Excerpt: Letting Go by Maria Thompson Corley

Today I am delighted to bring you an excerpt from Maria Thompson Corley’s long-distance love story, Letting Go. As well as being an author, Maria is a gifted pianist. So enjoy the excerpt and then click on the link to listen to a sample of the CD Maria has recorded to accompany the book.

LettingGoAbout the Book

Even though she lives hundreds of miles away, when Langston, who dreams of being a chef, meets Cecile, a Juilliard-trained pianist, he is sure that his history of being a sidekick, instead of a love interest, is finally over. Their connection is real and full of potential for a deeper bond but the obstacles between them turn out to be greater than distance. Can these busy, complicated people be ready for each other at the same time? Does it even matter? Before they can answer these questions, each must do battle with the ultimate demon – fear.

Told in a witty combination of standard prose, letters, emails and diary entries, Letting Go, in the tradition of Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s Americanah, is a long-distance love story that also examines race, religion and the difficult choices we make following our passions. From the Great White North to the streets of New York City, to the beaches of Bermuda, Letting Go is a journey of longing, betrayal, self-discovery and hope you will never forget.

Purchase links*:
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*links provided for convenience not as part of any affiliate programme


Excerpt from Letting Go

Cecile followed him into the lobby, empty except for the night clerk, who didn’t look up. Langston sat on one of the russet leather couches and Cecile sat in a matching chair at a right angle to him. He watched her gaze intently at the coffee table, or maybe the Edmonton Journal someone had left on top of it, her graceful hands folded on her lap. He let his eyes travel up her slender arms and rest on her face, wishing they hadn’t come out of the club, because wherever her mind had gone, he was clearly not invited.

Finally, Langston asked, “How long have you been in New York?”

She startled, then focused on him. “Four years.”

“Do you like it?

“Most of the time. The homeless people are kind of disturbing.”

“You get tired of the begging?”

“Well…yes, but mainly I just feel bad. I mean, I can’t give money to everybody, and some of them must really need it. I guess they all do, even if they’re addicts, because even addicts need to eat.”

Her response surprised him so much that he couldn’t think of anything to say. After an awkward pause, something came to him: “I guess helping even one person makes a difference.”

“Allegedly.” She smiled with her lips again.

“Why are you so sad?” Liquid courage.

Cecile turned her head, her eyes darting away. “Homelessness is depressing.”

“It’s more personal than that, isn’t it?”

She bit the inside of her lip. “Maybe.”

Langston cleared his throat. “Sorry,” he said. “New topic.”

“It’s okay.”

He groped for something innocuous. “So you’re here to see the family?”

Cecile chuckled. “Sort of.”

“What’s so funny?”

She sighed, gazing into the distance for a while. Then her eyes found Langston’s face, and stayed there. “I’m here because I was supposed to get married next weekend.”

The couch squeaked as he fell back against it. “Wow.”

“It’s for the best,” she said softly.

“What happened? You don’t have to answer, of course.”

She looked at her hands, then rested her eyes on him again. Her face relaxed. “It’s okay.”

She told him, speaking hesitantly at first and then more freely, about what had happened. When Langston offered his heartfelt condolences, she brightened a bit. Then they talked about her being a musician, life in New York and Toronto, and their mutual study of French, and the more they talked, the more natural her smiles became. By the time Teresa and Betsy emerged from Darling’s, they were leaning towards each other, laughing like two old friends.

Betsy yawned. “You coming, Cecile?” she said.

Cecile glanced at Langston. “Is it closed already?”

“Yeah, it’s closed already. And I’m not going anywhere else but home, so don’t bother to suggest it.”

“Yes, Queen Elizabeth,” Cecile replied, remaining seated.

Teresa grabbed Langston’s hands and leaned back.

“Okay, okay!” he protested, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. He glanced at Cecile, who was looking at him and smiling. I’m leaving in a few hours, he thought, this time with dismay.

As the four of them ascended in the parking garage elevator, Langston became aware that his chest was touching Cecile’s back. She turned in surprise, her mouth so irresistibly close to his that he couldn’t stop himself from kissing her.

For a moment, he felt oxygen reaching places he hadn’t known were there. Then she pulled away, blushing, and whispered, “Stop, okay?”

But when he followed her off the elevator, instead of getting off at the floor where Teresa had parked, she smiled and glanced at her sister, who rolled her eyes.

Cecile was leaving town in two days, and he in less than that—four and a half hours, not even enough time for a decent night’s sleep.

“I really like your poems,” she deadpanned, with a twinkle in her eye. “I hear American kids study your stuff in high school.”

“Will you write a song for one of them?”

She laughed. “Maybe.”

“Then I need your address.”

No one had a pen.

“There’s a pen in the car,” Cecile remembered, and the three of them walked towards a decade-old red Corolla. There wasn’t any paper, though, so she wrote her address and phone number very carefully on a tissue, and he did the same.

Betsy sang, “Goodbye, Langston,” climbing into the driver’s side.

He held up his hand and waved self-consciously. Had he really kissed a woman he barely knew in front of her younger sister, who looked like her attendance at the club could only have been due to a fake ID? Part of him didn’t want to look at Cecile, still standing in front of him. He’d had a few drinks, but he wasn’t drunk. Why had he done it?

He made himself meet her eyes, and he immediately understood why, not in a way that could be put into words, but in terms his body grasped perfectly.

MariaCorley2Click here to listen to Maria performing some of the beautiful music she has chosen to accompany Letting Go:

To purchase the CD, which also includes Maria reading passages from the book, click here


MariaCorleyAbout the Author

Award-winning Jamaican-born Canadian pianist, Maria Thompson Corley, gave her first public performance at the age of eight. Since then, she has appeared on radio, television and concert stages in Canada, the United States, Central America, the Caribbean, Bermuda and Europe, both as a solo and as a collaborative artist.

Maria Corley received both Master’s and Doctorate degrees in piano performance from the Juilliard School, where she was a student of renowned Hungarian pianist Gyorgy Sandor. Dr. Corley was the only pianist admitted into Juilliard’s doctoral program for the period of two years. She was also chosen to represent her alma mater in a tour of Central America, where she gave performances and master classes.

Aside from being an accomplished pianist, Maria Corley is an author. She contributes regularly to Broad Street Review, an online arts magazine, and her first novel, Choices, was published by Kensington.  Letting Go is her second novel.

Author links:

Website: http://www.mariacorley.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/mariathompsoncorleywriter/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/MariaCorley
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15470439.Maria_Thompson_Corley

The Virgin of the Wind Rose by Glen Craney

Today I am delighted to bring you an excerpt from Glen Craney’s fast-paced dual-time mystery thriller, The Virgin of the Wind Rose.   

VirginoftheWindRoseAbout the Book

While investigating the murder of an American missionary in Ethiopia, rookie State Department lawyer Jaqueline Quartermane stumbles upon the infamous Templar Word Square, an ancient Latin puzzle that has eluded scholars for centuries. To her horror, she soon discovers the palindrome has been embedded with a cryptographic time bomb. Separated by half a millennium, two global conspiracies dovetail in this historical mystery-thriller to expose the world’s most explosive secret: the real identity and mission of Christopher Columbus.


Excerpt from The Virgin of the Wind Rose

Sopped in sweat, the ten-year-old Ethiopian boy prayed to St. Georgis the Dragonslayer for protection as he wormed his way toward the tomb of the first man on Earth.

The tunnel’s gritty sandstone, stained red from the blood of Satan’s serpents, punished his hands and knees. To preserve the precious air, he slowed his breaths as he crawled. The settling night had cooled the mountain village above him, but here, sixty meters below the surface, the trapped midday heat could roast a chicken. Faint from hunger, he stopped and pulled a crust of bread from his pocket. He chewed the morsel slowly, taking care to muzzle its aroma with his tunic’s sleeve to avoid being swarmed by the bees that hived in the crevices.

His dizziness eased, and he resumed his quest, groping blindly on all fours along the narrowing walls. At last, he came to the Armory of the Shining Ones, the long notch in the floor where the angels had once stored their lances.

“Mäqäraräb,” he whispered. Not far now.

He knew every bend and cranny in this secret passage by memory, having accompanied the priests on their daily inspections of the subterranean churches. That was the only godsend from his miserable duties. His father, the High Priest of Lalibela, had marked him at birth for religious service by tattooing a blue cross on his right temple. As a result, he was forbidden to play football or chase tourists for candy, and he would have to slave six more years carrying sandals just to become a deacon. Everyone said he should be grateful for the honor, but he had no desire to waste away his life mumbling incantations. Tomorrow he planned to stow away in the cargo bin of the bus to Addis Ababa, where he would find prosperous construction work and a beautiful girlfriend.

Before leaving home, however, he craved an even more exciting escape, one that promised a glimpse of Paradise. In a few hours, at dawn, his fellow villagers would celebrate Timkat, the holiest of their many religious festivals. The elders of the monastery had retired early to their cloisters to fast and prepare themselves with chants. This night, the tenth of Terr, was the only time of the year that Bet Golgota – the underground church of the Crucifixion – was left unguarded. It would also be his last chance to pierce the veil that shrouded Heaven’s wisdom and delights.

He came hovering over the yawning trench that protected the entrance to the nave, and ran a finger across an inscription on a stone carved in Ge’ez:

The opening verse of Genesis.

He kissed the ground that covered the bones of the biblical Adam. Then, he reached up and inserted the stolen key into the lock just beyond the grave. After several turns of the rusty tumbler, the pitted door squealed open. He slithered inside the trapezoidal cavern. Overhead, lit by ambient moonlight from the fissures in the ceiling, faded frescoes of the martyred saints stared down at him. Turning away from their accusing glares, he climbed to his feet and approached the Selassie Chapel. The sanctuary was so sacred that for ages only the head priest had been allowed to enter it. With a shaking hand, he drew aside a ratty curtain that covered the burial vault of King Lalibela, the monarch who had ruled Ethiopia during the time of the White Knights.

Yes, it was here, in this very vault, where he had spied his father hide the precious Leaves of Eden. How long he had dreamed of the ecstasy now so near his grasp. He heard a whisper of warning from his soul: He who gazes upon the hidden treasures of Lalibela will be struck blind and mute for eternity.

That ancient curse gave him pause, but only for a moment. He wasn’t fooled. The priests spread such tales to scare off grave robbers. He pushed hard against the slab. Finally, after several attempts, the adhesions of centuries gave way. He took a deep breath and reached blindly into the sarcophagus. His palm brushed against the trove.

“Egziabhiyär Ymäsgn,” he said softly. May God be praised.

Clutching his discovery to his chest, he shoved the heavy lid back into place with his shoulder and spread dust over it to conceal the–

A bolt of light radiated through the chapel. The foundations shook and buckled the ceiling. He ran through the arches to avoid being buried alive – a second flash blinded him. He covered his face and screamed, “Abba!”

Seconds passed, and he took another shallow breath, then opened his eyes. His mouth gaped in horror – he tried again to call for his father, but this time he couldn’t force a sound past his quivering lips.


VirginoftheWindRoseBanner

Praise for The Virgin of the Wind Rose

Books & Benches Magazine Book-of-the-Year Finalist

“An impeccably researched, high-velocity historical thriller…. If you love Steve Berry, Dan Brown or Umberto Eco, you may have a new author favourite in Glen Craney.” (Bella Wright, Best Thrillers)

“An exciting journey across time, with more twists and turns than a strawberry Twizzler. Craney has produced a page-turning adventure, with crisp, clean and measured prose… The research behind the stories is massive, lending credence to the cast of characters and authenticity to the historic periods. This is a highly recommended historical thriller.” (Quarterdeck Magazine)

“This book is wonderful in that when you are finished you are still asking yourself all kinds of questions. It is a great story and one I enjoyed thoroughly.” (Olivia Morris, Review This!)

“[A]n excellent, interesting, challenging, addictive and very rewarding read. Look – I’m still figuring it out all these days later…Thoroughly enjoyable, thrilling and inspiring.” (Steve Denton, Speesh Reads)

“I stayed up all night to finish this great read and was left wanting more… Many times I will figure stories out early on but this book keeps you guessing. Mr. Craney is a master of holding back and building the suspense. Though this is a fast-paced romp through history and time, you are still holding your breath… I’m hoping for a sequel.” (One Book Shy of a Full Shelf Reviews)

“Grips you in its teeth and whirls you through history… Naturally this novel will be compared to the books of Dan Brown but the quality of writing in The Virgin of the Wind Rose has the edge for me.” (Rosie Amber Reviews)

“Five stars. Move over, Dan Brown, you’ve got competition.” (Sweet Mystery Books)

Purchase links*

Amazon.co.uk: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Virgin-Wind-Rose-Christopher-Mystery-Thriller-ebook/dp/B00G8OULSS/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1491055718&sr=1-1&keywords=The+Virgin+of+the+Wind+Rose Amazon.com: https://www.amazon.com/Virgin-Wind-Rose-Christopher-Mystery-Thriller-ebook/dp/B00G8OULSS/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1491055897&sr=1-1&keywords=The+Virgin+of+the+Wind+Rose Barnes& Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-virgin-of-the-wind-rose-glen-craney/1123618132
iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/the-virgin-of-the-wind-rose/id1012780966
Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/the-virgin-of-the-wind-rose

*Links provided for convenience not as part of any affiliate programme


GlenCraneyAbout the Author

Glen Craney is a novelist, screenwriter, journalist and lawyer. The Academy of Motion Pictures, Arts and Sciences awarded him the Nicholl Fellowship prize for best new screenwriting. He is also a two-time indieBRAG Medallion Honoree, a Chaucer Award First-Place Winner for Historical Fiction set during the Middle Ages, and has three times been named a Foreword Reviews Book-of-the-Year Award Finalist. His debut novel, The Fire and the Light, was recognized as Best New Fiction by the National Indie Excellence Awards and as an Honourable Mention winner for Foreword’s BOTYA in historical fiction. His novels have taken readers to Occitania during the Albigensian Crusade, to the Scotland of Robert Bruce, to Portugal during the Age of Discovery, to the trenches of France during World War I, and to the American Hoovervilles of the Great Depression. He lives in southern California.

Author links:

Website: http://glencraneyauthor.glencraney.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/GlenCraneyAuthor
Twitter: https://twitter.com/glencraney
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1516207.Glen_Craney