Mom’s Favorite Reads eMagazine September 2022 by Mom’s Favorite Reads

s Favorite Reads eMagazine is published monthly by Goylake www.melaniepsmith.comPublishing

MELANIE P. SMITH (Executive Editor / Graphic Design ) https://melaniepsmith.com SYLVA FAE (Managing Editor / Art Director) https://www.facebook.com/SylvaFae WENDY H. JONES (Copy Editor) https://www.wendyhjones.com/buy-direct/ SHEENA MACLEOD (Copy Editor) https://www.sheenas-books.co.uk/ Editorial Contributors

www.moms-favorite-reads.com www.facebook.com/momsfavoritereads Discover more about us through our video: Never miss an issue by subscribing to our FREEhttps://youtu.be/s0CNofMbQdMmagazines: www.tinyurl.com/momsfavoritereads subscribe POPPY FLYNN (Content Editor) https://www.poppyflynnsaucyauthor.com/ GRANT LEISHMAN (Marketing) https://www.grantleishman.com/ Authors https://moms favorite reads.com/moms authors/ ALLISON SYMES (Story Editor) https://allisonsymescollectedworks.com

During my last year of school, I had a strange obsession with graphic design. But as I was terrible at maths, I failed my graphic design class, and didn’t pursue it, because the school put a huge emphasis on graphic design leading into a career as an architect, and I just wanted to be creative. I was told to sign up for an ‘Art’ class. All the meanwhile, my music was going strong, but my grades weren’t perfect. All A’s and B’s in the English and Creative subjects, and mostly Ds in maths and science, etc.

Those Ds meant I couldn’t even get into my first choice of university course, Professional Writing at Deakin University, and I had to settle for Arts at Latrobe. At university I majored in English and focussed all my energy on my band. We were called spAnk, and we won some major competitions, got radio airplay, and TV appearances. But then, I fell in love with a boy in Greece and moved here, leaving behind everything I had achieved music wise by the time I’d turned 22. H. Jones

Let’s ease you in gently. Can you tell us a bit about yourself? When did you start writing and why? Well, as a child of parents who were songwriters and musicians, and also artists in other ways such as painting and drawing, I was singing before I could speak. Around the age of 11, this turned into poetry writing, and then song writing, and playing piano and guitar. When I reached high school, I became extremely passionate about creative writing too. Already by age 16 I was writing short stories and at least one new song a week on my 12 string guitar.

The responsibility of being an adult in a foreign country wasn’t easy so many of my first years were spent earning a living working in bars and restaurants. By the time I turned 25, I had landed a job at a publishing company as an editor of English Language Teaching Books, where I learned the ins and outs of editing, publishing, and eventually into writing ELT text books. I stayed in that career for eleven years. Around age 29/30 I had the urge to write a novel. So, I did, sneaking in writing time before and after my day job. That novel was titled String Bridge, and was published in 2011 by a small press called Lucky Press. Unfortunately, just six months after its release they liquidated, and so I chose to self publish it. This was the beginning of me becoming my own boss. I had the publishing and editing know how, so I thought, why not try my hand at designing my own book covers? Turns out that teacher in high school who told me to do ‘Art’ didn’t know what fff they were talking about, because now being a self taught freelance graphic designer is how I earn a living. Designing book covers may be my main income, but I am still writing books and music.

JessicaInterviewedBellbyWendy

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So far, I’ve published 5 novels, 3 poetry books and 4 writing and publishing reference books. I've won a few literary awards, and book cover design awards. From 2016 2021, I was the lead singer of a group called Keep Shelly in Athens. I also have my own music projects, BRUNO, and Mongoa. And last but not least, I am the Publisher of Vine Leaves Press, which has been going strong since 2011. You are an eclectic writer – memoir, literary fiction, non fiction for writers. Why so many genres. I write what I feel like writing when I feel like writing it. I’m doing this for myself, first and foremost. Out of all the genres which is your favourite and why? I love them all for various reasons. Literary and poetry for the ability to be experimental and creative, and nonfiction for the ease of spurting out a book about subjects I have a lot of knowledge about. As well as being an author you are also a cover designer and publisher. I’m curious, why all three? Vine Leaves Press wouldn’t be the success that it is today without my writing and design know how. I know what makes a good book on the inside, and I know how to sell a good book from the outside. I think they all feed very well off each other. Despite that beautifully aligned synergy, I get bored doing just one thing. I really thrive off having a variety of creative tasks to sink my teeth into. Tell us a bit about your publishing house and what you publish. We like to blur the line between commercial and experimental works. We publish book length vignette collections, writing reference books, short story collections, memoir/autobiography, and character driven novels with a literary bent.

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• some of the biggest challenges an author and a designer face during a collaboration

• the balance between creating a book cover the author loves, the designer loves, and a potential reader loves • how to prepare for a collaboration • how to ensure a smooth sailing collaboration • costs and recommended designers • and much more!

• why book cover design is so important, whether you’re self published, indie, or traditionally published • the elements of an eye catching, professional cover design

• how to research and choose potential book cover designers

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You have recently written a book, due out in October, called Can You make the Title Bigga? I love it. Tell us about this book and why it came about?

I recently gave a course on book cover design via Jericho Writers. The organizer said that it was the best book on book cover design that they’d ever had. Alarm bells went off. It made sense to expand it into a really awesome reference book. Here is the official book description: Understand the chemistry of book cover design in Can You Make the Title Bigga? by award winning book cover designer, Jessica Bell, who is recommended by Dave Chesson of Kindlepreneur, Makeuseof.com, John Fox of Bookfox, and more. Are you self publishing? Can You Make the Title Bigga? will inspire you with practical, actionable advice and Workinformation.inmarketing or graphic design in a publishing house? It offers an invaluable resource. Studying graphic design? Already designing book covers professionally—or with dreams of doing so? Find inspiration for designs, workshops and classes. From Jessica Bell’s witty, kind, and thoughtful perspective, you will discover:

Tell us about your band? If Philip Glass and the members of Beach House had a side project, it would sound like Mongoa. Inspired by all that makes life nostalgically and beautifully dark, this trip hop/ambient duo will take your heart and set it sailing towards the edges of your consciousness. Listen here: themongoa.com. What is your favourite food?

I think it can be cathartic for both a reader and writer. I also find people respond to truth with more enthusiasm. When stories are real, they seem to have more of a wow factor, and draw.

Anything that contains lots of vegetables in a creative recipe. I eat meat, but I feel truly alive when I have a good dose of veg. And switching back to writing. What three pieces of advice would you give to anyone wanting to write a memoir?

I’d get up in the morning to complete silence. Alone. Make a coffee, grab a book, and sit on the balcony of a house looking out to the sea. After my coffee, I’d make a bite to eat listening to a little Nightmares on Wax, and do a bit of writing. Then I’d take my son for a walk and a play on the beach, with a picnic bag. He would be perfectly behaved. No tantrums. By this time my partner would have woken up and he’d join us on the beach. He would stay with our son, and I’d start to get prepared for a live gig that night, which, of course, is going to be to a rather large crowd at a rather large venue, because I’m famous, right? What would be your idea of the perfect holiday?

Wise Up, by Aimee Mann

11Includes over 100 color book cover design examples and information about project agreements, how to obtain puff quotes for your book, how to obtain ISBNs, a list of standard trim sizes, and binding options. Let’s get personal for a moment. If you were to have one perfect day, what would that look like?

After the first three years of being a mother, I would say anything that doesn’t require that I wade through the day to day domestic struggle! If you could choose a song to be the background to your books, what would it be? As you are a musician this one should be easy for you.

Start small. Don’t think about how the whole book should be. It’s overwhelming and too emotional. Write small stand alone scenes so you can feel like you are completing things. It helps you stay motivated. You can join them all together, and order them, when you think you’ve written everything you can. You can put together a narrative arc then, and fill in the gaps. Don’t discard content that you think won’t fit with your theme. Write it all, because it will trigger other memories that you will want to include. Why do you think memoir is such a popular genre for both readers and writers?

12Your novel, How Icasia Bloom Touched Happiness, is complex and yet imminently readable. Tell us about it. Imagine being put to death for the crime of your child's unhappiness. This is the tale of Icasia Bloom: how she is caught up in a story not initially her own, and how it changes her world. In a Globe controlled by a trusted yet elusive leader who has granted immortality to those who live by The Book, misfit Icasia Bloom is doomed to die young for the crime of her child's unhappiness. Like all 'Tatters' she gets food by bartering, and when she brings customers to the new local bakery, she meets another borderline outcast, Selma Beyett, whose plight touches her. Selma’s husband Jerome must die in six months if his quest for perpetual happiness is not successful. What starts as a desperate attempt to save Jerome takes the two women on a profoundly enlightening search for happiness. Icasia questions the Globe's judgement on its people and on the nature of happiness itself. Heart warming, yet strangely unsettling, How Icasia Bloom Touched Happiness, questions everything we take for granted, and takes a long, hard look into our souls. Which of your books should Mom’s Favorite Reads readers start with if they want to read your books?

I think How Icasia Bloom Touched Happiness would be the best. Start at the most recent and work backward, since my craft has improved immensely with each book. Finally, where can we find you on social media if we would like to follow you?

Wendy H. Jones is the award winning, international best selling author of the DI Shona McKenzie Mysteries, Cass Claymore Investigates Mysteries, Fergus and Flora Mysteries, Bertie the Buffalo children’s books and the Writing Matters books for writers. She is also a writing and marketing coach and the President of the Scottish Association of Writers. As copy editor for Mom’s, she works hard to ensure content is appropriate and free of grammatical and spelling errors. You can learn more about Wendy on her website: https://www.wendyhjones.com/

Subscribe to my newsletter: bit.ly/JBDsignup Connect with me on social media: Instagram: @jessicabelldesign and Facebook:Twitter:@yesiamjessicabell@iamjessicabell@jessicabelldesign and LinkedIn:YouTube:@jessbell.vineleavesyoutube.com/c/msbessiebelllinkedin.com/in/jessicacarmenbell

For me, as a fan of literary and speculative fiction, memoir and mind, body, spirit nonfiction (I love books about the brain!), it’s something like the following:

• hmm, this might be too soppy, I want a bit of grit, pass …

• ooh, this looks like something I could enjoy over summer NONFICTION • oh, this looks like an entertaining take on the subject …

The Balance Between Creating a Book Cover the Author Loves, the Designer Loves, and a Potential Reader Loves

• oh, that looks like advice I could benefit from

Author vs. Reader As writers, we’ve all heard the advice, ‘write what you know.’ I don’t interpret this as writing about experiences that we’ve had first hand, but as subject matter we feel passionate enough to write about. If we don’t write from the heart, from a place of honesty, then it’s unlikely readers will get emotionally invested in our work. In the 10+ years I’ve been doing this job, 80% of my clients come to me with cover art ideas loaded with personal meaning that does not translate well when designed. Unfortunately, when it comes to covers, an author who isn’t experienced in book cover design, or isn’t willing to learn, needs to let go of those ideas to end up with a competitive cover. When a reader sees a cover, they aren’t likely going to relate to it in the same way the author of the book does because they haven’t read the book yet. Just for a moment, put yourself into the shoes of a reader browsing through a physical bookstore. What thoughts go through your head when you are inclined to pick up a book and read the back cover?

FICTION • oh, this reminds me of • oh, this looks like a good character driven read for a rainy day …

• hmm, I don’t think I could take this author seriously …

• hmm, too authoritative and bland, I want sassy! …

13Book Covers by Jessica Bell

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I understand, as a writer, marketing is a secondary consideration. When I started out as an author, I thought that I’d just be able to hire someone else to do it, and forget about it. You can hire someone else to do it, but you can’t forget about it. One of the greatest pieces of advice I can offer you as an author regarding marketing is: don’t fight it if you don’t understand it. Your desires will never just be disregarded. If there is any way to use them and please your audience, it will be done! Designer vs. Author Many authors forget that designers aren’t just service for hire. We are also creators of art. That means we are investing our creative souls in an author’s project too. I can’t speak for other designers, but if I didn’t let myself get creatively and emotionally invested in my work, it wouldn’t be worth publishing. This means that there is a fine line between satisfying my artist’s soul and delivering a cover that the author is in love with too. Don’t get me wrong, if I give myself credit as the designer, it means that I love the cover too, and that I’m proud to display it as part of my portfolio. But sometimes there are covers that make my heart sing so much that I can’t believe I was the one who actually created it. I’m sure, as writers, you can relate to this feeling. I experience this with my own writing and song writing sometimes too. Since I always create three sample designs to begin with, it is always with great suspense when I send them through to the client. Though I’m always happy with them all, there is typically one sample that is my ‘baby;’ the sample that is the wild card; the sample which I decided to go out on a limb and deviate from the brief a little. When I design these wild cards, I design them from the perspective of

What are my thoughts dripping with? Expectation. So how do we strike a balance between meeting a reader’s expectations and fulfilling an author’s expectations? As an author, try to keep an open mind, and understand that your book cover designer knows what they are doing and what readers want.

A designer doesn’t only want to create something beautiful for a bookshelf, they want to create something that functions. And that function is to entice and sell.

For more information visit: iamjessicabell.com

Designer vs. Reader Sometimes when I’m browsing through Amazon bestsellers, looking through covers for inspiration, I feel a great sense of loss. This is because I’m constantly faced with the same formulas over and over. And I’m bored. Take a look on the Internat at all the orange covers of books set in Africa. I’m bored of all the orange covers of novels set in Africa. I’m bored of all the thriller covers with clutching their sunhats looking off into the horizon. I could go on. But I won’t. I won’t because rather than this having a negative impact on me, it has a positive one. I want to challenge myself to use these trendy tropes and make them even more attractive and beautiful and unique. I will not settle for ‘that looks about right.’ My aim is to get readers to adore the cover as much as the book, and hopefully enhance their reading experience

my Vine Leaves Press publisher hat who has total creative control over the cover design of VLP books. When designing for VLP I always try to do something a little different while also attracting the intended audience. With fingers crossed, I hit send. Sometimes the client chooses my baby, and sometimes they don’t. If the latter happens, I of course have a little internal cry, but then get on with the job. Luckily, I am set up to sell my babies as pre made covers for a fraction of the typical cost.

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Jessica Bell is a multi award winning author/poet, a highly sought after book cover designer, and singer songwriter who was born in Melbourne, Australia. In addition to having published a memoir, five novels, three poetry collections, and her bestselling Writing in a Nutshell series, she has been featured in a variety of publications and radio shows such as Writer’s Digest, Publisher’s Weekly, The GuardiLife Matters, and Poetica. Her latest book is called Can You Make the Title Bigga? The Chemistry of Book Cover Design. She is also the Publisher of Vine Leaves Press, and currently resides in Athens, Greece, with her partner and son, and a pile of dishes that still don’t know how to wash themselves despite her consistently teaching by example.

Jessica Bell

Bronze winner in the Foreword INDIESBook of the Year Awards in Science Fiction

AwardsSilverFirstplaceinThe2021RoyalDragonflyBookAwards(ScienceFiction/FantasyeBook)medalistinthe2021WishingShelfBook(BooksforAdults:Fiction)

Reviewed by Wendy H. Jones

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ImagineDescriptionbeing put to death for the crime of your child's unhappiness. This is the tale of Icasia Bloom: how she is caught up in a story not initially her own, and how it changes her world. In a Globe controlled by a trusted yet elusive leader who has granted immortality to those who live by The Book, misfit Icasia Bloom is doomed to die young for the crime of her child's unhappiness. Like all 'tatters' she gets food by bartering, and when she brings customers to the new local bakery, she meets another borderline outcast, Selma Beyett, whose plight touches her. Selma’s husband Jerome must die in six months if his quest for perpetual happiness is not successful. What starts as a desperate attempt to save Jerome takes the two women on a profoundly enlightening search for happiness. Icasia questions the Globe's judgement on its people and on the nature of happiness itself. instead, an unlikely friendship is formed. The overall premise of the book is about finding happiness and I can’t say much more about it without giving away too much of the plot. Suffice it to say, the plot is outstanding and will keep you reading. Bell is a highly talented author, something which is evident in every carefully crafted word of this book. The characters are beautifully written, individual, quirky, and realistic. I found myself invested in their lives and not only wanting to know more but wanting them to succeed. I was genuinely sorry when the book was finished. I am glad I chose this to read, and I can understand why it has received so many awards.

Review

by Stan Phillips Happiness

This is a work of literary fiction futuristic and dystopian. Very definitely not the type of book I usually read, yet I found myself riveted and not wanting to put the book down. Icasia is a ‘tatter’someone who trades things for food and the only relationship she has is with her son, who was conceived via artificial insemination at the order of the state. One day she approaches Selma, a baker, to discuss bartering with her but,

How Icasia Bloom Touched

Reviewed by Wendy H. Jones

ThisReviewbook

is a raw, gritty, frank and honest look at Jessica Bell’s life and her descent into alcoholism and depression. But it is so much more than that, it is a book of hope and triumph. Bell led a childhood so much different to most of us reading this magazine. Growing up leading a rock star childhood gave her a sense of exhilaration and, at the same time, a sense of great instability. Yet, Bell rose up from this and turned her life around. I applaud her honesty and for allowing us inside her life in order to show there is a way forward and hope for the future, no matter what we are going through. I would encourage everyone to read this book it will stay with you for a long time.

17Dear Reflection, I never Meant to be a Rebel by Jessica Bell

JessicaDescriptionBellnever meant to be a rebel. But growing up with two gothic rockers as parents seemed to make it inevitable. In 1980s Australia, Erika Bach and Demetri Vlass founded Ape the Cry and Hard Candy, two of Melbourne’s iconic indie bands. They encouraged Jessica with unreserved love to pick up the guitar and write her own songs. But Erika’s back problem became a nightmare of pill popping, alcohol abuse, and anxiety attacks. Demetri retreated into silence for fear of triggering Erika’s drug induced psychosis. And Jessica turned inwards, to her own reflection. But her mirror self was a fiend, not a friend. All it took was one secret drink at fifteen, and Jessica dove headlong into depression and selfdestruction to escape the madness at home. Experimenting with bisexuality in a high school rife with bullies? Not a problem; she had alcohol. Losing her virginity to rape? Not a problem; she had alcohol. Trying to supplement absent love with unprotected one night stands? Not a problem; she had alcohol ... Until one day alcohol nearly drove Jessica off a Jessicacliff. had to look at herself honestly and frankly. Why did she keep running from reality, and more importantly, herself?

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Quotes and Descriptions to Inspire Creative Writing

Creativity is the weaving of random into a new and wonderful dish. Descriptionari helps you to fill up your idea cupboard with new ingredients, unleashing your inner Masterchef! And so, in keeping with our fantastic flash fiction theme ‘Questions antongue firmly in our extended pun cheek, here are a few nibbles!

Only when you have an internal honesty and safety that allows your inner child to speak truth will you find the answers you seek.

https://www.descriptionari.com/hee).Openendedquestions regarding past pains and traumas set off negative cascades of brain chemistry that harm me. Conversely, open ended questions about the beauty of nature or future hopes and dreams set off positive cascades of brain chemistry that help the natural healing process. I can feel these effects happening as the questions are asked, either a suppressive or elevating force in the folds of my neurological tissues.

By Angela Abraham, @daisydescriptionari, June 9, 2021. Happy writing!

Writing Prompt

Interrogation is such an unpleasant thing, all you had to do was ask nicely and I'd have given you anything you needed.

By Angela Abraham, @daisydescriptionari, March 5, 2021.

By Angela Abraham, @daisydescriptionari, April 13, 2021. *****

By Angela Abraham Descriptionari

Discover, Share, Connect

swered’,

Angela spent the past 10 years building Descriptionari one flash of inspiration at a time. She is now focusing on the creation of fiction novels. Her dog Oliver says it is all a complete waste of time and can he go for a walk now? On Descriptionari there are over 19k ideas all free to check out (taking the pun bow now, tee

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Discovery of the Royal Warship Gloucester

Shipwreck that Sank 340 Years Ago

The discovery of a Royal warship ‘The Gloucester’ which sank off the east coast of England has recently been unveiled. The wreck of the Gloucester had lain half buried for 340 years until it was found by Norfolk based printer brothers Julian and Lincoln Barnwell and their friend James Little. In 1682, the Duke of York, later King James narrowly escaped drowning when his ship hit a treacherous sandbank and sank. Now this memorable 17th century warship has finally been located after an intense four year search covering an area of 5,000 nautical miles, just 28 miles off Great Yarmouth. “Because of the circumstances of its sinking, this can can be claimed as the single most significant historic maritime discovery since the raising of the Mary Rose in 1982. The discovery promises to fundamentally change understanding of 17th century social, maritime and political history,” said Clair Jowitt Professor of Early Modern Cultural History at the University of East Anglia. In 1682, the Duke of York was travelling to Julian And Lincoln Barnwell With Some Of Their Discoveries © UEA (University of East Anglia)

by John Greeves

20Edinburgh to conduct royal business at the Scottish Parliament and bring back his heavily pregnant wife Mary of Modena, their daughter Anne and household to London. The 54 gun third rate warship had set sail from Portsmouth with the Duke and his entourage joining off Margate, having travelled by yacht from TheLondon.Gloucester was evidently overcrowded with 330 people aboard. The Duke was accompanied by a large retinue of English, Scottish and Irish courtiers including: The Earl of Roxburgh, John Churchill (future 1st Duke of Marlborough), Lord Ibracken, Donogh O’Brian. James Hyde, 2nd Lieutenant on the Gloucester, brother in law to the Duke, through his first wife Anne was also on board and would later drown like many others. At sea the Gloucester was heading a squadron of five other ships and four yachts. The diarist and naval administrator Samuel Pepys was travelling alongside the Gloucester in the Royal Yacht Katherine as part of the royal fleet and would witness the tragic events of May 6, when the ship ran aground on the Leman and Ower sandbank and sank within the hour. On the previous night the Duke had quarrelled with the pilot James Ayres about the ship’s course to avoid the treacherous Norfolk sandbanks. The Duke clearly influenced the final decision, but accepted no responsibility when disaster struck. Instead of ordering the men to The Wreck of the Gloucester off Yarmouth, 6 May 1682, by Johan Danckerts, 1682_credit Royal Museums Greenwich_Wikimedia Commons

21abandon ship, he insisted they bail out the water. By the time he finally decided to board one of the small boats with his friend John Churchill, the critical hour was approaching. A further delay ensued with the loading of the strong box on to the small craft while the men could merely look on. Numerous lives were lost because protocol dictated no one abandoned the ship before Royalty departed. As a result, between 130 and 250 of approximately 330 passengers and crew perished including many of the accompanying courtiers. Samuel Pepys witnessed events from another ship and wrote an account of the devastating events, where victims and survivors with some ‘half dead’ were picked up from the water. In the days that followed, the Duke blamed the pilot and even went as far as wishing him

The Bell © UEA hanged. Ayres survived his court martial and was released from prison after a year. The Duke’s behaviour proved severely damaging to his reputation. Six years after the sinking, James II was ousted by William of Orange in the 1688 ‘Glorious Revolution.’ Could the sinking of the Gloucester have been a contributory factor? Today, the Gloucester is split down the keel and remains of the hull lie submerged in the sand. The wreck has been a closely guarded secret and was first discovered in 2007 when the brothers sighted a cannon. Julian Barnwell describes that momentous first encounter: “It instantly felt like a privilege to be there, it was so exciting. We were the only people in the world at that moment in time who knew where the wreck lay.” An announcement couldn’t be made about this historic discovery until

22was Master of Ordnance and Groom of the Bedchamber to the Duke of York. The colonel was son to Elizabeth Washington and was ancestrally linked to George Washington who later became the first President of the United States. Animal bones were retrieved from the wreck site, but no human remains have been found. The ship bell recovered in 2012 decisively identified the vessel. The ongoing excavation continues to determine how much of the hull is under the sand and what is intact. As yet, there are no current plans to raise any parts of the remains. The Gloucester Ship project now embraces a number of interested bodies and organisations. Alongside UEA, Norfolk Museums Service and the Barnwell brothers, partners also include the Alan Boswell Group and York Archaeology. Both the research project and exhibition are being generously supported by Birketts LLP, the everything was in place. From the onset of the find, the brothers completed an underwater archaeology course with the Nautical Archaeology Society. It took several years to find evidence to prove conclusive identity of the ship (when the ship’s bell was only retrieved in 2012). A need also existed to protect the security of an ‘at risk site’ while finalising the appropriate governance. The wreck was declared to the Receiver of Wreck, Historic England, and Ministry of Defence and it’s only after all this that the discovery was finally made Artefactspublic. retrieved and conserved from the wreck include: clothes, shoes, navigational and other naval equipment, personal possessions and several unopened bottles of wine. One of the wine bottles bears a glass seal with the crest of the Legge family. Colonel George Legge A selection of discoveries © UEA

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Brothers

Shipwrecks

https://www.gloucestershipwreck.co.ukLink

Leverhulme Trust and the Maritime Archaeology and support given to Norfolk Museum’s Service by the Royal Navy with the exhibition. exhibition for Spring 2023 entitled “The Last Voyage of the Gloucester: Norfolk’s Royal Shipwreck” will jointly be curated by UEA and Norfolk Museums Service will staged for five measuring cannon3_© Norfolk Historic months at Norwich Castle Museum and Art Gallery.

John Greeves originally hails from Lincolnshire. He believes in the power of poetry and writing to change people’s lives and the need for language to move and connect people to the modern world. Since retiring from Cardiff University, Greeves works as a freelance journalist who's interested in an eclectic range of topics.

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Alison has a young son and works at home, running her online art shop and creating art to go in it. When she isn’t writing about her imaginary world of ghosts, she works on improving her drawing with traditional media mainly graphite, soft pastels, and coloured pencil. She gets inspiration from Asian art, anime, fairies, and folklore.

Senryu5/7/5Idreamtmylighthousehomewasmetwithbuilders who glued my things to walls I gave them contrabands,toffeeand instructions not to call again.

LighthousebyAlisonRasmussen

https://paynesgreyillustration.com/

Alison Rasmussen is a self taught illustrator who also loves to write. She creates fantasy creatures and whimsical gothic art and is writing a ghost story where lots of her characters go to play. She’s done illustration work for children’s stories and a zombie series, and is now illustrating her own story, just for fun.

North make me gush Observing

Listen to birds, look at flowers Often seen with a book in hand

I sit outside for

The colorful leaves in the trees the crunch-crunch under my feet

It gets colder, And soon it's winter. like drinking hot coco Soon after tubing or skating at the sparkling snow a fire after freezing back them

Looking

My Four Seasons Chantal Bellehumeur

hours

Chantal Bellehumeur is a Canadian author born in 1981. She has several published novels of various genres as well as numerous short stories, poems and articles featured in compilation books, magazine, plus a local newspaper. For a complete list of publications, including free reads, visit the following https://authorwebsite:chantal bellehumeur.webnode.com/products /

I love summer, But autumn’s better. enjoy the nice cool breeze Not having to endure the heat

As spring Ivegetationarrives,thrives.don’tmindtherain so much As it can be rather soothing Ducks flying

is relaxing

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And

On shaded grass or hot beach sand

The sunshine burns When summer returns.

School Days by Jenny Sanders

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My school career began in a house turned school, started by a mother who wanted something very specific for her own children, and which she felt was lacking in the post war period. Oaklands School was well established by the time I joined the nursery, aged three and a bit. I fondly remember the dressing up corner, the house corner, the clock puzzle with red blob handles which encouraged dexterity to place the pieces correctly, and a cut down billiard table with its pockets blocked up, which served as a sand table. In the next class, there were dolls in a cot who interested me not one bit, but I had learnt to read by then (growing up in a house full of books probably helped), and I worked my way through the entire collection of Ladybird books and Well loved tales. I was enthralled by the illustrated sequence of dresses which Cinderella wore for the balls, and fascinated by The Princess and the Pea. Then there was a

Back in July, just two days into the school summer holidays, I saw a notice outside a shop declaring, ‘Back to School!’ Were I still of a school age, I think I would have been sorely tempted to throw a brick through their window. I’m joking, of course I’m far too law abiding for that but I did seriously wonder whether I could erase the chalk writing without detection… I mean, really, give everyone a break, right? Now, it’s September and the new school year is about to begin. The cycle will kick in all over again, as it has done for generations. They say that, your school days are the happiest days of your life, but I know a number of people who would dispute this. I can only assume that the saying refers not to the dreary routine of learning English grammar and mathematical formulae which we all endured, but rather to the daily thrill and fun of hanging out with our friends, and the hours of leisure we all enjoyed outside school hours before the weight of adult responsibilities began to cloud our collective horizons. How do you feel, I wonder, when you reflect on your own season in education?

class with a trendy teacher who wore actual nail varnish (wildly exotic for one of my upbringing), and who took us all on a trip to her farm. She allowed us to use that great invention: felt tipped pens. Solid blocks of colour so strong that it would seep right through the paper; marvellous! The final class the ‘top’ form involved times tables, creative writing (hurrah!) and craft afternoons with Mrs Kirby, involving copious amounts of glue, raffia and felt. By the time I got to my primary school, I was fortunate to have mastered the basics and flew through academically. It was here that I met my oldest friend in whose company many hours of imaginative play were spent, both inside and outside our houses. I met up with her recently and we savoured the privilege of all the years we’ve walked together, basking in the comfortable relaxedness of one another’s company, as well as our shared memories which are kept alive in the retelling. Secondary school came as a nasty shock to me. Was that your experience? I don’t know about you, but I expected a full-on Mallory Towers experience (minus the boarding part), having voraciously read disappointment it was. Not only that, but having coasted through a fair bit of primary school, it was disconcerting to discover that I now began to struggle with a number of subjects, most of them maths related. Here, we were all working at a similar level. The competition was tough; now I really did have to work. Latin was a definite low point: ‘Jennifer has reached her potential in this subject’, concluded my despairing teacher with an accompanying sigh. Sixth form was a much more positive experience where, having shed the draining burdens of maths, physics etc (I didn’t need to know how the universe works, I was just grateful that it did/does), I could concentrate on more interesting topics. Teachers treated us more like adults; there were more opportunities to perform in drama productions. I had a lovely core group of friends who were frequently laughing together, and we all became prefects and house captains which gave us a certain welcome kudos in the school. As a child, I had confidently expected to become an English teacher. With a slight adjustment, and a quick foray into the world of agriculture (the appealing delights of working beyond four claustro-

simply no room for children to have thinking time any more. Every waking hour is filled with activities and when the relentless school and social timetable does have a gap, then it’s often filled with stultifying screen time. I am so glad to have grown up before such things became a standard requirement of life. What a trial it must be for teachers these days. I always feel rather sorry for friends who remember their school days as only a faint blur with vague moments of clarity. If you were someone who hated school because either you were bullied, ostracised or labelled in an unhelpful way (quite a few of my contemporaries were probably dyslexic, but it wasn’t a recognised term or condition at that time, which made school a real trial), then it’s understandable that forgetting, or pushing the memories aside was a way of coping with the fallout. For myself, I can mostly remember who I sat next to, the names of all my teachers, the colour of my

28the aspiration of a career in children’s television. In fact, life has taken me in a rather different direction. For a short while I taught speech and drama at a prestigious girls boarding school in Hampshire, UK. I juggled jobs as a waitress, a sales assistant in a popular interiors store, and a council worker. I enjoyed the season of being an at home mum with my four children while writing a regular column for the local newspaper. This stretched my capacity while providing a creative outlet where I could flourish. Life was filled with school runs, small people, church leadership responsibilities, marriage courses, parenting courses, speaking at various events, hospitality, and counselling people in crisis alongside my husband. The children have grown and flown; we’ve spent a huge chunk of time in South Africa; I have written an adult non fiction book, Spiritual Feasting, and come through breast cancer. With the publication earlier this year of my collection of children’s stories, The Magnificent Moustache and other stories*, I find myself back in primary schools enjoying the buzz of teaching creative writing, playing word and drama games, and encouraging flights of imagination in a generation glued far too often (in my opinion) to their mesmerising, imagination stunting

Therescreens.is

Perhaps you have pondered the same truths.

I’m grateful for ‘old girls’ who keep in touch and so keep those memories alive. In a life which includes quite a bit of travel and where no two days look the same, I still sometimes miss the routine of a regular timetable, the sound of the school bell signalling the next lesson, and the glorious chatter of a community of interesting people.

29exercise books, the view from the window and huge chunks of our activities, curriculum and insider jokes.

Many of them are no longer with us; the vast majority retired long ago, but their influence remains, and for that I am deeply grateful. Here’s to you all!

* Published by The Conrad Press: also available as an ebook. ISBN No: 978 1 914913 85 3

The UK book depository delivers free worldwide for those on other shores. Jenny Sanders is a writer, speaker, encourager and mentor. She loves writing, reading and walking in nature whenever she can. For the past several years she’s lived between the beautiful cities of Bath, UK and Cape Town, S Africa. Her exciting and humorous new children’s book The Magnificent Moustache and Other Stories is now available published by The Conrad Press.

The privilege of having travelled and tasted other cultures brings a greater understanding of the flaws and foibles of humanity at large, as well as of oneself: the things we have in common and the things which too often divide us.

It’s fascinating to see how I’ve changed not just physically, although these days I am learning to embrace the silver hair. My outlook has altered; I have years of life experience which once I might have scoffed at, but now value enormously. Having children of your own inevitably shifts your perspective.

Whatever your memories of your school days, this September I raise a glass to every teacher who encouraged me, helped me, explained things in a way I could understand, was patient with me, laughed with me and/or spurred me on to embrace life’s journey.

Now in my sixth decade, school has been out for some considerable time! There are some photographs to look back at, including the mandatory adolescent image (did anyone have a flattering photograph taken at fourteen?); a few dog eared programmes to remind me of concerts and plays and even, somewhere, a motley collection of school reports and exam certificates chronicling my progress through those years (25 yards swimming, anyone?).

Phew, What a Scorcher by Rhoda Neville

♦ On average, the human body is made up of 60% water.

How are you coping with the heat in recent weeks? Are you loving it, baking like a lizard in the sun, or are you a bit more wary? Keeping to the puddles of shade under our great trees in parks and along pavements?

Here are a few basic facts about water in our bodies:

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A little sun is a great thing, but after days of weather in the 30 C plus range, you might feel frazzled and worn down, unable to sleep well, and short tempered. Before that happens to you, do take precautions, like exercising as early or as late as you can; wearing loose, billowy clothing; keeping windows open to allow a cross draft in your home, if possible, or letting a fan blow on you to cool you off. A cool bath or shower can help. Making like the Mediterranean folk and thinking of the afternoon as siesta time staying out of the sun between midday and five is another wise choice as the thermometer soars. With the current state of the economy, however, some of these steps may be hard to undertake. There is one safety measure for preventing heat stroke and dehydration, that doesn’t cost a lot and is good for you at all times. That is, drinking water!

(Sounds like the disclaimer for a pharmaceutical firm, doesn’t it?)

All this work that your body undertakes to maintain a liveable temperature for you means that water is evaporating from you and you need to replenish it, so that you don’t become dehydrated.

How to stay healthy and happy in the hot Beweathersure to drink water! In very hot weather, or when exercising a great deal, your body might need up to10 litres of water (a whopping 2 imperial gallons!) a day to replace all that is lost through perspiring and other bodily functions. This is an extreme amount. You can, of course, overdo it and drink too much water, washing away the electrolytes and minerals that keep you functioning well. Don’t drink more than a couple of litres in a short period of time to avoid what’s known as ‘water intoxication’.

♦

♦ Our body’s water content helps us to withstand heat by moving the building heat inside our cells out into the circulatory system and carrying it towards our brain. When the hypothalamus in the brain senses the extra heat it causes us to sweat, thus releasing water, which in a breeze or in front of a fan will cool us.

♦ This water, as well as coursing through our veins and arteries, makes up a good percentage of every cell in our body. Even bones contain water at about 1/3 of their weight!

♦ A dehydrated human body can lose 10% water, but if it loses 15% or more there can be dire health consequences, such as physical and mental deterioration, and even death.

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♦ In hot weather, we lose more water than in cool, of course.

Most experts suggest we need only 2 to 3 litres a day, but that figure doesn’t take into consideration weight, age, exercise levels, or outside temperature.

Here is a simple calculation to follow: Divide your weight in kilograms by 30. The resulting number is the number of litres you should drink per day doing little exercise in temperate weather. When you exercise, then you should add another 0.35 litres per every halfhour of exercise you undertake. (For example, if you weigh 60 kg, then you want to be sure to drink 2 litres of water a day when you are being mostly sedentary.) There are water intake calculators available online, which you may find Unfortunately,useful. most of the drinks we think of as appealing are not going to do the job of water. Tea and coffee are diuretics, pulling out almost as much water as they put in, as are fizzy sweet drinks, alcohol, and even fruit juices. You’ve probably heard a lot of this before, but with the greater likelihood of heatwaves all over the world, thinking about how to keep your body’s inbuilt temperature regulator tuned up is a good Drinkingthing. enough water, can also help to curb excess hunger pangs. That’s because, for most of us, our minds have become used to believing

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hunger is the cause of the desire to snack. It’s really your body crying out to be hydrated. Try drinking a half litre of water the next time you want to eat a piece of Victoria sponge. If you still want the sponge cake, then you might really be hungry, but your body will be happy to have the Also,water.if you have been semi dehydrated for a very long time, you’ll find you need to run to the loo a lot when you first start drinking a healthy amount of water. The good news is that your body will adjust to the extra water, and you should find you don’t have the urge to visit the littlest room as much after the adjustment

Manyperiod.chronic conditions such as tinnitus, hyper tension, and ulcers improve with proper water intake. A good way to be sure you’re getting enough is to calculate what you need for your body, then fill up containers for the day in advance. That way, you can see how you’re doing. It might take a while for your body to recognise that your helping it out, but when it does, you might suddenly feel thirsty when you never did before.

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Before Rhoda started writing full-time in 2019, she went through a number of evolutions, as a bookbinder, a mother, a student of nutrition, an organic farmer, and a natural food store owner/operator. There is an Ayurvedic proverb: ‘When diet is wrong, medicine is of no use; when diet is correct, medicine is of no need.’

Finally, water quality is so important. If you can, invest in a water filter system. From Brita to Berkey there are many good systems out there that don’t cost the earth. Even filling a big jug with water and letting it off gas for several hours can help to let some of the questionable chemicals, used to treat our waters, dissipate before drinking. Speaking of the earth, it is always better to use mechanical filters and tap water rather than buying plastic bottles that chip away at your budget. Generally, when your body gets enough water, you’ll find you recognise how great it tastes!

The Last Prince Submitted by Hannah Howe Written by Rhys Age 14

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The year was 1400, And the great Red Dragon had arisen, Through the barren English tundra, Our forces destroyed the invader’s prison. Our glorious prince had defied the tyrants, To his banner we did rally, Through blood, sweat and tears, Welsh hope and glory we did marry.

Free Wales belongs to the people, And our people should be free, We crushed the invader like an infected beetle, We destroyed the bourgeoisie. Glyndŵr stood strong, Day by day he thwarted the English plans, Through poetry, sporting endeavour and song, We united the Welsh clans. Even after our great prince had passed, The spirit of freedom lived on, The Welsh people shall forever last, “Yma o Hyd”, will be our song.

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Summer Wanders

37https://moms favorite reads.com/moms authors/sylva fae/ © Sylva Fae

When you get a character to answer the question through what they do as opposed to what they say, you reveal a great deal about them. A could continue to refuse B and stick to their principles. That will end their friendship, especially if anything happens to the seriously sick child as a result. (A good way out of this would be for A to find a much better and decent way to raise the money).

Questions & Answers in Flash Fiction

So you ramp up the tension again. B is A’s best friend. B wouldn’t ask if there wasn’t a good reason. A knows that. A also knows B has a seriously sick child and needs money. Now what will A do?

But you see the idea - questions and the answers are a wonderful way to structure a story. You have a proper beginning, middle, and ending here simply by asking the question and answering it.

Questions are an excellent structure for any writing. A reader knows the question must be answered in some way before the end, whether the writing is a flash story, an article, or a novel. With my flash pieces, I start with an intriguing opening line. The question there is implied. For example, in my tale, George Changes His Mind, the implicit questions are what does he change his mind about and why does it matter. The opening line for this is He refused to kill the dragon. Again the implicit questions there are why and how does he survive to tell the tale? Only one way to find out read the story which of course is the idea.

I also use a random question generator regularly. The questions that come up on this can either be used as a theme to my story or I can get a character to answer the question and that is the story. For example, for this post I generated the question what is one of the great values that guides your life? Now I can show the reader the answer by getting my character to come into conflict with another character who does not share Character A’s great value. If Character A is against theft, say, but Character B needs A to steal something for them because A is in a better position to do so, what will A do? Refuse? On the face of it, yes.

by Allison Symes

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Flash Challenge

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Allison Symes, who loves reading and writing quirky fiction, is published by Chapeltown Books, CafeLit, and Bridge House Publishing. Her flash fiction collections, Tripping The Flash Fantastic and From Light to Dark and Back Again are out in Kindle and paperback. She has been a winner of the Waterloo Arts Festival writing competition three years in a row where the brief was to write to a set theme to a 1000 words maximum. Website: https://allisonsymescollectedworks.com/

The question I’ve generated for this month’s challenge is what is something you have learned in the last week? Now get a character to answer that (in up to 300 words excluding title) and show the consequences. My story is below. Hope you enjoy it. Directions I’m relieved to be home. I’ll never have a sat nav again. Why? Am so glad you asked. My sat nav sent me down this lane. Insisted it was a major road. Since when do they have grass in the middle and a rotten egg smell? I drove on, thinking this was a short cut. This so called road would lead to a bigger one and someone had blocked drains. Not my problem. I could work out proper directions once on a decent road with proper white lines on it. Then I came to a decrepit house. It was the only residence I’d seen so I thought I’d stop and check my way. What harm could that do? I could also mention the drains. I rang the doorbell. It chimed the opening notes of the Funeral March I was thinking someone must be a fan of The Munsters when this sweet little old lady opened the door. I’ve read my fairytales. I know sweet characters might be someone powerful in disguise. I was polite. I asked where this road went. She said “Go to hell”! I wonder now if I misheard and she meant to say “it goes to hell”, but at the time I gave her a look. She gave me a withering one back. I ran to the car. I know when I’m not welcome. I could’ve done without hearing an almighty cackle as I left. So you ask me to name something I’ve learned in the last week. That’s easy. I’m revealing what I’ve learned today, sunshine. Always trust your gut instincts telling you something is up and run. I dumped that sat nav and got a book of maps. They don’t send you down dodgy roads.

What I Learned today

I stared at the blob of tissue that had been my brother’s girlfriend. It expanded and contracted as “What happened here, Jean?” Mother, brows furrowed, crossed her arms and tapped her foot. “It wasn’t my fault.” My bottom lip stuck out and my eyes narrowed. “My wand. It’s not functioning properly.” I held it aloft as though that proved my point. Upstairs, a door slammed.

Lesson Learned By Val Tobin

“Mom?” My brother’s voice carried through the house and into the basement. The footsteps and shouts for Mom approached the basement door.

I stared at her, my eyes pleading. “Keep him upHandsShestairs.”hesitated.clasped beseechingly, I begged for support. “Please. He can’t see this.” She shook her head. She wanted me to face the con“sequences.Mom?”The shout came from right outside the basement door. All he had to do was open it, walk down the stairs, and he’d see … “Fix it,” Mom said. “But my wand.” “You fix it now, Jean Anne Dutton. It was no damn tool that did this. Undo it.”

The pandemic affected everyone worldwide in one way or another, but Jonathan’s manner of coping with his loneliness was probably the strangest. His job as a product photographer didn’t permit him to work from home, but as an extrovert who lived alone he was happy to leave his apartment every morning and socialise; even if it was just a quick hello to the bus drivers. Sometimes he picked something up at the coffee shop near his secluded office, mainly so he could talk to somebody face to face. Jonathan started talking to himself more than usual, and eventually began having full conversations with one of the life sized mannequins used for his shoots. He even gave the menswear model a name Harry. Harry was brought coffee and sandwiches at times so that Jonathan could pretend he was eating lunch with a co worker. What Harry didn’t touch, Jonathan finished. They played poker together during their break, but that ended after Jonathan was accused of always cheating. Harry sulked by the window, and Jonathan apologised. They were buddies again; best friends.

41though breathing, which meant she was still alive. Somehow. Thankfully. I hadn’t wanted to kill her, just show her she couldn’t push me around. I focused. The spell came to me in a rush, and I said the words, reversed the magic. Mom was right: the tool didn’t hold the power I did. In a flash, the blob transformed into Leanne, the mean girl my brother dated. My mother gave me a final withering stare and hurried upstairs. I looked down when Leanne whimpered. “What’s the lesson here?” She struggled to speak and finally managed it. “Don’t piss off a witch.” I nodded, giving her a sweet smile. Mom would punish me, but at least Leanne would never mess with me again.

The Mannequin By Chantal Bellehumeur

When a complete lockdown was announced, Jonathan panicked. He didn’t know how he was going to survive without Harry’s company. The solution was for Harry to move in with him. Jonathan brought the clothed mannequin home on the bus, making sure they both wore face masks. He talked so much about Harry in the weeks that followed, people started thinking he was his boyfriend. They couldn’t wait to meet him.

When restaurants opened again, Jonathan brought Harry with him to a café in his neighbourhood. People stared awkwardly and his friends pleasantly laughed, but Jonathan didn’t understand the joke. Years after things returned to normal and people brought up Harry, Jonathan embarrassingly stated he experienced temporary insanity.

I couldn’t but made another indistinguishable sound, my mouth now full of sandwich.

“Beautiful day,” commented the intruder, turning his head towards me. I couldn’t disagree but didn’t want to encourage conversation. I could see the park reflected in the strangers' wrap around sunglasses and privately wished he wasn’t there. I grunted in a non committal kind of way.

“You probably can’t see it from down here; it’s up in the tree. Wonderful song; sounds like hope.”

“I like to feel the breeze on my face,” he said, “don’t you?” “It is very lovely,” I replied, confident my agreement would end the conversation.

Obviously it’s not my personal bench, but it’s the one I always choose. It’s set at an angle so no one can come from behind to startle me, and it catches the afternoon sun while simultaneously providing leafy shade from a large oak tree.

What a strange thing to say, I thought, reaching for a carrot stick.

“So many shades of green in one place. It’s remarkable.” He wasn’t wrong; I noted the plethora of greens in the grass, trees, bushes, and hedges.

I felt an undeniable frisson of irritation as I saw there was somebody already sitting on ‘my’ bench.

A New Perspective By Jenny Sanders

“Can’t sit here chatting all day,” my companion declared and so saying, picked up the white stick tucked beside him and walked back towards the city, while I gazed with fresh eyes at the view.

“I love it here,” he continued. “Can you hear that blackbird singing?”

Gratefully, I left the office and walked towards the sunny park at last.

Gripping my lunch bag, I determinedly sat down at the other end of it. I refused to be put off and look for another one; why should I?

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When the body is under duress, as it inevitably is in those circumstances, you tend to sweat. Heart rate increases, breathing is laboured; flight, fight, freeze or fold reactions kick in with an adrenaline rush; you need to be on top of it or you’re gone. Even half a degree of change will trigger the Comingswitch. in from the roof is always tense, but it’s the best way. The motion sensors were a challenge; they’ve upped their sensitivity since I did my last job at the museum, but I was confident I’d got it sorted. Besides, that also avoids the pressure sensors which are a nightmare. It was almost within my grasp when my phone rang. Rookie error. Should have learned that one by now.

That just left the usual array of alarms. Again, a bit of electrical know how has always seen me clear, so long as you know where the control panels are. That takes some research, a bit of persistence, and some bare faced cheek but, as I say, it’s got me this far.

There’s no denying that the harness was uncomfortable, but you do what you must. That includes having a very detailed plan, good back-up, and unflappable focus.

Bomb proof glass is tricky. Obviously, it’s made to withstand considerable impact; there’s no point trying to bash it. Lasers are the answer. Wonderful things you know; they even use them in surgery these days.

Live and Learn By Jenny Sanders

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The CCTV wasn’t a big problem. I’d taken into account the staff shift changes, camera angles, access control and even biometrics. You can get around all of those with a bit of forward thinking, a screwdriver, and good sleight of hand.

Climate control; none of us were too excited when they started introducing that, I can tell you.

Val Tobin Val studied general arts at the University of Waterloo, then went to DeVry Toronto to get a diploma in Computer Information Systems. She worked in the computer industry as a software and Web developer for over ten years, during which time she started to get serious about energy work and the paranormal and occult. In October 2004, Val became a certified Reiki Master/Teacher. She acquired ATP® certification in March 2008, in Kona, Hawaii from Doreen Virtue, PhD. Val started work on a bachelor of science in parapsychic science from the American Institute of Holistic Theology in March 2007 and received her degree in September After2010.obtaining her master’s degree in parapsychology at AIHT, Val has set her sights on the PhD, which she’ll pursue as time and finances permit. At the end of October 2008, Val returned to Kona, Hawaii to complete the Advanced ATP® training and in April 2010 to take the Spiritual Writing workshop and the Mediumship Certification class. Val wrote freelance for online magazine Suite101 and was Topic Editor for Paganism/ Wicca and Webmaster Resources at Suite.

Author

Mom s Favorite Reads

CONNECT... https://valtobin.com/wp/about author val tobin/ https://www.facebook.com/valtobinauthor/ https://twitter.com/valandbob https://www.bookbub.com/authors/val tobin

The Connections2022WinnerFool:ofeMagazineReader’sChoiceAwards

Book links on website.Val’s

Vigneron

Europe by Book by Hannah Howe The Vine Witch by Luanne G. Smith A young witch emerges from a curse to find her world upended in this gripping fantasy set in turn of the century France. For centuries, the vineyards at Château Renard have depended on the talent of their vine witches, whose spells help create the world renowned wine of the Chanceaux Valley. Then the skill of divining harvests fell into ruin when sorcière Elena Boureanu was blindsided by a curse. Now, after breaking the spell that confined her to the shallows of a marshland and weakened her magic, Elena is struggling to return to her former life. And the vineyard she was destined to inherit is now in the possession of a handsome stranger. Jean Paul Martel naively favors science over superstition, and he certainly doesn’t endorse the locals’ belief in witches. But Elena knows a hex when she sees one, and the vineyard is covered in them. To stay on and help the vines recover, she’ll have to hide her true identity, along with her plans for revenge against whoever stole seven winters of her life. And she won’t rest until she can defy the evil powers that are still a threat to herself, Jean Paul, and the ancient vine witch legacy in the rolling hills of the Chanceaux Valley.

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Theodora knows she can’t keep her five beautiful daughters at home forever they’re too curious, too free spirited, too like their late father. And so, before each girl leaves the small house on the riverside at the foot of Mount Olympus, Theodora makes sure they know they are always welcome to return.

Having survived World War II, the Nazi occupation of Greece, and her husband’s death, Theodora now endures the twenty year long silence of her daughters’ absence. Her children have their own lives they’ve married, traveled the world, and courted romance, fame, and even tragedy. But as they become modern, independent women in pursuit of their dreams, Theodora knows they need her and each other more than ever. Have they grown so far apart that they’ve forgotten their childhood home, or will their broken hearts finally lead them back again?

Hannah Howe is the author of the Sam Smith Mystery Series, the Ann's War Mystery Series and the #1 international bestseller Saving Grace. Hannah's books are published by Goylake Publishing and distributed through Gardners Books to over 300 outlets worldwide. Her books are available in print, as eBooks and audiobooks, and are being translated into ten languages. Discover more on Mom's Favorite Reads website: https://moms favorite reads.com/moms authors/hannah howe

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The House by the River by Lena Manta

From acclaimed Greek writer Lena Manta comes an emotionally powerful saga following five young women as they realize that no matter where life leads them, the only constant is home.

Do you recall those long summer holidays of childhood? Those meandering days filled with games, running in fields, or wandering aimless down a street ablaze with an explosion of sunshine. Kicking a stone. Throwing pebbles into a stream, and counting the ripples as they spread out to infinity. Or skimming a stone across the surface of a golden lake. And birds sang their summer songs of passing Motesyouth. of dust danced on beams of light. Blossoms cavorted on soft breezes. Picnics in the woods. And the bumble bees flew precariously through the Theflowers.butterflies, extravagantly multi hued flashed briefly across those lost and languid days. Wasps threatened.

strange and lonely now. For look around and ask yourself this summer. This middle aged season. Ask, where are the bees? Where are the butterflies? Where are the wasps? Where are the dragonflies?

Ants

For I see few of them now. And wonder where they went with the passing of my years. And just what does their absence mean for our fragile world? Just a small wartime memory for you It was all so long ago that the three of us sat with Miss Smith in Cambridge.

AndDragonfliesannoyed.fascinated.lifedriftedgentlyby

to bring us where?

To Yes,here?tothis

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Childhood Holidays

by Stan Phillips

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It was

Three small boys evacuated out of bombed and broken wartime London to descend upon a maiden lady of uncertain age who lived in relative splendour in a large house with her slightly mad bachelor Theuncle.avenue was wide and tree lined and unlike anything we had ever seen in our cramped and cobbled East End streets. And there didn't seem to be any real shortages of food in those strictly rationed times, as the mad uncle grew fruit, and vegetables, and potatoes, and tomatoes in a vast garden that, to us at least, was like a park. You could see him at all hours toiling away and growing enough food to supply half the neighbourhood (most of whom were also growing great quantities of food in equally vast gardens). There were also large populations of doomed chickens to produce eggs, and ultimately their bodies to feed the populace who seemed impervious to the war that raged across much of the Andworld.Isuppose the point of this particular musing is to record a memory that came to me as I sit meditating this quiet evening. Which was a recollection of the rice pudding that Miss Smith made when we gathered at the table that first shy and awkward day in her care.

It was in a large bowl, bigger than any I had ever seen, enough to feed twice as many of us, as we sat hungry around the gingham cloth covered table, after the long train journey away from the only life we knew.

Stan Phillips is a poet, musical podcast maker, part time wannabe male model, and occasional stand up comedian. “I used to be a psychotherapist/ counsellor when I had an honest job. I was born into prewar London, and attended 17 schools (my father believed they couldn’t hit a moving target) and I eventually finished up here in Ireland. Still wondering what I will be when I grow up but enjoying writing my quirky poetry as I do so.” Discover more about Stan on Mom’s Favorite Reads website: https://moms favorite reads.com/moms authors/stan phillips

ButMeltedwonderful.inthemouth.bestofallwasthe great dollop of homemade blackcurrant jam that floated on the top of our bowls and which tasted of paradise. Which now, a lifetime on, I can still feel the memory of just floating in my mouth.

TheDescription1950sfairly leap off the page in this classic cozy mystery set in northern Florida in the Eisenhower era, complete with Johnny Ray on the jukebox and a Womanless Wedding—this one interrupted by an explosion at a moonshine still. Lily Trulock, owner of Trulock’s Grocery & Marine Supply, leads a pretty quiet life until a stranger comes to town. The new guy’s not what he appears, but then, some of St. Elmo’s residents aren’t either.

by Wendy H. Jones America in 50 Books

Florid Hurricane Season by Michaela Thompson Our book tour this month finds us in Florida, a place I absolutely adore, so I was excited about this month’s read. Did I enjoy my literary trip – read on to find out.

Around

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WhenReviewit comes to giving a sense of place and time this book is spot on. I felt I was in Florida in the 1950’s and bang slap in the middle of a hurricane. I’ve never actually been in the path of a hurricane but after reading this I am even more sure I don’t want to. The descriptions were terrifying. I also got a real sense of small town America, so in this aspect the book was outstanding. The characters are well written, quirky and individual; however, I did feel there were maybe just a few too many of them for my tastes as I found myself getting confused occasionally. The storyline and the mystery itself were good, which I feel made for a strong book which overall I enjoyed. If you want to get a feel for Florida in the 1950’s then this book will serve you well.

by Hannah Howe

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Cookshops provided roast dinners and pies, and takeaways. Hawkers sold shellfish, nuts and fruit while if you fancied a cheesecake Hackney was the place to go, and Lambeth was noted for its apple pies.

The Tabard Inn, renamed The Talbot, one of 48 inns or taverns situated between King’s Bench Prison and London Bridge, a distance of half a mile. In 1642 Londoners rebelled against Charles I and he left town. The Civil War of 1642-49 was destructive, of course, but it did have some benefits. John Evelyn noted that when the supplies of hearth coal from Newcastle were interrupted London’s orchards and gardens bore ‘plentiful and infinite quantities of fruits.”

In the late sixteenth century, London had four regular companies and six permanent playhouses with plays performed every day except Sunday. The plays were popular with rich and poor alike with prices set to attract lower paid workers. The authorities loathed the playhouses because people could gather together in large numbers while the plays themselves often challenged authority, a combination that offered the potential for civil unrest. Bankside c1630, the earliest known oil painting of London. The theatres depicted on the south bank are the Swan, the Hope, the Rose, and the Globe. The flying flags indicated that there was a performance that day. In the 1620s there were 400 taverns and 1,000 alehouses in London. Writing in 1621, Robert Burton said, “Londoners flocked to the tavern as if they were born to no other end but to eat and drink. ”

A Brief History of London Part 2

During the Civil War, London did not witness any major fighting, primarily because the Parliamentarians controlled the capital from an early stage. Without London, Charles I was doomed to defeat. On the whole, city leaders were pro Royalist while the workers sided with the Parliamentarians. However, by 1661 the workers were happy to welcome the new king, Charles II. The moment was lost, and Britain never recovered.

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George Vertue’s plan of the London Lines of Communication, 1642.

gospel reading set for today reminds me of what a motley band of followers those first apostles of Jesus were. They included a betrayer, a denier, a doubter, a zealot, and a tax collector; and yet, Jesus called them to be his followers, not because they were good but because he was good. And that gives hope and encouragement for us all. That same unlikely group was then sent out to proclaim the good news of God ’s kingdom through the words they spoke and the conduct of their lives. It was not for them to worry about the outcome; that was in God ’s hands.

Do Your Best and Leave the Rest

by Father Ian Maher

It is now more than 44 years since the penny dropped for me and I ‘became a Christian’. By that I mean I crossed the threshold of believing that Jesus Christ had risen from the dead and is a living presence for all who seek him. At the time, I was just 19 years of age, new to what seemed like a very alien world of church life, and not knowing one end of the Bible from another. And yet, something fundamental shifted within me and the conscious journey of faith began; a journey that will continue until my life’s end. As I look back on that time, I can see that one thing more than anything else convinced me that Christian faith was something worth pursuing: the witness of a life. It just so happens that the person to whom I am so indebted was the parish priest of the church in which I found myself for midnight Mass on Christmas Eve in 1977. Just how I ended up there is another story. Over the next few months, the patience and care of this man allowed me to ask the questions and express the doubts and objections I had, without judgement or condemnation. I was never ‘preached at’ but left free to accept or reject his own story of faith that he shared with me. What I saw in him was something different, and it was something that I wanted for myself. I longed for the faith that was clearly at the core of his being to also be at the centre of mine.

With a theological vocabulary that I did not have at the time, I can now describe that as the light of Christ shining through a human life. I saw Christ in him and that is what brought me to my own moment of decision after a period of inner turmoil and questionTheing.

Decades later, what I remember most about him are not the sermons he preached good though they were nor anything else he said, to be honest, but who he was. His life was more eloquent than his finest words.

Matthew 10.7-15

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I am a priest and minor canon at Sheffield Cathedral. My last post prior to retirement from stipendiary ministry was as the Multifaith Chaplaincy Co ordinator and Anglican Chaplain at Sheffield Hallam University, where I worked for 12 years.

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All that was required of them was to be faithful to their call; to do their best and leave the rest to God. But through them, and those who came after, the message of God ’s love found its way to every corner of the globe, and continues to do so, through the witness of those who carry within themselves the light of Christ.

My first parish priest was one such person, to whom I owe so much. Perhaps someone similar has touched your own life. Maybe someone else has been touched by your own. If so, take a moment to recognise that and be thankful. And if you are still searching for that experience of God ’s love that seems elusive, then keep going. That moment will come. In all things, let us do our best, and leave the rest to God.

Twitterhttps://imaherblog.wordpress.com/@IanMaher7

The centre piece is Clear Quartz banded with a ring of diamonds and sapphire. This unusual ring was my mother's engagement ring, and its unique design enchanted me as a child. Clear Quartz brings clarity and energy to the grid. Radiating out are tumbled and raw Kyanite to offer peace, insight, and compassion. Below the central stones are Pyrite and Hematite for protection and positivity, and Bismuth for focus and energy. Herkimer Diamond brings attunement and spiritual healing. Lolite, tumbled and raw, also known as water sapphire helps with balance, intuition, and perspective, and raw Sapphire matches the gems in the ring. September's birthstone, gives spiritual insight and clarity, embracing order, focus, and integrity.

Lisa Shambrook is an author, artist, and dreamer who loves dragons. Born and raised in vibrant Brighton, England, living by the ocean heavily influenced her lyrical and emotional writing. She now lives in Carmarthen, West Wales, another town rich in legend and lore. A sensory writer, Lisa delves into sensitive subject matters that will lift your spirit and steal your heart.

Birthstone Crystal Grids

by Lisa Shambrook

Sheamaranthalchemy.etsy.comalsolovesdragonsandsquirrels.

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You can find out more about the sensory author and artist, who will lift your spirit, steal your heart, and ignite your imagination at: www.lisashambrook.com

September — Sapphire September hails the beginning of Autumn with cooler weather and an intrinsic fragrance all of its own. This Crystal Grid is for Focus and Integrity.

Crystal Grids made by Lisa Shambrook for mindfulness, meditation, and art. Prints of some grids are available at: www.amaranthalchemy.etsy.com. Find out more at her website lisashambrook.com and her Etsy shop

59 ChessSupplied by Chess.Com Supplied by https://chess.com the #1 chess website. Used with permission. For more chess puzzles please visit https://chess.com You can find answers for this activity on Page 84 White to move. Checkmate in three.

I’m in the park one afternoon the skies are dark and grey and I’m sitting deep in thought when I hear someone near me say “cheer up, it might not happen are you going to smile or not? you’d be pretty if you smiled” so I ask him “pretty what?” “would I be pretty funny or would I be pretty brave can my kindness be determined by the shape my mouth has made? would I be pretty honest if I had a pretty grin can my resilience be measured by the curve above my chin? would I be pretty loyal or my spirit pretty wild or would I be pretty strong because I’d graced you with a smile? no, if you want to talk to me ask what’s inside my head don’t focus on the way I look but how I feel instead I’m not ornaments or paintings that exist to catch your eye and it’s not my job to decorate and beatify your life” and the sky knows how I’m feeling ‘cos he’s often told the same that he’s beautiful when sunny but he’s ugly when it rains but there’s magic in his night sky in the clouds that build his storms in how his sun sets every dusk and then returns at dawn so if you think I’m not pretty well, that’s none of my concern for who I am behind my smile determines what I’m worth and I think the sky’s been listening for he’s opened up the clouds and the park has emptied quickly and there’s no-one else around and the rain is pretty peaceful so I sit here with the sky and the world feels pretty magic and I smile ‘cos so do I

Becky Hemsley is an empowered romantic with a hint of magic. She is from middle England and writes her poetry with her own accent in mind. Wherever, or however you read her poems, the message is the same; the story is about you. You can hear Becky reading her poems on TikTok. https://www.facebook.com/talkingtothewild/Orhttps://vm.tiktok.com/ZM87scaJe/@talkingtothewildseemoreonherFacebookpage.

by Becky Hemsley, taken from the book Talking to the Wild Talking to the Wild is a poetry collection, the bedtime stories that we were likely never told as children but that can bring us comfort, joy, healing, peace and gentle reminders as we grow. Some days you’ll need comfort, some days you joy, and some days you Validated. Seen. And I hope that gives to you. I hope you get lost in the words and find yourself.

61ASmilepoem

SurvivorMelanieP.Smith

Arianna blinked in surprise and glanced around, unsure where she was and how she got here. A thick, cloying mist settled over her body making her feel like she was suffocating. She slowly inhaled, coughed, and inhaled again hoping a few deep breaths would calm her pounding heart. Instead, her nostrils filled with the tangy smell of something rotting. She gagged, then coughed and instinctively pressed one palm to the damp, mossy earth for support as she covered her face with her other hand.

Arianna had a bad feeling about this — a very bad feeling. She lowered her forehead to her knees and tried to think — tried to push away the terror and the strange sense grief that she didn’t understand. Where was she, and why was she here? She didn’t know. No matter how hard she tried to remember, her mind was blank well, except for a distant sense of urgency that was buried just under the surface. Resigned, she glanced up and spotted a beautiful brown horse just a few feet away. He was watching her wearily, waiting for something, with a guarded look in his eyes. She straightened, pushed her body forward away from the tree and surveyed the area.

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before slid away the instant she got into position. She was in her element now, and she knew what to do. Arianna frowned; how did she know what to do? She wasn’t a warrior she was — she didn’t know, couldn’t remember anything but her name. She rubbed her thumb over the sleek wood of the bow and knew, deep inside, she was a warrior. She had adapted and changed out of necessity — not choice. The knowledge comforted her Her mind relaxed, but her body was on high alert, tense and ready for battle. The bushes rustled only a few feet away. Soon, it would be soon. In a matter of seconds, she would know who or what was coming for her. Arianna worked to level her breathing and remain completely silent, but she couldn’t control the nerves her body was thrumming with anticipation. Still, she wasn’t afraid. She was ready to strike at just the right moment. She saw the foliage to her left shift, and she gripped the bow, prepared to fire. After another brief second, she froze and gaped in shock at the scaley, gray skinned creature that emerged from the shadows. A dragon? How was that possible?

The mythical creature casually jumped onto the trail and ambled toward her. What should she do? Was he friend or foe? She did not know. “Halt,” she called out. It looked familiar, yet foreign. She was in a forest, but something was wrong. It was quiet here, eerily silent no birds chirped from the treetops, no butterflies flittered through the air, no bees buzzed around happily looking for that next beautiful flower. There weren’t any flowers. Here there was just decomposing moss and fog mixed with a sharp awareness of something sinister. A sinking feeling settled in the pit of her stomach, and that sense of urgency got stronger. She actually jumped when she heard the distinct sound of a branch snapping. Worried, she pivoted and shifted into a crouched position. Her palm hit something wooden, something long and sleek and smooth. Confused, she focused on the object and realized it was a bow. Her eyes traveled across the damp mossy earth and landed on a quiver full of arrows. Frowning, she slid her body toward the weapon and spotted the sword hidden behind another tree. The instant she wrapped her hand around the flexible arch of the bow, her body relaxed, and a feeling of confidence engulfed her.

Instinct took over, and she swung the quiver over her shoulder before she plucked up the bow and stood. She took two steps, stopped, snatched up the sword and moved toward the edge of an overgrown trail. She gripped the bow, slid an arrow into place, and crouched. The stress and anxiety that hung on her shoulders like a yoke mere moments

“Not again,” the dragon sighed. “We’ve been here before, Arianna. You may not remember, but you know it’s true. You can shoot that offensive projectile toward me. I’ll counter and you will wound me; but, in the end, the conflict will be a waste of valuable time. Let’s skip the whole messy ordeal and proceed to the next phase unscathed.” “I don’t understand. How do you know my name?” “I am a friend,” the dragon told her. “This harness is for you. We’ve been here before — many times. Relax your mind. Let yourself feel my sincerity and you will know what I say is true. We must go. Climb on and let us get started.” “I don’t ” she paused at the brief flicker of awareness that flashed through her mind. She believed him, but why? How? She glanced back at the horse, “confused.Arianna,” the dragon pushed. “You must leave him here or he will die. Come quickly. There is something different about this quest. I fear, if we fail, the consequences will be permanent. We must go.”

Arianna hesitated for another few seconds, then she flung her bow over her shoulder, grabbed her sword, and hopped onto the dragon’s back. He darted forward, folding his enormous wings to his side as he rushed down the pathway. Before long, the trail flowed from the misty confinement of the trees and emptied onto a paved pathway. Arianna glanced from side to side, trying to take it all in. There were intricately carved statues surrounded by a beautiful garden. Ahead, there was a large, framed structure built into the path, like an entrance to a private oasis or a hidden city she wasn’t sure which. On either side of the entrance stood two beautiful columns built to hold a candle or a lantern. She was so focused on the structures, she didn’t see the woman no, not a human. A fairy. The girl had purple hair, antennae that pointed straight into the air, and large delicate wings. She was wearing a leafy green top and a matching skirt. She wore no shoes, but her feet looked delicate and feminine, with purple nails that matched her hair.

“I have no idea what that means,” Arianna complained. “Let’s just say we are friends and have been for a while. Does that work?” “Yes,” Dahlia smiled. “I forget, you were cursed. I will speak plainly because my message is urgent.” “What do you mean, cursed?” Arianna demanded.

Arianna swallowed hard, then reached out with the hand that was gripping the amulet and accepted the hand. Dahlia gripped it firmly, then wrapped her other tiny fist around the wiccan symbol dangling from a thin chain that hung around Arianna’s neck.

“Drozun,” the fairy greeted. “You were quick this time.” “What does she mean this time?” Arianna frowned. “She doesn’t know?” the fairy frowned. “I was quick,” Drozun shrugged. “We are running out of time. It feels different, more urgent. I didn’t take time to explain.” “Arianna,” the fairy focused on the woman. “Can I join you?” “Uh,” Arianna waited for a response from the dragon. When she didn’t get one, she shrugged. “Sure.” The fairy’s wings fluttered, and she lifted into the air several feet, then she leaned forward and zoomed onto the back of the dragon. Once she was settled behind Arianna, she gave Drozun a gentle pat. The dragon spread his wings, lunged forward, and flew. They soared over the treetops, into the clouds, and then rose even higher. The fairy pivoted and moved to Arianna’s side to begin her story.

Arianna gasped in shock as images flooded her mind like a whirlwind. “Is that real?” she demanded when Dahlia finished. “Are those my memories, or did you plant them in my head?”

“I know.” Dahlia patted her arm in comfort. “I can show you, if you let me.” She reached out a hand and waited for Arianna to take it.

“You are Arianna Thronsen,” Dahlia advised. “You were born into a loving, but common, family. You’re a maiden, a farm girl, a commoner. Do you “understand?”Sure,okay,”Arianna nodded.

65Arianna frowned, not sure where the fairy came from, but she knew the girl would blend with the shrubbery and the luscious trees. The fact that she was now standing in the middle of the pathway meant she wanted to be seen.

“You knew her?” Arianna wondered. Was Drozun speaking of the love he had for an ancestor Arianna didn’t know? “Aye,” Drozun whispered. “Continue, Dahlia. We are running out of time.” “Time for what?” Arianna asked. “Time to save Prince Herington?” Dahlia answered.

“My name is Dahlia Littlesage,” she began. “We are bound in love and friendship and have been since the last cycle of the planet Calarook. Before the mist darkened and began to suffocate our land.”

“But your family has a secret,” Dahlia explained. “Your mother was a powerful white witch. That necklace you wear is an heirloom, passed down from the great and powerful witch, Dorthea Brix.” “I don’t remember my family.” Arianna wrapped a fist around the necklace. “I remember nothing about my life. I don’t know who I am, or why I’m here it’s all a blank.”

“They are real,” Drozun answered. “You are powerful and dangerous. You are the only hope our world has to survive. That is true because you are the descendent of Dorthea. But, even with that power, you would fail without love.”

“What happened?” Arianna whispered; her voice was barely audible in the fierce wind that whipped around them as they sliced through the dark clouds. She didn’t know anything about the mountain or the scepter. She’d never heard of the archway. “You,” Drozun answered. “You arrived just in time. Raven was furious. She cast a spell at the same time you cast your own spell to free Keyden. They were both powerful magic; one was pure, the other dark and destructive. They collided, morphed, and exploded, pulling all of us into an endless vortex. We’re destined to repeat those last moments until one of you makes a different decision and either saves us all — or destroys us forever.”

“Keyden Herington,” Drozun told her. “The man you love with such devotion, you risked your own life, your own happiness, to spare his.”

“Where is he?” Arianna demanded. “Why do I have to save him if I risked my life to protect him?”

“I don’t understand.” Arianna frowned and glanced around. They were flying over what looked like a city and the landscape looked familiar to her. She was experiencing an uneasy feeling of déjà vu. “You cast a spell to save Keyden,” Dahlia explained. “Raven’s curse was meant to destroy. When combined, they opened up some kind of time loop. We are reliving the same events again and again. We will continue to live those events until someone changes the pattern. Only you or Raven can alter this reality and send us back to Brahm Tul, to our home. Back to the realm where Prince Herington reigns at Castle Windamere or, into oblivion through the Archway of the Fallen.”

“Why do you remember this quest and why we are here, but I do not?” Arianna felt uneasy about that. She was putting a lot of trust in the dragon and the fairy. What if she was wrong?

“Because Raven wants him,” Dahlia explained. “She can’t have him though, can she? Keyden loves you as much as you love him. He will never give her what she seeks. Raven cursed you, banished you, and took your memories. She believed Prince Herington would forget you, flick away the memories once you were gone, and join her. She desperately wanted him to reign by her side as she destroys our world in her desperate need for more power.” “But he didn’t?” Arianna realized.

“What happens if they push us through the archway?” Arianna wondered. “I fear we will be lost forever,” Drozun admitted. “I also fear Raven has chosen that destiny for all of us. We have lived and relived this quest every day for the past five years. Today, something has changed, something dark and sinister.”

66“Who is —” Arianna stopped. Herington. There was something familiar about that name — a little tingle that tugged at her heart and made her unbearably sad. Before she could evaluate it or understand the emotion, a sudden and urgent feeling of hopelessness swamped her.

“He loves you,” Dahlia said in such a matter of fact way, it didn’t leave room for debate. “What did she do?” Arianna asked, a sinking feeling settled in her stomach. “She condemned him,” Dahlia explained. “She sentenced him to death.” Pain sliced through Arianna, but she pushed it away. “How can I save him?” “She took him to the Mountain of Bones,” Dahlia brushed a tear away. “There she stood with the Scepter of Luna pointed at Prince Herington’s chest. Razza guarded the path, and Keyden was powerless to fight back. He was bound, secured with thick iron manacles to the Archway of the Fallen, with no way to escape.”

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“Or she thinks she can kill us all and somehow escape,” Drozun considered. “We cannot let that hap“pen.”How do I stop her?” Arianna wondered. “Only you can find the way,” Drozun advised. “Hold on, we are approaching the archway. I can feel the black, greasy essence of Raven and her faithful pet, Razza.” Drozun glided to the right and dove. They sliced through the clouds and emerged over a rocky outcropping that was covered in tall grass and weeds. His dive was quick and smooth. They were closing in on the ground with so much speed, Arianna wondered if they could pull out in time. She shouldn’t have worried. Drozun made a smooth turn, leveled out, and glided silently over the stark Ariannalandscape.studied her surroundings carefully. Everything had a familiar feel to it, but it was also foreign to her. She concentrated on every rock, every outcropping, every cave. She wasn’t sure she should believe the story Dahlia had relayed, but parts of it had a familiar ring to it. So, for now, she’d trust the information and follow her own instincts. If this time was different, what did that mean? Did Raven find a way to break free of the curse and alter history, or was she only allowed to make different decisions to alter the future? Either way, Arianna knew she had to think fast. An idea struck her. Drozun said they’d been replaying this battle day after day for years. Maybe she’d been battling Raven the same way, never straying from the norm. What did that mean? It meant following her instincts and never deviating from the plan meant failure. Which meant, if she wanted to

“When the spell collided, it wiped out your memory,” Dahlia explained. “The only good thing about that is Raven’s memory was also altered. She may have retrieved some of what she lost, the way we have been able to explain things to you. We’re not sure, but it feels right. If so, she may believe her magic will save her from destruction, from banishment, if she’s forced into the archway. We believe she is wrong.”

“You think she plans to kill us all and somehow cheat death using her own dark magic?” Arianna asked in surprise. From the memories Dahlia had restored, that was impossible and even an evil, malevolent witch should know that.

Drozun looked at Dhalia in understanding and disappointment. Nothing would change. They would fight, Arianna would die and Drozun would sustain injuries that would likely prove fatal as well. They were doomed to repeat the madness for another cycle. Arianna saw the exchange and immediately realized the events of the past were repeating. Think! She told herself. Change the pattern. She focused on the unicorn and wondered if she could take it out. If it wasn’t a real unicorn, if it was something else, something Raven was using to deceive them, she could

68survive — she’d need to develop a new plan. Before she could explore that option, Drozun increased his speed and flew higher until heavy white clouds surrounded them. They were so thick; Arianna couldn ’t see anything but white. She could barely see a foot in front of her own face. Then, as quickly as they entered the fluffy barrier, they broke through into blue sky and sharp rocks. That’s when she saw him. Keyden Herington was secured to an archway, his arms spread out, braced in heavy iron chains. His head dropped nearly to his chest was he even alive? Arianna’s breath caught when she felt him. A warm, calming feeling of love that was so intense it couldn’t be denied immediately engulfed her. She loved that man, and she was going to save him. She glanced to the side and spotted a white unicorn guarding the prisoner. “I thought you said Rhazz was Raven’s guard,” Arianna barked angrily. She couldn’t harm a unicorn. “He is,” Dhalia insisted. “He’s using a form you would find repulsive to harm. You are being manipulated. If you let him, for even one instant, Raven will win, and we will die.”

“You said we have been here before, fought this battle before,” Arianna focused on Dahlia. “How did it end?”

69sacrifice the pet to save the man she loved. But could she trust Dahlia and Drozun? That was the question. When Drozun circled the archway, Arianna gripped her bow in one hand, grabbed her sword in the other, and jumped. She hit the ground, rolled, and leaped to her feet. The instant she was upright, she ran. A woman appeared, blocking her path. Somehow, instinct maybe, she knew it was Raven. There were streaks of bright red flowing through her dark hair. She was small in stature, but Arianna automatically knew she was strong and powerful. She wore a tight leather outfit and her dark locks flowed over her shoulders and down her back. In her right hand, she gripped a scepter with a silver crescent moon prominently displayed on top. In the center was an enormous blue crystal that swirled and pulsed. There was a white misty cloud circling within the orb that bounced against the sides in a violently tumultuous storm that reminded Arianna of a tsunami. She briefly wondered if that was Raven’s magic trying to break free. “Arianna,” the woman sneered. “Go home, child. This man has harmed you enough. You do not need to see his execution. Let me protect you from this.”

Arianna focused on Raven but let her mind wander. She needed a plan, a new plan, one she didn’t use before. How would she know? She raised her bow and aimed an arrow at Raven’s heart. The witch laughed. “Do you plan to kill your own mother?”

“Arianna,” Raven screamed. “You must listen to me. Do what I say. I am your mother! Slay the dragon and live. Slay the dragon, my child, my daughter. Do what I tell you, slay that monster.”

Arianna bolted toward the archway. She was only a few feet away when the unicorn swooped in and dropped behind her. He blocked her escape before he reared up and spread his wings. The attack

“You can trust me,” Raven countered. “Do not trust the dragon or the fairy. They kidnapped you. The traitor is working with them. They must be destroyed. Join me, my daughter, help me banish them through the archway where they will never hurt anyone again.”

70Arianna’s gaze pivoted, and she glared at Dhalia. “Why didn’t you tell me?” “She is lying,” Dahlia stood firm. “Keyden is the liar, sweetheart,” Raven soothed. “I’m sorry. He seduced you and he lied to you, then he tried to kill you.” “That’s another lie,” Drozun advised. “Trust yourself, Arianna. Trust what you have to do, then do it.”

“I don’t believe you,” Arianna decided. “That is a mistake,” Raven growled. “You are a common farm girl, not a warrior. You should look like the peasant you are.” She flicked her wrist and suddenly, Arianna was dressed in a tattered shirt and ripped jeans. She had a shawl draped over her shoulders and her hair was no longer pulled back, away from her face. It hung loose, the soft curls tangled and unkempt. Her weapons were gone, and it left her feeling vulnerable and weak. The transition shocked her, but Arianna recovered quickly. She reached for the six-pointed star, closed her eyes and whispered a spell that came more naturally to her than breathing. Once it was finished, she transformed back into the warrior. She immediately knew what she had to do. She gripped the sword, pivoted, and ran.

Keyden dropped to his knees beside her and gently lifted her head into his lap. “Relax. It should be over soon. Don’t fight it, just relax, and let me help you.” He rubbed circles over her temples in a gentle rhythmic motion. His touch was magic and immediately soothed the sharp pain. Within seconds the ache had dulled; then, moments later, it was completely “I’eliminated.mokay,” she finally sat and pushed her body backwards. “I’m okay. The pain has dissipated. I think—” Drozun interrupted her.

She took another step, then slumped to the ground and cradled her head in her hands. The pain was excruciating as memories flooded her mind. She moaned, fell onto her back, closed her eyes, and wished the onslaught would be over.

71would be quick, but necessary. She was only three feet away from the arch when Keyden lifted his head and locked eyes with Arianna. She saw the love, the fear, and the despair brewing behind those dark chocolate spheres. That’s when she knew she could trust the dragon. With the flick of her wrist, she freed the man she loved from his restraints and used one of the large rocks to catapult herself toward the unicorn. A single tear slid down her face as she raised the sword and charged. The unicorn stood frozen in surprise. His hesitation gave Arianna the opening she needed. She slid between his legs and jabbed upward, slicing her sword through his heart. He stumbled back and collided with the archway. A swirling dark vortex opened, and the unicorn shifted morphed into an ugly green monster with enormous scales and jagged yellow teeth just as he stumbled through the opening and disappeared. Arianna turned just in time to see Keyden — her hero, the love of her life, the man of her dreams — raise the bow and fire an arrow into Raven’s chest. The witch screamed out in pain, stumbled forward, and toppled off the rock. The swirling clouds swallowed her, then spit her out as her body continued to drop from the sky before it collided with the ground below.

Dahlia sat on Drozun’s back, gripping the harness with both hands, as the two of them dashed through the clouds to follow. Arianna moved slowly to Keyden, fear and apprehension swirled in her stomach. The conflict was over, but would he still want her?

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Long before she delved into the world of fantasy and suspense, Melanie P. Smith served nearly three decades in the Special Operations Division at her local sheriff’s office working with SWAT, Search & Rescue, K9, the Motor Unit, Investigations and the Child Abduction Response Team. She now uses that training and knowledge to create stories that are action packed, gripping and realistic. When Melanie’s not writing, she can be found riding her Harley, exploring the wilderness or capturing that next great photo. Learn more about Melanie on Mom’s Favorite Reads website: “We must go,” he insisted. “Raven is dead, and the curse has been lifted. We must leave the cliffs before the vortex shifts and swallows the realm completely. We don’t want to be sucked into the archway and be lost just like Rhazza. Come, climb onto my back and let’s join Dahlia in the field.” Arianna swung onto the dragon's back, Keyden hopped on behind her, and the two of them glided to earth on the back of a dragon. Once they were standing next to Dahlia, who was now perched on the back of the brown horse. Keyden moved forward, took Arianna’s hand, and lifted it to his lips, kissing her knuckles with such tenderness, she wanted to burst into tears. When she didn’t pull away, he moved forward. “Thank you,” he whispered just before he pressed his lips to hers. The wind churned, the ground slowly started to spin, and it catapulted the group back to their homeland back to Brahm Tul, where the citizens were anxiously waiting for their Prince to return.

https://moms favorite reads.com/moms authors/melanie p smith

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All the years. And no regrets. Well maybe just one or two, But will not speak of them, for the morning broke with raindrops hung like a veil across the gleaming leaves. And the evocative fragrance of damp morning for which there are no words just a feeling of astonished childhood suspended on the new day. And all the years that have been and Allgonethe deeds All the sights All the sensations Like small steps along the road that have taken me from there to here. Reminding me, as each and every unique moment Thatpasses,my race is being run That my path is mine And mine alone. That whatever comes to pass it is to be celebrated for what it is. WhichLife!Life! will not be replicated Or repeated And will never happen again.

No Regrets by Stan Phillips

Growth: Perennial. The plant thrives in full sun or partial shade, and in dry, well drained soil, being tolerant to droughts. If grown as a garden plant, it’s best to keep the herb in a container. Blossoms occur late April through early July in southern climates, and mid July through mid September in northern climates. Harvesting: Flowers and leaves are used. Collect flowers (without the stems) at mid day (11 a.m. to 1 p.m.) in dry weather shortly before they reach full bloom. To harvest leaves, gather the stems at the beginning of flowering or during flowering. Cut them 6 to 8 inches (15 to 20 cm) from the top and discard

Yarrow Description: The yarrow plant grows up to 3 feet (90 cm) high and produces one to several grayish green hairy stems. The leaflets have a delicate, fernlike appearance and spiral around the stem. Groups of twenty to twenty five yellowish white ray flower heads cluster at the top of the stem in the shape of a shield. The flowers produce a white, oblong fruit. At its base, the plant has a creeping root system.

74Healing Herbs — Yarrow by Ronesa Aveela

History and Traditions: The genus name comes from the Greek hero Achilles, while the specific name refers to the plant’s foliage and means “thousands of leaves,” due to the fact that numerous leaflets make up the leaves. The herb gained its current Latin name in 1753. Prior to that it was called herbe militaris, the military herb, attesting to the fact soldiers applied it to wounds to staunch bleeding. Legends claim the herb could cure more than a thousand diseases. In the Middle Ages, yarrow flavored beer. According to the Chinese, the herb is the perfect balance between yin and yang.

77 1/2 Magical

Venture into the magical, healing world of herbs and embrace the power of nature. This article is taken from the book 77 ½ Magical Healing Herbs, which is an introduction to herbs found in a special Midsummer’s wreath. This is an especially enchanting time of year. Among the Bulgarians, the day is called Eniovden. You may think herbs are only for spicing up food and healing the body and mind, but they have other uses, as well. This unique herbal book is an essential guide for tapping into the power of herbs. It highlights centuries of lore and historical facts about healing and magical uses of herbs from Slavic and other traditions. Please see the medical and magical disclaimers before you try any of the recipes from the book.

Habitat and Distribution: Native to temperate areas in Europe (with large deposits in the Balkan Peninsula), Asia, and North America. It also grows in Australia and New Zealand. It’s a hardy plant commonly found in meadows, by the roadside, and in mountainous and forested areas.

75the hardened parts. Dry flowers and leaves in the sun for four to five hours, then in the shade or in a dehydrator at 104°F (40°C). Store in a shady, dry, well ventilated location. Medical Use: Essential oil is yarrow’s most valuable extracted product, and it is commonly used as an anti inflammatory. The plant has a dual purpose regarding nosebleeds. It can stop them or start them. In the case of the latter, the rolled up leaf is inserted into the nostrils, producing bleeding, with the intent of relieving headaches. Because of its effect on blood, women often take it if they suffer from irregular or painful menstruation or excessive menstrual bleeding. In folk medicine, yarrow is a contraceptive or way to induce abortions. The herb

76plant in distilled water can cleanse skin. Yarrow produces a green or yellow dye, and the dried herb has been added to snuff.

Other Names: Western yarrow, yarrow, milfoil, nosebleed plant, old man’s pepper, devil’s nettle, bloodwort, soldier’s woundwort, carpenter’s weed, sanguinary.

Remedy for Eczema 50 g of yarrow stalks has many other purposes, including treating kidney disorders, easing stomach inflammation, lowering blood pressure, stimulating appetites, breaking fevers, treating rashes, improving sleep quality, preventing baldness, and more.

Aromatic: Yarrow has a strong, sweet fragrance, similar to chrysanthemums, and the leaves smell pleasant when crushed and have a delicate, grassy flavor, with a hint of aniseed. The taste of both leaves and flowers is described as bitter, astringent, and pungent, often compared to tarragon.

CAUTION: Large doses can cause headaches, allergic reactions, and rashes. Pregnant and lactating women should not use. Be careful when using with other medication; yarrow interacts with anticoagulants and food supplements containing lithium, sedatives, and antacids. Legendary Greek Healer Achillea millefolium gets its Latin name from Achilles, whom you may know as a hero from Greek mythology. He fought and died in the Trojan War when an arrow struck his heel (the famous Achilles heel, the only part of his body his mother failed to protect when she dunked him into the river Styx). But what you may not know was that he relied on the powerful blood purifying of the yarrow plant on the battlefield to heal not only his own non fatal wounds, but the injuries of others (Staneva).

Rituals and Magical Use: Yarrow is a symbol of eternal love due to its long growth and its ability to withstand harsh climates. Its cycle of life teaches people to cultivate love and trust that their partner will support them in everything. It is believed to facilitate love and lead to a happy marriage. A young person will pick the herb and cast a love spell with it by putting an ounce into a small bag and placing it under the pillow at bedtime, then chanting a charm while envisioning their future spouse. The plant’s serrated leaf is a divination tool. People tickle the inside of their noses while asking if someone they love loves them in return. If their nose bleeds, the answer is yes. In magical rituals, yarrow wards off the devil. Or it can be put by one’s pillow to protect against the early stages of spells and bad intentions. Its healing ability appears in legends. A story tells how St. Joseph was once injured, and the infant Jesus staunched the bleeding with a stalk of a dried yarrow herb.

Other Use: Yarrow is planted to combat soil erosion. It’s grown as an ornamental plant and added to floral arrangements, and it’s a popular plant for butterfly gardens. Its leaves are added to salads and soups and steeped in hot water for tea. If cooking with the soft herb, be aware that high heat will destroy its taste. The essential oil is an ingredient in cosmetics, and a weak infusion of the flowering

The wheels in your mind have probably been turning as you think, “77½ herbs is an odd number.” And you’re right. But it’s a special, magical number, referring to herbs gathered on Eniovden, June 24, when Bulgarians celebrate Midsummer’s Day. If you want to find out the secret of the half herb, you’ll have to read the book.

https://moms favorite reads.com/moms authors/ronesa aveela/

MAGICAL DISCLAIMER: Magical ingredients and spells are for entertainment only. We have not tried any of these remedies, nor do we make any claims as to their effectiveness or safety 77 and a Half Herbs?

MEDICAL LIABILITY DISCLAIMER: The information in this article, in the book and on our website is not intended to be medical advice, nor does it claim that the herbs listed are safe or effective to use in the manners described. It is not meant to diagnose, prevent, treat, or cure any disease. It is merely a brief summary of various herbal folk remedies and how they have been used in the past and may still be used today. With the exception of a few personal recipes, we have not tried any of these remedies and cannot verify their effectiveness or safety.

7730 g of marigold flowers 30 g of plantain leaves Add 1 Tablespoon of the combined herbs to 500 ml of boiling water. Boil for 5 to 6 minutes. Filter the liquid through a thin cloth or gauze. Drink 100 ml four times a day before meals (Verdes.bg). *** Herbs are powerful, but they can also be dangerous.

aveela/77https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/ronesa 1 2 magical healing herbs the secret power of herbs Ronesa Aveela is “the creative power of two.” Two authors that is. The main force behind the work, the creative genius, was born in Bulgaria and moved to the US in the 1990s. She grew up with stories of wild Samodivi, Kikimora, the dragons Zmey and Lamia, Baba Yaga, and much more. Her writing partner was born and raised in the New England area. She has a background in writing and editing, as well as having a love of all things from different cultures. She’s learned so much about Bulgarian culture, folklore, and rituals, and writes to share that knowledge with others.

78Mirror Lake Highway, Utah by Melanie P. Smith https://moms favorite reads.com/moms authors/melanie smith/

The storm came through with the sound and fury of a freight train off the rails. We held each other and the dog, praying Grandpa made it somewhere safe. As suddenly as it came, the storm passed. We climbed the stairs and opened the door. Somehow our home was spared. We called and called, “Grandpa, Grandpa.” We listened for any sounds of life, but we heard nothing but an eerie silence. We turned and looked up the hill.

TheBarn.old red barn faded in the sunlight. Grandpa always said, “We need to tear her down before she falls and hurts someone. ” We didn't have the heart to do it. The storm took care of that. The old red barn was a pile of rubble. The wind had picked it up, twisted it, then tossed it down like a pile of pickup sticks.

Over the years, the old red barn sheltered animals and the men who worked on the farm. It was always filled with hay and the trusty John Deere Tractor. After fall harvest, Grandpa cleaned it up for the fall harvest celebration. Everyone came to dance, enjoy good food, music and be thankful for the bounty. Years went by, most of the farmland was sold off, except around the house and the Red

Red Barn by Susan DeCrescenzo

He said “Got to make sure everything in Old Red is secure. I'll be right there. ” Grandpa headed up the hill to the old barn. He never made it the cellar.

The storm sirens went off. We ran for the root cellar. We shouted over the wind. “Grandpa, hurry, please hurry and get inside!”

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The old red barn had stood on our family's land for almost 50 years. It was built by my grandfather as a wedding present for his bride. It was a symbol of prosperity and pride.

81“Grandpa, Grandpa, where are you?” we called. Our neighbors, their homes and most our town were spared. The old red barn took the brunt of the storm. Grandpa always said, “Me and that old barn were a thing of the past, and it was time for us to go.” We found Grandpa in the rubble; God rest his soul. Ms. DeCrescenzo grew up in New Jersey and summered on the coast of Maine. On foggy summer nights around beach bonfires, Sue entertained her siblings telling hair raising ghost stories. Now Sue is happily retired. She lives in northern GA on Lake Lanier with her husband, Keith Guernsey, and their 2nd rescue dog Zoey, a “Jack Chi” (Jack Russell/chihuahua mix). Sue has contributed numerous short stories to online magazines, Mom’s Favorite Reads and Spillwords Press”. Body on the Ramp is her first mystery novella, which is available on Amazon.com. If you wish to reach Sue, her email address is writing4youalways@gmail.com

International Country Music Day

by Melanie P. Smith

82We are excited to announce that Goylake Publishing has teamed-up with the Fussy Librarian and in partnership we are offering you 20% off your first book promotion with the Fussy Librarian. To qualify for this promotion, your book must be either permafree or listed free during a special offer. In our experience, the Fussy Librarian is the best book promoter in the business. When we promote with him, our free books always reach the top five of Amazon’s genre charts, most often they reach the top three. We promote with the Fussy Librarian every month and will continue to do so into the foreseeable future. Prices start from as low as $15, minus our special discount of 20%. Click here: https://authors.thefussylibrarian.com/?ref=goylake for full details. And, at the checkout, be sure to enter this code: goylake20 to claim your 20% discount. Thank you for your interest. And good luck with your promotion!

September 17t

International Country Music Day was established in the 1950’s to honor this distinctive genre of music. Yes, I know we’ve all heard the joke that if you play country music backwards you get your dog, your truck, your house, and your girlfriend back. But, country music has more character than sad breakups and loss. A common characteristic found in this genre, is the ability of the singer to tell a story. One that elicits strong emotion. Country music can be sad, heartbreaking, and familiar. It can also be fun — or even funny. Some is patriotic, some inspirational or empowering. And, some was created for no other reason than to have a boot stomping good time. Or, as Billy Ray Cover design created to honor International Country Music Day would say… Boot Scootin’ Boogie. The History…. Country music was created from a mix of Delta blues, Appalachian folk, Cajun, Creole, and others. Today people often separate the genre into ‘old country’ and ‘new country’ music.

Old County songs are recognized by almost everyone, even those who don’t listen to country music. A few examples…

Old Country These songs are well known and have stood the test of time. The song tells an unforgettable story and includes artists like Johnny Cash, Waylon Jennings, Willie Nelson and Hank Williams. Female superstars include Loretta Lynn, Patsy Cline, Dolly Parton and Tammy Wynette. These women paved the way for the greats of today.

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I have only touched the surface and may have missed your favorite. There are so many to choose from it’s impossible to name them all. So, on this September 17th, I encourage you to crank up a little country music, kick up your boots and have a good time. Jolene by Dolly Parton Crazy by Patsy Cline Coal Miner’s Daughter by Loretta Lynn Stand by Your Man by Tammy Wynette Mi Vida Loca by Pam Tillis Chains by Patty Loveless Delta Dawn by Tanya Tucker The Gambler by Kenny Rogers Ring of Fire by Johnny Cash Choices by George Jones Kiss An Angel Good Morning by Charlie Pride Devil Went Down to Georgia by Charlie Daniels I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry by Hank Williams Convoy by C.W. McCall Hey Good Lookin’ by Hank Williams Folsom Prison Blues by Johnny Cash New Country

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This new subgenre represents a more modern, younger generation of country musicians. Many have ditched the twang for upbeat, down to earth beats and lyrics, rather than sentimental and haunting They still tell a story and are often funny, energizing and memorable.

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Underwood, Reba McEntire, and Martina McBride. A few examples... Go Rest High on the Mountain by Vince Gill Any Man of Mine by Shania Twain Before he Cheats by Carrie Underwood Better Things to Do by Terri Clark Five Minutes by Lorrie Morgan She’s In Love With the Boy by Trisha Yearwood Fancy by Reba McEntire Redneck Woman by Gretchen Wilson All My Ex’s Live In Texas by George Strait Mountain Music by Alabama Elvira by the Oakridge Boys Ticks by Brad Paisley Austin by Blake Shelton Tennessee Whiskey by Chris Stapleton Cruise by Florida Georgia Line What Was I Thinking by Dirks Bentley Bless the Broken Road by Rascal Flatts Like You Were Dying by Tim McGraw

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• Live

Some of these artists are: The Oakridge Boys, Keith Urban, Luke Bryant, Florida Georgia Line, Toby Keith, Vince Gill, LeAnn Rimes, Miranda Lambert, Shania Twain, JoDee Messina, Carrie

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Connections eMagazine is a FREE quarterly publication founded by authors Melanie P. Smith and Rhoda D’Ettore. It is currently produced entirely by Editor, Melanie P. Smith. Over the years, the magazine has evolved and it now features promos, freebies, blog articles, and short stories in every issue. Discover more about Connections eMagazine on their website here: https://melaniepsmith.com/emagazine landing/ Brought to you by... Marketing seems to be one of those areas that every author struggles with. It’s the same struggle companies world wide have been dealing with for decades. How do I get my product in front of my target audience? Connections eMagazine can help. The publication is free to readers, bloggers and to authors looking for a little extra exposure. Visit our website for details. https://melaniepsmith.com/ https://melaniepsmith.com/emagazine/ Coming Soon...

Our Copy Editors for Mom’s work hard to ensure content is appropriate and free of grammatical and spelling errors. Wendy H. Jones is also our Feature Editor and works hard to provide content that is interesting, informative and professional. She’s the award winning, international best-selling author of the DI Shona McKenzie Mysteries, Cass Claymore Investigates Mysteries, Fergus and Flora Mysteries, Bertie the Buffalo children’s books and the Writing Matters books for writers. She is also a writing and marketing coach and the President of the Scottish Association of Writers. You can learn more about Wendy on her website: https://www.wendyhjones.com/

Our Managing Editor oversees the physical content of the magazine and coordinates the production schedule. She administers the day to day operations of the publication, manages submissions, sets realistic schedules and organizes each edition of the magazine. Sylva is is responsible for the amazing graphics that appear throughout the publication each month. She works hard to ensure the images capture the spirit and message our author's convey in their articles and stories. In addition, As Copy Editor, Sylva works hard behind the scenes to correct any grammatical, typos and spelling errors throughout the magazine. Sylva Fae Mum of three, fairy woodland owner, and author of children’s books. https://moms favorite reads.com/moms authors/sylva fae/ Copy Editors / Proofreaders — Wendy H. Jones and Sheena MacLead

Managing Editor, Art Director & Proofreader —Sylva Fae

Executive Editor | Graphic Designer—Melanie P. Smith

Sheena Macleod lectured at the University of Dundee, where she gained her PhD. She now lives in a seaside town in Scotland. Reign of the Marionettes is her first novel. She currently has two additional books: Tears of Strathnaver and Women of Courage A Forgotten Figure Frances Connolly. You can learn more about Sheena on her website: https://www.sheenas books.co.uk/

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The Editor-in-Chief is the key figure in every publication. Hannah Howe works closely with the editorial staff to ensure the success of each publication. She is the author of the Sam Smith Mystery Series, the Ann’s War Mystery Series and Saving Grace. Get to know more about Hannah, her projects and her work on Mom’s Favorite Reads website here: https://moms favorite reads.com/moms authors/hannah howe/

The Executive Editor / Graphic Designer is responsible for developing the layout and design of MFR eMagazine. She also works hard to create new covers each month that captures the essence of each publication. In addition to the editorial staff of Mom’s Favorite Reads, Melanie P. Smith also produces Connections eMagazine. She is a multi genre author of Criminal Suspense, Police Procedural, Fantasy and Romance novels. Get to know more about Melanie, her projects, and her work on Mom’s Favorite Reads website here: https://moms favorite reads.com/moms authors/melanie p smith/

Editor In Chief Hannah Howe

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Story Editor—Allison Symes

Allison Symes works diligently each month to generate flash fiction writing prompts that will stimulate creativity in our authors and entertain our readers. As Story Editor, she also ensures each entry is professional and polished. Allison Symes is an award winning, published flash fiction and short story writer. She also writes a weekly column on topics of interest for writers for online magazine, Chandler's Ford Today. Allison's fiction has appeared in anthologies (CafeLit and Bridge House Publishing) over many years. Allison judges competitions, runs workshops, and is always happy to talk/write about flash fiction writing. https://allisonsymescollectedworks.com

Our Marketing Director, Grant Leishman, oversees marketing campaigns and social media engagement for our magazine. After an exciting career in accounting and journalism, he now focuses on his true calling writing. Get to know more about Grant on Mom’s Favorite Reads website here: https://moms favorite reads.com/moms authors/grant leishman/ Our Content Writers are freelance authors who contribute articles, short stories, etc. to the eMagazine on a regular basis. They work hard to make our magazine interesting and professional. Get to know our Content Writers here: Stan Phillips https://moms favorite reads.com/moms authors/stan phillips/ Father Ian Maher https://imaherblog.wordpress.com/ Alison Rasmussen https://paynesgreyillustration.com/ Chantel Bellehumeur https://author chantal bellehumeur.webnode.com/products / Angela Abraham https://www.descriptionari.com/ Lisa Shambrook www.amaranthalchemy.etsy.com

Becky Hemsley https://www.facebook.com/talkingtothewild/ Allison Symes — https://allisonsymescollectedworks.com/ Penny Luker www.pennyluker.wordpress.com Val Tobin https://valtobin.com/wp/about author val tobin/ Discover amazing authors… https://moms favorite reads.com/moms authors/

Marketing Director Grant Leishman

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