A weekly peek at what we're reading.
Post your peek in the comments and share your favorite books!
Anne is still reading
I Think I Love You by Allison Pearson
Petra put the letter in her pocket and went downstairs. Passing the hall table, she noticed a jug of sweet peas. The scent was so strong, intoxicating. On a Post-it note stuck to the wall, she spied Molly's girly, looped handwriting: "I picked them. Told you!!!"
Petra smiled. The daughter, unlike her mother, was going to lead a three-exclamation marks kind of life. She thought of Molly, obeying the request to pick the sweet peas while Petra was in Vegas, to keep the flowers coming, an instruction Molly's mamgu had issued more than thirty years ago to Petra herself, and, who knows, maybe Greta heard it from her own mother in Germany. Things being passed on; habits, scents, beloved melodies, a heart-shaped chin: motherhood and memory forging a slender handrail to cling on to down the generations.
Holly is still reading
Dragonsdale by Salamanda Drake
When Cara could go no farther, she led Skydancer into a hollow, which gave some shelter from the wind. Sky lay down, breathing quickly from the unaccustomed exertion, his breath making little clouds of steam in the damp, chilly air. Cara sat down with her back against his shoulder and wondered what to do next.
Lily is reading
Miss Jaster's Garden by N. M. Bodecker
Down by the toolshed, where Miss Jaster filled her watering can, was a small puddle of clear water, for the tap was worn and kept dripping. Hedgie used it as his mirror, and down to this mirror he went to have a look at himself. But when he leaned over the puddle, he stood quite still, curling and uncurling his toes in disbelief: What he saw in the water was not his ordinary, gray-brown, prickly self, but something quite different.
Peeping out from among his quills were little spikes and shoots of green, ready to climb and bloom and fill with bees and honey.
"Well," he said to himself, "now I'm either a flower bed or a vegetable garden. I wonder which?"