Saturday, January 28, 2017

Saturday's Series Spotlight: The Breakfast Club by Felice Stevens


Beyond the Surface #1
Summary:
On 9/11, firefighter Nick Fletcher’s world changed forever. He's unable to rid himself of survivor’s guilt, made worse by the secret he hides from his family and co-workers. Nick's life is centered around helping burn victims, until he is reunited with the man he’d once loved but pushed away. Now he has a second chance at a love he thought lost forever.

For fashion designer Julian Cornell, appearances mean everything. His love affairs are strictly casual, and the only thing he cares about is making his clothing line a success. A chance encounter with the man he loved long ago has Julian thinking for the first time in years there may be more to life than being seen at the best parties and what designer labels to wear.

When Julian’s world takes an unexpected turn, it's Nick who helps him regain perspective on what matters most in life. Julian, in turn, helps Nick accept who he is and understand he isn’t responsible for tragedies he couldn't prevent. Lost love found can be even sweeter the second time around and after all the years apart, both men learn to look beyond the surface to find the men they are inside.

Betting on Forever #2
Summary:
A weekend fling in Atlantic City couldn’t be more out of socially shy Zach Cohen’s comfort zone, but a bet with his best friends forces him to put aside the humiliation he’s hidden for years, stepping away from behind his computer screens and on line world. When he meets Sam Stein, despite their spark, Zach expects nothing more than a night of passion and a kiss goodbye. Yet weeks later, he can’t keep the man out of his head.

After a split second decision with tragic results ends his twenty year police career at the same time his relationship falls apart, Sam Stein is drifting through life. At his best friend’s urging he agrees to a trip to Atlantic City to clear his head. What Sam doesn’t plan on is meeting Zach Cohen, whose sweet nature and honesty has him thinking maybe he could move forward, until Zach leaves him without explanation, reinforcing Sam’s belief that people can’t be trusted.

Well-meaning friends refuse to let Zach and Sam hide from each other, forcing them to realize their weekend is much more than a one night stand. Before that can happen, Zach must come to terms with his past and stand up for his own independence, while Sam has to learn to take a chance and believe in himself and people again. All bets are off when dreams become reality and forever doesn’t seem to be long enough.

Second to None #3
Summary:
Nightclub owner Marcus Feldman never met a man he didn’t love, at least for the night. Although his best friends have all found love, Marcus shuns their advice to commit to one man and settle down. His past has taught him monogamy and marriage is for fools, and Marcus is anything but a fool.

Tyler Reiss’s dream of dancing professionally is unexpectedly cut short and replaced by a different kind of love. He trades in his ballet slippers for go go boots, and spends his nights dancing at the hottest gay club in the city. Flirting with the customers for tips is easy, but resisting the dark and sexy Marcus is becoming harder to do with each passing day.

Unforeseen circumstances bring Marcus and Tyler closer and though they give in to their mutual passion, both still struggle to guard their hearts. When crises threaten, Tyler and Marcus find their strength in each other rather than falling apart. Tyler must choose to either run, or stay and fight for the life he wants, while Marcus realizes that love doesn’t mean losing himself and opens his heart, making him a better man in the end.

A Holiday to Remember #3.5
Summary:
With Lillie away at a sleepover, Marcus and Tyler finally have some much needed time alone together. Marcus can't wait to get Tyler into bed. He has plans that involve getting and staying naked. But an innocent question from Lillie has Marcus wondering if he's ready to take that next big step.

What Lies Between Us #4
Summary:
Now that he’s living with Sam Stein, Zach Cohen is finally ready to move on from his unhappy past. His days are filled with wedding preparations, yet he still finds time to make plans and decisions without consulting Sam and his mother, firmly believing he knows best.

Sam is ready to settle in for the perfect life with Zach but years of bad habits have come back to haunt him. Struggling to accept himself and his future, he chooses not to share his fears, unwilling to look weak in Zach’s eyes.

Real life gets in the way of the best intentions and when their secrets explode, the aftermath challenges the foundation of a relationship both believed unshakeable. Falling in love is the easy part, and Zach and Sam discover that only with honesty can they overcome what threatens to tear them apart.

Beyond the Surface #1
Original Review August 2015:
Simply put, Felice Stevens has done it again.  Second chance stories can often leave readers feeling unsure whether one or both characters actually deserve the second chance so they can be difficult to accomplish.  Miss Stevens has done just that for Nick and Julian, you want to wrap them up and take them home so you can guarantee they see what is in front of them.  Tragedies can lead you to harden your heart so you don't ever experience that heartache again but sometimes when you find that special someone to show you that the risk to your heart can far outweigh the potential loss, you have to never let go of that person.  Nick and Julian's journey the second time around is beautifully written and you just might find something out about yourself as well as enjoy a great story.

Betting on Forever #2
Original Review December 2015:
Miss Stevens has done it again.  In her second book of The Breakfast Club we get to know Zach and Sam.  Separately they have their past full of pains but together they have a weekend that is off the charts.  Once the weekend is over their story takes us on a roller coaster of emotions that will leave the reader feeling, well just "WOW!", there is no other way to say it better.  Thank God for meddling friends because they may be tiresome at times they also can make us see what is right there in front of us.  Sometimes I have trouble with a series when it bases each story on a different couple, mostly because I am just not ready to let go of the previous pair so when an author can make me love each series entry as much as the others than that is a real win in my book and that is exactly what Felice Stevens has done with The Breakfast Club.

Second to None #3
Original Review February 2016:
Second to None is brilliant!  Okay, I know you want more so here it goes.  No amount of good intentions can make Marcus see what his friends tell and show him, love and commitment is not a death sentence for your soul's ability to experience fun, life, and freedom.  Some things just have to happen for certain people to truly believe, and happen it does well eventually anyway.  Life may not be exactly where Tyler envisioned for himself but that doesn't mean he isn't exactly where he needs to be.  When these two cross paths, it is explosive, at least it was for this reader.  Sometimes when couples meet and their chemistry is off the charts, for the reader at least even when the characters don't feel it yet, their journey can peak early and fall a little flat or remain status quo for the rest of the book but not this time.  Felice Stevens brings us another great couple with this entry in The Breakfast Club.

A Holiday to Remember #3.5
What a delicious little holiday tale for Marcus and Tyler.  It may be short but it's jam packed with emotion, sexiness, and family, all the things we've come to expect from Felice Stevens.

What Lies Between Us #4 
How did I forget to read this one for a whole year? In this wonderful novella installment of The Breakfast Club we get to see Zach and Sam again, who's love story we saw unfold in book 2, Betting on Forever.  As we see them get ready for the next leg in their journey, and as in life, happily ever after doesn't come easy.  I won't say too much, I'm afraid once I start I won't be able to shut my fingers up.  I will say that you just might walk away from What Lies Between Us learning a thing or two about yourself as well as being completely and fully entertained.  That's not saying the author is teaching a lesson with What Lies, but when you can learn something about yourself when you've reached the final page of a tale of fiction, it only goes to further show the talent of the author and that's exactly what Miss Stevens has done.  Her talent is endless and I can't wait to see what she brings us in 2017.

RATING: 


Beyond the Surface #1
Julian was in the kitchen, sitting on one of the stools by the counter. He had a glass in front of him filled with what Nick presumed was vodka, having spied the Grey Goose bottle.
   
“Would you like a drink? I have beer, wine…anything you’d like.”
   
Nick shook his head, regret piercing his heart as he watched the hope drain from Julian’s eyes.
   
“I don’t think so. I’m going to head home. I want you to know how much I appreciate what you did for Jamal tonight.”
   
Julian stood abruptly, kicking the stool away from his feet.
   
“Don’t treat me like I’m some fucking stranger, Nicky. You owe me. It’s been eighteen years; you think I’m going to let you walk out on me again like you did before? After what just happened between us? After you fell apart? No fucking way. I’m not that same person and neither are you, obviously.”
   
Taken aback by Julian’s anger, Nick remained mute.
   
“What the hell is going on with you? One minute you’re tongue fucking me into the next century and the next you’re freaking out. I know I’m a damn good kisser, but this isn’t about us, is it? It has nothing to do with our past and everything to do with you and the shit that’s floating around in your head.”
   
Julian stepped closer to him and Nick, who normally couldn’t stand people near him, was rooted to the floor, unable to move.
   
“Talk to me, Nicky. Tell me what happened to you.”
   
He was so tired of holding himself together, feeling like at any moment he’d shatter into a million tiny pieces, leaving nothing behind but a pile of dust.
   
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
   
The words poured out of him, flowing unchecked this time. “It should’ve been me. We all went to the Towers to save them. It was my day off, but I went anyway. I heard and couldn’t stay home; I had a duty to help, you know? But I lived and they all died. Why, Julian? Why did I live and they didn’t?”
   
“Oh, Nick.” Julian held him close. “I don’t have the answers for you. No one does. But I’m going to be completely selfish and say I’m so thankful you did make it and we’re here together after all these years.”
   
Unflinching green eyes gazed back at him. Clever, beautiful eyes that Nick could never stop dreaming of. Eyes that at one time had held the promise of forever, until Nick ruined everything with his cowardice and shame. Unable to maintain Julian’s scrutiny, Nick broke away and ran to the elevator, his chest heaving, eyes stinging with tears.

“Let me out. I need to leave here. NOW.”

Betting on Forever #2
I could be a totally new Zach. Someone who wasn’t afraid to take risks; someone willing to have fun and be daring.” He looked down at his lap. “Someone people would notice.”

None of this made sense to Sam. “But why? You’re a young, incredibly rich, good-looking guy. Why do you think you need to pretend? Any guy would be lucky to be with you.”

The compliment didn’t bring a smile of thanks or even a blush of self-awareness. Zach’s expression grew gloomier, and he stood, then walked to the windows.

“Perceptions rarely mirror truths. What you see isn’t how I see it, and it isn’t how most people have seen me all my life. I’ve never been confident about anything, except my abilities in school. And when you’re ten and never picked for sports or thirteen and never invited to any parties, a pattern is set for the adult you’ll be. The one on the sidelines; always there but never seen. When you’re an invisible kid, you tend to grow up to be an invisible adult.”

How wrong he’d been about Zach from the beginning. And knowing how sweet and kind a soul he was, Sam hurt for the young boy Zach had been and the sad and lonely man who stood before him.

“Is that how you see yourself—invisible?” Sam followed him to the window and placed a hand on his shoulder but made no other move.

“It’s how I’ve always been. Marcus always tried to include me, but—”

“You know what?” Sam slid his arm around Zach, turning him so that they faced each other. “You think too much about Marcus.” Sam took Zach’s glasses off and placed them carefully on the table. “You talk too much about him too. Want to know what I see?”

Zach blinked and nodded.

“I see a guy who’s kind, smart, and tenacious. A man who isn’t afraid to search out what he wants and go after it.” Sam leaned down and brushed Zach’s lips with his own, smiling at the sigh of pleasure from Zach. He pulled off his tee shirt and unbuttoned Zach’s shirt so their bare chests pressed against each other. Sam pushed Zach’s shirt off his shoulders so it fell to the floor, then slid his hand up Zach’s back, as warm and soft as he remembered. His fingers splayed out against skin, muscles, and bones, and he held Zach close. It was as if his hands were made to touch Zach. The feel of his skin was everything right and perfect.

“Don’t ever pretend with me; there’s no reason to. I’m not interested in someone who hangs out at the clubs and parties all night.” He buried his lips in Zach’s hair, his hands smoothing down the curvature of Zach’s spine until he dipped his fingers to gently touch below the waistband of Zach’s jeans.

Second to None #3
“This wasn’t a permanent arrangement; you knew that.” Tyler leaned against the wall. “I can’t impose on you any longer. I’m sure you want your bedroom and your life back.”

“I didn’t mind it last night.” He walked over to Tyler and placed a hand on his neck, stroking him. This he could do. He had no qualms about seducing Tyler to stay with him. The troubling reason why he wanted him there so badly, Marcus pushed to the side for now. Instead, he pulled Tyler close, settling their hips in line, and his cock thickened in his pants. “I’d tell you if I did. Please, come with me to brunch, and we can talk.”

Doubt clouded Tyler’s eyes. “I don’t belong there. Those are your friends, the people you’re closest with.”

“I had my dick inside you twice last night, Tyler. How much closer could we get?”

It took Marcus many minutes of deep, persuasive kisses to rid Tyler of his confusion. When he pulled away though, the ground under his feet reeled, and Marcus needed a moment to compose himself.

They remained standing close; Tyler’s hands rested on his shoulders while he clasped Tyler around his hips. He nuzzled Tyler’s ear, then pleaded with him.

“Come on; you have to help me out here. They’re all coupled up, and the last thing I want is to listen to them be all disgustingly loving and happy.”

An amused glint lit Taylor’s eyes. “And you hate that, huh?”

“Bet that sweet ass of yours I do.” He gave Tyler’s ass a squeeze for effect, and the light in Tyler’s eyes smoldered.

“If you want me to come, you’d better get your hands off my ass.”

Marcus’s lips curved up in a grin as he popped open the button of Tyler’s jeans and drew them down.

“I definitely want you to come; in every way possible,” he said, and sank to his knees, uncaring of how late he might be to meet Zach and Julian.

What Lies Between Us #4
Now that he’s living with Sam Stein, Zach Cohen is finally ready to move on from his unhappy past. His days are filled with wedding preparations, yet he still finds time to make plans and decisions without consulting Sam and his mother, firmly believing he knows best.

Sam is ready to settle in for the perfect life with Zach but years of bad habits have come back to haunt him. Struggling to accept himself and his future, he chooses not to share his fears, unwilling to look weak in Zach’s eyes.

Real life gets in the way of the best intentions and when their secrets explode, the aftermath challenges the foundation of a relationship both believed unshakeable. Falling in love is the easy part, and Zach and Sam discover that only with honesty can they overcome what threatens to tear them apart.

Author Bio:
Felice Stevens has always been a romantic at heart. While life is tough, she believes there is a happy ending for everyone. She started reading traditional historical romances as a teenager, then life and law school got in the way. It wasn't until she picked up a copy of Bertrice Small and became swept away to Queen Elizabeth's court that her interest in romance novels was renewed.

But somewhere along the way, her reading shifted to stories of men falling in love. Once she picked up her first gay romance, she became so enamored of the character-driven stories and the overwhelming emotion there was no turning back.

Felice lives in New York City with her husband and two children. Her day begins with a lot of caffeine and ends with a glass or two of red wine. Although she practices law, she daydreams of a time when she can sit by a beach and write beautiful stories of men falling in love. Although there is bound to be some angst along the way, a Happily Ever After is always guaranteed.


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EMAIL: felice@felicestevens.com



Beyond the Surface #1
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Betting on Forever #2
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iTUNES AUDIO  /  AUDIBLE  /  KOBO

Second to None #3
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KOBO  /  iTUNES  /  GOODREADS TBR

A Holiday to Remember #3.5
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What Lies Between Us #4
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Death of a Sculptor in Hue, Shape, and Color by MCV Egan

Title: Death of a Sculptor in Hue, Shape, and Color
Author: MCV Egan
Genre: Women's Suburban Fiction
Release Date: January 9, 2017
Summary:
Color-coded love stories and revealing female anatomies lead to the puzzling death of world-renowned sculptor, Bruce Jones.

In life, the artist loved women, almost as much as women loved him. Adored for his art, colorful personality, and sexual prowess, Bruce is mourned by the world. The multifaceted perspectives of his four ex-wives, the current wife, his new love interest, and their children narrate this pulse-pounding tale.

Loose ends are tied up by the insights of Sylvia, his son Aaron’s wife and a trusted keeper of secrets; Scott, the private investigator and family friend; Nonna, the quintessential grandmother everyone loves but to whom few are truly related; and Detective Jim Miller who will not rest until he discovers Bruce Jones’ murderer.


Mary: Wife No. 1

Thunder, lightning and rain, that was what we had at our wedding. However, on the day of his funeral, the Florida heat and humidity made my face shiny with perspiration. My hair looked like a dark Brillo pad. My children requested I attend the funeral of my first husband. Bruce Jones, the world-renowned sculptor.

The parking lot was already packed with an unexpected variety of cars. I then realized that it was not peak season. The South Florida snowbirds are attached to their cars and they migrate with them back and forth each year.

I noticed a police car and a uniformed man by the entrance. Even for Bruce a bit much; however, since 9/11 security has been tight everywhere.

The valet attendant opened my rental car door. “Welcome ma’am. Your daughter is waiting for you.”

“Thank you. Please make sure you keep the car in the shade. August Florida heat and sun are not my friends.” I pulled a five-dollar bill from my purse to tip him, but he shook his head and mumbled, “No, thank you.” After all It was Palm Beach. I probably should have pulled out a twenty.

I was surprised that the building looked like an actual church, at least from the outside. The church had a long name. It was Universal something or other; apparently, a place of worship with neither affiliation nor strictures. Bruce’s life had, after all, been too outrΓ© to pretend he followed any conventional religious norm.

“Thanks for coming, mom.” Clair’s voice shouldn’t have surprised me, but I stood still, focused on carefully dabbing my shiny nose. I clicked the compact shut, smiled and answered, “Anything for you and Aaron sweetheart.” She nodded as she guided me where to sit. It was toward the back of the church; the ex-wives’ pew.

“Please mom, don’t look at me that way. This funeral is a time for forgiveness and closure.”

Clair always found a way to get me to do whatever she wanted. The last thing I wanted was to be in the company of the women sitting there. I touched my frizzy hair, regretting my rejection of the keratin treatment.

Wife number two, Leslie, was the first to say hello. “Mary, you look lovely. It’s been years.”

“It has, thankfully,” I replied. The other two simply nodded, and I nodded back. Leslie, the one Bruce left me for, handed me a packet of tissues and winked. Forcing a smile, I took them. The idea that she assumed I planned to cry had not crossed my mind. I pulled the compact out of my purse again to check my makeup; it looked fine. Through the mirror I saw the reflection of the fifth and last Mrs. Bruce Jones, the widow. She was standing waiting for the ushers. I shook my head in disbelief. There next to Brooke was the coffin. The ushers waited with the coffin for the minister’s signal. It had images of Bruce’s artwork. Digital photography makes it possible to decorate anything in living color. Some of the images were blocked from my view by the ushers, but not mine. There I was paraded as a nude sketch. Each one of Bruce’s loves had a color and mine was pink. It was kitsch…even worse, it was downright tasteless.

Bruce had a type. We all had brown hair, and pretty faces with full lips and straight noses. The eye color varied as did our size and build. His type was limited to our physiognomy. I clicked the compact shut, and the other ex-wives faced me, startled by the sound. I shrugged with a coy apologetic smile. Look at the five of us; he had a type.

Bruce’s love also had a shelf life. He took the seven-year-itch need to scratch very literally. Some marriages were shorter, because sometimes the divorces got complicated and his new loves always overlapped with the old. Public or private, his relationships always lasted seven years.

I was nineteen when I first walked into his classroom. He was tall and muscular. I felt a tingle at the base of my neck when I saw his back, as if somehow I already knew. When he turned to face me, I was gone and completely in love. I fell in love with Bruce and the sculpture next to him all at once. I soon learned he made love in a way no other man did─not that I was very experienced then─Bruce traced every inch of my body with every part of his. At twenty-four, he already made a good living from his sculptures, but teaching remained his passion. As he grew older and wealthier, he taught short workshops in different parts of the world. His last one had been just a few months before his untimely death. He was after all, only sixty-two.

It was clear by the careful shape of his sculptures that he knew the shape of my legs, ankles, feet, and every other part of my body. His sculpture venues varied, his talent knew no boundaries. Bruce loved and sculpted as instinctively as the rest of us breathe. Whoever inherited the rights to his art would be wise to market his sketches as limited edition lithographs. Bruce liked to keep those private, but he always added color to the sketches in a way that made them works of art unto themselves. Bruce was as gifted with hue and color as he was with shapes. Those were the sketches that someone had the poor taste to use for the coffin. As the ushers moved around I heard the reactions of the other ex-wives, a blend of gasps and giggles. We recognized all the shapes and colors.

Focused on raising our children, I had not noticed when the sculptures started to change. That was when Leslie entered the picture. Bruce may not have planned to divorce me, or at least for years I tried to believe that, but then Leslie got pregnant.

Our marriage, his first as well, was the longest marriage, it lasted ten years. Three of those, Bruce had spent loving Leslie, but playing house with me. His marriage to Leslie was far shorter. I could tell by the sculptures he had loved her for seven years. We all met him through his art in one way or another. Wife number three, Petra, worked in an art gallery. Although not an artist she was very involved with his work. I derived great pleasure from the public scandal when he hurt Leslie that way, leaving her for a mere merchant. By then Bruce had a name, an art, and a face that was recognized everywhere. Leslie had ended my marriage, so curiosity as to who had ended hers interrupted my life for a time. Hers was the only one of Bruce’s love stories I followed carefully, aside from my own.

Aside from relishing in Leslie’s pain, his personal life did not pique my interest. I knew my children were always respected and old enough to voice concern if anyone mistreated them. I could not remember if it was the third or fourth wife who was the only one of us who did not have children with Bruce.

Chopin’s somber Marche FunΓ¨bre snapped me back to the moment. The elaborate coffin encasing Bruce’s body had been placed on a movable catafalque. The catafalque with squeaky wheels carried Bruce’s body in a guided procession down the aisle. He was always a large man and had managed to become larger as he aged. His appetite for food and drink superseded all his other appetites.

Leslie whispered in my ear, “She doesn’t look sad.”

Glancing over at the person in question, I nodded in agreement. The widow could not be described as grieving. Grief is, of course, different in all of us. The body language of grief, though, is universal; the defeated, slumped shoulders, head bowed, tears flowing. Leslie was right. The widow was crying, but they almost looked like tears of relief.

A montage of Bruce’s works on a screen at the side of the altar shaped in a semicircle created the focal point. The aisle inclined and my pew toward the back provided a good vantage point. The incline was slight, but pronounced enough to give those of us in the back a full view. The ushers seemed to be holding back the coffin so it would not speed down the aisle. The wheels continued to squeak. Bruce would have hated this. The minister or priestess─I am not sure what title this universal church gave them,─had a very unpleasant voice and thus was difficult to listen to. No voice, even a pleasant one, could compete with Bruce’s art. For all the rotten things I would be happy to tell you about Bruce Jones, his art was not something anyone could criticize. Even the most prestigious critics raved about his talent and his work.

The slides were in chronological order. The memory and pain from the sting of betrayal flooded me as it had twenty-eight years earlier. I could see Leslie through the corner of my eye and the blush that betrayed her shame.

As wife number two, she had been party to betrayal because she too had been betrayed. I know Leslie grew to love my children very much. I guess she saw me as an extension of that love in some ways. I felt terrible. I had been so curt.

My hand reached to her shoulder in a gesture of solidarity and forgiveness when the images on the screen segued to show the shape of ex-wife number three. My heart ached for Leslie because we had similar builds, and many would not have been able to distinguish when Bruce transitioned from sculpting my body to sculpting hers.

Ex-wife number three, Petra─a very tall woman, with long slender limbs─had a body that blatantly displayed the transition from Leslie to her replacement. The unquestionable change in shape left no doubt Bruce’s affections had shifted again. Leslie, pregnant with her second child at the time, lost the baby to grief, a loss I also knew well.

At that point, I did need the tissues Leslie had given me, but I was shedding tears for her, not for Bruce. I miscarried a child with my second husband. I understood her pain and sense of loss. Mine, too, was the last child, the child I never had.

Bruce never sculpted pregnant women. Consequently, wife number three, the one who had never been pregnant had seven years that boasted more sculptures than the rest of us. At the seven-year mark, Bruce’s transition into a new love story, a new model. Petra’s telltale sobs showed her grasp of Bruce’s tell. After all, loving Bruce was a gamble. The change of model in the sculpture showed his change of heart. Petra was from a foreign country, I never paid much attention where. My kids interacted with her, and she welcomed them with kindness. In tandem, Leslie and I passed her the tissues.

Petra took both tissues we offered and her lips moved in a quiet whisper; the words were obviously meant for Leslie, though I could discern they were, “I am sorry”

My daughter, Clair, had always lived up to the dual meanings of her name; clear and famous. Clair could see things with great clarity, and she could convey them as such. I could only assume that she knew the ex-wives belonged together, ‘for closure and forgiveness’ as she had said.

Clair’s modeling career had started in her teens at her insistence; she was not pushed nor did anyone suggest she should model. She knew she was very attractive, and she knew she could convey her beauty and charm to an audience, a photographer, a camera.

Her modeling spun into acting. She was as natural on a screen as on a stage. It came to her with ease, though she was happy to take classes and learn. My Aaron is also successful, but he is a behind-the-scenes sort of person. I took great pride in knowing that I had always been a good mother. I had known how to allow my children to forge their own paths.

Not everything in my life succeeded, but I was a success at being a mother. I recognized Bruce’s love shelf life because I had one of my own, with a trail of the remains of ended marriages or relationships. Mine perhaps more impressive than Bruce’s.

I guess Bruce might have been the love of my life. But now in my mid-fifties, I questioned whether a spouse or companion had any viable use? I loved art, my passion, and although my work is not as popular or renowned as Bruce’s, I have achieved a certain level of success.





Author Bio:
M.C.V. Egan is the pen name chosen by Maria Catalina Vergara Egan. Catalina was born in Mexico City, Mexico in 1959, the sixth of eight children, in a traditional Catholic family. From a very young age, she became obsessed with the story of her maternal grandfather, Cesar Agustin Castillo--mostly the story of how he died.

She spent her childhood in Mexico. When her father became an employee of The World Bank in Washington D.C. in the early 1970s, she moved with her entire family to the United States. Catalina was already fluent in English, as she had spent one school year in the town of Pineville, Louisiana with her grandparents. There she won the English award, despite being the only one who had English as a second language in her class. In the D.C. suburbs she attended various private Catholic schools and graduated from Winston Churchill High School in Potomac, Maryland in 1977.

She attended Montgomery Community College, where she changed majors every semester. She also studied in Lyons, France, at the Catholic University for two years. In 1981, due to an impulsive young marriage to a Viking (the Swedish kind, not the football player kind), Catalina moved to Sweden where she resided for five years and taught at a language school for Swedish, Danish, and Finnish businesspeople. She then returned to the USA, where she has lived ever since. She is fluent in Spanish, English, French and Swedish.

Maria Catalina Vergara Egan is married and has one son who, together with their five-pound Chihuahua, makes her feel like a full-time mother. Although she would not call herself an astrologer she has taken many classes and taught a few beginner classes in the subject M.C.V. Egan's new series DEFINING WAYS uses Astrology and the Metaphysical tools.


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