Fate had one job. And she bungled it . . . badly.
Now only a cursed hatter and a tormented water nymph can fix the damage. Tuscany, 1603 Andolosia Petasos dreams of being the next Da Vinci. Only Fate has cursed him to make hats. It’s not Andolosia’s fault. After all, a Greek ancestor stole Hermes’ teleportation hat and brought down all of Olympus. And the gods don’t easily forgive that sort of thing. In Olympus, Moira strives to weave a future that will fix the heavenly disaster. The very one she created. Meanwhile, the rich and powerful Sansone de Medici hires Andolosia to create a fantastical hat. A job that will change the hatter’s life. At de Medici’s Florentine palazzo, Andolosia encounters the feisty Carlotta Lux. She claims de Medici has kidnapped her because she is descended from Daphne, the legendary water nymph. Of course Andolosia has no choice but to rescue her using Hermes’ hat. But instead of gratitude, she is furious. Carlotta had been within inches of killing her captor. Because Sansone de Medici is not who he seems. He is driven by a supernatural urge that demands he never gives up the chase. And Andolosia and Carlotta can’t run far enough to escape him. AVAILABLE AT THESE ONLINE RETAILERS AMAZON.COM REVIEWS Andrea L. Stoeckel 5.0 out of 5 stars A marvelous read Reviewed in the United States on July 1, 2021 Verified Purchase "He could freely choose to embrace his fate, to love that fate, to follow the creed of amor fati. This freedom was proprietary and inalienable." To accept your fate or not. It's a question probably asked more in the history of humankind than any other. And Fentonmiller has woven a myth with a nod to both the Ancient Greeks and Italy in the intertwined fates of two "cursed" mortals:Andolosia and Carlotta that work to change the fates their families were saddled with. 1600s Italy spiced with Greek Mythology? As a retired minister who's favorite book is The Odyssey I say thank you to the author for a tale I call one of my best reads of 2021! Highly Recommended 5/5 5.0 out of 5 stars A romp through the world of ancient gods and mortals Reviewed in the United States on June 26, 2021 Verified Purchase Fentonmiller's Fate Accompli is a fascinating journey among the ancients of Italy and Greece. His exquisite use of language and his attention to detail are quite remarkable. Not being a student of this genre, the stories aroused my interest in discovering more about the subject. Grief gets better.
Not right away, but in slow increments that continue to surprise me. My kids took me to Disneyland last weekend. I laughed, screamed, shut my eyes as the rollercoaster dipped and ate to my heart's content. We were up early and out the door. There was no time to think, no time to grieve. It was good, but it was also bad. Why? Because I had to come home to reality. My sister-in-law shared with me that she put away all of her husband's pictures. She can't bear to look at them. Since I've been home I have considered the idea. It doesn't work for me. I need him looking over my shoulder, being the editor-in-chief of what I write. I need his closeness, his scent, his love, to keep me sane. He is my inspiration. He is my grouchy character, my loving character, my heart and my soul. I can't change that. We loved a lot, hurt either other, then came back round again. I wouldn't change a thing as each experience taught us the power of love. I smell his cigar smoke in the bedroom. Even in the car on occasion. He leaves me red roses in bizarre places and sends the finches when I need some up time. Oh, how I miss him. That shall never change. I am at a standstill. I can't figure out where I go from here. After my husband died I assumed I would start writing again. Problem is, he was/is my creativity. He'd watch the news or whatever and I would write. Now I have all day to write and I don't write. Instead, I distract myself with things like planting veggies or a lawn and now we have this mega drought and I have to let everything die. I ripped out all my kitchen cupboard doors and painted them red and brown. That is the price you pay for Pinterest. I painted the deck, then the garage. I built a fire pit in the backyard. It's gigantic. I even cemented it and then, on the advice of my mail person, added fairy lights since we can't have fires. I put in new floors, went to Branson and now I'm off to Disneyland. I am learning how to grieve. How to flow through the emotions, the anger, the stress, the love, the stress, the love. Yeah, that would be me repeating myself. I know that I want to write again, I mean after all, writing is what I do. Every book, children's or otherwise, comes with a moral. I don't know why, it is just who I am. Everything must have meaning, right? Or what's the point of it all? I am driven to find meaning in everything, even my husband's death.
For those of you who have followed my grief journey I can say that you will survive. Your new world will not be the same and you will have so much self-discovery to go through that it will occupy your entire life. Every moment of every day you will ask why. But the answer cannot be found in the why, but in yourself. You will discover a journey that leads you down some scary byways and you will find the moment in time you have spent your life searching for. I am a landscaper, a farmer, a color coordinator. I can fix loose boards, replace loose boards, change the filters and walk three miles a day. I can paint, I can cry, I accept emotions I didn't know existed. I am creative and destructive, but most of all, I am me. At least for now. Acceptance is hard. So very hard, but it has to be done so I can live the most authentic me, I can imagine. The journey rages on. Bless you all. Louann |
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