Every Tuesday I host First Chapter First Paragraph Tuesday Intros sharing the first paragraph or two of a book that I’m reading or plan to read soon
Feel free to join in by posting your own FCFPTI and linking below
Playing Upon A Word
The author lay upon the ground
She was bruised and shaken
She said that she was sorry, that it was really quite absurd
She fell, she said, while she was trying to play upon a word
Every Tuesday I host First Chapter First Paragraph Tuesday Intros sharing the first paragraph or two of a book that I’m reading or plan to read soon
Feel free to join in by posting your own FCFPTI and linking below
The Storyteller’s Secret by Sejal Badani
JAYA
2000
ONE
I was five years old when I begged my mother for a dog. The breed or size didn’t matter. I just wanted something of my own to love and to hold tight. Mom surprised me with a puppy waiting on a leash three days after I asked. It was perfect. I took the dog everywhere and slept with it every night. A few months later, the dog got out of the backyard and was lost. I sat on my bed and cried for hours while my mother watched me silently from the doorway of my room. I finally fell asleep, exhausted from my grief. Only the next morning did I discover she had come in during the night to pull the blanket over me and turn off the light. She never said a word to me about my loss.
Every Tuesday I host First Chapter First Paragraph Tuesday Intros sharing the first paragraph or two of a book that I’m reading or plan to read soon
Feel free to join in by posting your own FCFPTI and linking below
In Pieces by Sally Field
My Grandmother’s Daughter
I wait for my mother to haunt me as she promised she would; long to wake in the night with the familiar sight of her sitting at the end of my bed, to talk to her one more time, to feel that all the pieces have been put into place, the puzzle is solved, and I can rest.
Every Tuesday I host First Chapter First Paragraph Tuesday Intros sharing the first paragraph or two of a book that I’m reading or plan to read soon
Feel free to join in by posting your own FCFPTI and linking below
Sea Prayer by Khaled Hosseini
Illustrated by Dan Williams
My dear Marwan,
in the long summers of childhood,
when I was a boy the age you are now,
your uncles and I
spread our mattress on the roof
of your grandfather’s farmhouse
outside of Homes.
We woke in the mornings
to the stirring of olive trees in the breeze,
to the bleating of your grandmother’s goat,
the clanking of her cooking pots,
the air cool and the sun
a pale rim of persimmon to the east.
This is another book that I first saw when Diane posted a review. I couldn’t get it out of my head so I borrowed a copy from the library. Would you keep reading?
Every Tuesday I host First Chapter First Paragraph Tuesday Intros sharing the first paragraph or two of a book that I’m reading or plan to read soon
Feel free to join in by posting your own FCFPTI and linking below
Our House by Louise Candlish
1
Friday, January 13, 2017
She must be mistaken, but it looks exactly as if someone is moving into her house.
Every Tuesday I host First Chapter First Paragraph Tuesday Intros sharing the first paragraph or two of a book that I’m reading or plan to read soon
Feel free to join in by posting your own FCFPTI and linking below
A Deadly Development (Hang Ten Australian Cozy Mystery Book 2)
by Stacey Alabaster
Alyson
There are rules in the surf. You don’t cut someone off, and you definitely don’t steal someone’s wave. First surfer gets dibs. Clair, as rusty as she was, and as much as I wanted to show her how it was done, was there first. So I hung back on my board and tried to watch her do her thing.
Every Tuesday I host First Chapter First Paragraph Tuesday Intros sharing the first paragraph or two of a book that I’m reading or plan to read soon
Feel free to join in by posting your own FCFPTI and linking below
An Accidental Murder by J. New
(The Yellow Cottage Vintage Mysteries #1)
Chapter One
It was a particularly chilly and damp Saturday afternoon in September, and I was taking a momentary break from the unpacking of boxes to have a quick sandwich and a cup of tea. I’d already laid and lit the log fire and now sat, sleepy and content, in an overstuffed armchair, watching the flames dance and flicker in the grate. An listening to the wind whistling down the chimney like and irate ghost.
Every Tuesday I host First Chapter First Paragraph Tuesday Intros sharing the first paragraph or two of a book that I’m reading or plan to read soon
Feel free to join in by posting your own FCFPTI and linking below
Harbor Me by Jacqueline Woodson
We think they took my papi.
It’s over now. Or maybe it isn’t. Maybe, even as I sit on my bed in the dying light of the late afternoon, it’s beginning again. Maybe Ms. Laverne is looking over the new class list, her finger moving down the row of names. Maybe her, she is thinking. And him. And her. But it won’t be the same. It won’t ever be the six of us together again.
We think they took my pappi.
Every Tuesday I host First Chapter First Paragraph Tuesday Intros sharing the first paragraph or two of a book that I’m reading or plan to read soon
Feel free to join in by posting your own FCFPTI and linking below
The Good Neighbor: The Life and Work of Fred Rogers by Maxwell King
Nancy Mcfeely Rogers had come back to her parents’ house in Latrobe, Pennsylvania, forty miles southeast of Pittsburgh, just before Fred Rogers was born. She wanted to be sure that she would have as much help and support as possible for what might be a hard delivery. Nancy’s first baby was coming two and a half years after her marriage to James Hillis Rogers, a handsome, dark-haired young man who had finished his engineering studies at Pennsylvania State University and the University of Pittsburgh. Jim Rogers and his young bride, also dark-haired and attractive, made a striking couple in this small but growing industrial city in western Pennsylvania in the mid-1920’s.
Every Tuesday I host First Chapter First Paragraph Tuesday Intros sharing the first paragraph or two of a book that I’m reading or plan to read soon
Feel free to join in by posting your own FCFPTI and linking below
Where the Crawdads Sing by Delia Owens
1.
Ma
1952
The morning burned so August hot, the marsh’s moist breath hung the oaks and pines with fog. The palmetto patches stood unusually quiet except for the low, slow flap of the heron’s wings lifting from the lagood. And then, Kya, only six at the time, heard the screen door slap. Standing on the stool, she stopped scrubbing grits from the pot and lowered into the basin of worn-out suds. No sounds now but her own breathing. Who had left the shack? Not Ma. She never let the door slam.
But when Kya ran to the porch, she saw her mother in a long brown skirt, kick pleats nipping at her ankles, as she walked down the sandy lane in high heels.The stubby-nosed shoes were fake alligator skin. Her only going-out pair. Kya wanted to holler out but knew not to rouse Pa, so she opened the door and stood on the brick-‘n’-board steps. From there she saw the blue train case Ma carried. Usually, with the confidence of a pup, Kya knew her mother would return with meat wrapped in greasy brown paper or with a chicken, head dangling down. But she never wore the gator heels, never took a case.
Every Tuesday I host First Chapter First Paragraph Tuesday Intros sharing the first paragraph or two of a book that I’m reading or plan to read soon
Feel free to join in by posting your own FCFPTI and linking below
Bodies on the Beach (Hang Ten Australian Cozy #1) by Stacey Alabaster
1
______________
Claire
Having admirers was nothing unusual for me. But on this day, I wanted to remain incognito. I was dressed in black, shades on, as I drove back into town, trying to dodge the stares coming from overhead. Caw-caw. I know a bunch of crows is called a ‘murder’, but what about seagulls? They swooped down and followed me. I knew exactly what they wanted. Food. When tourists come to the beach, that’s what they bring with them.
Every Tuesday I host First Chapter First Paragraph Tuesday Intros sharing the first paragraph or two of a book that I’m reading or plan to read soon
Feel free to join in by posting your own FCFPTI and linking below
The Lido by Libby Page
Chapter 1
~~~~~~~~~
Step out of Brixton underground station and it is a carnival of steel drums, the white noise of traffic, and that man on the corner shouting “God Loves You”, even to the unlovable.
“Tickets for the Bixton Academy tonight”, yells a ticket tout at the station entrance. “Buying and selling tickets for the Brixton Academy!”. Commuters shake their heads at promoters and preachers who try to thrust leaflets into their clenched hands. You push through the crowds and walk past the Rastafarian selling incense and records outside the Starbucks. Across the road is Morleys, the independent department store that has stood on the street for years. “Love Brixton” glows in neon lights in the nearby window of TK Maxx.
Every Tuesday I host First Chapter First Paragraph Tuesday Intros sharing the first paragraph or two of a book that I’m reading or plan to read soon
Feel free to join in by posting your own FCFPTI and linking below
The Wife Between Us by Greer Hendricks & Sarah Pekkanen
She walks briskly down the city sidewalk, her blond hair bouncing against her shoulders, her cheeks flushed, a gym bag looped over her forearm. When she reaches her apartment building her hand dips into her purse and pulls out her keys. The street is loud and busy, with yellow cabs racing by, commuters returning from work, and shoppers entering the deli on the corner. But my eyes never stray from her.
Every Tuesday I host First Chapter First Paragraph Tuesday Intros sharing the first paragraph or two of a book that I’m reading or plan to read soon
Feel free to join in by posting your own FCFPTI and linking below
Brown Girl Dreaming by Jacqueline Woodson
february 12, 1963
I am born on a Tuesday at University Hospital
Columbus, Ohio
USA-
a country caught
between Black and White
I am born not long from the time
or far from the place
where
my great-great-grandparents
worked the deep rich land
unfree
dawn till dusk
unpaid
drank cool wather from the scooped-out gourds
looked up and followed
the sky’s mirrored constellation
to freedom.
Every Tuesday I host First Chapter First Paragraph Tuesday Intros sharing the first paragraph or two of a book that I’m reading or plan to read soon
Feel free to join in by posting your own FCFPTI and linking below
![High Seas Homicide (Hannaford British Cozy Mystery Book 1) by [Collins, Danielle]](https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/51t9-4hphUL.jpg)
High Seas Homicide (Hannaford British Cozy #1) by Danielle Collins
Lucy Hannaford was in the middle of racking her brains for what she would do next when her husband John came home from work. He worked as a tax attorney for the city of London- the least glamorous job anyone could possible have. She didn’t envy his work. He came home weary, his head down, his back hunched over. He went straight for the armchair every day, not even bothering to change his clothes. He pushed his shoes off his feet, then scrounged around for the television remote.
Every Tuesday I host First Chapter First Paragraph Tuesday Intros sharing the first paragraph or two of a book that I’m reading or plan to read soon
Feel free to join in by posting your own FCFPTI and linking below
The Bridge: A Collection of Short Stories by Paula Kay
Not Today
Laura glanced at her reflection in the rearview mirror as she waited for the light to change.
So tired. She looked so damn tired. And old. And pathetic, she thought as she noticed just how red her eyes were from the latest onslaught of tears that had come during the last hour.
Every Tuesday I host First Chapter First Paragraph Tuesday Intros sharing the first paragraph or two of a book that I’m reading or plan to read soon
Feel free to join in by posting your own FCFPTI and linking below
Heaven Adjacent by Catherine Ryan Hyde
Three Months After The Move
Chapter One
When Somebody Hands You A Fish
Roseanna was standing under the barely warm water in her tiny, cold makeshift shower when the bell at the gate began to clang.
She cursed to herself a few times, under her breath but out loud, rinsing off more or less all at once and grabbing a towel. She stepped out into her shabby and small add-on bathroom, toweled her hair briefly, then wrapped the towel around herself.
Every Tuesday I host First Chapter First Paragraph Tuesday Intros sharing the first paragraph or two of a book that I’m reading or plan to read soon
Feel free to join in by posting your own FCFPTI and linking below
Us Against You by Fredrik Backman
It’s Going To Be Someone’s Fault
Have you ever seen a town fall? Ours did. We’ll end up saying that violence came to Beartown this summer, but that will be a lie; the violence was already here. Because sometimes hating one another is so easy that it seems incomprehensible that we ever do anything else.
Every Tuesday I host First Chapter First Paragraph Tuesday Intros sharing the first paragraph or two of a book that I’m reading or plan to read soon
Feel free to join in by posting your own FCFPTI and linking below
Half A Heart by Karen McQuestion
He’d never seen his father so angry, and that was saying a lot, because he’d seen him plenty mad the last few years. Tia really was to blame, not that it mattered. He should have known not to listen to her.
Afer their parents left the house that Saturday, she lured Logan out of his bedroom with the promise of marshmallows.
Every Tuesday I host First Chapter First Paragraph Tuesday Intros sharing the first paragraph or two of a book that I’m reading or plan to read soon
Feel free to join in by posting your own FCFPTI and linking below
Live Your Life: 14 Days to the Best You by Ann LeFevre
Day 1
Silence The Voices
Growing up, I was never much of an athlete. I grew up in the woods, in the heart of nature, with opportunities to hike and climb and play, but I preferred to read and play piano. If my family went for a hike or a vacation that required some walking, I would always whine and need to sit down and “take a break”. I wasn’t completely sedentary when I was little, however. I got some physical activity when I would pretend to be a dancer or singer in my basement. But as a young child, I don’t think anyone would have described me as “active”.