G. R. Mannering:Roses (The Tales Trilogy)
- Taschenbuch 2016, ISBN: 9781634501880
American Girl, 2014. Fine. American Girl. Manners and Mischief: A Samantha Classic Volume 1. American Girl Beforever. Adler, Susan S.; Schur, Maxine Rose. Middleton, WI: American Girl, … Mehr…
American Girl, 2014. Fine. American Girl. Manners and Mischief: A Samantha Classic Volume 1. American Girl Beforever. Adler, Susan S.; Schur, Maxine Rose. Middleton, WI: American Girl, 2014. 147pp. 12mo. Paperback. Book condition: Near fine., American Girl, 2014, 5, Topaz. Good. 4.32 x 1.03 x 6.72 inches. Mass Market Paperback. 1996. 384 pages. Cover worn.<br>Journeying to Texas to settle her late father's estate and overcome a broken heart, Verona Howard finds the frontier hostile and dangerous before meeting on-the-run Matt hew Morgan, who sees Verona as his perfect cover. Original. Edit orial Reviews From the Author Most of my books come into the wor ld like babies - they are conceived joyfully, gestate about nine months, and are delivered only after considerable travail. Fortun ately, every now and then there is that rare one that almost writ es itself - the one that springs from my mind like Diana from the head of Zeus, the one with characters who never stop talking, wh o almost relegate me to the role of a scribe hurrying after them, trying to get everything they say and do down on paper before I lose it. In the case of Dangerous, my newest book, I almost could n't keep up with Matt and Verena in this lively, almost comical d uel of wits. Matthew Morgan, alias Matthew McCready, is not only fleeing a hangman's noose, but also his very roots. Born the you ngest son of a poor Tennessee farmer, he grew up yearning for the good things in life, and once he escaped into the Confederate Ar my, he knew he was never going back. At war's end, he headed for New Orleans, where his good looks and uncommon skills with cards carried him into the finest drawing rooms in the city. But that w as before he killed the son of a prominent Louisiana politician. Now he's on the run, headed for an outlaw haven called Helena, Te xas. Until he sees Verena Howard in Galveston. A determined spin ster, the pretty twenty-two-year-old schoolteacher is en route to San Angelo, hoping to settle more than her late father's seeming ly worthless estate. She has to know why Jack Howard deserted his country, why he never returned home to her and her mother. At ti mes, the bitterness she feels toward him is almost overwhelming. Sharing her mother's heartbreak has left her wary of men, particu larly the handsome ones. But when facing a rough and tumble Texa s frontier, where life is cheap and women scarce, she discovers h er aloof manner and sharp tongue provide little protection from d runken, amorous cowboys - or from the handsome, dark-eyed gambler who comes to her rescue, then offers to pose as her husband unti l the cowboys get off the train. So begins an adventure neither c an foresee, where neither quite believes the other, where everyth ing goes wildly awry, and where the law becomes the least of Matt 's worries. About the Author The twist of fate which led Anita M ills to leave her niche in education administration after nearly eighteen years was certainly the best thing that could have happe ned to her. At least her fans wholeheartedly believe so. Anita's husband urged her to take her knowledge and love of history and E nglish to create fiction. Just eighteen months later, in 1986, An ita had finished an enchanting medieval romance, acquired a first -rate agent, and sold the book, Lady of Fire, to New American Lib rary, now Penguin USA. Since then, Anita has published sixteen r omance novels, including five with Penguin USA's Topaz Historical Romance imprint - Falling Star (1993), Secret Nights (1994), Com anche Moon (1995), Comanche Rose (January 1996), and her latest n ovel, Dangerous. In the past few years her books have been nomina ted for more than twenty writing awards and she has consistently received critical praise from Romantic Times, Affair de Coeur, Pu blishers Weekly, and Library Journal. A devoted mother of four, Anita lives on a rural farm near Plattsburg, Missouri, with her husband Larry, five cats and three dogs. ., Topaz, 1996, 2.5, Bloomsbury (Penguin). Good. 7.99 x 10 x 1.85 inches. Paperback. 2007. 448 pages. Cover worn. <br>For decades they have remained close, sharing treasured recipes, honored customs, and the challenges of women shaped by ancient ways yet living modern lives. They are t he Hindi-Bindi Club, a nickname given by their American daughters to the mothers who left India to start anew-daughters now grown and facing struggles of their own. For Kiran, Preity, and Rani, adulthood bears the indelible stamp of their upbringing, from the ways they tweak their mothers' cooking to suit their Western lif estyles to the ways they reject their mothers' most fervent belie fs. Now, bearing the disappointments and successes of their chose n paths, these daughters are drawn inexorably home. Kiran, divor ced, will seek a new beginning-this time requesting the aid of an ancient tradition she once dismissed. Preity will confront an ol d heartbreak-and a hidden shame. And Rani will face her demons as an artist and a wife. All will question whether they have the co urage of the Hindi-Bindi Club, to hold on to their dreams-or to c reate new ones. An elegant tapestry of East and West, peppered w ith food and ceremony, wisdom and sensuality, this luminous novel breathes new life into timeless themes. Editorial Reviews From Publishers Weekly The age-old intergenerational struggle between mothers and daughters gets a curried twist in Pradhan's debut, i n which the subcontinent meets the modern West. As children, firs t-generation Americans Kiran Deshpande, Preity Chawla Lindstrom a nd Rani McGuiness Tomashot gently mocked their Indian mothers, co llectively nicknamed The Hindi-Bindi Club for their Old World lea nings. Though the three are now successful adults, they aren't ne cessarily seen as such by their parents. For starters, none marri ed Indian men. But now, Kiran's parents may get their chance to s emi-arrange a marriage for their divorced daughter as she conside rs the possibility that there may be something to the old ways. P reity, mostly happily married to business school beau Eric, carri es a small torch for a long-lost love--a Muslim her parents didn' t approve of--and considers seeking him out. Meanwhile, rocket sc ientist Rani's passion for art starts to pay off as she becomes s piritually listless. Pradhan's debut is breezy (there are enough recipes dotting the narrative to fill a cookbook), though it touc hes on not-so sunny issues--prejudice, breast cancer, infidelity. The prose isn't dynamite and the characters are stock, but the n ovel easily fulfills its ready-made requirements. (May) Copyrigh t ® Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. A ll rights reserved. --This text refers to an alternate paperback edition. From Booklist Like Amy Tan's Joy Luck Club (1988), Prad han's first novel, which features six alternating narrators, spea ks to the cultural and generational tensions between immigrant mo thers and their Westernized daughters. Recently divorced Kiran De shpande, a family doctor who longs for a family of her own, is fi nally willing to admit that her Indian parents might have been ri ght to disapprove of her marriage to a musician with a wandering eye. She's come home after a long estrangement to discuss with he r parents her wish to consider an arranged marriage. Her mother, recently diagnosed with breast cancer, is more than willing to pl ay peacemaker between her authoritarian husband and her headstron g daughter. The narrative also encompasses two other young women, childhood friends of Kiran, and their individual struggles with their parents, including battles with clinical depression and ano rexia. Although Pradhan's novel is much lighter than Tan's, her p ages are alive with the sights, sounds, and smells (recipes inclu ded) of a vibrant Indian culture. In addition, her young characte rs speak with fresh but cutting humor about the difficulties of a ssimilation. Joanne Wilkinson Copyright © American Library Associ ation. All rights reserved --This text refers to an alternate pap erback edition. Review At the beginning of this debut novel, Ame rican-born Kiran Deshpande returns home as the divorced prodigal daughter of Indian parents. But her story quickly unfolds into th e larger tale of her mother, Meenal, and Meenal's friends, whom K iran and her childhood friends Preity and Rani had dubbed the Hin di-Bindi Club... Each chapter is narrated by a different characte r and explores the diverse experiences of these mothers, daughers , and wives who struggle to be Indian and American. Readers learn about cherished family recipes and the history that brought thes e women to the present. Pradhan imbues the narrative with such ho nesty and real emotion that the novel is difficult to put down. H ighly recommended for readers who enjoy mother-daughter fiction a nd all popular fiction collections. -- Library Journal, May 1, 20 07 Everything you wanted to know about India, its culture and it s people combine here to make a fascinating read. -- Rocky Mounta in News, April 12, 2007 Pradhan's vibrant tale bears witness to the eternal struggle between mothers and daughters, with a slight Bollywood twist. Instead of elaborate musical numbers, the reade r is treated to all manner of delicious, mouth-watering recipes t hat bookend each chapter. Told from the multiple points of view o f both mothers and daughters, we see that, although cultures may be different, the problems between the generations are universal. A rich tapestry of a people, a country and three distinct famili es is woven into this story of mothers and daughters, childhood a nd adulthood, marriage and love, food and sustenance. An Indian mother feels it's her duty to pass along her recipes to her daug hter, to pass along her wisdom before she dies. Through THE HINDI -BINDI CLUB, Monica Pradhan lovingly has passed along her history , recipes and culture to hungry, grateful readers. -- BookReporte r.com THE HINDI-BINDI CLUB is a small treasure of a book. I foun d it to be a warm, loving peek into a culture about which I know little or nothing. It contains many details of the cultural and s ocial customs of India, how they have translated and changed with in our culture, and even recipes for traditional Indian dishes. I t made me look at people I know who have immigrated in a new way. It highlights the tale of generational America, and the diversit y that makes us. Weighty stuff, but written in a witty, fun way. -- Romance Reviews Today, May 1, 2007 --This text refers to an al ternate paperback edition. About the Author Monica Pradhan's par ents immigrated to the United States from Mumbai, India, in the 1 960s. She was born in Pittsburgh, PA, and grew up outside Washing ton, DC. and now lives in Minnesota and Toronto with her husband. --This text refers to an alternate paperback edition. Excerpt. ® Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Kiran Deshpande: Where Are You From? I have lanced many boils, but none pained lik e my own. INDIAN ADAGE I'm never sure what people want to know w hen they ask me: Where are you from? The question doesn't offend me, as I'm curious about people myself. I'm fascinated by the or igins of family trees, the land and seas over which seeds migrate , cross-pollinate, and germinate anew. In my thirty-two years, I 've traveled to all fifty United States, lived in ten of them, in every American time zone, most since I left home for college at seventeen and never moved back. A modern gypsy, I've developed an ear for accents. I'm charmed by different cadences. It's a game for me to place them, to listen for the fish out of water. Is th at Texas I hear? I ask with a smile-always a smile, the universal ambassador of goodwill-of a lady in Juno, Alaska. I never ask t hat slippery little devil, you know the one: Where are you from? Sometimes, I envy people who can answer this deceptively simple question in two words or less. Jersey or Chicago, New Orleans or Southern Cal. People who've lived most of their lives in a single state, sometimes even a single town. People whose physical appea rance or last name is unremarkable. I don't fall into any of the se categories. When I get this question-not an everyday occurren ce, but I get it more than most-I'm never certain what informatio n the person seeks. Is it the origin of my own mid-Atlantic accen t? My heritage? My married name (read off a credit card, a check, or a name tag)? To cover the bases, I supply all three. Probabl y overkill, but I figure the desired answer's somewhere in here: My parents emigrated from India in the 1960s when my father went to medical school at Harvard. I was born in Cambridge but grew up outside of Washington, D.C. My husband's last name is Italian. If I answer with a genuine smile, I almost always receive one in response, which strengthens my belief in karma. A guy once told me I looked like Disney's Princess Jasmine, except my boobs weren 't big enough. For the first four years of our marriage, I assume d he exaggerated on both counts. Princess Jasmine is prettier th an I am, but she isn't bigger than a B-cup, thankyouverymuch. In retrospect, as I reflect on his statement (something I do less a s time goes on), I wonder if he meant my boobs weren't big enough for him. This would be a logical con- clusion after coming home early to find his face sand- wiched between a pair of D-cups. Sil icon D-cups, which is my professional opinion as a practicing phy sician, not just another ex-wife whose husband screwed around on her. I am wondering about this today as I appreciate the latest and greatest water bra in the Victoria's Secret dressing room. It 's the first week of December, and I'm almost finished with my ho liday shopping, so I'm splurging on a few things for myself. The water bra has a lovely effect, I must admit as I turn from side t o side. I take it off and decide I look great, with or without th e bra. I'm young. I'm healthy. My body is well toned. Nothing sag s. So why am I crying? A tissue box sits on a ledge, as if my m eltdown is not an isolated phenomenon in these dressing rooms. I thank whomever for the forethought and mop my face. Why are you crying? I ask the woman in the mirror. You have everything going for you. Yes, but where will it go from here? the woman replies. And with whom? I turn my back because I can't bear to look at h er anymore, but I can't leave either. Not like this. Once I was s tuck in a stairwell after I lost a patient. I couldn't come out u ntil I regained control, couldn't risk the family seeing me that way. They count on me to be strong when they're weak. But who's s trong for me when I'm weak? The woman in the mirror mocks me bec ause she still looks so young, yet for the first time, I feel the acceleration of time. It doesn't seem so long ago I turned twent y-two, med school and marriage my dreams. Now here I am a decade later, a doctor, married and divorced. I've crossed thirty, and I 'm afraid if I blink, I'll be staring at forty, looking back on t oday. It seems like just yesterday I fell apart in the Victoria' s Secret dressing room, I'll say as I recollect the days when I h ad perky breasts. Stark reality presses against me, a cold steth oscope on my bare skin. I cringe and shiver, hug my arms, rub my goose bumps. The truth is I am terrified. Of squandering my preci ous time on this earth. Of wasting what's left of my youth. Of tu rning the big Four-O and looking back with regrets. I'm a family doctor. Every day, I see families. I want a family, too. I'm he althy and vibrant now, but with each passing year, my eggs age. I 'm tired of wandering. Tired of my gypsy existence as a traveling doc, temporarily filling in where there's a need. Tired of runni ng away from the fact my foolish heart betrayed me as much as Ant hony's cheating. I yank two more tissues from the box and discov er they're the last ones. Isn't that life? One day the tissues ru n out. So what's your strategy with the tissues you have, Kiran? I don't want to freeze my eggs. I don't want to visit a sperm b ank. I don't want to be a single parent, if I have any choice in the matter. I want a nuclear family. I want to put down roots, to let my seeds germinate, to watch them bloom and flourish. Not on e day, if and when I ever fall in love again, but now. While I st ill have my youth, damn it. I glance over my shoulder at the puf fy-eyed woman in the mirror. Slowly, I turn and face her. There i s a solution, if she's willing to keep an open mind, to think wit h her head this time, instead of her heart. I take a deep breath, hold it, and nod. And right there in the Victoria's Secret dress ing room, in my yuppie-chick equivalent of a midlife crisis, I al low myself to contemplate something I always deemed impossible, d ismissed as cold, archaic, backward. The mate-seeking process tha t served my parents, most of their Indian-immigrant friends, and generations of ancestors for centuries. An arranged marriage. L eaving the shopping carnival of Georgetown Park, I stand at the i ntersection of M Street and Wisconsin Avenue and wait for the wal k signal. You'd think I'd be done with malls, but no. When I got my driver's license at sixteen, Georgetown was the place to hang out, and for me, it's never lost its appeal. I love the shops and restaurants, the inter- national and academic atmosphere, the co lonial architecture. Whenever I'm back in town, I make a pit stop here on my way home. It grounds me. I walk up the brick sidewal k to 33rd and Q. It's been five years since my last visit, but my ritual's unchanged. If I can get a space, I parallel park near m y dream house, a Tudor that resembles a gingerbread house, its fe nce and gate laced with a jungle of ivy, trimmed to reveal the po inted tips of cast-iron rungs as straight as spears. When I gradu ated from high school, in addition to throwing a penny in the mal l fountain and making a wish, I put a note in the mailbox on Q St reet asking the owners to please call me when they wanted to sell the house. I hoped by the time they were ready, I would be, too. I'm still waiting. With my purchases-a red poinsettia in green foil and white roses with sprigs of fern-ensconced in the passeng er seat of my Saab, I take Key Bridge across the muddy Potomac an d cruise down the G.W. Parkway toward the 'burbs. I'm tempted to stop-and stall some more-at one of the scenic overlooks (make-out hot spots). Instead, I crack the w, Bloomsbury (Penguin), 2007, 2.5, Sky Pony Press. Paperback. Used; Good. Simply Brit – welcome to our online used book store, where affordability meets great quality. Dive into a world of captivating reads without breaking the bank. We take pride in offering a wide selection of used books, from classics to hidden gems, ensuring there’s something for every literary palate. All orders are shipped within 24 hours and our lightning fast-delivery within 48 hours coupled with our prompt customer service ensures a smooth journey from ordering to delivery. Discover the joy of reading with us, your trusted source for affordable books that do not compromise on quality. 05/19/2016, Sky Pony Press, 2.5<
