Bookworm Press

THIS WEEK ONLY, from Monday, April 20 to and including Sunday, April 26, the complete Family Portrait collection (An Uncommon Family, Love of a Stonemason, Emilia) is available on all Amazon sites for $2.99. You get three novels for the price of less than one!

Link to the Book:

myBook.to/Family_Portrait

CHECK IT OUT AND HAPPY READING! 

Für die deutschsprachigen Leser, die es noch nicht wissen: das zweite Buch meiner Familienportrait-Trilogie ist nun ebenfalls auf Deutsch erhältlich, als eBook und, seit kurzem, auch als Taschenbuch.

Kurzbeschreibung:
Für die junge Malerin Karla Bocelli gehört Verlust zum Alltag. Mit fünf Jahren verlor sie ihre Mutter bei einem Autounfall im Süden der Schweiz. Ihr peruanischer Vater lebt am anderen Ende der Welt und vor einem Jahr starb auch die Tante, die sie großgezogen hatte. Jetzt, im Alter von vierundzwanzig Jahren, wird sie beinahe von einem rasenden Auto angefahren. Als ob das allein nicht schicksalhaft genug wäre, ist der Fahrer des Wagen, Andreas, ein Bildhauer und Gestalter von Grabsteinen. Trotz seines Berufs ist Andreas alles andere als morbide. Hitzig und intensiv, strahlt er eine wilde Energie aus. Nach dem stürmischen Anfang ihrer Beziehung wird Andreas für Karla zum „Felsen“ ihres Lebens, das perfekte Antidot zu ihren Ängsten des Verlassenwerdens und den Depressionsanfällen. Andreas hat jedoch mit seinen eigenen Problemen zu kämpfen: einem alkoholkranken Vater, der ihn als Kind misshandelte, und seiner Neigung zu Wutanfällen. Gemeinsam müssen sich die beiden Künstler mit ihren Dämonen auseinandersetzen.

 DER STEINMETZ UND DIE MALERIN handelt vom Kampf zweier Künstler mit der Vergangenheit, ihren Familien, ihrer Kreativität und ihrer Liebe zu einander. Die Geschichte führt den Leser auf eine Reise der Sinne vom Süden der Schweiz nach Italien und in die peruanischen Anden.

Das Buch ist bei Amazon erhältlich:
EBook: myBook.to/Steinmetz
Taschenbuch, Druckformat: myBook.to/Print_Steinmetz

Das erste Buch der Trilogie, Eine ungewöhnliche Familie, ist ebenfalls auf Deutsch erhältlich:
Ebook: myBook.to/Ungew_Familie
Taschenbuch, Druckformat: myBook.to/Print_Ungew_Familie

Für die Leser, die es vorziehen, die Bücher in der englischen Originalfassung zu lesen, hier ist meine Autorenseite auf Amazon:  Author.to/ChristaPolkinhorn

Viel Vergnügen beim Lesen oder Happy Reading!

Wenn Ihnen das eine oder andere Buch gefallen hat, würde ich mich für eine kurze Bewertung/Rezension auf Amazon freuen. So werden andere Leser auf das Buch aufmerksam!

What made me write my first novel? The story behind Love of a Stonemason

Find out here: What is that book about?  

Today – Friday, 1/27, is the last day my novels (ebook versions) about love, art, and family are available for free on Amazon. GRAB THEM while you can. Curl up on your favorite sofa and travel to Switzerland, Peru, Italy, New York, and Guadalajara, Mexico!

I was determined to write a new post for my blog this past weekend. However, I got so busy adding the finishing touches to my new novel, An Uncommon Family, that the post I had in mind will have to wait. Instead you’ll get a short preview of my novel. Those of you who have read Love of a Stonemason will meet a familiar character. An Uncommon Family takes a step back in time.

Blurb and Chapter One:

A chance meeting between a middle-aged woman, a widower, and a semi-orphaned child in the city of Zurich, Switzerland, brings together three people who grapple with a past of loss and betrayal. Six-year-old Karla, whose mother died in a car crash, has a hard time accepting the loss. Anna, her aunt and guardian, struggles with her former husband’s deception and her shattered confidence in men, and Jonas, artist and teacher, mourns the death of his wife.

While trying to help Karla, a talented but troubled child, Anna and Jonas develop feelings for each other that go beyond friendship. The budding romance, however, hits a snag when Anna discovers a sinister secret in Jonas’s past. While the two adults have come to an impasse, young Karla takes matters into her own hands. Together with a friend, she develops a plan to bring the two uncooperative adults back together. The plan, however, creates havoc and as it begins to unravel, Karla is forced to learn some difficult lessons.

An Uncommon Family is a story about loss, lies, and betrayal but also about the healing power of love and forgiveness. It takes place in Switzerland, New York City, and Guadalajara, Mexico.

Karla licked the crispy cone, trying to catch the sliding droplets before they hit the ground. The raspberry ice cream was a dark purple, her favorite color. She wrinkled her nose as she caught another whiff of exhaust from the busy street along the Limmat River in the city of Zurich. It was August and hot in Switzerland. The six-year-old girl scanned the scenery in front of her with dreamy eyes.
     A longish canoe was sliding by a tourist boat on the river. People with funny-looking sun hats and dark glasses sat on the benches of the boat. Along the river on the other side, the built-together stone houses looked like a row of uneven different-colored teeth, gray, yellow, white, and some with a tint of orange. Behind the houses, on top of the hill, the linden trees at the park shimmered in their pale-green foliage and a curtain of dark-green ivy hid part of the gray granite wall.
     Karla took another lick from her ice-cream cone, then turned around and peered through the window of the art shop, where her aunt picked up two framed pictures. When she looked back at the sidewalk, her breath caught.
     “Mama?” she whispered.
     She saw the woman only from behind, but the bounce in her step, the long, reddish-blond hair flowing down her back, swaying left and right, the tall, slender figure—it must be her mother. She tossed the rest of the ice cream into the trash can, got up, and ran after the woman.
     “Mama!” she called as the woman got ready to cross the street. The light turned from blinking red to solid red, just as the woman reached the other side. Karla rushed after her, barely aware of the honking around her or of the shrill warning bell of the blue-and-white streetcar. She heard someone yell at her but by then she had arrived at the other side. The woman was walking along the river toward the Lake of Zurich.
     “Mama, wait!” Karla bumped into someone.
     “Watch it, kiddo.” A man stepped aside.
     “Mama . . .”
     The woman finally turned around and looked back, scanning the people behind her, then walked on. Karla stopped dumbfounded. It was the face of a stranger.
     A wave of despair washed over her. Not believing that she could have been so wrong, she started to run again. She didn’t see the slight indentation in the pavement. As she fell, she barely noticed the searing pain in her knees; the disappointment hurt more. She covered her face with her hands and sobbed. Mama would have helped her. Mama would have picked her up, hugged her, and even sang a little tune to her to make her feel better. But her mother was gone.
     “Are you hurt, honey?” a dark voice said. Karla felt a hand on her back. “Come on, let me see.”
     A pair of strong arms lifted her up. She looked into a face with a gray-white beard and kind, blue eyes below thick tufts of eyebrows. The man was tall and sturdy. He had wildish white hair. He reminded her of Saint Nicholas. But it was summer and Saint Nicholas only appeared in December.
     “Are you here alone?” he asked. “Where’s your mother?”
     The question brought a new flood of tears. “I thought it was Mama,” Karla managed to say, her chest heaving with sobs.
     “Karla, what happened? Why did you run away?” Aunt Anna came rushing toward her, clutching her purse and a large package. “I thought I’d lost you. Jesus, what happened to your knees?” She bent down, put the package on the concrete and examined Karla’s legs. Brushing a strand of wavy brown hair out of her face, she peered at the man with gray-blue eyes, the color of ice. “What’s going on here?”
     “I just happened to walk by when she fell,” he explained. “She said something about looking for her mother. Are you her mother?”
     Anna shook her head. “No, I’m her aunt. Her mother . . . died half a year ago.”
     “I’m so sorry.” The old man gently touched Karla’s cheek. “But she thought she saw her mother.”
     Anna sighed. “She still hasn’t accepted the truth.” She turned to Karla. “Tell me what happened, sweetie?”
     Karla told her between sobs that a woman had walked by who looked exactly like her mama.
     “But you know that’s not possible, don’t you?” Aunt Anna hugged her. Karla leaned her face against Anna’s chest and poured her sorrow into her sweater. It was soft but didn’t smell like her mama’s. Anna waited for her to calm down. “We have to take care of your knees.”
     “There’s a pharmacy right over there. I’m sure they have something to clean the wound and some bandages. May I?” Saint Nicholas gave Anna an inquiring look.
     Anna nodded and the man lifted Karla up. His thick hair tickled her cheek. Karla wrinkled her nose. He gave off a faint whiff of smoke, which reminded her of Anna’s woodstove. It felt a little comforting.
     At the pharmacy, a friendly lady took care of Karla’s knees. She wiped them clean, trying not to hurt Karla, who flinched and gave an occasional sob. “Sorry, hon, but we don’t want it to get infected.”
     While the woman bandaged Karla’s legs, Anna unwrapped the package she had been carrying. She handed Karla one of the pictures and held the other one up for her to see. “Don’t they look beautiful?”
     Karla nodded with a weak smile. They did look nice. She barely recognized them again behind the glass and surrounded by a fine wooden frame. One of them showed a woman, sitting on a chair and holding a little girl in her arm. The woman had long reddish-brown hair and the girl’s hair was black. They were sitting in front of a house. The stones in the wall had an irregular shape; they looked a little bit like cobblestones. It had taken Karla a while to make them look right. The other picture showed a tree with large purple and cream-colored blossoms. It was the chestnut tree in front of Karla’s old home. She had painted the pictures with her favorite pastel pens.
     “They’re gorgeous,” Saint Nicholas said in his deep voice. “Who painted those?”
     “Karla did,” Aunt Anna said.
     Saint Nicholas stared at her, then at the pictures, then at Karla. “How old is she?”
     “Six,” Karla said, brushing the last tears off her face. Anna handed her a Kleenex.
     “And she painted those by herself, without help?” The man squinted as he scanned the pictures. The wrinkles on his forehead and around his eyes deepened. He truly did look like Saint Nicholas.
     “Yes,” Anna said.
     “This child is very talented. Does she get any instruction?”
     “I’m actually looking for a teacher for her. She loves to draw and paint. If it was up to her, she’d do it all day long. And it seems to help her with . . . you know, the loss.”
     “Amazing.” Saint Nicholas shook his head and continued to scan the pictures. “Well, I happen to be a painter myself. I also teach a few children.” He looked at Karla and Anna with a serious face. “I’d love to have her as a student.”
     “I’ll think about it. That would be great,” Anna said.
     “Why don’t you check me out?” The man pulled his wallet from his back pocket, opened it, and took out a small gray card. “Here is my address and phone number and on the back a few references.”  He handed Anna the card. “Whatever you decide to do though, you don’t want a talent like this go to waste.”
     Anna studied the card. “Very interesting, Mr. Bergman.”
     “Call me Jonas,” the man said.
     “Anna,” Karla’s aunt said as the two shook hands.
     “You’re not Saint Nicholas?” Karla asked, surprised.
     Aunt Anna and the man laughed. “No, I’m sorry. You think I look like him?” He brushed through his wavy white hair.
     Karla nodded. “But you wouldn’t come in summer, would you?” She looked down at her neatly wrapped knees. The talk of drawing and painting had pulled her out of her deep misery. “Are you going to teach me?”
     The man smiled at her. “You talk this over with your aunt, all right?” Then he glanced at his watch. “Oops. I guess I missed my appointment.”
     “I’m so sorry,” Anna said. “We caused you all this trouble.”
     “Don’t worry. No problem at all.” He bent down and put a hand on Karla’s shoulder. “And, Karla, I know how much it hurts. I lost my dear wife a few years ago. We were together for over twenty years. I still miss her. But I can promise you, things will get better with time.”
     Karla took a deep breath and nodded. She had heard the words many times before. “Maja lost her mother, too.”
     “Maja is a friend of hers, a girl from Croatia,” Anna explained.

At home, in their house in a small town near Zurich, Aunt Anna fixed lunch. She heated up the leftover bean and vegetable soup and made grilled cheese sandwiches with tomatoes. The smell of food awakened Karla’s appetite. She was quiet and thoughtful but no longer desperate.
     “He was a nice man,” she said, folding the colorful paper napkins she had made herself with potato stamps. She put them on the blue-and-white place mats on the oak-wood table in the kitchen.
     “Would you like to take drawing and painting lessons from him?” Anna poured the soup into bowls and slid the toasted sandwiches onto the plates.
     Karla nodded. “Yeah, that’d be cool.” She smiled and traced her finger along the spots on the tabletop, where the sunlight, filtered by the leaves of the magnolia tree in front of the kitchen window, had sketched a pattern of light and shadows.
     “Cool, huh?” Anna smiled and gave the girl a hug.

I am very happy that my novel received another lovely and insightful review:

Reading Christa Polkinhorn’s Love of a Stonemason is an inner visual experience. Not only will you “see” locales in Switzerland, Peru, and Italy, but also, because her main characters are artists, you’ll feel you’ve toured a gallery of paintings and sculpture.

Karla, the painter, and Andreas, the stonemason, meet in what at first appears to be a typical romance plot device, but it’s not. These characters have depth, which the author portrays with sensitivity and realism. The darkness in their pasts threatens the relationship they form. Their torments and troubles drew me in. At times, I wanted to comfort them; at others, I wanted to smack Karla or shake Andreas.

Just when Karla finally faces the last of her demons and deals with it, Andreas’ personal hell erupts with full force. Each time, as these characters stumbled, I thought I knew what would come next, but I rarely did.

The author weaves the threads of her story into a beautiful tapestry. This debut novel is a worthwhile read and almost doubles as a vacation escape. Well done.

Linda Cassidy Lewis
Author of The Brevity of Roses

Chapter 5 of my novel Love of a Stonemason. It is available both as Kindle ebook and trade paperback at Amazon and in different ebook formats at Smashwords. Average customer reviews: 5 stars.

Blurb and Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4

     The Nordfoehn, a dry northern wind, had been blowing on and off all night. This wind was the only disadvantage in the otherwise ideal environment. Once in a while, it had an invigorating effect on Karla, but most of the time it made her feel irritable, anxious, even depressed, and gave her a headache.
     “All right. I guess I wasn’t meant to paint outside this morning,” she muttered, as another blast swept down on her. She gathered her painting tools and put them into her studio. She didn’t feel like finishing the painting inside, so she grabbed her sketch pad, sat down by the window, and thought about what to draw. She made several attempts, but was unable to concentrate.
     It wasn’t just the annoying wind. Ever since yesterday, she had been thinking of Andreas, his sculptures, his kiss. It had been more than a kiss between friends and it had stirred up emotions she didn’t care for. After a series of unsuccessful short-term relationships, Karla had decided to stay away from men for a while. And then this fierce, irritating, but oddly endearing guy with his biting humor had to turn up and unsettle her again.
     And the thing with Sarah. What was the real reason behind Sarah’s visit? Was it really just to apologize and talk about art?
     Sarah and Karla had had an on-and-off friendship for several years. They exchanged ideas about art, went to museums and galleries together, and sometimes critiqued each other’s work. The friendship, however, had cooled when Karla had caught Sarah sleeping with one of her boyfriends.
     Was Andreas attracted to Sarah? He had shown concern for her but Karla didn’t think he had more than friendly feelings for her. But then you never knew. And why should I even care? Karla tossed her drawing pad aside.
     The wind was blowing fiercely now, howling around the corners of the house and slamming one of the shutters close. When Karla stepped outside to fasten it again, she saw that the sky was a deep clear blue, the wind having wiped away all the clouds.
     Karla sat down again and forced herself to get a least one drawing done. She picked up her pad and a piece of charcoal. Almost automatically, she began to sketch Andreas, as she remembered him sitting in front of the stone slab. She realized she was out of practice drawing human figures, having focused mainly on landscapes. After several attempts, she ended up with a sketch she liked. It depicted his muscular body bending over the stone, a strand of hair hanging into his face. She left out the mask and goggles, wanting to show his face in profile.
     Perhaps she would give it to him on Saturday. Feeling more at peace again, she was ashamed of her anger at Sarah. She was her friend, after all, and Karla hadn’t even called her to find out how she was feeling after her breakdown at the opening. She picked up the phone and dialed Sarah’s number. It took a while before she answered.
     Sarah’s voice sounded tired. “I’m trying to take a nap.”
     “Sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you; I just wanted to know how you were,” Karla said.
     “I’m okay.”
     Sarah’s distant and cool voice irritated Karla. You make an ass of yourself at my first opening. You could at least apologize. “I heard you went to see Andreas.”
     “Yes. I did. I wanted to apologize.”
     “Oh, I see. Was that the only reason? You were all over him at the opening.”
     “So? What do you care? Are you two an item or something? How did you find out I went to see him?”
     Karla felt anger rise in her like bile. “He told me. He’s my boyfriend, Sarah.” Gee, what a lie.
     It was quiet for a while at the other end. Karla could hear Sarah’s breathing. Then her voice again, friendlier now. “Karla, look, he’s great. I felt really low the last few days. Just talking to him made me feel better. I have no intention of interfering in your relationship. You’re lucky to have him as a boyfriend.”
     Karla started to feel ashamed but she still distrusted Sarah. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”
     “Oh, Karla, why bring up that old stuff. You weren’t even interested in the guy anymore.”
     “Yeah, but you didn’t know that when you jumped in the sack with him.”
     “Karla, you know what? You’re so fucking petty.”
     “Sarah, let’s not fight.” It was too late. Karla heard the click at the other end.
     Why can’t I keep my mouth shut? Karla lowered her head on her arms and sighed. Not only had she lied to Sarah about her relationship with Andreas, she had begrudged her friend the little encouragement he had given her as an artist.
     Perhaps Sarah was interested in Andreas. At least she was honest about her feelings. Karla, on the other hand, had appropriated Andreas, although she wasn’t even sure how she felt about him or how he felt about her. He had kissed her, he wanted to meet her again, but that was all. And Karla’s feelings for him? She liked him, she was even attracted to him, but she wasn’t sure she was ready to get involved.

     The following morning, it was raining, the Nordfoehn having collapsed the night before. The rain felt soothing after the harsh, dry northern wind and the sky was a lively display of towering dark clouds. The mountain tops were hidden behind layers of white mist. Stormy landscape, Rembrandt, Karla thought as she scanned the horizon. It had cooled off somewhat and the air smelled of burning wood from the neighbor’s oven.
     Later that day, Karla made an effort to clean out the storage room, which was overflowing with canvasses of half-finished and finished paintings as well as sketches on paper. She resisted this periodic chore. It forced her to decide which pieces she considered worth keeping and which she wanted to discard or paint over. Not an easy task; it required ruthless honesty and a discerning eye.
     Karla kept pulling paintings out of storage, putting them back in, pulling them back out again. In the process, she came across the canvass with the dark woman she had been struggling with. She glanced at it, shook her head, and decided to hang on to it. One day, perhaps, she would be able to finish it.
     In the evening, there was a pile of discarded sketches in the recycling bin and several canvasses that could be reused. The clean-up gave Karla a feeling of freedom. She took a deep breath and stepped outside to watch the evening settle in. It had stopped raining and the heavy clouds had thinned. The southern sky was pink with tints of purple and the evening breeze brought a whiff of wet grass.



Crystal Fulcher reviewed my novel Love of a Stonemason on her blog My Reading Room.

About the book:
The young painter, Karla Bocelli, is no stranger to loss. When she was five years old, her mother died in a car crash in the south of Switzerland. Her Peruvian father lives at the other end of the world, and a year ago, her aunt and guardian passed away. Now, at age twenty-four, Karla almost gets hit by a speeding car. As if this wasn’t fateful enough, Andreas, the driver, turns out to be a sculptor and carver of tombstones. In spite of his profession, Andreas is anything but morbid. Quick-tempered and intense, he exudes a rough-and-tumble energy. After a tumultuous start of their relationship, Karla comes to see in Andreas the “rock in her life,” the perfect antidote to her fears of abandonment and bouts of depression. Andreas, however, wrestles with his own ghosts: an alcoholic father who abused him as a child and his own fits of anger. Together, the two artists must confront the demons that haunt them.

Love of a Stonemason is a story about the struggle of two artists with their past, their family, their creativity, and their love for each other. Told from the point of view of Karla, it depicts the world through her painter’s sensibility. It takes the reader on a journey full of sights, smells, tastes, and sounds from the south of Switzerland to Italy and the Peruvian Andes.

And here is what the reviewer had to say:

The first thing that went through my mind when I finished this book on Friday night was simply “Wow”. I felt like I had been told a full story and while I wanted more of Karla and Andreas at the end, the story really was complete. I don’t know when was the last time I truly felt that when I finished a book. Ms. Polkinhorn did a magnificient job crafting this story and getting it on the page. The characters, scenery and happenings in the book really came alive for me and I felt like I was watching and feeling Karla and Andreas through the full book.

How to classify this book – I first thought it sounded like a romance, but after finishing it, I would say it is more general fiction. Romance is key, Karla and Andreas’ relationship is very key to the book. But most romance novels stop after dating and marriage usually, sometimes with glimpses of family life if there are several books in a series. The beauty of Ms. Polkinhorn’s novel is that it continues through the years after they marry and delves much deeper into the characters of Karla and Andreas as they tackle the new ups and downs of marriage, of their art and of family.

Love of a Stonemason never lags in plot. Whether you are looking into depression, the ups of a great art career, the separation (distance-wise) of Andreas and Karla, starting a family, all of this flowed together so well and made a great story. I was never bored and wondering when something good would happen. It was all interesting and attention getting. It’s as edge-of-your-seat as a non-thriller work can get. I was always wondering what would happen next, what aspect of life would be shown.

The realism is beautiful too. Love of a Stonemason truly shows the ups and downs of life, love and family. No family or person is perfect, there are always problems and always two sides to a story and that is what this book really looks into. I love that every aspect is shown and I really enjoyed the growth of the characters. Andreas and Karla are not superficial, you really get to know them through the whole book. I felt as though I knew them personally. The foreign setting and descriptions of landscapes and cities is also well-done. I also enjoyed learning about the art world, something that never really interested me before, but the author does a great job of making it interesting.

I laughed, I cried, I was frustrated with the characters (in a good way). I think I ran through most every emotion with this book. And what I love most is the feeling of the complete story and it’s a story that will stick with me for some time. I found myself thinking of Karla and Andreas and the other people in their lives through the weekend. Really letting the story settle over me and how I feel now is that this is a definite reread in my book and that is saying something since I don’t really reread books. My true hope is Ms. Polkinhorn will have another book on the way so I have another one of her books to enjoy. She brings realism to the story without it depressing you and leaving you down for days and I really like that. I do not have any complaints about this book and I think those of you who enjoy general fiction with a foreign-flair and romance will really enjoy this book.

A fortunate find:
“I am only one-quarter of the way through this big, beautiful novel, but am enjoying it so much that I wanted to post a review.

LOVE OF A STONEMASON gives readers Europe and South America. A few examples: the Nordfoehn, a dry northern wind; the turning of the seasons in Switzerland; the look and feel of Toro Muerto, a mysterious South American site containing hundreds of carved rocks. Descriptions are vivid without being overwritten. Christa Polkinhorn makes me feel as if I know these places where I have never been.

But my enthusiasm for the novel goes beyond its very considerable achievements in description. I like Karla and Andreas, the main characters. I can imagine having dinner with them, drinking wine with them, sharing conversation.

They are GOOD people. Not goody-goody types or one-dimensional caricatures of virtue, but decent people yearning for satisfaction in both love and vocation. These two artists are falling in love. I am glad to be sharing their journey.”

Lindsay Edmunds, Pennsylvania

My novel Love of a Stonemason is featured on Indie Blog. Come and have a look!.