The Bloggess has been serving up the best in comedic blog posts since blogging was a real sort of thing to do with your life. In her first memoir, Let's Pretend it Never Happened (A mostly true memoir) the realness of life and comedy within it does not stop on a computer screen. Nope, you can now read the hilarious Jenny Lawson in print.

Taxidermy animals and adorable marriage goals included.

photo credit: the bloggess

Recently I have been on a memoir kick and I don't think that my love for them will stop after reading this book that I picked up from the free book shelf within my study abroad school. Someone like me it seemed could just not fit this wonderful paperback back into their carry-on.

What does fit however, is the awkward memories of me laughing in public while reading this book of adventures told by an anxiety afflicted woman who I felt like I understood very well already just by finding out that alone. In unfiltered detail, she tells about the moments throughout her life. This goes from being a poor kid in a town no one really knows of in Texas, having a dad who I wouldn't ever want to say had something really cool he wanted to show me (see back to "taxidermy included"), and finally arriving at the point of her life now where Jenny has a family and very kind husband of her own who will totally fight her on if Jesus could be considered a zombie or not.

Again, goals.

The stories at times are as crazy as possibly Jenny may call herself, but overall they are great in that weird "no, seriously, you cannot make this stuff up" sort of way. Each story also only managed to increase my admiration and appreciation for Jenny Lawson page by page, both for her view of the world and for her ease of writing, even if it isn't always showing her life in the best of lights as we like to usually let others see out in the open. Especially on the internet. But in the end, she is right. Bloggers write because they want to be heard and usually are too awkward and antisocial to actually shout.

And thank goodness The Bloggess was.

Be prepared to laugh and cringe and do all the sorts of things you need a memoir to do, especially if you will be reading it as I was, sitting in an airport waiting for my perpetually delayed flight. My fellow passengers didn't think I was strange at all...

About the Author

Out for the day with my creative writing class for another adventure that did not turn out to be "just getting a baguette in the park" my professors took us to Baux Castle. But that was not our first stop. No, our first stop was in Les Baux-de-Provence, and quite possibly the best art exhibition I have ever seen, or rather, been a part of.

Carrières de Lumières.





Previously the site of a quarry, this now cave like structure is home to a changing art exhibit that immerses viewers like myself and the rest of my class that had no idea previously what we were walking into.

First thought I had as I handed my ticket over and pushed past the curtain was that we were walking into a dark pitch black cave.

Then I saw the light. Many lights actually. A light show! Art.

Entitled, "Picasso and the Spanish Masters," artists such as Picasso, Goya, and Sorolla are presented over the walls of quarry's cave like structure of white limestone. This show continues to run from March 2, 2018 to 6 January 6, 2019. Plenty of time to make this art experience a must on your list when visiting Provence.




As we watched the show happen on a loop around us, we were free to wander around each wall, up each incline of stone in order to see every possible angle the works of art had in store.

Music played all around me as I watched, feeling the need to dance-- but don't worry, I did indeed restrain myself this time.


Never have I been so amazed by an art exhibition. By Picasso, even! who I had been seeing scattered all throughout Provence as a headliner to many art galleries this summer. The hour I had to spend wandering and simply standing still to see the art move to the music all around me, seemed to pass in seconds. When I walked out the only way I could describe the show was, amazing.

Because it was.

Amazing.

Out of this world. Worthy of a place among all art shows and galleries forevermore.

In Aix-en-Provence and need something to do? In the city of Aix, art and history surrounds you every day, and over the past few weeks that I have spent in Aix, I had been to quite a few of the museums Aix has to offer to get an even closer look at the art Provence was built on.

Here are a few of the amazing ones to visit through day, and may I suggest a picnic to relax in between at Pavillion Vendome?

Cezanne's Studio

For art enthusiasts and admirers, be sure to stop in for a quick visit to Cezanne's Studio where one can see all of his furniture, still life model of fruit featured in many paintings (including one in Musee Granet), and work tools, well preserved. For a guided tour, just be sure you go at time that speaks your preferred English or French.

Musee Granet

A public museum holding paintings and sculptures dating back to antiquity. It features paintings from Paul Cezanne, as well as paintings hosted for exhibition. While I was there this included a large section of Picasso. If I had to change anything of my time in the museum wandering through the paintings mainly on the bottom floor, it would be to spend some time with the marbles the group I was with wandered past on the way out. They looked lonely, and the one sculpture pointing at me was in need of an Instagram opportunity.

Musee du Viel Aix

Set in a historic summer home for a family who most likely lived up north long ago, this is now a museum of the city of Aix-en-Provence holding collections of antique prints, paintings, dolls, and document plans

Pavillon Vendome

A very short walk away from city center, Pavillon Vendome is situated in a French formal garden, stay off the grass, but do spend some time in the area to soak in the sun and beautiful greenery before heading into the grand house that looks like it could be out of Jane Austen. Inside the museum, the collection is mainly comprised of portraits and Provencal furniture as well as certain contemporary art exhibitions.



And though not a specific museum...

Watch out for Art Exhibition and Open Studios

Beautiful art is everywhere! Exhibitions throughout center city are prominently displayed usually for all to enjoy, and if you are looking for a little less commitment from walking through rows of oil panting, walk around the city of Aix instead. You are sure to come across a studio or art seller around each corner to admire.

When I came to Europe I thought, yeah, I am good. I am not going to buy any books.

I was wrong.

No one’s ever told Eleanor that life should be better than fine.
Meet Eleanor Oliphant: She struggles with appropriate social skills and tends to say exactly what she’s thinking. Nothing is missing in her carefully timetabled life of avoiding social interactions, where weekends are punctuated by frozen pizza, vodka, and phone chats with Mummy.
But everything changes when Eleanor meets Raymond, the bumbling and deeply unhygienic IT guy from her office. When she and Raymond together save Sammy, an elderly gentleman who has fallen on the sidewalk, the three become the kinds of friends who rescue one another from the lives of isolation they have each been living. And it is Raymond’s big heart that will ultimately help Eleanor find the way to repair her own profoundly damaged one.

This was book number one. I went into Book in Bar, the cutest little mainly English bookstore in Aix-en-Provence and saw it lying on the table- but no. No, Kendra, I told myself. You are not going to let one of your first purchases in France be a book. You buy too many books already. 

So I put poor lonely Eleanor back down.

Very few days later I went back, and it was gone. Eleanor Oliphant in the EU cover, paperback edition that we did not have in the US was gone! My eyes widened to where The Lesser Bohemians took its place, searching just be to be sure it wasn't covered up by another novel. It was only after hyping myself up for a few moments, I went towards the counter.

"Bonjour."

"Bonjour," the woman at the desk responded, stopping her typing. She waited for me.

Deep breathes. I had this. "Tu parles anglais?"

At least I had enough words to hopefully switch to English. After all how was I supposed to ask if they had Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine, otherwise? Tu a Eleanor Oliphant est ca va? No. I am pretty sure that is wrong on a number of levels.




She smiled and said yes to the first question. No, to the second.

"But we are ordering a new shipment. It should be in on Wednesday or Thursday if you don't mind. I can put your name down."

"Ah, ok. Oui. C'est bon." And by this I meant awesome, now I can come into Book in Bar everyday to just be around the books and annoy the staff by pleasantly asking if the book came in early. Score!

By Thursday though, right on the day they said. Eleanor was in. That evening back home instead of doing my art history homework, I set to reading.

Right away I was struck by the epigraph that begins the novel written by Olivia Laing in The Lonely City.

"...loneliness is hallmarked by an intense desire to bring the experience to a close; something which cannot be achieved by sheer willpower or by simply getting out more, but only by developing intimate connections. This is far easier said than done, especially for people whose loneliness arises from a state of loss or exile or prejudice, who have reason to fear or mistrust as well as long for the society of others.
Loneliness is accretive, extending and perpetuating itself. Once it becomes impacted, it is by no means easy to dislodge."

First of all, I rarely read epigraphs but this one was something else, completely summing up the story as well as how I was beginning to feel myself as a person alone in a new country for the next so many weeks.




As if I needed anymore incentive, I read one for hours into the night, falling into the critical yet utterly unique voice that Eleanor brings forth as she begins to step out from her self-isolation and into a new sort of social interaction she had not experienced before.

“People don’t like these facts, but I can’t help that. If someone asks you how you are, you are meant to say FINE. You are not meant to say that you cried yourself to sleep last night because you hadn’t spoken to another person for two consecutive days. FINE is what you say.”

Along with that social interaction I can firmly say that I have not read a book like this ever before with easy frankness and a distinct narrative that does not shy away from everything Eleanor is from someone who is interesting, quirky, awkward, and completely emotional overall. She is after all, a woman who in the beginning of the novel tells you straight up that on Friday she goes home from work with a frozen margarita pizza and two bottles of vodka to make it to Monday.

Most of all I feel like in this day in age where social interaction is no longer a strict requirement, Eleanor's story is all too relatable.

By the end of this novel however, I was floored with how much I felt that I had lived through with Eleanor even though there were not a whole lot of different events taking place in the book. More like, realizations. We are show almost all the sorts of kindness and forms of love there is in the world to ultimately bring forth the idea that it is never to late to make a change in one's life for the better. A lesson that Eleanor learns and I personally think I still need to at times.

Eleanor's character definitely grew on me the more I read to definitely make this thought provoking and emotionally trying novel one of my favorites of the year, simply by the fact that I haven't stopped thinking about Eleanor, Glen the cat, Raymond, and the entire story itself since I have put it down.

T'is a rare strange novel this one.

Happy release day to The Chateau by Tiffany Reisz!

Wow, another release day for Tiffany Reisz. This lady can whip out books fast and they never seem to disappoint. The story of Frenchman Kingsley as a young spy was already set up as a win and she took it even further, intertwining his story with The Story of O. Immediately I was in, and I bet so were almost all of the Original Sinners fans who already know the esteemed, funny, and highly seductive Kingsley Edge.

Advance Praise for The Chateau: An Erotic Thriller:

"Compulsive, erotic, suspenseful. A must read!" — A Woman and Her Books

"Five stars." — Reading Keeps Me Sane Blog 

"I just can't get enough of Tiffany Reisz." — Caro, Collector of Book Boyfriends 

"Kinky... [keeps] you on the edge till the end." — Sweet & Spicy Reviews 

"Feminists are once again making a stand in the world and the timing seems quite perfect as this novel is an intriguing look into the world of a strong, sadistic and mysterious woman." — Kelsey's Korner Blog 

"[Will] satisfy the insatiable needs of The Original Sinners fans." — Warhawke's Vault Book Blog

Need any more of a reason to read?

You can read my review, or you can also read...

An exclusive excerpt from The Chateau: An Erotic Thriller from 8th Circle Press...

By late afternoon, Kingsley been waiting for the payphone to ring for six hours. At least it had warmed up enough that he could almost, perhaps, maybe take a quick nap while sitting on the floor of the phone booth with his coat wrapped around his knees. He got settled in and closed his eyes. Just as he was about to drift off, someone knocked on the phone booth door.

Kingsley sprang immediately awake. And when he saw the girl standing outside the door, he leapt to his feet, a smile on his face.

“Pardon me, sir,” she said. “Do you live here?”

She spoke French like a native. He knew he was supposed to play dumb, to act like he only spoke English or stilted French, as part of his cover.

But.

The girl was magnificent. Black hair in a loose bun. Onyx eyes. Skin a deep olive like his, maybe even darker. She had a little beauty mark on her chin and her lips were a dusky hue, full and mischievous as if they wanted to slide into a smile but knew better than to encourage him. All her clothes were chic. Chic brown leather knee boots with a little heel. A brown skirt, a belted brown coat, and a red newsboy cap tilted rakishly over her right eye. She didn’t look very old—maybe eighteen or nineteen—but she carried herself with a sophistication beyond her tender years.

Since she was so very magnificent, he was compelled to respond with his own fluent French. So what if he blew his cover? He’d blow anything for this girl.

“Do I live here?” he asked. “On this street?”

“In the phone booth?”

She smiled and he decided they should have two children. Both girls. Or maybe one boy and one girl. He wasn’t picky.

“No,” he said. “I’m waiting on a call.”

“Oh,” she said. “I’ll find another phone then.”

“You can use this one,” he said. “It’s not mine. I don’t own it. It’s public. You’re the public.”

“But I’m not public. I’m very private,” she said.

Maybe three children, he thought. The third would be an accident. Unplanned. Likely the result of him ravishing her one time too many while on holiday in Saint Croix. He wondered if she liked being spanked. He would try to find that out before tomorrow morning.

“Then you shouldn’t use my public phone,” he said. “We should find you a private phone. I have one back at my place.”

“If you have a phone, why are you using a phone booth?” she asked. She was looking at him with unabashed appreciation. She might even find him as attractive as he found her.

“It’s for work. I think.”

“If you’re working I should leave you alone then,” she said. “I’ll find another phone on my own.”

“You’re Jewish.”

She furrowed her beautiful brow. “Are Jews not allowed to use phones?” she asked.

“I noticed your necklace,” he said. A gold Star of David pendant danced in the hollow of her throat. “I like it.”

“Are you Jewish?” she asked.

“No,” he said. “I’m just so happy you aren’t Catholic.”

She laughed and her laugh bounced off the sidewalk into the sky and jumped into the nearest passing cloud. Kingsley hoped wherever that cloud went it would rain her laughter onto the world.

“Is it so bad to be Catholic?” she asked.

“I went to Catholic school,” he said by way of answer.

“Is it like I hear it is?” she asked.

“Worse. We can raise our children Jewish. I’ll convert.”

“Are you circumcised?” she asked.

“Not yet, but if you’ll give me a minute, I have my Swiss Army knife on me.”

While still at school this topic came up between me and a few others who are also going on the trip soon. There was only so much that I could fit into my carry on and actual luggage. A Little Life was definitely not going to be able to come with me to France no matter how long it would keep me busy during the long flight.

New Italian friend, Maria, asked if I had a kindle.

My answer was hesitant and not just because, though I love my kindle, it would never beat the experience of a real book. "Um, yes. I guess so."

"If you don't, you should really get one," she said. "I have a paperwhite and absolutely love it."

"Well I mean, I have one." I began. "It is just that it is the kindle fire...like the first kindle fire. Some of the bugs had obviously not been worked out quite yet."

For example, the pages didn't quite turn when you want them to all the time. My books sometimes casually loose their covers in the digital bookshelf display. All the internet gadgets and apps that they included never really worked, or worked for about a minute before shutting the entire kindle fire down. My kindle fire is like that first ever phone that you had that was full touch screen. Really cool for what it was...at the time.

"Ah," she nodded and showed me how reasonable these new paperwhites were on amazon, along with the coveted, and very expensive, oasis kindle.

The kindle oasis is like the designer kindle. We all want it. Mostly because, by designer, I mean you can take it into the tub without fear of it falling to its death by bubble bath. Waterproof! I am sure that it has other features, but that one seemed to stand out the most to the two of us who debated how likely it was for us to be reading in the middle of a pool.

Still, I couldn't and can't bring myself to purchase a new kindle, even if the one I have has a few issues. It is still a kindle. Maria however, brought up another topic.

"Unlimited."

"What?"

"Kindle unlimited," she explained, "You can read free books on your kindle with the unlimited for I think like ten dollars a month. There is a free trial."

It turns out that through kindle unlimited is basically the upgraded library version of kindle books. At $9.99 a month, you can read/borrow up to ten free books at a time. The only downside I see is that I can't have over ten free books at a time on your kindle, and they disappear if I ever decide to not to continue with the kindle unlimited service.


Still, all the books to read!

Though I couldn't read these borrowed free ebooks on a new fancy kindle, this unlimited possibility was something that I could wrap my head around. So to amazon I went for my free trial asking my mother to please cancel it when it was over while I was abroad...or maybe don't...I was not sure yet. I was sure however that I would be bringing my glitching kindle with me for plenty of in-flight entertainment.

What kind of entertainment you ask?

The Bird and the Sword by Ami Harmon

Swallow, daughter, pull them in, those words that sit upon your lips. Lock them deep inside your soul, hide them ‘til they’ve time to grow. Close your mouth upon the power, curse not, cure not, ‘til the hour. You won’t speak and you won’t tell, you won’t call on heaven or hell. You will learn and you will thrive. Silence, daughter. Stay alive.
The day my mother was killed, she told my father I wouldn’t speak again, and she told him if I died, he would die too. Then she predicted the king would sell his soul and lose his son to the sky.
   My father has a claim to the throne, and he is waiting in the shadows for all of my mother’s words to come to pass. He wants desperately to be king, and I just want to be free.
But freedom will require escape, and I’m a prisoner of my mother’s curse and my father’s greed. I can’t speak or make a sound, and I can’t wield a sword or beguile a king. In a land purged of enchantment, love might be the only magic left, and who could ever love . . . a bird?

Vicious (Sinners of Saint) by L.J. Shen

Emilia
They say love and hate are the same feelings experienced under different circumstances, and it’s true.
The man who comes to me in my dreams also haunts me in my nightmares.
He is a brilliant lawyer.
A skilled criminal.
A beautiful liar.
A bully and a savior, a monster and a lover.
Ten years ago, he made me run away from the small town where we lived. Now, he came for me in New York, and he isn’t leaving until he takes me with him.
   Vicious
She is a starving artist.
Pretty and evasive like cherry blossom.
Ten years ago, she barged into my life unannounced and turned everything upside down.
She paid the price.
Emilia LeBlanc is completely off-limits, my best friend’s ex-girlfriend. The woman who knows my darkest secret, and the daughter of the cheap Help we hired to take care of our estate.
That should deter me from chasing her, but it doesn’t.
So she hates me. Big fucking deal.
She better get used to me.

The Wall of Winnipeg and Me by Mariana Zapata

The Subs Club by J.A. Rock

A year ago, my best friend Hal died at the hands of an incompetent “dom.” So I started the Subs Club, a private blog where submissives can review doms and call out the douche bags.
   A perfect example of the kind of arrogant asshole I mean? The Disciplinarian. He has a pornstache. He loves meat, stoicism, America, and real discipline. And he thinks subs exist to serve him.
   But . . . not everything about him is awful. His Davy Crockett act just seems like a cover for his fear of intimacy, and part of me wants to show him it’s okay to get close to people. And, I mean, sue me, but I have fantasized about real discipline. Not role-play, but like, Dave, you’re gonna be thirty in four years and you still work in a mall; get your ass in gear or I’ll spank it.
   Not that I’d ever trust anyone with that kind of control.
   I’m gonna redefine “battle of wills” for the Disciplinarian. Or I’m gonna bone him. It’s hard to say.
   —Dave

Arrogant Devil by R.S. Grey

Everyone in Cedar Creek, Texas, knows Jack McNight is an arrogant devil. Physically, I get it: he’s tan and fit, with coal-black hair that’s clearly been scorched by hellfire. Oh, and his personality? It burns just as hot.
   When I show up on the doorstep of Blue Stone Ranch, I’m run-down and rockin’ my last pair of underwear. I’m hoping for a savior, but instead, I find him.
   My opinion of Jack is marred by a dismal first impression, but his opinion of me is tainted even before I arrive. He’s heard I’m a spoiled princess there to take advantage of his goodwill. To him, I’m more trouble than I’m worth.
   Our button-pushing banter should get under my skin. His arrogance should be a major turn-off. Problem is, devils are known to offer their own form of temptation.
   Every one of his steely glares sends a shiver down my spine.
   Every steamy encounter leaves me reeling.
   Sure, it could be the Texas heat messing with my head, but there’s no way I’ll survive the summer without silencing him with a kiss and wrestling him out of those Wranglers.
   Who knows…going to bed with the devil might just be the salvation I’ve been looking for all along.

Need more of The Chateau before its release date on June 5th? Look not further for an fun sexy excerpt as Kingsley falls down the rabbit hole.

Only a few days left.

Prepare yourselves Original Sinners fans...but first read this excerpt.

An exclusive excerpt from The Chateau: An Erotic Thriller, on sale this June from 8th Circle Press...

The ropes around his wrists were long enough Polly didn’t have to untie him. Kingsley simply rolled onto his stomach and moved back into place, the ropes twisting into a knot. The pressure on his wrists was comfortable, but tight enough to feel like a pair of strong hands. Strong hands on his wrists, Kingsley lying prone, someone about to take him…

Just like high school.

“I see you smiling,” Polly said as she moved off the bed to do whatever it was she needed to do.

“Just remembering,” he said. “It’s funny. I don’t usually smile when I remember…”

“What?”

“Anything,”

Polly kissed the back of his shoulder. “I’ll give you a memory to make you smile.”

Kingsley let out a breath of pleasure as Polly laid her hand flat on the small of his back and caressed him there.

“This is my favorite part,” she said.

“Back rubs?”

“No, silly boy. Backs are my favorite part. Boy backs. My favorite body part,” she said. “Right here.” With her fingertips she lightly scored the center of his back where his tailbone met his spine. “Maybe that’s why I love doing this so much. The view of you is divine…”

With a compliment like that, how could Kingsley object to anything she wanted to do with his body? Polly whispered instructions in his ear. He did as told, and he did it with pleasure. He pulled his knees up under him and spread them. Polly worked the plug out of him carefully.

She positioned herself behind him and started to slowly…slowly…slowly enter him. Too slowly.

Polly told him to lay flat, to stretch out his legs—however was most comfortable for him. He was under the strictest of orders to tell her the second he felt a moment’s pain. But there was no pain, no discomfort. Fullness, yes. Not pain. Not like he’d known once.

“You like this, don’t you?” Polly said as she kissed and licked the back of his neck. “Being taken? Penetrated? Used?”

“Very much.”

“Say it then,” she said.

“Say what?”

“Say you like penetration. You said you aren’t shy, so say it. Or are you shy?”

He opened his mouth, laughed softly. “You make me feel shy. It’s an accomplishment.”

“Kingsley…” Polly said as she nibbled on his earlobe. “Say it or I’ll stop fucking you…” Her voice was teasing, but the order was an order. It had to be obeyed.

“I like being penetrated,” he said. “There. Happy?”

“So very happy. If I keep doing this,” she said and thrust into him, “will you come?”

“Yes.”

“You’re sure?”

“I would bet my life on it.”

“You’ve come from penetration alone before?”

“I have.”

“High school?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Summary

As the Jack-of-All-Wicked-Trades for a secretive French military intelligence agency, Kingsley Boissonneault has done it all—spied, lied, and killed under orders. But his latest assignment is quite out of the ordinary. His commanding officer's nephew has disappeared inside a sex cult, and Kingsley has been tasked with bringing him home to safety.

The cult’s holy book is Story of O, the infamous French novel of extreme sado-masochism. Their château is a looking-glass world where women reign and men are their willing slaves. Or are they willing? It’s Kingsley’s mission to find out.

Once inside the château, however, Kingsley quickly falls under the erotic spell cast by the enigmatic Madame, a woman of wisdom, power, and beauty. She offers Kingsley the one thing he’s always wanted. But the price? Giving up forever the only person he’s ever loved.

About Tiffany Reisz

Tiffany Reisz is the USA Today bestselling author of the Original Sinners series for Mira Books and Mills & Boon, including the RT Book Reviews Best Erotic Romance 2012 winner The Siren and the LAMBDA Literary Award-winning The King. Her novel The Saint won the Romance Writers of America RITA® for best Erotic Romance in 2015.

Over my years of reading I know very well that I have come jaded in some aspects. Love and relationship goals is definitely one of them. Another? Travel. Not only do most of the time I wish that I could be transported to another world, but sometimes the sort of wanderlust while reading hits a little closer to home. From new books to old, some of the settings of novels and memoirs continue to make travel something on my must-list, just as these books should be on your must-read list.

Scotland

Outlander by Diana Gabaldon

The year is 1945. Claire Randall, a former combat nurse, is just back from the war and reunited with her husband on a second honeymoon when she walks through a standing stone in one of the ancient circles that dot the British Isles. Suddenly she is a Sassenach—an “outlander”—in a Scotland torn by war and raiding border clans in the year of Our Lord...1743.
   Hurled back in time by forces she cannot understand, Claire is catapulted into the intrigues of lairds and spies that may threaten her life, and shatter her heart. For here James Fraser, a gallant young Scots warrior, shows her a love so absolute that Claire becomes a woman torn between fidelity and desire—and between two vastly different men in two irreconcilable lives.

The first time I heard sweet Jamie Fraser's written out accent in the Scottish dialect, I was taken. Taken, both by him and the idea of traveling to Scotland. The landscape in the history there seems to be just the place to visit with wide eyes and a camera ready for all the photos. Maybe I could even find a few stones to take me back in time as well?

Paris, France

Anna and the French Kiss by Stephanie Perkins

Anna is looking forward to her senior year in Atlanta, where she has a great job, a loyal best friend, and a crush on the verge of becoming more. Which is why she is less than thrilled about being shipped off to boarding school in Paris--until she meets Étienne St. Clair. Smart, charming, beautiful, Étienne has it all...including a serious girlfriend.
But in the City of Light, wishes have a way of coming true. Will a year of romantic near-misses end with their long-awaited French kiss?

Oh how I love this book. I reread it quite often and it may get another reread very soon. After reading this book I seriously looked into schools and colleges based in the same area of Paris in hopes that I could live my Anna and the French Kiss love story. Alas...

Provence, France

Picnic in Provence by Elizabeth Bard

Ten years ago, New Yorker Elizabeth Bard followed a handsome Frenchman up a spiral staircase to a love nest in the heart of Paris. Now, with a baby on the way, Elizabeth takes another leap of faith with her husband when they move to Provence and open an artisanal ice cream shop. Filled with enticing recipes such as stuffed zucchini flowers, fig tart, and honey-and-thyme ice cream, PICNIC IN PROVENCE is the story of everything that happens after the happily ever after. With wit, humor, and a scoop of wild strawberry sorbet, Bard reminds us that life-in and out of the kitchen-is a rendezvous with the unexpected.

I read this as one of my first books at college and it only made me not want to be there in freshman orientation even more. The first book is Lunch in Paris, but this second installment of Elizabeth Bard's life was even more fantastic than the last with descriptions of Provence, even in the winters, that made my heart pitter pat with hope that I may one day see the lavender fields and the gelato and the markets...everything that makes the south of France this magical place her family decided to escape to.

Now. I am going to Provence. One travel inspiration down, so many to go.

St. Petersburg (Leningrad), Russia

The Bronze Horseman by Paullina Simons

The golden skies, the translucent twilight, the white nights, all hold the promise of youth, of love, of eternal renewal. The war has not yet touched this city of fallen grandeur, or the lives of two sisters, Tatiana and Dasha Metanova, who share a single room in a cramped apartment with their brother and parents. Their world is turned upside down when Hitler's armies attack Russia and begin their unstoppable blitz to Leningrad.
   Yet there is light in the darkness. Tatiana meets Alexander, a brave young officer in the Red Army. Strong and self-confident, yet guarding a mysterious and troubled past, he is drawn to Tatiana—and she to him. Starvation, desperation, and fear soon grip their city during the terrible winter of the merciless German siege. Tatiana and Alexander's impossible love threatens to tear the Metanova family apart and expose the dangerous secret Alexander so carefully protects—a secret as devastating as the war itself—as the lovers are swept up in the brutal tides that will change the world and their lives forever.

Russia was never on my radar. Until now. Though this is a work of fiction, man do I want to see where this story and actual historical event I did not know of at the time took place. This book is beautifully devastating.

Everywhere...
But specifically Australia and South America

The Good Girls Guide to Getting Lost by Rachael Friedman

Rachel Friedman has always been the consummate good girl who does well in school and plays it safe, so the college grad surprises no one more than herself when, on a whim (and in an effort to escape impending life decisions), she buys a ticket to Ireland, a place she has never visited, in. There she forms an unlikely bond with a free-spirited Australian girl, a born adventurer who spurs Rachel on to a yearlong odyssey that takes her to three continents, fills her life with newfound friends, and gives birth to a previously unrealized passion for adventure.
   As her journey takes her to Australia and South America, Rachel discovers and embraces her love of travel and unlocks more truths about herself than she ever realized she was seeking. Along the way, the erstwhile good girl finally learns to do something she’s never done before: simply live for the moment.

I read this one about two years ago I think when I was in a Twitter travel book club. I absolutely loved it as we follow Rachael through her years of travel that take her to two continents that I have never thought of as being on my must-visit list. Now I must along with the rest of the world I may not have thought I was meant to go to previously. This book made me want to back up a single backpack and go.





There are so many places in the world I want to travel as I finally begin my journey of maybe seeing them all. Tis the dream.

Is there any of you that have had travel plans specifically based on a love of a book or two?

These characters are very few which feel like coming home to when I open the pages. The characters of the Night Court are a few of them.

"Feyre, Rhys, and their close-knit circle of friends are still busy rebuilding the Night Court and the vastly-changed world beyond. But Winter Solstice is finally near, and with it, a hard-earned reprieve.   

Yet even the festive atmosphere can't keep the shadows of the past from looming. As Feyre navigates her first Winter Solstice as High Lady, she finds that those dearest to her have more wounds than she anticipated--scars that will have far-reaching impact on the future of their Court."

The entire novella is bound and covered just like the others within the series, which I loved. Plus, it made it extra easy to find on the Target shelf when me and two others took a last minute trip to there and Dunkin' Donuts. Something different about this book however I realized right away was that it is told from multiple POVs.

Going in, I did expect this. Of course, I really thought that from the announcement of ACOFAS that it was going to be dual POVs between Feyre and Ryhsand. It would be our one last send off to how cute the couple has become now that all the drama has left them in the plot. A plot that with not only Rhysand and Feyre telling the story, but many more third point of views, we didn't really get to even though somehow a whole lot happens.

I understand that the plot was the emotional journey moving forward and Feyre being able to find herself as high lady in a sense, but this novella did read like I could have read it as a holiday blog post a la SJ Maas. I would have enjoyed it just as much if not more. Less pressure is put on a reader's shoulders after all when they are reading free pleasure stories.

"But it had been a long, brutal winter that had brought me so deep into the woods that day nearly two years ago. A long, brutal winter that had made me desperate enough to kill a wolf, that had eventually led me here—to this life, this … happiness."

So yes, I had issues with the novella, but also loved it the way I feel I will always love Sarah's novels. These books are full of heart and strength that I feel bleed into me when I read them.

The light hearted moments really make this book though and made it go by quickly. The message I also love is the necessity of art and love to heal. I need some of that artistic muse that Feyre begins to be re-inspired by as the Winter Solstice approached.

Though this book may not have been action packed and "necessary," it was definitely a welcomed continuation of stories I have held dear to my heart ever since I first heard the name Rhysand. My heart with him always manages to give a flutter!

”To the stars who listen, Feyre. To the dreams that are answered, Rhys."

There simply will never be enough of the Night Court to read. I am excited to see what the rest of the continuations of the ACOTAR stories will have in store.

So you haven't read Tiffany Reisz yet? Well well, we must change this. Perhaps we will change it with the Kingsley Edge? If anyone could turn anyone into a fan he would be the one. Unless you already know to be a Soren fan- Don't worry, Kingsley is too. Or, you may be like me, who would gladly be converted to the Original Sinners religion by both.

But for now, Kingsley. King.

Kingsley Boissonneault Edge who finally has his very own French spy prequel, The Chateau coming out June 5th. I had no idea that I needed this beautiful novel until I read the magnificent thing. Feel free to read my review I already posted on it, or the first excerpt I shared with you all.

For now here, take a read of the magnificence yourself.

An exclusive excerpt from The Chateau: An Erotic Thriller, on sale this June from 8th Circle Press...

The dream always begins the same way. In the winter. In the woods.

Kingsley stands in snow surrounded by shadows. None of the shadows are his because he’s not really there. He leaves no footprints as he walks. He does not see his steaming breath as he breathes. He is a ghost in this white forest, but he is not the only ghost here.

Before him stands a door.

It’s an arched wooden door alone in the woods. It belongs to an old chapel, but there is no church here, no chapel, no house. Only a door. Kingsley can walk around the door, but nothing will happen. Nothing will happen at all until he steps through it. The iron latch is cold enough to bite his bare fingers, but he doesn’t feel this either. He lifts it and passes through the door, because that is where the boy in white waits for him.

The moon is full and high, and the snow is bright, and he can see the young man so clearly it’s almost as if it were daytime, almost as if it weren’t a dream at all.

The boy in the clearing is beautiful, his hair so blond it looks almost white. His hair is white and his clothes are white, not snow white but a purer white, a baptismal white.

Kingsley speaks a word—either the boy’s name or “sir.” When he wakes he can never remember what word he says.

The boy, luminous in his pure white clothing, stands next to a table made of rough stone and on the stone table is a chess board made of ice.

Even though it is a dream, and no one has spoken but him, Kingsley knows he is supposed to sit and stay and play the game. It’s the rules. If he doesn’t play, he’ll wake up, and the last thing he wants is to wake up now, to wake up ever.

He sits opposite the young man with the white-blond hair. The chess board is between them. Everything is between them.

Kingsley moves his pawn.

“You’re not really here,” Kingsley says to the boy with the snowy hair and the silver eyes. The boy’s beauty renders the dream a nightmare because Kingsley knows when morning comes, the boy will be gone and nowhere does such beauty exist among his waking hours. Not anymore.

“How do you know?” the boy asks, moving his king.

“You look eighteen,” Kingsley says, moving another pawn. “You’re twenty-five now. I’m twenty-four.”

The boy moves his king again. “In your memory I’m eighteen.”

“That isn’t how you play,” Kingsley says. “You can’t move the king like that.”

“It’s my game,” the boy in white says. “I move my king however I want. Don’t you remember? Don’t you remember the way I moved my King anywhere and everywhere I wanted him to go?”

Even in the snow and the cold, Kingsley grows warm.

“I remember.”

Kingsley moves his bishop.

The boy in white moves his king again.

“I don’t know how to win this game,” Kingsley says. “How can I win if I don’t know the rules?”

The boy in white narrows his silver eyes at him. “You’ve already won.”

“I have?”

“To play is to win, if you’re playing with me. Isn’t that true?” the boy asks with an arrogant smile in his eyes.

Kingsley knows this is true though it galls him to admit it. He doesn’t care who wins the game as long as the game between them goes on forever. He moves another pawn and the boy in white captures it.

To be the pawn captured in that boy’s hand…

“How do you keep finding me?” Kingsley asks.

“You came to me,” the boy says. “I’m always here.”

“I lost you,” Kingsley says. “Seven years ago. I lost you.”

“No,” the boy says, smiling for the first time. His face is like Michelangelo’s David, passive and powerful and carved from pale marble. His eyes are granite and if Kingsley had a chisel he knows he could chip away at the boy’s chest until he uncovered an iron and copper wire heart beating inside a steel ribcage.

“No?”

“You lost you,” the boy says. The smile is gone and it has begun to snow again. When it snows, Kingsley knows the dream is almost over. All he wants to do is stay asleep a little longer. All he wants to do is stay asleep forever.

“How do I find you again?” Kingsley asks. “Please, tell me before I wake.”

“You don’t find me,” the boy says. “I find you.”

“Find me then.”

“When it’s time.”

“When will it be time?”

The boy in white moves his hands over the board and Kingsley looks down. The ice king lays on the board broken in two pieces.

“When?” Kingsley asks. He is a child again, asking a thousand questions in the quest for a single answer. The snow is falling harder now, heavy as rain and hot as tears. “Tell me when, please…”

The boy leans across the board as if to kiss him, but instead of a kiss, Kingsley is given an answer.

“When you find you.”

Between the kiss and the answer, Kingsley would have picked the kiss.

Summary

As the Jack-of-All-Wicked-Trades for a secretive French military intelligence agency, Kingsley Boissonneault has done it all—spied, lied, and killed under orders. But his latest assignment is quite out of the ordinary. His commanding officer's nephew has disappeared inside a sex cult, and Kingsley has been tasked with bringing him home to safety.

The cult’s holy book is Story of O, the infamous French novel of extreme sado-masochism. Their château is a looking-glass world where women reign and men are their willing slaves. Or are they willing? It’s Kingsley’s mission to find out.

Once inside the château, however, Kingsley quickly falls under the erotic spell cast by the enigmatic Madame, a woman of wisdom, power, and beauty. She offers Kingsley the one thing he’s always wanted. But the price? Giving up forever the only person he’s ever loved.

About Tiffany Reisz

To start the April season off, I read Winter of Artifice by Anais Nin which is a collection of three novellas including "Stella," "Winter of Artifice," and "The Voice." I got my copy at a used bookstore back in the fall and have been picking it up whenever I don't know what else to read. Finally, I have actually read it in its full entirety. I have been meaning to read more Anais Nin even though I still really enjoy her diaries so far more than the actual stories. May have to give each type of writing a reread.

The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion has been one of my big reads this past month. Mostly because it took me much longer than the usual book to finish even though that is not unusual for within the school year.

It was overall really good, the writing even more so. I can see why Joan Didion has become such a well-known writer. Her phrasing captures attention as she tells the story of the year after her husband died, going through love, loss, and most of all the ongoing of life.

For class, I was assigned the poetry book, The Virginia State Colony for Epileptics and Feebleminded by Molly McCully Brown. I enjoyed it so much more than I thought I would with it being assigned reading which for some reason always rubs me the wrong way.

Brown's poetry has such a strong sense of voice and place throughout as it describes the well researched State Colony hospital that she connects to possibly being a part of had been born in another time.

Blossoming in Provence by Kristin Espinasse was another book I ended up reading mostly for class though it was more welcomed since I have been trying to get into the France travel mood. It is in the form of blog posts in a sense with a glossary of french words she used in each chapter which was very helpful, as well as conversationally entertaining. Her blog is French Word a Day.

Hunger by Roxane Gay was my first books I took out of the school library that I haven't been using as well I should have been all year it appears. In case you didn't know, they have actually GOOD books at the library. Shocker, right?

I have never read anything by Roxane Gay even though I have been meaning to. This chronicles her life involving food and what drives her hunger both physical and creatively metaphorical. She is not one to hide harsh truths of her life which is sobering as well as amazing to read.


Currently I have started to read Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert that I got within my recent mindful book haul. Though it has not completely captured me yet, I am hoping to fall into the story soon.