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
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.
