01 October 2015

Tracing the Line by Ally Bishop Book Blitz!

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A new steamy romance novel from Ally Bishop... What if the man of your dreams is involved in a world you despise?


Get it on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Smashwords, and more!

About Tracing the Line 

They say love doesn’t hurt. But it’s a lie. I promise you, love someone long enough, and they’ll destroy your soul. I’ve spent my life taking care of everyone else: my family, my ex-husband, my friends. Deep down, I know I should focus on myself, but how can I when I’ve got one sister about to implode while the other battles her own guilt? The minute I met Kai Isaac, I should’ve run in the opposite direction. His business isn’t one I want any part of, and I’ve got way too much drama in my life already. But his kiss...those eyes...the raging inferno he creates when he touches me...I can’t stay away. Life’s reeling out of control, and he’s my only refuge from the storm. My sister Lux says trusting someone means not knowing everything about them and being okay with it...but what if not knowing the truth ruins everything? Heat rating: Super sexy, with very light kink ;) 
Tracing the Line is the third book in the Without a Trace series, but may be read as a stand-alone story.
Add Tracing the Line to your TBR list on Goodreads:

Tracing the Line

Note from the author Thank you so much for checking out my book, Tracing the Line! This is book 3 in the Without a Trace series (but can be read as a stand-alone story!), and tells the tale of Kai and Zi, Lux's sister—it comes right after Inside the Lines. If you read and Lux and Fin's story, you'll recall a little of Zi's story...and this time, you get a front row seat to the heat. Keep an eye out as book 4 in the Without a Series will be out this year!


Tracing the Line
Blurb:
They say love doesn’t hurt.


But it’s a lie. I promise you, love someone long enough, and they’ll destroy your soul.


I’ve spent my life taking care of everyone else: my family, my ex-husband, my friends. Deep down, I know I should focus on myself, but how can I when I’ve got one sister about to implode while the other battles her own guilt?


The minute I met Kai Isaac, I should’ve run in the opposite direction. His business isn’t one I want any part of, and I’ve got way too much drama in my life already.


But his kiss...those eyes...the raging inferno he creates when he touches me...I can’t stay away. Life’s reeling out of control, and he’s my only refuge from the storm.


My sister Lux says trusting someone means not knowing everything about them and being okay with it...but what if not knowing the truth ruins everything?


Heat rating: Super sexy, with very light kink ;)


Tracing the Line is the third book in the Without a Trace series, but may be read as a stand-alone story.


You can purchase Tracing the Line at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, iBooks, and Smashwords.
Amazon: http://bit.ly/TracingAMZ
Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/TracingBandN
Kobo: http://bit.ly/Tracingkobo
Smashwords: http://bit.ly/TracingSW

Goodreads: http://bit.ly/tracinglineGR

Special sneak peek:

Ch. 1: Zi thinks she's here to spend the day with Lux and watch a filming of a short indie film. But Lux has other ideas...and they don't involve Zi just watching... It's definitely a film set. There's a screen against one wall around which cameras, poles with lights, and several people cluster. The rest of the room lies in shadow, in which Lux and I are standing. 
"Answer my—" "Lux! How are you?" A tall, thin guy pulls Lux into a hug. She embraces him back with a huge smile. 
"Ger! Awesome to see you." When she pulls back, she introduces us. 
"Ger is the director on this film. Ger, this is my sister Zi, and she's here to fill in for Fiona." 
He holds out a hand, his expression weary but cheerful. "Ah, our last victim. I mean, participant." He smiles warmly as we shake, and I'm wildly conscious of how cold my fingers are against his very warm ones.
"We weren't sure if we had one more to go—the other party canceled, too." "You don't need Zi?" Lux asks. 
"No, no, we can use her. I'll get Kai to stand-in. Let me sound the alarm to get ready." 
"Ready for—" My question dies on my lips as he turns away, bellowing at his people to get "set up." I turn to my sister, drawing myself up to my full five-feet-eleven-inches so I can glare down at her. 
"What am I getting ready for here?" My tone brooks no excuses, and she lifts a shoulder with a heavy exhale. 
"They're making a promotional film for a movie series their doing. It's silly, fun, whimsical, sweet—" 
"And what am I doing here then?" 
"You're one of the cast." If the idea of being filmed wasn't terrifying enough... "Doing what, exactly?" Lux nibbles her full bottom lip. "Making out with someone." 
"What?" My voice drops an octave. "It'll be fun, Zizi Baby. It's a series of strangers connecting, kissing a bit, showing who we are at our most intimate." Lux seems to rethink her words. 
"Hm, okay, maybe that does sounds a little scary." 
"No, absolutely not." I spin towards the door. "Not going to happen." 
But there's several people behind us now, doing God only knows what, so it's not like I can run out into the hallway. I feel a heavy hand on my shoulder, and Ger is back, a big smile on his lean face. 
"Zi, right? We're going to get you into hair and makeup briefly—just a few minutes—and then we'll be ready." I glare at my sister. 
"Are you going to explain this to him, or am I?" Lux takes Ger's arm. 
"We'll be right over." Ger laughs and nods. 
"No problem. Kai's in a meeting so we've got a few minutes." Lux doesn't even give me a second to yell at her. 
"Look, I know this is weird, and I know this wasn't what you expected. But you've been single for two years now. Not a single date...text...anything." 
She grips my arms, staring into my eyes. "You need to have some fun. Let loose a little. This is safe; these are nice folks, they're doing cool things, and you get to make out with someone for a few minutes without any repercussions. Maybe you'll rediscover your sex drive." 
"I have a perfectly fine sex drive, thank you very much." But I can't deny her words. I've worked so much and so hard, and if I'm honest, it's been easier than even contemplating dating again. She knows why I haven't stepped toe on the field again, and she's probably right: if I'm not thrown into the pool, I might never swim again. But that doesn't mean I'm letting her off the hook. "Why didn't you just tell me what this was all about?" 
"Because you'd never have come. And you need this, Zi. You need something. God, you're younger than me, yet you act like you're older." I stick my tongue out at her. "Easy for you to say, Ms. Hottie-with-a-Scottie." She grins, any mention of her love Fin MacKenzie turning her cheeks pink with delight. "Very true. And we need to find you your hottie, okay? But first, we have to get you in fighting condition. Today might be a good ice breaker." I widen my eyes and blow out a breath. "I'm not sure making out with a stranger is going to fix anything." 
"Maybe not." She steers me towards a door on the other side of the room. "But it can't hurt."

Here I am, makeup-ed and my hair spritzed and coiffed—the stylist insisted my long locks should be down in soft curls and used a surprisingly small amount of makeup—and I'm standing on "my mark," an "X" of black tape on the floor. "Just do what comes naturally," Ger says, patting my shoulder. "We're looking for honest reactions." 
"Don't I need another party for this?" I ask, my acidic tone a result of my nerves. Ger chuckles. "You do. He's on his way." I'm just hoping he's not a stunt double for a hunchback. Lux stands off-camera, chatting with a "grip," or at least, I think that's what the woman's called. A gaffer? I can barely remember my own name at this point. In order to make me feel more comfortable, Ger introduced me to several of the people standing around in casual wear, some manning cameras and mics, others with clipboards. There's not that many people—maybe eight, total, but it seems like a lot in this small space. 
"Sorry that took so long," echoes a deep voice behind Ger. "No worries, Kai. Zi, this is our executive producer, Kai Isaac." I'm not a short woman, but Kai makes me feel tiny. If the man didn't play basketball, coaches somewhere must've drowned in sorrow. His dark hair, wavy, in a rumpled, not-quite-styled look begs to be touched. Like the rest of the crew, he wears jeans and a t-shirt, and he moves with an elegance that belies his casual air. 
But I'm captured by his gaze. Smoky green and muted amber, with flecks of gold around the center, and when those eyes meet mine, there's a softness that steals my breath. 
"Good to meet you," he says with a smile. His hand feels huge around mine as we shake, and I struggle to find my tongue. 
"Y-you as well." "Now that we're all here, we can get started." Ger steps back, leaving Kai and me facing each other. 
"Remember: we want this to be honest, so try to relax. We're going to roll tape, and you're going to get started when you're ready. And...action." 
Suddenly, the room seems too small and too big at the same time. Kai looks down at me, his full lips curved with a small grin. 
"Are you okay?" 
"We're not supposed to talk or something first?" I lick my lips, my mouth dry, and I'm wildly aware that I didn't chew gum after eating breakfast. God, is my breath bad? 
"Not really. The goal is to show what happens when strangers lose themselves in another person." 
I'm pretty sure I'm already lost. I trail my hand through my hair, nerves fluttering. How am I still upright? He steps closer, reaches for my hands. His touch is gentle, and he draws my palms up to his shoulders. 
"Pretend we're in a club, and I've gotten up the nerve to ask the most beautiful woman in the room for a dance. You don't know me, but there's something between us." 
He grins, both charming and teasing. His broad shoulders are hard beneath my fingers, and as his hands rest lightly on my waist, it's impossible not to melt against him, to feel his long, muscled body against mine. 
"I don't know how to dance," I whisper, then want to kick myself. With my hormones firing like loose cannons, anything's liable to come out of my mouth. "I'll teach you." 
With aching slowness, he lowers his mouth to mine. His lips are soft, curious, and as we explore each other, he tightens his hold around me, his fingers slipping into my hair. He deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding against mine, and he tastes of cinnamon with a hint of coffee. I can barely take a breath as I dissolve against him. His palm grazes my hip, seeking purchase as he presses me closer, and I can feel the hard length of him against my lower stomach. 
Some part of me is relieved: I'm not the only one getting turned on. A small voice in the back of my mind reminds me that I'm making out with a total stranger, but that doesn't seem to make much impact. Or maybe, that's the point? Minutes—hell, it could be hours—pass, and we break away, both breathing heavily. I catch a faint whiff of something mildly spicy—aftershave?—mixed with him, and I want more. 
He holds my face close, his gaze seeking. Satisfied, his lips brush against mine. An invitation, and one I'm more than happy to oblige. 
This time, I guide our pace, mouths hungry and wanting, my hands exploring the hard planes of his back and shoulders. He answers easily but doesn't push. Instead, I take us deeper, dropping my hand to his ass and pulling him against me. His mouth trails to my neck, searing my skin with kisses and small nips. It's all I can do not to moan. 
His fingers slide beneath my tank, over the bare skin of my lower back, as his lips blaze a path over my shoulder and collarbone. My knees weaken, and I hold onto him as every nerve ending sparks with pleasure. I'm ready to explode when he gently pulls back, drawing his hands up to my shoulders. 
"I'd love to enjoy you even more, but I'm not sure if you'd want that on camera," he says softly. 

Once she's had a taste, can Zi resist Kai's heat? Get your copy of Tracing the Line to find out!  
The Cast of Tracing the Line 


Zi


   
Kai Young man relaxing Blue redhead girl with hair on wind 
Ella Ella Noah  

Lux Lux 
The Playlist This was a challenging one to find music for...only because there are so many songs that inspired me while writing this book! 




About Ally Bishop When you do something effortlessly and people commend you continuously, you have found your gift. 

That’s what I tell 
allypeople all the time. And it’s true. I get story. I always have. I started writing when I was 8 on a Smith Corona (the electronic kind — I’m not THAT old). I wrote stories in every spiral notebook I had.

Eventually, I graduated to a Mac (yes, I’m one of THOSE people). I imagined new worlds, emotional conflicts, and HEAs while I waited at stoplights or wandered the grocery store. But here’s the thing: I didn’t just dream it up and write it down — I critiqued what I read. I knew when ideas were good, and when they stunk. I ran writing groups, judged creative contests, and eventually got two graduate degrees in writing. 

That’s right: I love it that much. So here I am, years later, writing kickass heroines and devastating good guys, along with some mystery and vampires thrown in (I promise: THEY’RE COMING). And what’s really cool? I do what I love. 

Wanna write a success story for your life: I promise you, that’s it. Do what you love. And hopefully, you can make a living at it too. That’s the golden ticket, Charlie. And chocolate doesn’t hurt, either… 

The serious stuff: I have an M.A. in creative writing, as well as an M.F.A. in creative writing with a focus in publishing. I produce two podcasts, host one, and am a freelance editor and publicist over at Upgrade Your Story

In my free time (what is that, exactly?), I read, workout, game, and converse. I’m a high introvert despite my extroverted behaviors, so you’ll find me behind my computer most days. 

I’m married to the wild and brilliant Billy Crash, have two dogs who are filing to change their species designation to “human,” and can often be found wandering Manhattan in search of the perfect writing spot. 

You can find me at Twitter at @upgradestory & @allyabishop, Facebook, Pinterest, and my website. Looking for the giveaway? You found it! 
Giveaway Has Ended.

Giveaway

On the Road Vagabonds #2 Jade C. Jamison Spotlight!

On the Road
Vagabonds #2
Jade C. Jamison




All that glitters isn’t gold. Sometimes it’s plastic.

Kyle Summers hits the road with her band the Vagabonds, living the dream. Five young women are tossed into the limelight with little supervision, seemingly left to the wolves. Kyle is driven and headstrong, and—while she enjoys the temptations of sex and drugs on the road—music always comes first. In spite of her friends crumbling under the pressure and lack of support, the Vagabonds become a household name and enjoy success not experienced by people far beyond their years.

But Kyle realizes two things—one is that her relationships are hollow without love, but she and CJ, her main love interest, are only on-again, off-again at best, leaving her feeling unfulfilled. The second is that Kyle quickly grows weary of dealing with egos and prima donnas, and she feels helpless while watching her band fall apart.

Can she save her band—and her relationship with CJ—or will she end up alone and forgotten?

Vagabonds follows one young woman’s rise to fame past the pitfalls of sex, drugs, and easy money, through fortune and success to heartbreak and betrayal. Five girls build their band The Vagabonds from nothing but a hunger to create and quickly find that they are nothing but pawns in a larger game played by managers, agents, the press, the music industry, and all manner of unscrupulous, greedy people who want to feed on their triumphs. Friendships and lives hang in the balance. Who will survive?



ENJOY THE SHOW!!!








Also in this series:

On the Run Vagabonds #1

On the Rocks Vagabonds #3

About the author


For years, Jade C. Jamison tried really hard to write what she thought was more "literary" fiction, but she found herself compelled to write what you read by her today--sometimes gritty, raw, realistic stories and other times humorous, light tales--but most of the stories she writes revolve around relationships and characters finding their way through life. While she doesn't confine herself to just one genre, nor is there a nice neat label for what she writes, most of her work could be called erotic romance. Her main writing passions include rock star romance, romantic comedy, and romantic suspense.


Brought to you by:

Wherever There Is Light by Peter Golden Spotlight With Giveaway!



ABOUT WHEREVER THERE IS LIGHT

From the author of Comeback Love­, a sweeping, panoramic tale of twentieth-century America, chronicling the decades-long love affair between a Jewish immigrant and the granddaughter of a slave.

Julian Rose is only fifteen when he leaves his family and Germany for a new life in 1920s America. Lonely at first, he eventually finds his way—first by joining up with Longy Zwillman and becoming one of the preeminent bootleggers on the East Coast, and later by amassing a fortune in real estate.

Kendall Wakefield is a free-spirited college senior who longs to become a painter. Her mother, the daughter of a slave and founder of an African-American college in South Florida, is determined to find a suitable match for her only daughter.

One evening in 1938, Mrs. Wakefield hosts a dinner that reunites Julian with his parents—who have been rescued from Hitler’s Germany by the college—and brings him together with Kendall for the first time. From that encounter begins a thirty-year affair that will take the lovers from the beaches of Miami to the jazz clubs of Greenwich Village to postwar life in Paris, where they will mingle with Sartre, Picasso, and a host of other artists and intellectuals. Through his years serving in American intelligence and as an interrogator at the Nuremberg trials, what Julian wants most is to marry and find the joy that eluded his parents. Kendall craves her freedom, and after trading her oil paints for a Leica camera, becomes a celebrated photographer, among the first American journalists to photograph the survivors of a liberated concentration camp. Yet despite distance, their competing desires, and the rapidly changing world, their longing for each other remains a constant in the ceaseless sweep of time.

Captivating and infused with historical detail, this is the epic tale of three generations, two different but intertwined families, and one unforgettable love story.


About the Author
Peter Golden is an award-winning journalist and the author of six full-length works of non-fiction and fiction.

Some of his work has appeared in the Detroit Free Press Magazine, Albany Times Union, New Jersey Monthly, Microsoft’s eDirections, Beyond Computing, Electronic Business, Midstream, The Forward and Capital Region Magazine.

Golden’s Quiet Diplomat, a biography of industrialist and political-insider Max M. Fisher made the Detroit Free Press bestseller list. Among those he interviewed were Presidents Nixon, Ford, Reagan and Bush; Secretaries of State Kissinger, Haig and Shultz; and Israeli Prime Ministers Shamir, Peres and Rabin.

With J. Stanley Shaw, Golden wrote I Rest My Case: My Long Journey from the Castle on the Hill to Home, a memoir that chronicles Shaw’s life from his childhood years under the supervision of the Brooklyn Hebrew Orphan Asylum in the 1930s to his career as one of the preeminent bankruptcy attorneys in the United States.

Golden re-interviewed Henry Kissinger, George Shultz and other world leaders, including Mikhail Gorbachev, for his nonfiction look at the Cold War, O Powerful Western Star (Gefen Publishing, May 2012).
His debut novel Comeback Love (Atria Books, April 2012) tells the story of a man and his romantic quest to find the women he loved and lost years before in the 1960s.

Golden grew up in South Orange and Maplewood, New Jersey, and lives today outside Albany, New York with his wife and son.


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30 September 2015

A Master Passion: The Story of Alexander and Elizabeth Hamilton: Book One: Love and Liberty by Juliet Waldron, Includes Giveaway! #AMasterPassionBlogTour #HistoricalFiction

02_A Master Passion


Publication Date: March 25, 2015 
Books We Love eBook & Print; 
428 Pages 
Genre: Historical Fiction

  Add to GR Button  
   
THE MASTER PASSION is the story of the marriage of our brilliant first Secretary of the Treasury, Alexander Hamilton, and his courageous wife, Elizabeth Schuyler. It begins with a whirlwind Revolutionary War courtship at Washington’s headquarters. Conflict, however, is built into this marriage. Betsy's passion is Alexander. While Hamilton adores his wife and children, there are times when he loves America more. “...And hence one Master Passion in the breast Like Aaron's serpent, swallows up all the rest..." ~~Alexander Pope

AMAZON | BARNES & NOBLE | BOOK DEPOSITORY

03_Juliet WaldronABOUT THE AUTHOR

Juliet Waldron has lived in many US states, in the UK and the West Indies. She earned a B. A. in English, but has worked at jobs ranging from artist’s model to brokerage. Thirty years ago, after her sons left home, she dropped out of 9-5 and began to write, hoping to create a genuine time travel experience for her readers. Juliet’s a grandmother, a cat person, and fascinated by reading history and archeology. Juliet spends a lot of time visiting other centuries, but she’s also certain she doesn’t want to live there. Juliet gardens, bicycles and is involved in local advocacy groups. She and her husband of fifty years enjoy the winding backroads of PA aboard their Hayabusa superbike. For more information visit Juliet Waldron's website. Juliet also blogs at Possum Tracks and Crone Henge, and you can follow her on Facebook, Pinterest, and Goodreads.

BLOG TOUR SCHEDULE

Monday, September 21 
Interview at Library Educated 
Guest Post at What Is That Book About 
Tuesday, September 22 
Review at With Her Nose Stuck In A Book 
Spotlight at Please Pass the Books 
Wednesday, September 23 
Spotlight at Svetlana's Reads and Views 
Thursday, September 24 
Guest Post at To Read, Or Not to Read 
Friday, September 25 
Spotlight at Raven Haired Girl 
Saturday, September 26 
Spotlight at View from the Birdhouse 
Monday, September 28 
Review at In a Minute 
Tuesday, September 29 
Review at Diana's Book Reviews 
Wednesday, September 30 
Review at A Fold in the Spine 
Spotlight at CelticLady's Reviews 
Thursday, October 1 
Review at Bookish 
Review at The Maiden's Court 
Friday, October 2 
Review at I'm Shelf-ish 
Review at Beth's Book Nook Blog 
Spotlight at Broken Teepee

GIVEAWAY

To enter to win a paperback copy of A Master Passion & $5 Amazon Gift Card, please enter via the GLEAM form below. 

Rules – Giveaway ends at 11:59pm EST on October 2nd. You must be 18 or older to enter. – Giveaway is open to US residents only. – Only one entry per household. – All giveaway entrants agree to be honest and not cheat the systems; any suspect of fraud is decided upon by blog/site owner and the sponsor, and entrants may be disqualified at our discretion – Winner has 48 hours to claim prize or new winner is chosen. 

A Master Passion

04_A Master Passion_Blog Tour Banner_FINAL

The Beautiful American by Jeanne Mackin Spotlight!

02_The Beautiful American

Publication Date: June 3, 2014
NAL/Penguin Group
Formats: eBook, Paperback, Audio
352 Pages
Genre: Historical Fiction

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As recovery from World War II begins, expat American Nora Tours travels from her home in southern France to London in search of her missing sixteen-year-old daughter. There, she unexpectedly meets up with an old acquaintance, famous model-turned-photographer Lee Miller. Neither has emerged from the war unscathed. Nora is racked with the fear that her efforts to survive under the Vichy regime may have cost her daughter's life. Lee suffers from what she witnessed as a war correspondent photographing the liberation of the Nazi concentration camps. Nora and Lee knew each other in the heady days of late 1920's Paris, when Nora was giddy with love for her childhood sweetheart, Lee became the celebrated mistress of the artist Man Ray, and Lee's magnetic beauty drew them all into the glamorous lives of famous artists and their wealthy patrons. But Lee fails to realize that her friendship with Nora is even older, that it goes back to their days as children in Poughkeepsie, New York, when a devastating trauma marked Lee forever. Will Nora's reunion with Lee give them a chance to forgive past betrayals, and break years of silence? A novel of freedom and frailty, desire and daring, The Beautiful American portrays the extraordinary relationship between two passionate, unconventional woman.

AMAZON | BARNES & NOBLE | BOOKS-A-MILLION | GOOGLE PLAY | IBOOKSTORE | INDIEBOUND | POWELL'S

PRAISE

"Will transport you to expat Paris." - Suzanne Rindell, author of The Other Typist "A brilliant, beautifully written literary masterpiece" - Sandra Dallas, author of Fallen Women

 "Leaves its essence of love, loss, regret and hope long after the novel concludes." - Erika Robuck, author of Fallen Beauty

 "Achingly beautiful and utterly mesmerizing...her vividly drawn characters...come heartbreakingly alive in their obsessions, tragedies and triumphs" - Jennifer Robson, author of Somewhere in France

 "From Poughkeepsie to Paris, from the razzmatazz of the twenties to the turmoil of World War Two and the perfume factories of Grasse, Mackin draws you into the world of expatriate artists and photographers and tells a story of love, betrayal, survival and friendship...an engaging and unforgettable novel" - Renee Rosen, author Doll Face

Read an Excerpt
Prologue
Départ


The very first hint of fragrance, experienced when the perfume bottle is first opened, before the fragrance is in direct contact with the skin, the nose and the heart. Similar, really, to a book opened but not yet read...or, perhaps, a door opened to a visitor not yet visible, one who lurks in shadow.  The départ begins the  journey of the perfume and its wearer.

---From the notebooks of N. Tours
In the ornate doorway of Harrods perfume hall people rushed past me as I stood, frozen.
A radio played somewhere, Churchill's voice rising over the crowd, commending the English again for surviving the storm-beaten voyage.  The war was over, we were picking
up the pieces and carefully, slowly putting our lives back together. But my daughter was lost. The grief struck me anew and I was  immobile in a doorway, unable to go forwards or backwards, unmoored by grief.
A summer afternoon long ago Jamie and I went to Upton Lake to swim and make love, and there had been a boat, abandoned by rich summer people who didn't know how to tie a knot, and the boat had bobbed in the waves, turning this way and that as a storm stalked over the lake.  I was that boat.   "Move on!"  the doorman shouted at me, but my legs wouldn't work. I was exhausted.  When I walked there was a chant in my head, Dahlia is gone, Dahlia is gone, over and over, a syllable with every step, so that I hated to move. People pushed past me, some smiling in sympathy, some merely irritated. Their string shopping bags and brown-wrapped boxes jostled me; their elbows poked.
The doorman frowned.  He took me by the arm and pulled me out of that flood of people. "Look, dearie," he said. "Are you coming or going?"
"I don't know," I admitted.
His expression softened.  He was an older man with a deeply lined face, pale eyes sunk into their sockets,  and there was an authority to him that went beyond his doorman's
uniform.  Probably during the war he had been an air raid warden.  He would have been too old to be a soldier.
"Well then," he said.  "Why don't you go in? That's always a good starting point.  There you go."  He turned me around, gently, and gave me a little push, back to that threshold, where I suddenly remembered I wanted to enter, to continue the search for my daughter.up the pieces and carefully, slowly putting our lives back together. But my daughter was lost. The grief struck me anew and I was  immobile in a doorway, unable to go forwards or backwards, unmoored by grief.
A summer afternoon long ago Jamie and I went to Upton Lake to swim and make love, and there had been a boat, abandoned by rich summer people who didn't know how to tie a knot, and the boat had bobbed in the waves, turning this way and that as a storm stalked over the lake.  I was that boat.   "Move on!"  the doorman shouted at me, but my legs wouldn't work. I was exhausted.  When I walked there was a chant in my head, Dahlia is gone, Dahlia is gone, over and over, a syllable with every step, so that I hated to move. People pushed past me, some smiling in sympathy, some merely irritated. Their string shopping bags and brown-wrapped boxes jostled me; their elbows poked.
The doorman frowned.  He took me by the arm and pulled me out of that flood of people. "Look, dearie," he said. "Are you coming or going?"
"I don't know," I admitted.
His expression softened.  He was an older man with a deeply lined face, pale eyes sunk into their sockets,  and there was an authority to him that went beyond his doorman's
I moved through the doorway, overwhelmed by the synthetic florals and citruses of the post-war perfumes. They enter the nose aggressively, fighting for attention like unruly school children. What I most remembered about my own child was how the long braid she wore down her back smelled of lavender, a single note of innocence. My lost child.
Sixteen years ago, I ran away.  And now, my daughter had, too, or at least I hoped she had, for the other possibilities were unthinkable.  But after months of searching, I hadn't found Dahlia in any of those places where a young girl might find shelter: not in the homes of friends in southern France;  not in Paris in the narrow streets of Montparnasse, the cafés and gardens and boulevards of those years with Jamie;  not in the orphanages that sheltered children whose parents had not survived.  She had left no trace.
So I had come, finally,  to London, to the almost-beginning. Beginnings are like endings, never completely finished, simply receding like the horizon.   Here, in the doorway of Harrods, one rainy morning almost two decades ago, Jamie and I had agreed that we would leave England and go to Paris, and that if all went well, we would marry and begin our family.  I had told Dahlia that story,  how I had dreamed of her years before she was born.
I had already been in London for three days, walking the streets, asking hotel clerks and checking registers at shelters, looking for her, fighting down panic and dread.  The boarding house where Jamie and I had stayed had been bombed and so had the little pub where we had had our noon fish and chips and pint. There was destruction everywhere.  St. Paul's Cathedral had been bombed, St. James Palace, Houses of Parliament. Half the population of London had been made homeless.   This was no place for a young girl on her own, even one with papers and a little cash, for her papers and her savings had disappeared with her.
Dahlia is sixteen, I kept reminding myself.  She was tall and strong and sensible.  She spoke French and English fluently and could get by in Italian and German.  She had good common sense.  She had what she needed to survive, if her luck held.
How had I produced such a child, me, the gardener's daughter from Poughkeepsie?  Dahlia was a wonder to me, but in my dread I didn't think of her as  strong and competent, but as a lost child crying for her mother.
My lost child.  Would I be returning home without her again? I had gone back and forth from Paris to Grasse for months, always leaving home with hope, returning in despair.  Home again, without Dahlia.  The thought kept me motionless inside that doorway.
"Hey!" a voice muttered. "Move on." A woman, tall, burdened with an armful of  parcels, almost knocked me over in her haste to get out the door.
"Watch yourself!"  I snapped back.  The woman looked at me over the top of her packages.
"Oh my God," she said.
Once she had lowered her arms and I could see her face, I knew her immediately.  Lee Miller.
The very famous and beautiful Lee Miller, the  Vogue model, the muse for the artist Man Ray who had made of her lips an iconic image of a woman's mouth floating in the sky. She had gone on to become a famous photographer -- the only woman photographer who covered battles, not just field hospital follow-ups and stories about the war nurses. She had photographed the London Blitz, the siege of St. Malo, the Alsace Campaign, the camps in Germany. Nightmare photos.
Lee was  heavier than I remembered,  and there was a puffiness around the eyes and in the cheeks that drinkers sometimes got.  But nothing, not war, alcoholism or middle age, could mar that perfect nose and those cheek bones, the thick wavy blonde hair now worn post-war style, falling over one eye. Those oh-so-famous lips.
We stood for a long while, staring at each other in disbelief. It’s not often that you run smack into your own past.

03_Jeanne MackinABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jeanne Mackin’s novel, The Beautiful American (New American Library), based on the life of photographer and war correspondent Lee Miller, received the 2014 CNY award for fiction.

Her other novels include A Lady of Good Family, about gilded age personality Beatrix Farrand, The Sweet By and By, about nineteenth century spiritualist Maggie Fox, Dreams of Empire set in Napoleonic Egypt, The Queen’s War, about Eleanor of Aquitaine, and The Frenchwoman, set in revolutionary France and the Pennsylvania wilderness.

Jeanne Mackin is also the author of the Cornell Book of Herbs and Edible Flowers (Cornell University publications) and co-editor of The Book of Love (W.W. Norton.) She was the recipient of a creative writing fellowship from the American Antiquarian Society and a keynote speaker for The Dickens Fellowship. Her work in journalism won awards from the Council for the Advancement and Support of Education, in Washington, D.C. She has taught or conducted workshops in Pennsylvania, Hawaii and at Goddard College in Vermont.

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The Beautiful American



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