Guest Post: My Immortal Soul by Jen Printy

An endless love, for an endless price.

Jack’s immortality is exposed when he prevents a liquor store heist, forcing him to flee to protect his secret—a secret not even he understands. But when he meets Leah Winters—a mirror image of his decades-lost love, Lydia—his very soul is laid bare. He begins to question his sanity. Is she real, and if so, what does that mean for Jack and his secret?

Jack’s not the only mystery man in town. A stranger named Artagan hints at knowledge Jack is desperate to possess. But can he trust Artagan, or does the dark newcomer harbor deadly secrets of his own?

As Jack’s bond with Leah grows, so does the danger to her life. Jack must discover just how much he is willing to risk in order to save the woman he already lost once.

Available at these retailers:

ISBN-13: 978-1-940215-25-9

ISBN-10: 1-940215-25-0

Print Page Count: 310

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My name is Jen and I am a librum sniffer—AKA, a sniffer of books.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not adverse to technology. I love my Kindle too. I love that I can carry a library of books with me wherever I go. Want to read Jane Eyre in the line at the mall? Not a problem. Harry Potter? All seven years! Take your pick. Still nothing can beat the weight of a book in your hands. The anticipation that comes as you flip to the next page. Will he live, or will he die? And, yes, most of all the smell.

As it turns out, I’m not the only ones. Post and websites litter the internet about this very subject. One company has even made a perfume, and another has an aerosol spray so you don’t miss that book smell while reading your kindle. Cool, right? A group of chemists from University College in London actually did a study to find out what this book smell opposition was all about. As books decay, they release volatile organic compounds into the air.  According to these chemists, the decay of the pages, ink, and adhesives have distinct odors that make old books smell like, ‘A combination of grassy notes with a tang of acids and a hint of vanilla over an underlying mustiness.’  Okay, enough of science class. In short, when books get old, they end up smelling like fresh baked lawn cookies. So it’s no wonder the smell attracts us. I mean, what’s more smoothing than a batch of Grandma’s home-baked cookies or a fresh mowed lawn on a warm summer afternoon.

But love of books goes deeper than just the smell. When I was a kid, my dad took me treasure hunting in old bookstores in Portland. I loved everything about them—the creaky wood floors, the darkened aisles stacked to the ceiling with tattered spines and forgotten titles. An artistry lived in those books’ yellowed pages, and so much history. I offend imagining who might have owned a book before me—a Victorian girl who lived in a grand mansion on the West End or a girl of the Great Depression who lived in a cramped, two-bedroom apartment with six brothers and sisters, and this book was her prized possession. So when picking a major setting for My Soul Immortal, I naturally turned to my past. I knew needed a place that would be a refuge for Jack, a comfortable place to land. Where else but a used bookstore. Book are a useful escape from the real world, maybe even more so for a man who’s seen decades come and go.