Beneath the Satin Gloves – Now Available!

Several years of my adult life have passed; thousands of words have joined forces; blood, sweat, and tears (and, many more tears) have stained my laptop. Everything I have to offer—passion, commitment, relentlessness–have come to life in this little book.

To me, this is surreal and bittersweet.

I have neatly packaged up a piece of my soul in the form of an intangible e-book, so I could share a story with you, so I could entertain you, so I could hopefully whisk you away.

I am humbly proud to say my first attempt at a novel, Beneath the Satin Gloves, is now available.

A modern day woman, torn by her illusive dreams, awakens to a strange life in 1943, hurdled against the throes of destruction in wartime Berlin. Following a haphazard trail of clues, she discovers her new identity as Alina Feuer, code-named Sparrow, a famous entertainer, seducing a high-ranking SS officer to gather vital information for the Allies.

But, Alina is an amateur in these incessant spy games, relying solely on her wit and instinct to make her next move while frantically hiding her erratic behavior from the watchful eyes of her suspicious liaison/love interest and her pestering socialite gal pal along the way. A reluctant heroine, she must use charismatic glamour as her weapon of choice to fulfill her deadly mission before the week is through.

Discover Beneath the Satin Gloves on Amazon and Smashwords for $3.99.

I would like to thank ALL of you out there for your support! I would especially like to thank my husband, who I dedicated my book to…My beautiful paper weight. You kept me from blowing away. You loved me when I needed it most. Thank you.

Related blog posts…

Berlin: My Scarred Muse

Jiving in Another Time

Jiving in Another Time

I have forever been infatuated by the swing club culture of World War II. During the darkest of times, their seedy facades welcomed those who needed somewhere to let loose and celebrate life.

These bold rebels dressed loudly, danced inappropriately, and even had their own underground jargon, saying things like: “Do you dig this jive?” and “Hey man, you’re comin’ up on the wrong riff!”

In the initial brainstorming for my upcoming novel, Beneath the Satin Gloves, I knew I wanted to immerse myself in this rich, lively environment, somehow incorporating my performance background throughout. As a lifelong dancer, I didn’t want to take the obvious route with my main character, making her a gyrating Swing Kid. Instead, I envisioned her name in lights, the essence of retro glamour, commanding a stage and captivating a crowd.

I am the worst singer in the world. Really…can’t carry a tune in a bucket!

I barely even sing when I’m alone in my own house. Why, do you ask? Because my cats protest. They awake from their deep, daytime slumber, rush over to paw at me, and carry on with strange protesting sounds…“Mommy, shh!”

Without a doubt, I knew my main character had to be a lounge singer. I mentioned in my previous post, Berlin: My Scarred Muse, she is a modern day woman who wakes up in the past. She discovers she is a spying lounge singer, thrown into the middle of war-torn Berlin in 1943.

She is catapulted into a time she previously knew through history books and old movies. Seen through her eyes, the disorientation and awe she experiences is constant throughout the story.

An excerpt from Beneath the Satin Gloves…

Alina looked around in awe at the scene before her. Café Rouge could only be described as a place of utmost warmth and brilliance, overcoming the stark hallway and frigid weather. Everything was tinted in a red and gold haze—plush seating, lazy tablecloths, and opulent curtains created a haven of chic seduction. Early winter nights gave some an excuse to party sooner—the other population simply went to bed.

Although the night was just getting started, a few amateurs were sloshed and sweaty. The opening band was incredible, gold instruments creating genius undulations of sound, blasting the audience with a feast for the ears. A clan of stylishly dressed individuals bombarded the dance floor, dancing with unclean movement highly representative of swing culture.

Men flipped women over their shoulders or between their legs, skirts flew up around heads—it was just another seamless part of the show. Hard stomping, spastic jumping, and shameless gyrating permeated the floor; meanwhile, foul-mouthed dwellers drank and smoked at the wobbly tables. Reflections of the mad room swam in Alina’s effervescent eyes.

It was raunchy. It was beautiful.

So, do you cats dig this excerpt? : )

I’m still wrapping up my novel, but it will be out soon (phew!). In the meantime, please enjoy my favorite scene from the movie Swing Kids.

Berlin: My Scarred Muse

When I traveled to Berlin back in 2009, I was mesmerized and speechless: the in your face street art, the bold and chic architecture, the playful, rebellious nature of its people, and the intentionally abandoned scars from a time in history when she almost fell entirely off the map.

I fell in love with the city at a young age, enthralled by its turbulent history and thriving culture. It was the only locale that came to mind when my husband dared me to write a novel. Although I wanted to write about a multitude of time periods, the World War II junkie in me prevailed, and Beneath the Satin Gloves was born.

It is the biggest challenge I have ever taken on, a delicious adventure.

I’ve always wanted to live in another time, and writing effortlessly granted me that impossible wish. Off and on for the past three years, I lived in the 1940s through the characters and plots in my head.

I love the idea of an intelligent character being uncomfortable, completely out of their element. To add a twist to my book, my main character is actually from present day, and wakes up in the past as a spy in Berlin. Therefore, modern elements and thoughts are incorporated throughout the story.

An excerpt from Beneath the Satin Gloves…

One lazy afternoon, spending quality time with her remote control, she flipped through channels and landed on a travel show discussing the gender qualities of cities. American cities, like Chicago, were masculine, embracing smart business suits, non-stop hustle and bustle, and snappy hamburgers. European cities, like Brussels, were feminine, encompassing tidy dogs, chic cafés, and lazy croissants swimming in artery-blocking cream.

Berlin was both feminine and masculine, eclectic sense of style mixed with undeniable assertiveness. Graffiti covered the walls in one eye-catching portrait after another, expressing creativity and attitude beneath its brazen messages.

It was estimated that ninety percent of Berlin was destroyed during World War II. Walking around that summer, she found bullet holes permanently embedded in different exteriors around the city. She often stopped and touched them, closing her eyes, feeling these scars as if they were her own.

Scars could never diminish Berlin’s spirit. There was no need to cover them up with unnecessary make-up, because they made the city who she was—a survivor.

Many would claim Berlin is not a romantic city, but I beg to differ. In my eyes, romance is defined by complexity, passion, and intrigue.

I am currently in the final editing stages. I would love to hear your feedback! What do you guys think of the excerpt?

The Clues in the Vintage Handbag

When I was a little girl, I idolized Nancy Drew. She was clever, stylish and feisty…my kind of heroine. She made elegance and intellect look easy, showing us that women were not only beautiful creatures, but forces to be reckoned with.

Several of my core interests stemmed from my childhood obsession with Nancy Drew: a nerdy love affair with history, writing strong female characters, and a vintage clothing addiction.

Yesterday, I unearthed a treasure, hidden in the folds of my new vintage handbag. No, the treasure did not have any monetary value, but in my eyes—it was a priceless discovery.

Awestruck, I found myself staring at artifacts in the palm of my hand: baseball tickets and a voting certificate with a list on the back. The year was 1954, a time of I Love Lucy, the Communist Control Act, Elvis Presley, Marilyn Monroe, and of course…baseball.

Almost sixty years later, I find these clues from the past, offering a tiny glimpse into another woman’s life.

Looks like I get to be a sleuth after all.

Clue #1:  Baseball Tickets
During the 1954 season, Milwaukee Braves player Hank Aaron was making his permanent mark on the world of baseball. One of the first five African Americans to play in the league, he is considered to be one of the greatest baseball players of all time.

When: Sunday, August 22, 1954
Who: Milwaukee Braves vs. Chicago Cubs
Where: Wrigley Stadium
Winner: Milwaukee Braves 12-6

When: Wednesday, August 25, 1954
Who: Milwaukee Braves vs. Philadelphia Phillies
Where: County Stadium
Winner: Milwaukee Braves 4-3

Clue #2:  Voting Certificate and List
Unfortunately, I didn’t have much luck gathering solid information about the voting certificate, and if you have any insights out there, please feel free to comment down below. On the flip side of the certificate was a list, the most revealing lead…

Chocolate
Fly Swatter
Shoes
Film
Loan

So, who was she?
Based on the clues, I have created three different profiles of women, who may have owned the handbag…

  1. FILM  The baseball player’s girlfriend, unconventional and middle class. She enjoyed cheering him on, and never missed a single game. She integrated her love of photography with his love of baseball, documenting every tidbit of their lives together.
  2. SHOES & CHOCOLATE   The baseball fan’s wife, unfaithful and rich. Her husband’s idea of a romantic date always involved a sweaty baseball field. Bored out of her mind, she daydreamed about shoes and her younger lover while eating the chocolate she had stashed in her handbag.
  3. LOAN & FLY SWATTER  The baseball-loving son’s mother, devoted and poor. A struggling feminist, she always voted, hoping for better rights. She yearned to make adequate money to support her son, who wanted to be a baseball player. After the game she went to apply for a loan to avoid losing their home, which had recently been taken over by flies, escaping the summer heat.

If someone were to discover hidden artifacts in my handbag sixty years from now, they would probably find writing/dancing notes and a receipt for dessert.

What about you? Name two clues that might be discovered in your handbag or wallet.

Or, if you care to share…who do YOU think the woman with the handbag was?