Come here, no closer, let me prick
you—not poke, I am not
that needle which administers
your flu shot or draws a vial of blood
from the crook of your elbow,
though I may steal
some, have it smeared
on your skin. It’s up to you,
your intoxication, you’re responsible
for the amount you bleed—let’s hope
you didn’t lie on that permission
form sheet with your signature.
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These walls hold me imprisoned,

constructed from a desperation

to keep me safe, to prevent

this cracked heart of mine

from shattering. You sealed

the brick stones, encased

them in cement with your lies

and deceit, your bickering spite.

Nobody was getting in

after you,

you made sure of that;

and now there’s nowhere left

for me to go except

down

down

down.

It amazes me how people are unable to move on from circumstances that have no negative effect on them; how people are still upset that Caitlyn Jenner won the Arthur Ashe Award. I have seen a number of posts regarding the outrage people feel on the matter, how it wasn’t a courageous act, how the real heroes are the people who fight overseas or battle cancer; but courage and hero are vast encompassing terms. They are not reserved to a career, battle, or lifestyle. They are not reserved to age or gender.

I had a professor in college who was my hero because of how much my writing improved through taking his classes and his encouragement for me to continue writing. One of my best friends is my hero because despite her doubt in her strength, she survives everything life throws at her. Another friend is my hero because of how well he changed his life around. My mother is my hero because of everything she gave up for my brother. My dad is my hero, period.

I can only hope one day my daughter thinks of me as her hero.

What Caitlyn did may not have been the most courageous act on the planet but for some kids struggling with accepting who they are or struggling with acceptance from others, her receiving that award was exactly what they needed. I remember hearing how a past friend of mine attempted suicide after coming out. There are people who don’t like the publicity behind her changing of genders, arguing she did it for the fame. I highly doubt someone would ever make such a life altering decision based on fame, but you know what? I am glad she has the money and connections to make her decision public. Her being in the spotlight, willingly taking hits from cyber bullies and society, and not allowing herself to be negatively effected, is heroic. She is setting a prime example for kids who are fighting with acceptance. Let her be a mascot for the LGBT community. I hate to break it to some of you, but it won’t cause anyone harm—and it could just save a life. I don’t want to hear about more kids attempting or committing suicide because the struggle is too much for them, because society won’t accept them for being themselves, because they feel alone in this world.

The worst is those who will throw my daughter in my face as an ingredient in their argument: Do you want your daughter to be gay? Would you really be okay with a gay couple adopting your daughter if something happened to you? Oh, how the questions keep coming. For the record, I want my daughter to be happy. We tell kids to be themselves but then set these parameters. I want her to be proud of who she becomes. If sixteen years down the road, she comes to me and tells me she likes girls, I hope she comes to me unafraid and knowing I will always love her. Further, I don’t ever want her to think I love her despite such a lifestyle; I want her to know I love her for who she is.

If something happened to me tomorrow and there wasn’t any relative to take her in, you better believe I’m okay with a gay couple adopting her. I have heard arguments against gays adopting based on the need for both gender roles represented in the household. Do people realize they are offending single parents everywhere? As a single mother, I find this greatly insulting. The sexuality of a couple does not provide for whether the child in that home will be loved and cared for. There are a number of straight parents who abuse their children. Trust me when I say the sexuality of the caretaker would be my last priority.

Lastly, I am sorry to disappoint, but it is within the heterosexual parent household that the homosexual child was born. I will assume you know the basics of how a child is conceived, but I have never heard of two males having sex and producing a baby, let alone a gay baby. So please, stop. Then, of course, there are the religious folks making arguments of since only a heterosexual couple can conceive a baby, God obviously is against it. I hope you use that same argument for the heterosexual couple who are unable to conceive a child because of some condition, and hear how loud their devastation and overwhelming their sadness reigns. I hope they slap you when you tell them God is against them being parents, and I hope I’m there to witness it.

People keep making these arguments and I keep hoping that one day they understand the meaning and repercussions behind their words. They are never just words. Maybe it’s because I’m such an avid reader or because I find comfort in writing that I love how one can string together a few words to portray an emotion perfectly. I find it miraculous when another writer can perfectly express my feelings. However, I also find it devastating when people inappropriately convey a message without thinking about everything they are saying. People are welcome to have their own opinion, the definition allows for the differences, but it’s not okay when these opinions contain offensive language and are given out of spite, when they are drenched in cruel intentions.

We are human and we are flawed, and I firmly believe that it is okay to be uncomfortable with a situation. However, your being uncomfortable is not an excuse to be hateful or intolerant. Sometimes, it simply means you need to get over yourself.

I am Outcast.

OVERVIEW:

The kids behind me laugh so loud I know they’re laughing about me. I can’t help myself. I turn around. It’s Rachel, surrounded by a bunch of kids wearing clothes that most definitely did not come from the EastSide Mall. Rachel Bruin, my ex-best friend. She stares at something above my left ear. Words climb up my throat. This was the girl who suffered through Brownies with me, who taught me how to swim, who understood about my parents, who didn’t make fun of my bedroom. If there is anyone in the entire galaxy I am dying to tell what really happened, it’s Rachel. My throat burns.

            Her eyes meet mine for a second. “I hate you,” she mouths silently.

Melinda Sordino’s freshman year is off to a horrible start. She busted an end-of-summer party by calling the cops, and now her friends—and even strangers—all hate her. Months pass and things aren’t getting better. She’s a pariah. The lowest of the low. Avoided by everyone. But eventually, she’ll reveal what happened at the party. And when she finally speaks the truth, everything will change.

REVIEW:

It saddens me that such a beautifully written and tragically accurate account of a young girl’s rape can be cast aside as offensive and inappropriate for the classroom. For the brave souls who wish to teach it and the school districts that allow it, parents will write in, arguing that Laurie Halse Anderson’s Speak promotes sex and is offensive to the male population. It pains me to think that people could belittle such a novel, one that Anderson came forth years later and confessed it was based on her own experience. It is an emotional and tragic novel but the honesty and richness drive the story home. It is heartbreaking, what Melinda experiences and must work through, but by the end of the novel, you will be cheering her on, applauding her in a standing ovation, and begging for parents to allow this to be taught in the classroom. This is the story of a girl who loses her identity and her voice, who fights the truth that is desperately trying to escape her. Wait for it, and hear her roar.

Who is the real Margo?

OVERVIEW:

Quentin Jacobsen has spent a lifetime loving the magnificently adventurous Margo Roth Spiegelman from afar. So when she cracks open a window and climbs into his life—dressed like a ninja and summoning him for an ingenious campaign of revenge—he follows. After their all-nighter ends, and a new day breaks, Q arrives at school to discover that Margo, always an enigma, has now become a mystery. But Q soon learns that there are clues—and they’re for him. Urged down a disconnected path, the closer he gets, the less Q sees the girl he thought he knew…

REVIEW:

I didn’t think disappointment could be an emotion I would feel after reading a book of John Green but I was wrong. He built Paper Towns up and tapped it with his finger. There was no tornado to upright it. The weatherman called for shelter and gave warning but it only led to an anticlimactic event, one that left me asking, “That’s it?” It was hilarious and poignant and sometimes outrageous, until the last segment of the book. The mystery was captivating and the characters were hypnotizing, but the ending simply evaporated. I was enthralled and couldn’t wait for the climax; until it happened, then I had to force myself to stay awake and continue reading. Will power kept me going; not the writing, the story, or the characters. I love a book that lives on past the last page and, tragically, this book ended before it was over.

Set me on fire.

Light me up & let me burn. 

Your smoldering eyes,

a flashing neon sign;

this is our last goodbye. 

I am totally missing some great titles here but I am a reader who enjoys all genres. I love an author who writes for the work, for the story itself, and not the audience; who isn’t scared of pissing the reader off because it didn’t go their way but can be recognized as the only rightful ending to the novel. Veronica Roth did this with the Divergent series and while I cried and hated her for it that entire next week, I also respected her greatly for the decision she made. (If you’ve read the series, you know what I’m talking about.) A lot of books I read are “too depressing” for some, or “too slow of a read” because it’s a classic. Posted here are some of my favorites–and I have a lot of them!–but I tried to keep it to 1) what others might enjoy and 2) not overtly popular novels. Some you may have constantly seen on store shelves or heard another rave about, but none of these titles have been shoved in your face like Gone Girl or The Hunger Games or Divergent–all of which I did love–or the dreadful, so despairingly dreadful, Fifty Shades of Grey. Some of these titles shown I may have posted a review to previously, as well.
I hope you love them as much as I do!

1) Me Before You by Jojo Moyes: My #1 choice. I can’t say enough great things about this amazing book. It is absolutely phenomenal and will make you appreciate your life more while hurt for those in worse times than you. I want to read all of her work because I loved this one so.

2) The Good Girl by Mary Kubica: If you loved Gone Girl you will love this thrilling read. Entirely different storyline but equally mysterious, enthralling, and spectacular. P.S. I do believe Sharp Objects may have been Gillian Flynn’s best novel simply because of how much Gone Girl was publicly raved over.

3) The Alex Cross series by James Patterson: His best works by far. Why? He is the sole author. His style, wit, and ability to fully follow through with a crime novel in this series outshines the attempts his coauthors make in some of his other works.

4) Pride & Prejudice by Jane Austen: This will always be a favorite read of mine. A timely classic that never gets old.

5) The Tenth Circle, The Pact, and Salem Falls by Jodi Picoult: My favorite works by her. If you are looking to read something by her and never have, these are the novels to start out with.

6) Beautiful Disaster and Walking Disaster by Jamie McGuire: Fall in love with Travis. He will ruin all other men for you. If you want a romantic novel, here it is. Then, when you think you can’t love another fictional male character more, fall in love with Trent in McGuire’s Beautiful Oblivion.

7) Guilty Wives by James Patterson: A great beach read and there’s no series. It won’t leave you hanging.

8) Beautiful Bastard series by Christina Lauren: If you want something steamy, here it is. One of my favorite romantic series. The heroine in this first novel makes the book. She’s got a backbone and is a total bitch. No Anastasia Steele here and I LOVE IT!

9) The Troublemaker Next Door series by Marie Harte: Another steamy read with guys who aren’t billionaires–what makes it so appealing is the lack of money, the down to earth guys Harte creates. It is nothing like 50 Shades and that is why I absolutely love these books.

10) The Book Thief by Markus Zusak: Brilliant novel. I real piece of art when it comes to writing. I mean, who would have thought that Death could be such a captivating narrator?

11) Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen (her Ape House is amazing too!), The Death and Life of Charlie St. Cloud by Ben Sherwood, The Fault in Our Stars by John Green (I actually loved his Looking For Alaska more!), Atonement by Ian McEwan, The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger, The Perks of Being A Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky, P.S. I Love You by Cecilia Ahern, Something Borrowed by Emily Giffin, The Silver Linings Playbook by Matthew Quick, and A Farewell to Arms by Ernest Hemingway: Every one of these books have made it to the big screen and every one of these books were so much better in print. Even if you have already seen the movie, I highly recommend you read these novels.

12) The Color Purple by Alice Walker, Native Son by Richard Wright, and Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston: My three favorite African American literature pieces. Though, I must say, Jazz by Toni Morrison is an unbelievable read as well, but Morrison is a great storyteller so that’s no surprise.

13) The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood: Basically because she is one hell of a talented woman. Give her a pen and she will give you art.

14) Me and Mr. Booker by Cory Taylor: A very awkward read. Extremely controversial. Think Lolita or The Reader more modernized. Uncomfortable but brilliant.

15) Finding It by Cora Carmack: The third in the Losing It series but the best one. It’s a romantic, traveling gemstone.

16) The Weight of Silence by Heather Gudenkauf: It’s thrilling and appalling but wonderful. Heartbreaking and tragic but addictive.

17) Silence and Broken Silence by Natasha Preston: Yes, yes, yes! I read both in one weekend.

18) Wallbanger by Alice Clayton: Another steamy novel and the first in the series (and sadly the only one I’ve read) but sexy, I won’t lie. It’s got attitude and sarcasm, which is why it was such a great read.

19) Wait For You series by J. Lynn: To be honest, the first one wasn’t my favorite but it was still good. It is the others (specifically, Be With Me and Stay With Me) that were pretty great reads. Again, though, a romantic read with a little mysterious edge.

20) Maybe Somebody by Colleen Hoover: Yes, another romance. However, Hoover adds a twist, a handicap, if you will, that makes this love story so much more captivating.

At the heart of The Husband’s Secret is a letter that is no meant to be read…
My darling Cecilia,
If you’re reading this, then I’ve died…

BACK COVER

Imagine your husband wrote you a letter, to be opened after his death. Imagine, too, that the letter contains his deepest, darkest secret–something with the potential to destroy not only the life you have built together, but the lives of others as well. And then imagine that you stumble across that letter while your husband is still very much alive…

Cecilia Fitzpatrick has achieved it all–she’s an incredibly successful businesswoman, a pillar of her small community, a devoted wife and mother. Her life is as orderly and spotless as her home. But that letter is about to change everything–and not just for her. There are other women who barely know Cecilia–or each other–but they, too, are about to feel the earth-shattering repercussions of her husband’s secret.

REVIEW

Exceptionally exploitive! Slow moving at first as I was impatient to know the secret, curious if I was correct, it became a slightly anticlimactic climb to the women’s collision. Moriarty effortlessly explores the reality that nothing is truly felt until the tragedy happens to you. She exploits the blindness caused by overwhelming tragedy and the need for revenge, the crippling truth behind everything is clearer in hindsight. She begs the question of what happens when the choices we are forced to make seem incapable of holding a right decision, when there is no correct answer. She creates a world imagining for us what happens when one turns a blind eye to injustice. She draws attention to the idea that children pay for the sins of their parents, that there is a balancing of scores, that no crime goes unpunished. Moriarty forces the reader to question every black and white thought, to dive into the grey, the idea that everything isn’t always as it seems. We live in a society where it is assumed the white collar family man is pure and innocent while children are told to fear the presumably bad creepy man–Moriarty unravels this wrongful assumption. I love an author who forces me to think, to imagine, to question my own beliefs; leads me to ask of myself, what would I do? To top her own brilliant imagination and drive it all home, Moriarty goes to the length of declaring what would have happened if these people had made better choices, if tragedy hadn’t struck and they chose the path to prevent this domino of catastrophe.