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Having read the blurb and then the “look inside” for the romance novel “Sophie’s Key” by Jodi Jensen, I decided to buy the ebook. I’m not much for romance, but I was intrigued by the time-travel aspect. Then, much to my surprise, I won the paperback in a giveaway. Bonus! Since I’ve never won a book before, it was kind of like a mini pre-Christmas present, and I was pleased. Following is my review.

Sophie’s Key 

The blurb promises a time-travel story, and indeed, it is.

Sophie, a woman from today’s world, opens a door and finds herself thrown back in time to the Utah of 1901. This presents her with a number of challenges, the least of which is the handsome Texas Ranger widower she finds herself falling for, the dilemma of how to tell him where she came from, and adjusting to the different customs of the time. That isn’t the worst of her problems because it turns out there are other, major complications she has to deal with.

There’s plenty of action, notably when a sinister element crops up that escalates when Sophie’s key to resolving her time-travel issue is stolen. There are situational twists that had me turning pages to see what would happen next.

The author is wonderful at describing the locales and the period, and she gives such life to the characters that I feel I know them.

I confess that I don’t read much romance, but while this is such a story, it goes beyond that. It covers a range of human emotions and behaviors – and there’re cowboys, both good and bad. I do love a time-travel yarn, and I have to say that the author has spun a good one.

I read novels for entertainment, and this was five stars worth.

On sale for .99 at all major online sites: https://books2read.com/Book3Choices

Available for preorder

Choices, Book Three of the Successors available for .99 until release.

The human species is evolving. The first of the successors to the old species have had to make some hard choices, and trouble between the old and the new is coming.

What will the successors choose to do when threats arise from more than one direction?

 

(Anotrothe and Dichotomy, books 1&2 of the series, are also available for .99 until 12/1/2020)

 

Released! Dichotomy Book 2 of The Successors

 

Available at:

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Evelyn, Connor, and Valerie, friends bound together by a psychic connection since before they were born, mourn the loss of their friend and soulmate, Shane. They are left with the task of telling his parents that he won’t be coming home. They also have to tell them that Anotrothe, the imaginary friend from their childhood, was not make-believe and is the reason Shane is gone.

It isn’t easy – or believable.

Meanwhile, on a world of pale yellow skies, a lone figure with an empty mind wanders across a featureless plain. Is he a savior – or a monster? Or could he be both?

Book 2 of The Successors

.99 cents for pre-order at:

Amazon

Apple Books

Kobo

Barnes and Noble

(Price will increase after release. Also, Anotrothe, book 1 of The Successors on sale for .99)

 

Evelyn, Connor, and Valerie, friends bound together by a psychic connection since before they were born, mourn the loss of their friend and soulmate, Shane. They are left with the task of telling his parents that he won’t be coming home. They also have to tell them that Anotrothe, the imaginary friend from their childhood, was not make-believe and is the reason Shane is gone.

It isn’t easy – or believable.

Meanwhile, on a world of pale yellow skies, a lone figure with an empty mind wanders across a featureless plain. Is he a savior – or a monster? Or could he be both?

       Savior – or monster? Or could he be both?

 

50% off sale from July 1, 2020 – July 31, 2020

Anotrothe                                 A Small Gray Dot

First                                          Bridge

A Short Trilogy of Quiet           Five Book Box Set: Spaceships and Magic (75% off)

Sower                                       Seed

Turner: New Era                       Swallow and Dove: A Tale from the Turmoils

When I was a kid during the nineteen fifty’s, my family picked cotton for pennies a pound. No, we weren’t sharecroppers, and we didn’t live out in the country. We lived in the city, and a man driving a bus or a truck would pull up to the corner where we waited before daylight, and take us to the fields. It was hot, hard work. It hurt your back and your fingers and hands, and you did it from sunup to sundown with a break for a sit-down lunch in the middle of the cotton field, preferably under a tree, but it was one of the jobs poor, uneducated black people could get, so we did it.

Oh, we did other kinds of work, such as cleaning newly constructed houses, my mother did maid work, so did my sister (and me when I was older), there was babysitting, ironing for people, and running errands. My brothers threw newspapers, did yard work, and picked up balls at the golf course. Name it, and we probably did it, but picking cotton was something that, as a family, we all did.

And, yes, by “we” I mean the kids went, too. The teachers at school, sort of looked the other way when we were out. They knew, and as long as we stayed caught up on schoolwork, nothing was said.

I have to admit that sometimes, others in the neighborhood who wouldn’t deign to do work such as picking cotton, looked down on us, but my mother always said, “Hold you head up high. It’s honest work.” I believed her.

On the farms (we worked on more than one), we were encouraged to buy our lunch at the property store, but my mother was too savvy for that. She would pack apples, a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter, and a can of spam to make sandwiches because you had to be careful not to spend too much, or most of your money would go to pay it back at the end of the day.

Usually, depending on which farm we were working, the farmer would send one of his kids around with a bucket of cold, well water so we could drink during the hot day and not have to keep stopping for water. Mom brought a large jar with a lid from home, so she could save some for those times after the kid came around, and we got thirsty. It also kept her from having to send one of us to get water since it took away from work (for a treat, sometimes she would allow us to get a grape Nehi and a Moon Pie at the store. For another treat, we sometimes found wild muscadines in nearby woods, and a few times, persimmons. Er, be careful with persimmons. Never eat an unripe one. Did that once.).

Mom made me my very own little burlap cotton sack because the ones used by the adults were way too big for me, but I was four years old before she let me actually pick cotton for myself and get paid separately. Before that, my pickings went on her sheet. Afterward, I had my own. And, yes, I remember being four (I throw that in because I’ve been accused of not remembering that far back. Heck, I can remember being two years old. Not everything, but enough, and I even have a few recollections from before two. My mom said it was because I talked early, but she had an excellent long-term memory, too. Probably runs in the family).

The cotton picking money helped with rent and eating. My mother could sew, and she had an old Singer sewing machine she picked up used. It had a treadle, but someone had motorized the thing, so we had clothes. They were sometimes cut down from something else, but hey, she was good at it, and they looked great. However, she couldn’t make shoes, so those had to be bought.

The money also paid our schoolbook fees, and my mom always tried to save enough to put something in layaway for Christmas. That didn’t always work, so sometimes the Christmas toy came from the Salvation Army. We always got one and were happy no matter where it came from. We kids were encouraged to save enough to buy Christmas presents at the five and dime. I still have a few of the trinkets I bought for my mom and my aunt when I was a kid that I saved after they died.

Looking back, at that young age, I didn’t realize we were poor, but then we always had a roof over our heads and enough to eat. And oil lamps for the occasions when the electricity went out in a storm – or got turned off. I guess I’d have to say that we were some of the richest poor kids on the block.

When I was in the fourth grade, Mom didn’t have enough to pay for something I was desperate to have. It cost four dollars and fifty cents, and I was determined to have it, so that fall, I worked extra hard in the cotton fields, and at the end of a week, I had the money. That’s how I got my little blue, fourth grade Miriam Webster dictionary.

I kept that thing until I was grown, married, and divorced with three kids of my own. I’d still have it, but in nineteen-seventy-six, after I bought my first house, there was a fire, and I lost everything, including my books. And my little blue Miriam Webster.

I still miss it.

Pre-order for .99 at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Kobo, Apple Books, Google play.

 

Shane, Evelyn, Connor, and Valerie. Non-siblings bound together since conception by a connection only they have. They also share an invisible friend. But not all invisible friends are necessarily imaginary.

Consider Anotrothe. Friend and gentle guardian with powerful psychic abilities, he is invisible to everyone except them until they are twelve, when he appears and becomes a teacher at their school.

One day, he tells them that the connection they share gives them the capacity to learn things no other humans can, and promises to teach them when they are old enough to learn.

When they are eighteen and bound for college, he informs them that it’s crucial they begin their lessons soon because malignant forces are on the way to destroy their world and they must use their abilities to help him save Earth.

He becomes their teacher, using a method that is unusual. One could even call it unorthodox. It is one that dictates he become much more than simply an instructor.

Then, he informs them that they are the result of a biological experiment and their world becomes filled with mounting tensions intermingled with rising doubts.

Are they what he says they are, and is he the benevolent benefactor he appears to be?

(See excerpt here)

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