“Ms. Peresta has a witty and engaging style that screams along in first person, ala Janet Evanovich’s Stephanie Plum. It’s a bold, brassy style loaded with clever similes such as “My thoughts are frantic, like butterflies trapped in a jar,” and “Mornin’ Izzy!” Birdie sings, his smile blazing like blanched bones at high noon.” -Jack B. Downs, Professor at University of Maryland, Author of “Buried Treasure,” “The Eden Mist.”
Lila stooped at water’s edge to pick up a shell and stuff it in the pocket of her windbreaker, shivering in the dawn breeze. She shaded her eyes and looked up. Dark clouds, intimidated by the sunrise, raced across the sky.
Once a year she visited this beach – a white-sanded, cocoon of a place. It had become a ritual.
The Toad Lady
The storm finally blew over and sunbeams pierced the clouds like splashes of gold in a muck of pea soup. It had been raining on and off for two weeks, and the entire town of Toad Suck smelled slightly of mold.
Broken Families and Cupcakes
When families break, the fallout can be toxic, but the atmosphere does clear, eventually. I hoped we would enter a toxin-free zone last weekend when we traveled to my stepdaughter’s wedding in Austin, Texas. Even broken families coalesce around adult children’s weddings, but there is no escaping the fact that the broken bits may spew and sputter a little.