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I thought those of you who are commemorating Memorial Day would be inspired by seeing those vintage cards

Trent presents readers with a retelling of the little-known Scottish fairy tale Kate Crackernuts in her Disguised as storyteller, Kate must navigate a hostile environment to save both Henry and her sister. I thoroughly enjoyed Amy Trent’s luscious reimagining of Kate Crackernuts. I loved it! You can find the book here. You can find her at https://kellyjarviswriter.com/

and Karen O’Hara’s eight-year-old deaf daughter Scarlett who disappears from the family home while her father is away on a trip for work and her mother is organizing a conference on a zoom call. I couldn’t stop reading! She lives, happily ever after, with her husband and three sons in a house filled with fairy tale books

I loved Close Your Eyes: A Fairy Tale, a beautiful novel set in early 1400’s Northern Europe. I felt as though I was at the mercy of a skilled storyteller as Samuel wove together several narratives You can purchase it here. She lives, happily ever after, with her husband and three sons in a house filled with fairy tale books

Suzanne Steward says: "I read this book in installments and absolutely loved it! Read it; I promise you'll love it!" Tabby Brooke says: "This is like no other fairytale I have ever read, it was messy and it was beautiful So afraid of not fitting in, being unwelcome by her new royal in-laws and everyone else around her, Cinderella was unable to see that her Prince loved her truly—not just because of some wish."

; but he offered her protection beneath his roof as his betrothed spouse. Her eyes glistened with rapture—she gazed upon it as her own—as the means by which she could pass through the ocean that led to her native home. , in the most tender manner, on her escape. I loved you very well when I resided upon earth, but I always loved my first husband much better.”

Lissa will be giving away the Glass and Feathers swag pictured here to one lucky attendee! I hope to slip in a couple of unofficial fun meetings into the mix as well.

This week's pick: My Mom’s Okra Soup I don’t like okra, but I do like this soup. cheap favorite from childhood, and most people will eat it, even if they fish out the okra bits, like I You can buy it fresh, but probably not in the Midwest, where I live. I think some diced celery and peppers sautéed with the onions might add to the savoriness of the soup I also think a cup or two of diced ham in place of the ham bone would be just fine.

talking map (on my phone), a stylish pair of seven-league sneakers, and plenty of snacks, my husband and I It was an epic adventure, and as soon as we returned, I set our travels down in ink and sent my manuscript It wasn’t until the design of the article was well underway that I learned some top-secret news: Thomas So, like any fairy tale protagonists with tasks to complete, my husband and I resumed our journey, returning “You can’t miss her.” He was right.

I asked. I’ve never had a child. She stroked a half-heart birthmark on her cheek. Then I shooed them away so I could sleep. His tiny breaths warmed my palm as I stroked his cheek. Hush. Mama’s here. I was only in his world when I dreamt. I needed a way to help him remember me. I would use it to trap that false mother, the Dreamkeeper, hoping her dream-mist form would slip inside

But since the death of her uncle, she must go without and satisfy the hunger of others. And then, of course, she must also serve her brutish cousin, who is hungry for her. Things get worse as time goes on and the enemy army approaches, laying siege to her home. The tale reimagined here is one of the grimmest from the Brothers Grimm: The Juniper Tree. Her story   is a gut-wrenching read, the kind that had me whispering,  no, no,  in horror as I hung on

Close your eyes, click your heels three times and whisper: “I am infinite possibility.” Listen. As do I. Trip trap typing on my magic mirror I conjure the words from each precious heart thud spiraling rosy unravel in an endless river of poppies, poppies, poppies red as my hood, red as my blood from the finger I pricked on the endless spinning wheel on this spinning rock in a spinning galaxy of stars—I dream.