy.
Young blood, she scoffed, like she was old. Wasn’t she hailed for her knack of always homing in on the precise pulse of the situation. Isn’t that why she was the best? She always knew what people wanted, needed and dersief and she gave them just that. Can she still do it though? What if she faltered? What if she made an error and people blamed it on her arrogance? What if they pitied her for not quitting while she was still ahead like some lucked out gambler?
No, she decided. She will not let that happen. It was not the time to step back, but the time to invest more of herself in all her ventures, to exert more in getting every decision right, to be careful and precise.
She stood up, regal and tall, looking out of the glass windows providing her an unparalleled view of the entire city. She looked over it as if it were her domain. Her face set firm in decision as she thought back to the time when she’d first forayed into her field of work. She knew she still had within her the same zeal that drove her then. Now, she had another mountain to climb. Irrelevancy, she thought, was a worthy nemesis. It shall be fun to defeat all its challenges just like she’d done with every other trial that life had thrown her way.
She will retire when hell freezes over.
Coffee, Cookies and Barista
“Is it over yet?” Sarah enquired over the top of the menu she was only pretending to read.
“I don’t know.” Replied Liz, drawing circles with a fork on the red and white, chequered table cloth.
“Well, What do you think?” Sarah tried to pry out something more than the hundredth ‘I don’t know’ in a row.
“I don’t want it to be over, I guess. But I know it’s not going to work out.” Liz shrugged, still feigning nonchalance.
“Why, what’d he say today?” Sarah asked, slamming down the wooden menu.
“Nothing.” Liz said, absently twirling a strand of hair in her fingers.
“What do you mean?” Sarah squinted, thoroughly perplexed and equally exasperated. Yet it was nothing compared to the anger she felt in her friend’s behalf.
“It’s just that he hasn’t been in touch much lately”. Liz said with the same faraway air.
“I’ll get you a cup of coffee.” Sarah got up decisively.
“Does this mean it’s over then?” asked Liz, sipping her coffee a few minutes later.
“I think it should be. You know better than me that he doesn’t treat you right.” Came the prompt reply.
“Does anyone ever?” Liz sighed, licking away at her milk moustache and nibbling on the complimentary cookie.
“Maybe, maybe not. Doesn’t mean we shouldn’t hold out hope. Atleast, that way we protect ourselves from the ones who don’t.”
“And stay alone?” Liz whined, trying to hide from the glare aimed at her by seeking shelter behind her cup.
“And stay strong.” Sarah pulled away the other’s cup, making her look into her eyes.
“Hmm.” Liz finally nodded her approval, always gracious in defeat. Though that did not stop her from stealing the cookie off Sarah’s plate too. She could not be blamed. They were divine.
“Hmm!” Sarah reiterated with pursed lips and folded arms, just to drive the point further home.
“The Barista is kind of cute though!” Winked Liz, with the hint of a smile threatening to form at the corners of her lips.
“Yep, definitely over! We’re switching to wine tonight.” Sarah said, grabbing her friend’s hand and pulling her along.
Laughing, with arms entwined, they left the little coffee shop.
Vika watched them for a moment till they turned round a corner and disappeared from view. Then she sighed and smiled while clearing the table, mentally patting her back for adding her special, “pick-me-up” cookies to their plates because God knew the girls needed some sugary love.
Then, still smiling, she went behind the counter, walked up to the charmer manning the coffee machine and gave a quick, warm hug to her husband of 49 years.
For more short stories, please click here. For poetry, please click here. Please leave your thoughts and comments down below, I’d be delighted to get a feedback. Thank you for reading!
Catch up with me on social media-
Dreamcatcher
She woke up with flailing limbs and clothes covered in sweat, even as new beads of perspiration took form on her brow. Gasping for air, she looked around wildly, surveying her surroundings for any sign of the monsters that might have followed her back to reality.
Leaping off the bed, she ran to the window and looked out, searching for the moon to bathe her in its calming, embalming light. She sighed once and shook her head, shaking off the worst of her fears.
But the window pane glimmered as if the glass was fluid and she let out a piercing scream. This was unreal, she realised, staring hard at that surreal glitch. She closed her eyes and accepted that she was trapped within a dream.
Moonlighting Scrivener 