Blog Tour: The Maker of Worlds

 

Fantasy

Date Published: 05-22-2024

Publisher: Evolved Publishing

 

If you had the chance to remake the world, what kind of world would you choose?

When tragedy strikes Lucas Mack's young life, he desperately yearns to escape its sorrow, and takes an improbable leap through the mythical maelstrom. Rather than splashing down on the far side like his neighbors, he's transported to a magical realm where he has the power to redefine not only who he is, but the world in which he resides.

As he stumbles about trying to find his way, he meets Mia, an equally troubled fellow pilgrim. With the help of a mystical guide and an aging wizard, they navigate the enchanted land while learning to control their newfound powers. Yet this realm is more complex than they expected, with seasoned sorcerers who've been corrupted by the sinister side of magic.

Limited by natural law and seduced by magic's power, they are tested as never before. Will the gift of magic bring renewed hope or drive them to the edge of the void? 

 

EXCERPT 

Chapter 1 – The Departure

All stories begin with a question, and this is mine: if you had the chance to remake the world, what kind of world would you choose?

Let me start from the beginning.

The day before my leap, spring had peeked above the horizon. A bolder sun had inspired buds to sprout on the branches, so tiny they stood out only when moistened by the morning dew. A smattering of flowers had bloomed as well, daffodils and the tips of tulips that showed more as promise. Forsythias bulged yellow, lilacs blossomed and spread their fragrance, and the air tasted fresher too, as if purified by the increased sunlight. A time for hope.

But not for me. The arrival of spring did nothing to remove the cloud that had shadowed my days and darkened my dreams these past six months.

Addy had always chided me for living only part time in the real world, the rest of my time filled with flights of fantasy.

I disagreed. My approach had always been a conscious choice, a matter of perspective. After all, what was so wonderful about reality?

Her answer: only in the real world would I find her.

I discovered too late how harsh my life would be without her.

I’d slept poorly that night, my sleep disturbed by dreams, but when I awoke well before dawn, my resolve remained. Though I’d sleepwalked through my coming of age five years earlier, my circumstance had now changed, replaced by a lingering sadness, a malaise that would not heal. I’d become inclined to imagine another life elsewhere, desperate to try out an alternate path. On this day, I intended to test the maelstrom.

The maelstrom appeared as a swirling circle of water for only three days each year, starting at the equinox—an unusual anomaly that behaved in a manner different from a proper whirlpool. This vortex hovered a foot above the lake’s surface and, more bizarrely, stood vertical.

Townsfolk debated its purpose. The more rational claimed a perturbation of light, like a prism, caused by sprays of seasonal runoff and the angle of the sun. Others believed it to be magic, though none existed in our world.

Of course, what we called magic might be nothing more than a label for things beyond the boundaries of reason. Natural phenomenon might still be magic. The sun’s rays lifted our spirits, and the advent of spring lightened our hearts.

Each year, as the equinox approached, young boys who’d reached their eighteenth year would boast about their intent to challenge the maelstrom. In practice, few did. By eighteen, most had narrowed their path through life, following the example of their elders, or rebelled and chosen a contrarian course. With age, the lust for adventure diminished to bluster, tall tales told to impress their younger peers.

Those who took the leap landed with a splash on the far side to the derision of their mates, but rumors alleged one had vanished years ago as villagers gaped, never to return. Philosophers speculated the swirling water might be a gateway to the gods, but only for those with sufficient faith.

At eighteen, I would never have abandoned Addy, but once she was gone, my desire for change stirred. While I lacked the required faith, this was caused by the cruelty of the world, and did not reflect my belief in magic. My desperation grew until, in the spring of my twenty-third year, I determined to go.

I’d leave before sunup, guaranteeing solitude on the shore. Should I stumble through the maelstrom to no effect, no one would witness my folly. Still in a daze, I stowed provisions in my backpack: a day’s worth of salted mutton, a loaf of hard bread, two dried apples, a full waterskin, a knife, a flint, and a rain slicker to ward off the morning chill.

At the doorway of my Queen’s Hill cottage, I hesitated. This morning’s excursion would likely be a fool’s errand, but what if it turned out to be something more, a journey to who-knows-where? As I gazed down to the lake, a sense of foreboding crept over me. No matter. Foolhardy or not, I was committed.

I slipped across the threshold and navigated the switchbacks in the dark.

The maelstrom hovered over the shallows a dozen paces offshore, in the dim light showing as nothing more than a disturbance in the air. I yanked off my boots, knotted the laces and slung them around my neck. As I rolled my trousers above the knee, I cast a lingering glance up the hill to catch a last glimpse of my cottage.

I waited until the eastern horizon reddened and waded into the lake.

An arm’s length from the gateway, I reached out, keeping as far away as possible while my fingertips brushed its surface. It felt like... nothing, likely no more than an illusion. In half an hour, I’d be back in my bed, no closer to comprehending the universe. Yet I’d yearned for a portal to another world, one that might allow me to deviate from accepted norms. I longed to float off to a fresher fate.

Once, I too would have followed the safe path, with no risk of surprise, but then life did surprise me with a cosmic slap across the face that left me shattered—the taking of Addy. At twenty-two, misfortune had cleared the slate, leaving me alone and adrift.

I drew in a breath and plunged through.

In the light of pre-dawn, and in my half-awake state, no difference struck me at first, other than the chill waters deeper than expected, soaking the rolls of my trousers. Out of the mist on either side, giant evergreens loomed graceful as usual, rising until their tops blurred. The view so distracted me that several heartbeats passed before I realized the change.

Perhaps I was still sleeping in my bed, for where the channel to the west lake should have been, a broad flood plain spread. The water had washed over the banks and crept inland for a hundred paces, leaving the trees the only witness to what once had been dry land.

Beyond the trees, nothing.

Nowhere a dock or a mooring, not so much as a hint of early morning smoke rising from a chimney. Nowhere the cottages of Queen’s Hill. Nowhere houses at all. As I gaped, the edges of branches shimmered as if undecided whether to remain intangible or become real. In a panic, I realized the folly of this quest. Better to return to a safer, albeit gloomier life, to go back through the portal at once.

Behind me, the maelstrom still swirled, a fleeting comfort as it had started to recede. While I stared at the last link to my old world, the orb diminished, shrunk to a size I could cover with my hand, and then to that of the tip of my thumb. Before I sloshed more than two steps closer, it winked out.

Now, to the north and the south, nothing showed but water. I stumbled to shore, my movements causing the slightest wake in the surface, which lay so still I could make out my astonished features in the reflection.

I’d spent much of my young life with Addy, like a mate sailing across a forever lake. She’d been with me through calm and storm. I’d yearned to find renewed hope on this side of the gateway and return home to a new life, yet now the gateway, like Addy, had vanished.

About the Author

The urge to write first struck at age sixteen when working on a newsletter at a youth encampment in the woods of northern Maine. It may have been the wild night when lightning flashed at sunset followed by the northern lights rippling after dark. Or maybe it was the newsletter's editor, a girl with eyes the color of the ocean. But he was inspired to write about the blurry line between reality and the fantastic.

Using two fingers and lots of white-out, he religiously typed five pages a day throughout college and well into his twenties. Then life intervened. He paused to raise two sons and pursue a career, in the process -- and without prior plan -- becoming a well-known entrepreneur in the software industry, founding several successful companies. When he found time again to daydream, the urge to write returned.

David now lives in the Great Northwest. He no longer limits himself to five pages a day and is thankful every keystroke for the invention of the word processor.

 

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PROMO: Exiles

 

Fiction/Coming-of-age

Date Published: May 2024

Publisher: Film Valor

 

In this final chapter, Ron's story concludes from Reflections on the Boulevard (2023). Michael's wish was for Ron to exile himself in the heart of Paris with its beautiful culture and citizens as they protest and fight for the soul of the city. Ron's journey is met with life-affirming friendships and lessons along the way. The final book in the Reflections of Michael Trilogy, which started with A Reservoir Man (2022)

About the Author

Louis J. Ambrosio ran one of the most nurturing bi-coastal talent agencies in Los Angeles and New York. He started his career as a theatrical producer, running two major regional theaters for eight seasons. Ambrosio taught at 7 Universities. Ambrosio also distinguished himself as an award-winning film producer and novelist over the course of his impressive career.

 

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PROMO: Newton's First

 

A Cyberpunk Novel

Motherboards & Magic, Book 1

 

Cyberpunk / Science Fiction

Date Published: August 2, 2024

 

Newton’s First Law: An object in motion remains in motion. Until an outside force screws it all up.

As a grieving child in a burned-out husk of a body, Asher Syphamus was given an impersonal room within the Company’s cold labs -- until he was offered a second chance with illegal and painful cybernetic augmentations. Now, after many decades of martial arts training and mental conditioning, Ash is the all powerful DPL’s top agent and never misses a target. Along with his beautiful, hyper-sexed purple partner, Vers, the unstoppable duo hunts down the most dangerous hackers and criminals for punishment or elimination.

Korya Funo is full of privileged DPL information downloaded into her brain. If caught, she would be deleted from the census. That keeps her running -- until her luck runs out in Paradise, Nevada. When she’s captured by Ash and Vers, Korya accidentally reveals the truth about Asher’s parents’ deaths, and then all hell breaks loose.

Now with all their lives on the line and the fate of the planet riding on their backs, they trio will show the world why Newton’s First Law is not to be screwed with.

 

EXCERPT

Copyright ©2024 Stephanie Burke & Areana Senoj

“Fuck, Vers. Where are you?” Asher Syphamus muttered softly, knowing the cochlear implant installed just above his jaw bone and below his ear would pick up his words.

The wind whipped back the few tendrils of hair that escaped the tight bun containing his long hair. The bun hid locks tipped a rich blue almost matching the color of his cybernetic left eye.

As he walked away from the Virt Dive, the virtual reality diving bar where his mark had been lost earlier in the Blue, he wondered why people even bothered to hide from real life. The fucking Blue was where everyone logged in, turned on, and turned up in cyberspace. The Blue was a whole world inside the actual world, one that many used to escape life, spread joy, disappear into a sea of information, of education… to be your avatar while you fled your body and got lost in a way that only total computer immersion could bring. And above the Blue was the White.

The White was a shady, dangerous place where only the most experienced divers dared to venture -- the environment was just too dangerous for a diver used to only dealing with the Blue. The White was physically a small blank plane existing between the connection of the Blue and the person putting out information. Here, the world’s best hackers snatched dangerous information from accidental info dumps from those who purposefully stole and sold the data to the highest bidder. No matter how many protocols were put in place to protect the vulnerable space, the White divers always found a way in. And his latest ping had come from the mark he’d finally tracked down to this dive.

He felt the signal he was tracking start to move again and watched as his target slipped out, looking over her shoulder as if she knew he was there and following her. As he walked past the large, mirrored wall to the shop, he caught a quick glimpse of himself as he passed. His face was pale, creamy tan, the same as his mother’s. He had her eyes too, large but with an epicanthic fold that proclaimed his Asian ancestry. His eyebrows had some thickness but with a natural arch that made his eyes rather pretty. He had his African father’s full lips, though not the same concentration of melanin, more’s the pity. He could use more sun protection in this bright-assed desert. His nose was broad though, its bridge straight as a knife, and his cheekbones were high and sharp, like his dad’s. His thick, wavy hair was kept long and confined now so it wouldn’t get in his way.

Though he only caught a glimpse of himself as he followed after his mark, he could barely stand to look at his reflection. He was a damn near perfect combination of both his parents from what he could recall, though he didn’t dwell on that much. The pain of it all was still too crushing.

The air circulating through his lungs was quiet as he pulled in his emotions. Barely a sound emerged from his body as his booted feet slammed down on the concrete when his body lurched forward. His little trip into nostalgia had given his mark time to run and now he had to give chase.

His heart would be racing if it actually had the capacity to pump hot blood through his veins. His target was pulling a jackrabbit, dodging in between early morning foot traffic on the busy city street as she looked around her, prey knowing she was being stalked by an apex predator. Only the bright and very visible green of her plaits kept him from moving any faster. No matter how much he wanted to knock people aside to reach his target, he knew that drawing more attention to himself would be detrimental to their mission.

“I’ve been at this since the ass crack of dawn and I would really like to get some accurate intel from you, you one-being orgy.”

Don’t get cheeky, Vers responded. You’re just upset you don’t get laid.

Vers’ answer through Asher’s implanted microphone sounded more amused than insulted. That wasn’t what Asher had hoped for. When Vers was annoyed, his work efficiency increased by almost three percent and he could use some of that efficiency now, at least until he caught up with the woman who pinged on his internal sensors.

“Hmph,” Asher huffed. “Can you keep your mind out of your pants and on the job? I need to know if she’s the one.”

The green-haired woman in question cast one more furtive look over her shoulder before trying to hide herself in a gaggle of schoolchildren, all racing and gleefully dodging through the streets teeming with people traveling to get to their jobs and appointments in the watery light of a new sun. With their connection pads in hand, the tourist masses were an explosion of color, a flock of bright, chattering birds that raced through the smiling crowds. Their laughter was contagious, and it made Asher grit his teeth. In a firefight, mundanes always seemed to run right in the path of danger. He wished they would all just disappear.

I’m working on it. Give me a mo. Paradaise has a complicated network of --

“You just don’t know what the fuck you’re doing.” Asher managed to dodge several children, keeping one eye on the green of his mark’s hair as she ducked around a corner. He was closing in.

He moved faster, desperate not to lose her or give his position away. She couldn’t know if he was actually chasing her and he wanted to stay in that pocket of the unknown. She might sense someone or something was hot on her tail, but she had no idea from which direction the attack would come. And it wasn’t like there were a lot of places to hide in Paradaise, Nevada.

And then he wanted to smack himself stupid for thinking that a woman who could possibly be the government hacker he was sent out to find wouldn’t be wily enough to actually give him the slip. Underestimation was going to cost him dearly because the moment he turned the corner, he lost sight of her in a sea of green, low-flying kites.

Hey buddy, guess what? Did you know there’s a butterfly kite flying festival today? There’s gonna be a lot of kids and old people so maybe you wanna keep an eye out for that.

“Gee, thanks, Vers. You couldn’t fucking tell me that five minutes earlier?” As he spoke, he heard a cheer, and a wall of sound rushed past him as the hum of several hundred robotic and some basic silk cloth kites took to the sky. People looked up in awe as dancing holograms of colorful transparent butterflies took to the sky, spinning and dancing as safe holographic fireworks exploded over them.

Well, it’s a point of historical interest, as they’ve been having the butterfly festival for over a hundred years. Get some culture, you asshole. You need it more than you need to get laid.

“What I need is a way around this mess.” Asher looked around at the mass of people, made up mostly of children and old people gathered in groups, each holding massive butterfly kites of their own. Some held remotes that controlled the flight of the butterfly kites, both real and illusory. Most of them, unfortunately, glittered and glowed the same primarily green color that matched his mark’s hair.

Pinging your location, Vers purred in his ear after a moment of quiet while more and more people filed onto the special moving sidewalk heading toward the restored MGM Grand, singing and chanting as they moved. Oh! You aren’t far from the New Bellagio. One of these days I’m going to get you there for a real upgrade instead of the crap the powers that be keep sending you to.

“Vers --”

I mean it. You’re in a town right outside of Vegas, baby! Almost to the cybernetic playground of the whole entire continent ever since the redesign of the area. To get anything better you’d have to hop a streaker across the Pacific to Japan. It’s amazing what they can do with both artistry and circuitry.

“Whatever the fuck,” Asher grumbled, casting his gaze around. He ignored the small vibration in his brain as the ocular implant adjusted and repositioned, sending his mind a feed of information calculating the height of the buildings and the large vehicles passing by.

Turning to a small three-story building to his right, Asher took three fast, bounding steps then flexed his leg muscles. With a mechanical whisper, he launched himself skywards, a blurred silver flash through the backdrop of colorful fluttering kites, before he landed on the flat solar tiles of the roof.

Bent over, he raced along the edges of the closely placed buildings, jumping the odd ones that bordered on alleys, leaping up to the higher ones, his eyes constantly searching, feeding him data so he could adjust his flight.

He was contemplating going back to the ground and following her along the crowded streets when he saw a blur of green headed away from the celebration and toward a small, dark street that led away from the sound of laughter and merriment.

There, in between a closed toy shop on one side and ironically, an adult toy shop, was where his prey was fleeing.

To the left, Casanova, Vers confirmed softly with the just the right amount of sarcasm for the nickname. And you better move swiftly. She’s about to head to a parking lot and if she has her vehicle shielded, well, we are shit out of luck, Ash. If she gets away, you’d be better off hitting a pleasure palace and getting your freak on ‘cause that signal is going to be scattered and lost. And I urge you to take advantage of the many wonderful and erotic amenities that this run-down trash heap of a city provides. Besides, your cherry needs plucking ‘cause that bitch is overripe.

 

 

About the Authors

Stephanie Burke is a USA Today Best Selling, multi published, multi award-winning author, Master Costumer, handicapped, wife and mother of two.

From sex-shifting, shape-shifting dragons to undersea worlds, sexually confused elemental Fey and homo-erotic mysteries, all the way to pastel-challenged urban sprites, Stephanie has done it all, and hopes to do more.

Stephanie is an orator on her favorite subjects of writing and world-building, a sometime teacher when you feed her enough tea and donuts, an anime nut, a costumer, and a frequent guest of various sci-fi and writing cons where she can be found leading panel discussions or researching varied legends and theories to improve her writing skills.

Stephanie is known for her love of the outrageous, strong female characters, believable worlds, male characters filled with depth, and multi-cultural stories that make the reader sit up and take notice. 

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Areana Senoj is a multi-genre writer of erotic romance, paranormal, and sci-fi fantasy fiction. She’s been an actress, singer, dancer, educator, and, briefly, a stay-at-home “tennis, soccer, and band mom,” as well as a small business entrepreneur. Now she’s enjoying a new career living life as a full-time writer. She’s thrilled to join Changeling Press, where she's teamed up with USA Today Best Selling Author Stephanie Burke, co-authoring Motherboards and Magic. 

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PROMO: Oldest Mom on the Playground

 

 

Essays & Collections, Parenting Humor, Women's Non-fiction

Date Published: 09-24-2024

 

 

Judy Haveson always believed she would one day “have it all.” Then she turned forty and wondered if she had waited too long. After countless failed first dates and fewer second ones, she finally found love, got married, and became a mother at forty-three.

Oldest Mom on the Playground is a collection of relatable, heartwarming, and humorous essays. Written in her signature conversational style and with a touch of sarcasm, Judy takes readers on her journey of getting pregnant after forty (and delivering the baby during a full moon), raising a child in New York City (including the time she lost him in a grocery store and found him standing on Broadway), leaving the career she spent decades building to volunteer as a preschool class rep, to becoming a card-carrying member of the sandwich generation.

Judy offers no parenting advice, only personal reflection. And she takes nothing in her life for granted. Her message to other midlife mamas is this: trust your gut, let your life experience guide you, and pray no one ever mistakes you for the grandmother.

About the Author

Judy Haveson is the award-winning author of Laugh Cry Rewind—A Memoir. She is known for her sarcastic humor and enjoys sharing stories about her life experiences and observations. Her fascination with storytelling comes from her decades-long career in public relations. Judy once had a boss tell her that there are two types of people: those who know and those who want to know. That boss fired her, but his words became a valuable lesson to always aim to be the one who knows. Judy lives in Hampton Bays, NY, with her husband, Adam, son, Jack, and adorable Yorkie, Toby.

 

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PROMO: A Vengeful King Rises

 

House of Croft, Book One

 

Mystery, Romance

Date Published: July 30th, 2024

 

 

The only thing more lethal than his need for revenge, is the woman who's tasked with bringing him down.

Adrian Croft dreams of quitting the shady business he stands to inherit, of settling down, and of raising a family free from a life of crime. But when tragedy strikes, this fanciful dream is destroyed. All he wants now is revenge. His anger, however, threatens to cloud his judgment, making it harder for him to recognize danger when it approaches in the form of a beautiful woman.

Trained for covert operations as part of a secret government program, Samantha Carmichael's mission is to give British law enforcement a reason to prosecute the most powerful man in the country. But when common sense and duty begin to blur, can she remain steadfast in her goal, or will her loyalties shift as she gradually loses her heart to the one man she cannot afford to love?

-One series, one couple, and the brutal challenges they must face-

 

If you like What Angels Fear, Silent in the Grave, and Murder on Black Swan Lake, you’ll devour Sophie Barnes’ thrilling new series.

About the Author

USA TODAY bestselling author Sophie Barnes writes historical romance novels in which the characters break away from social expectations in their quest for happiness and love. Having written for Avon, an imprint of Harper Collins, her books have been published internationally in eight languages. With a fondness for travel, Sophie has lived in six countries, on three continents, and speaks English, Danish, French, Spanish, and Romanian with varying degrees of fluency. Ever the romantic, she married the same man three times—in three different countries and in three different dresses.

When she’s not busy dreaming up her next swoon worthy romance novel, Sophie enjoys spending time with her family, practicing yoga, baking, gardening, watching romantic comedies and, of course, reading.

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PROMO: Off Edge

 

 

Cover by: John Harrell, Harrell Creative

Young Adult Contemporary

Date Published: 09-26-2024

Publisher: Black Rose Writing

 

Do you know what it's like to win an Olympic gold, then have it stripped away? I do.

Gold is every figure skater's life dream. At fifteen, I experienced the thrill of wearing the medal for a few minutes until judges accuse me of being too young to be eligible. That's when I realize my father's ultimate lie could cost more than my title.

During our daring escape from Russia, I pressure my coach to tell the truth about my adoption. But the quad combination and two world titles aren't enough to keep the scandal from erasing my career and identity. Disgraced, disqualified, and devastated, I can't face a rink, fans, or daily life. My controlling dad's betrayal lights a fire to break free from his bad decisions. My best friend and a journalist who will tell my story step in to stop the downward spiral and help me uncover my past.

The story of Docia's fierce determination to discover her true identity, unerase her career, and find the passion to skate again will engage teen readers, figure skating fans, and anyone who's ever experience betrayal from someone close.

About the Author

Addison Brae lives in Dallas, Texas on the edge of downtown. As a child, she was constantly in trouble for hiding under the bed to read when she was supposed to be napping. She has been writing since childhood starting with diaries, letters, and short stories. She now writes new adult and adult speculative and romantic suspense, and young adult contemporary fiction. Addison’s still addicted to reading and enjoys jogging in her neighborhood park, binge-watching TV series, vintage clothing, and hanging out with her artistic other half and their geriatric kitten Lucy.

 

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Blog Tour: Through the Storm

 

Nonfiction / Journal / Cancer

 

A breast cancer journal. I really wanted the journal to be full of life and colourful. The illustrations made it come to life, I find them so inspiring and I hope you do as well!

This book has been a genuine labor of love. It is full of purpose and hope. Everything you see is my vision come true. Cancer threatens everything you believed to be true, I had my chemo-port removed and flew to Atlanta later that day, on the flight back, I believe it was a 6AM flight, all I wanted to do was sleep for the 2 hour flight.  Instead, this idea for a bookmark started forming in my head. I figured lots of people read in waiting rooms and chemo suites etc., so it made sense to create bookmarks with little quips to lift the spirit during these waits. Well, the ideas were flowing so fast that I couldn’t write fast enough and I had no paper, so I wrote on the plane barf bag (I still have it). It became apparent I had a lot more to say than a bookmark could hold. I still plan to make bookmarks some day soon.

I have included prompts for questions to ask. Symptom trackers to report to providers. Daily prompts to do something intentionally kind and uplifting in small bites because some days are really tough and it becomes difficult to remember the amazing person you were prior to a breast cancer diagnosis and treatment. I am truly proud of it. There is a prayer/meditation script written by one of my dearest friends who chose words that can resonate with anyone regardless of faith or the absence thereof and in any tough life situation. There is a feature to track daily water intake and so much more.

 

#breastcancersurvivor🎀 #breastcancerbaddie #breastcancer

 

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Blog Tour: Wrinkled Rebels

 

 

Literary Novel / Historical Fiction

Date Published: 07-23-2024

Publisher: Vine Leaves Press

 

Now 80 years old, retirement and advanced age have dissipated the spirit of six college radicals of the 1960s, who jointly had participated in civil rights campaigns and anti-war protests. Having engaged in only periodic communication over the decades, they suddenly receive an invitation to reunite for an extended weekend. Struggling with whether to go, each of them has divergent qualms and expectations for the proposed gathering.

During their three days together, they confront their inner demons, each other, and their future. Does Rebecca, the prime mover of the event, find solace after losing her wife and career? Can Malaika regain her sense of self after stepping down from her successful law practice? Mourning the loss of her youthful athletic prowess and attractiveness, what happens when Deanna faces her old friends?

Struggling with two divorces and a failing marriage, can Russell attain peace of mind? How will Max, an expat living in Canada, manage with his incipient dementia? Will the demoralized Keith recover his idealism?

Wrinkled Rebels is a story of how six people achieve meaningful lives through the struggle for social justice. It is also a tale of love, the bonds of friendship, and growing old positively.

 

Excerpt 

Rebecca walks into the condo’s large kitchen and looks at the heap of unopened

retirement cards on the table. She flips through the envelopes and grimaces, knowing that they will express some variation of “Best Wishes on Your Retirement” in assorted designs and colors. She doesn’t intend to open any of them. They were probably glad to get rid of her, she reflects. Rebecca had felt the pressure from the younger organizers. She was not up to par anymore. Too old-fashioned in her ways. Taking up space in the upper ranks that they were anxious to fill.

She runs her fingers through her short, thinning white curls as she considers her situation. She used to have her life in order. Each piece had been painstakingly assembled by the time she was forty. Political activist, union organizer, daughter, and part of a couple. Later, when Susan was stricken with cancer, she had added caregiver. The construction seemed indestructible, as though it would last forever. She had counted on each part to keep her grounded, to make her existence meaningful. It wasn’t easy to keep everything in harmony, and she wasn’t always successful. But then everything had fallen apart, one by one. Ultimately, only her work recharged her, at least for a while. She had been too busy to nurture friendships, to do the heavy lifting to keep relationships afloat.

Rebecca swallows hard. Now she is alone and lonely. She muses about old age and its victims, those who suffer from chronic illness or dementia, or who pass away—

and their grief-stricken loved ones, like her. She has lost her mother, father, and mate, the most important people in her life, except for Max and the gang. She wonders how they are faring in their advanced years.

Suddenly, she wants him. She craves all of them. Their friendship had been such an integral part of her youth. She paces the kitchen and then darts back into the bedroom, pulls open the closet door, and rummages around until she finds the frayed cardboard box tucked away in a back corner. The container is bursting with photos of her old comrades—several fading. She bites her lip and reproaches herself for neglecting to put them in albums, certain that most people would have taken the time to preserve them better.

Hands trembling, she inspects a stack of them, lingering on several pictures from the summer of 1965, following their second year at City College. They had volunteered for Project Uplift (PUL), an experimental summer anti-poverty project in Central Harlem. The venture had been sponsored by Harlem Youth Opportunities Unlimited—HARYO—the major social agency in the impoverished ghetto. After their Freedom Summer in the South, they had decided they would henceforth commit their energies to their own backyard. Certainly, there were sufficient economic and civil rights issues in the North, Malaika had reminded them when they were considering their next endeavor. Rebecca had thought about the segregation in her junior high and her daddy’s clear-sighted views about social justice.

It had been a frustrating but satisfying summer, despite the long hours at no pay. They had mingled daily with Harlemites, both young and old, learning of their needs firsthand. At night they slept together on the floor of a community leader’s row house. For Rebecca, that had been the highlight of the experience, sharing views about the day’s accomplishments with each other. Despite the stifling summer heat, they had stayed up late into the night exploring ideas on social change. Rebecca savored every moment of their discussions.

Rebecca sifts through more pictures of her friends, warmth radiating throughout her body as she nourishes herself with memories of their shared lives, of her early adulthood. Periodically, she fingers a particular snapshot and holds it close to her chest. An idea is gradually taking shape in her mind as she longs to erase the distance between them.

Yes, she thinks, as she clenches her hands into fists. She eyes the retirement cards again. Why not? Rebecca slips on her navy blue peacoat, wool beanie, and sheepskin-lined winter boots and wraps herself in the cashmere scarf that Susan had knitted for her birthday ten years ago. She walks purposefully to a CVS, two blocks away, grateful that the stores have shoveled their sidewalks following the recent snowstorm. Once inside, she heads straight to the greeting card racks and scans them, homing in on what she came for: a pack of purple invitations with matching envelopes. For emphasis, she purchases two bags of lavender glitter. Her heart is pounding, and she closes her eyes for a moment. They will come, she assures herself. 974

About the Author

Laura Katz Olson, AGF Distinguished Professor of Political Science, has taught at Lehigh University since 1974. To date, she has published nine nonfiction books, focusing on aging and healthcare. Her latest, Ethically Challenged: Private Equity Storms U.S. Health Care has been awarded several gold medals, including from the Independent Book Publishers Association (IBPA) and the Benjamin Franklin Awards. Elder Care Journey: A View from the Front Lines, which relates her personal experiences as a caregiver for her mother, won a Gold Medal in the Ninth Annual Living Now Book Awards. Wrinkled Rebels is her second novel.

 

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