Abby Lunde appears to be an average teen at her new school since moving to Minnesota with her family, but she has secrets. Since her mother’s scandal, they lost everything—jobs, friends, and even their home. Aside from handling the typical teenage mood swings and fears, Abby must deal with living in her family’s van in a Walmart parking lot. She is humiliated, having to sponge bathe in public restrooms and depend on soup kitchens for meals. Abby is angry and blames her mother for ruining their lives. Throughout the story, she learns to forgive and appreciate thoughtful, generous people, but she is most anxious about exposing the truth. Abby’s life at her new school may seem a bit unrealistic and Cinderella-ish. Though early in the story, she finds popularity, good friends, the best-looking boyfriend, and her talent for singing, it does provide a stark contrast to her hidden life outside school, where nothing seems right. C. H. Armstrong’s writing shines in how she cap...
From the first page, I knew this was going to be something special. And it was even better than I expected. I’m not one to usually read fantasy novels, but the poetic descriptions of this magical world author Jennifer Kropf created sparkled. Her characters had depth and personality that had me rooting for them and enjoying getting to know them as the story progressed. Helen is transported into this winter land parallel to her home where she encounters all sorts of different creatures somewhat like human, but not. Her mission becomes a journey with her patrolman to save the Truth. It had a touch of The Lion, The Witch, & The Wardrobe aura, but such a unique story with its own charm and suspense. This book is one I won’t forget and will add to my list of favorites. I am looking forward to reading her sequel. Amazon / A Soul as Cold as Frost
Drawing by my son, Elijah Judge I had plans to become a famous artist. If I didn’t achieve instant recognition, I would teach at Harvard University until galleries began requesting my paintings. But here I am…after four years of art school, I stand on an alphabet rug and attempt to gain the attention of fifteen pairs of eyes. Instead of demonstrating the importance of the subtle variations in line thickness as the artist feels the edge of his subject through his medium, whether charcoal or paintbrush, I draw a line with chalk. “Can anyone tell me what I drew?” Many hands wiggle in the air, so I call on the last hand raised, belonging to Anniah with large eyes and braids to her waist. “It looks like my shoelace before my mommy ties it into a bow.” I need to change the subject before tears well as the class misses mom and wants to go home. “Well, it could be a shoelace. Does anyone else have an idea?” I point to Liam who bounces o...
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