Ethan's Ferry Trip (children's story) by Leanne Dyck

 Ethan’s Ferry Trip introduces children to the joys of travelling by ferry.

 photo by ldyck

Ethan’s Ferry Trip

Mom drove our car onto the big boat. She called it a ferry. We climbed stairs up to a room full of people, but I didn’t know anyone. I sat right beside a window and felt the ferry move.

Mom said, “We’re sailing away.”

I waved goodbye to the trucks, cars and buildings.

The ocean stretched on and on and on.

A man I couldn’t see said, “Look outside”—or something. His words crackled from a box over our heads.

"That was the Captain," Mom explained, “He sails the ferry and wants us to look over there.” She pointed out the window. “Whales!”

Everyone crowded around our bench. They all talked about the whales. But all I could see was water shooting into the air.

A girl with red hair said, “My name’s Salal. Want to play?”

We played cat and dog. Salal crawled around saying, “Meow.” I crawled after her, saying, “Woof. Woof. Woof.” And we played hide-and-seek. Salal was so good at hiding that I needed Mom’s help. We found Salal under her mom’s bench.

My mom and Salal’s mom talked and talked and talked. Salal shared her books with me. I liked the one about the big trucks.

The ferry went thud.

"Mom, what was that?" I asked.

"Don't worry," she said, "The ferry docked. It’s time to get off.”

Mom helped me put my jacket back on. I helped Mom collect our stuff. We had toys for me, a book for Mom, a purse for Mom and a backpack for me.

Mom had to open the heavy door because I couldn't push it. Then, there were the stairs. I held onto the handrail and carefully climbed down. One step, two steps, three, all the way to the cars and trucks. Our car was hiding, so we had to look really hard to find it.

We climbed into the car and buckled our seat belts. Mom followed two trucks off the ferry and down the ramp.

I looked out the back window and waved goodbye. “Thank you, ferry,” I said. “Mom, that was really fun. I want to do it again.”

She smiled at me. “We will,” she said.

photo by ldyck

On this blog in May

Sunday, May 25

Wenlido (memoir)

Intimidated by the thought of moving from Winnipeg to the heavily populated city of Vancouver, I...

photo by ldyck

Without a reader,

A writer's words mean

Nothing

Two Tricksters' Book Launch...

My Time Machine Trip (part two) by Leanne Dyck

'Real friends...[are t]he ones who go into the forest to find you and bring you home.'  -Mindy Kaling

Jasen, Angie, Shelia (our group leader), Sandi, Jerry, Michel (tour guide), Tim, Denis, Me

our first group house

1984

I joined the government-run youth group Katimavik. As a self-described loner, I joined to see and serve Canada. I also had trouble taking my next step after high school and thought Katimavik could open more doors for me. As a participant, I lived communally while volunteering in three Canadian provinces--Newfoundland, Ontario, and Quebec. 

In the final months of Katimavik, all the participants in my group contributed to a book of memories. As most of the group was from English Canada, all but three (or more accurately two and a half) contributions were written in English.

2011

I began writing a memoir about my experiences as a Katimavik participant.

2022

I asked my friend Manon to translate the French contributions in the Katimavik book. 

Manon supplied me with the translations and suggested I get back in touch with my group.

I immediately rejected that idea. They don't want to see me again, I told myself.

Manon said something like, "I've gotten to know Brigitte through her writing and I'd like to get to know her better."

I promised Manon that I would try to find Brigitte. It didn't take much online digging to unearth Brigitte's email address. 

Manon contacted Brigitte and "CC"ed me. So Brigitte replied to Manon and me. In her reply, Brigitte told me that our group had a Facebook page and invited me to join. I thought about doing that for two seconds but put it on the back burner. Before I knew what was happening, Brigitte had reunited me with the group. And... And reunion plans began to be set in motion. 

2024

Southern Ontario

Linda and I took a Flair plane from Winnipeg to Toronto. Linda became my travel buddy throughout this part of the trip. If you have travel anxiety... If you have dyslexia... I highly recommend a travel buddy. Being a travel buddy has its challenges but Linda was a master. In Toronto, we claimed our bags and --. I discovered that I no longer had my purse. Huh? No sunglasses. No cellphone. No wallet. No ID. Oops. 

Okay so... How did that happen?

Well...My purse was tiny and I had planned to wear it on board but the flight attendant insisted that I stow it under the seat. I had two options--put it in my cloth bag or on my backpack. I put my tiny purse on top of my backpack but told myself that I had put it in my cloth bag. And so when I went to disembark, I grabbed my cloth bag and backpack and my tiny purse tumbled farther under the seat. It lay there, unseen by all--except, thankfully, by another passenger. He brought it to Flair's  Lost and Found. The passenger found Linda and me and told us what he had done. So all Linda and I had to do was pick the tiny purse up from Flair'a Lost and Found. All...? Yeah, right. The trouble was that Flair's Lost and Found was only open when they had a plane in the air. No plane was in the air so the Lost and Found was closed. Linda and I raced around the airport from Information to the Flair check-in and back. We even divided to try to conquer. All, the time I'm telling myself happy tales like I'll never see the purse again and even if a miracle happens and I do retrieve it nothing Nothing of value will be inside. But unbenounced to Linda and me, a flight attendant was working very hard to solve a mystery--where exactly is Leanne Dyck? She found my cellphone and used it to phone my recent contacts. My recent contacts also phoned me. Everyone was working hard to solve the mystery. And yet I thought I was alone. Finally, the flight attendant phoned Linda and... The mystery was solved. The flight attendant gave me back my sunglasses, cellphone, wallet, ID and everything of value that I had put in the purse and she gave me back my purse. I gave her a smile that stretched from ear to ear. And Linda even had the presence of mind to offer her money but the hard-working flight attendant refused to accept it--all in a day's work.

Relieved, Linda and I continued our journey. This time we took a train (it would have been called a Skytrain in BC) to terminal one. Eventually, the Flexbus arrived and took us to London, Ontario. Linda and I were charmed by the picturesque small (population of 10,000) city. We were charmed by the city and pampered by the luxurious Park Hotel. And...

photo by ldyck

Jack Astor's 

While in London, Ontario, my friend Linda and I ate at Jack Astor's. Rooftop dining offered picturesque views of the charming city. Mandy, our server, gave prompt, fun, responsive service. The food was delicious! I highly recommend Jack Astor. 

In our room at the Park Hotel, I finally had a chance to review my cellphone messages. And I'm still very sorry I put through all that Jerry.

We spent the day sightseeing in beautiful London. A highlight was visiting beautiful Eldon house--the oldest house in London, Ontario.

photo by ldyck

photo by ldyck

photo by ldyck

Linda and I ate supper at Jack Astor's and then at 6 PM my friend Jerry drove us to Walden Place (a walking distance from Grand Bend).

photo by Linda

Jerry (our volunteer driver) and Me

photo by ldyck

Jerry got this Katimavik sign specially made for the reunion.

If I could have I would have stuffed it into my suitcase. 

(Note: bring a bigger suitcase)

The Reunion

May 23 to 27

photo by Denis

Group house in Whalen Place, Ontario

photo by Jerry

Linda, Fani, and Me

photo by Brigitte (I think)

Back row: Lorrie, Rich (Angie's husband), Angie, me, Sandi, Denis, Brigitte, Jerry

Front row: Lise, Fani (Tim's wife), Tim, Linda (my travel buddy)

I'm finding it hard to summarize the reunion, but Angie (see above) wrote a beautiful summary...

'A writer is someone for whom writing is more difficult than it is for other people.' -Thomas Mann

Angela Giacomelli wrote...

We had an incredible good time. We never starved and we laughed from sunrise to sundown! We learned that distance and time have no interference between the bond of a group of kids from across our beloved country Canada. Our time spent together after 40 years apart was truly magical and a testament to our enduring friendship now and always. We all still agree how much we loved the Katimavik program and how it helped make way for our futures!

photo by Angie

Me, Jerry and Sandi

Keep partying, my Katimavik family

Until next time...

Travel Tips...

-take a graphic novel. I was given Hyperbole and a Half by Allie Brosh. It made the perfect travel companion.

-for those who are dyslexic and, or have travel anxiety, I recommend a travel buddy (someone to travel with)

-pack all liquids in checked baggage

-take a neck pillow and a butt cushion

-pack light--all of your clothes should easily fit in your suitcase with room leftover. You will no doubt acquire more items.

-celebrate the end of your trip by taking yourself to a day spa

Next Sunday...

My Time Machine Trip (part 1) by Leanne Dyck

Manitoba

May 14, 2024

I woke early (5:15 am) to set out for points east. I dubbed this my time machine trip. It allowed me to reconnect with people and revisit places that shaped me.

photo by ldyck

My plane landed and Linda was there to meet me. 

In 1985, my friendship with Linda began when we enrolled in the University of Winnipeg's Child Care Worker Training Program. The program crammed two years of study into eighteen months. It combined theory with hands-on experience. Linda and I have been friends ever since.

While in Winnipeg, I planned to stay with Linda, her husband, their cat Sassy, and their dog Finn. I arrived at Linda's a bundle of excitement and nerves. Finn met me with his own bundle. The two bundles exploded and Finn told me I would have to find somewhere else to stay. I respected his opinion and set to work to find a solution to my problem. 

photo by Marjorie

Marjorie and me

Marjorie--my aunt by marriage--generously opened her doors and welcomed me into her guest bedroom. By the time the dust had settled and I lay my exhausted body down and closed my eyes, it was midnight. There was little of May 14 that I hadn't experienced.

May 15

Susan was my best friend in elementary school. We've lost touch and reconnected periodically throughout our lives. When had we last chatted face-to-face? I couldn't remember but Susan did--in 1994, Susan and I had visited in her mom's living room. Recently, we reconnected again. Thanks to Facebook. Winnipeg's Stella's restaurant was the setting for our long overdue face-to-face chat. We invited Linda to jon us and the three of us shared laughter and memories for six hours. Six hours. Yes, we had a lot to catch up on. 

photo by ldyck

Susan and Linda

May 16

I treated Linda and myself to a slice each of Vegan Oreo Chocolate Cake at Baked Expectations--a bakeshop in Osborne Village. 

photo by ldyck

photo by ldyck

Linda

Osborne Village holds cherished memories for me. In 1990, as a new couple, Byron and I moved into a second-floor apartment there. We lived in that apartment building (River Crescent Gardens) for about three years and our love strived in that artsy, funky neighbourhood. 

May 17

My middle brother Randy drove me to Eriksdale, Manitoba. 

photo by Val

photo by Val

I was born in Eriksdale's first hospital. My dad was born in Eriksdale, as well. My grandfather was one of the first settlers. Two of my three brothers still live there. Simply put, I have deep roots in Eriksdale. 

While in Eriksdale, I stayed on my oldest brother Rick's and my sister-in-law Val's farm.

photo by ldyck

photo by ldyck

Val and Rick, and my cousin John

Highlights of my time in Eriksdale include helping Rick feed lambs, spending time with family pets, going for long walks with Val, chatting with my niece Darlene, attending a kitchen table party, touring the Eriksdale museum, and...

photo by Val

photo by ldyck

photo by ldyck

having ice cream at Havakeen Lunch. I pay tribute to Havakeen in this short story...

photo by ldyck

Rainbow Ice Cream

My mom let me go. I'm not sure I would have had I been the mother. I was so young crossing that road--a major highway, semis sped down. But Mom let me go knowing it was a child's rite of passage. I never remember her taking me. I do remember her calling, "Be careful crossing the road."

I headed to a white building with a sign that read:  'Hav-A-Keen Lunch'. Keen was like cool, back then. The business--a mom and pop truck stop--was shared by the Havards and the Keens, hence the name.

A bell rang when the screen door slammed shut behind me.

Sometimes she popped out of the back, where she lived. Sometimes she was wiping the counter. She always greeted me with a smile.

"Hi, Mrs. Havakeen."

Maybe she tried to correct me. Maybe she said, "Just call me Mrs. Keen." Maybe she added a dear to show me she wasn't mad. I don't remember. I do remember her asking, "What'll you have?"

I dumped a handful of coins on the counter--pennies, dimes, nickels, and a quarter. "What will this buy?"

"A chocolate bar, pop, an ice cream cone..."

"A rainbow ice cream cone, please," I said spring, summer, fall--never winter, the road was too slippery.

Mrs. Keen dipped the spoon in a bucket of water and then into the pail. A large box with a child holding a triple scoop cone hung on the wall. She pulled a cone from the box, filled it with ice cream and handed it to me.

Rainbow ice cream:  swirls of chocolate, vanilla, strawberry, and mint. Why choose one favour when you can have them all? Rainbow. It was like eating a better tomorrow.

I always made it home safe and sound. Sometimes with rainbow ice cream dripping down my arm--melting under the hot sun.

Did Mrs. Keen know how important she was to me? Did she know how special she made me feel? I like to think she did.

May 20

Rick, Val and I spent most of the day in the car. We drove to St. Rose du Lac (north of Eriksdale). I treated everyone to breakfast. We came back by way of Portage la Prairie. The landscape changed during our drive from rocks and swamps to Lake Manitoba's great expanse to rolling hills and fertile land. 

photo by ldyck

photo by ldyck

photo by ldyck

photo by ldyck

St. Rose du Lac Grotto

That tour reminded me of car rides through Eriksdale's backroads with my parents after church. 

photo by ldyck

Next Sunday, my adventure continues in Southern Ontario

Book Review: Indians on Vacation by Thomas King (humour, travel), published by HarperCollins Publishers

 So two Canadians go on vacation to Prague... It sounds like the beginning of a joke. And it is. There's a reason why Thomas King won a Stephen Leacock medal for humour. I laughed out loud.

Indians on Vacation

Thomas King

HarperCollins Publishers

2021

won the 2021 Stephen Leacock medal for humour

The two Canadians are husband Thomas Blackbird Mavrias and wife Mimi Bull Shield. 

Six years ago, Mimi's mother Bernie told the couple a gripping tale set in the 1900s about Uncle Leroy. 

Protesting poor treatment landed Uncle Leroy in hot water. To escape the water, he was forced to leave the reservation. So he joined a wild west show--and took the Crow bundle with him.

On page 63, Mimi explains that medicine bundles "'contain things like feathers or stones or bones... Each of the items could have some spiritual significance, or it might have been attached to a specific story or a song... But not all bundles are sacred. Some are secular.'"

Bernie explains that the bundle that Uncle Leroy took was a secular bundle.

Uncle Leroy toured Europe and sent a postcard back to the reserve from every county he visited. So Mimi decides that she and Bird should...

"'What we should do is continue to follow the postcards around Europe and look for Uncle Leroy and the bundle. At the same time, we should create a new bundle... We could call it the Travel bundle.'" (p. 64)

So we're in Prague, Bird tells us, and, lucky us, we get to go with them. Like the best trips, the account of Bird and Mimi's tour of Prague is interspersed with many interesting detours. 'So we're in Prague' is a transition phrase that is used effectively to bring us back to the major storyline.

I've been a fan of Thomas King's ever since Dead Dog Cafe. So I knew I was going to enjoy this book. I just didn't know how much.

20 Canadian books for kids and teens to read for National Indigenous History Month

For Father's Day...

A story about my dad...

Literary retreats--a world full (list) by Leanne Dyck

A list of literary retreats--just you and your writing in North America and Europe (and both if you go to a retreat in Iceland--technically speaking).

And writers flew away with their pens to...

photo by ldyck

Canada

Vancouver Island

Haig-Brown Heritage House

application deadline:  February 20

Toronto, Ontario

The Humber School for Writers Summer Workshop

application deadline:  June 7

United States

Rockvale writers' colony

The Helene Wurlitzer Foundation of New Mexico

Iceland

Iceland writers retreat

England

Arvon Foundation

Wales

Ty Newydd writing centre

Scotland

Monicack Mhor

Christmas with Family (1 of 3) by Leanne Dyck

I'm proud to write that this short story is included in the anthology In the Moment. To order copies, please email:  Gary Doi (garydoi@telus.net) Book proceeds donated to Children's Wish. 

(My husband and me at the time of the story--
before we moved to Mayne Island

photo taken by a friend)

Christmas with Family (1 of 3) 

November wasn't even over and already the rush had begun. My neighbourhood mall was packed. Everyone had a shopping bag. Some carried two. I sped past shop after shop escorted by Christmas tunes. Deck the halls with lots of presents. Fa, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la. Now's the time to be shopping. Fa, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la.. The music was supposed to make me happy, but all I felt was blue.

I pictured my extended family's Christmas Eve celebration. Year after year, we gathered to talk, laugh, exchange gifts and enjoy delicious food. This year, they would—I wouldn't, not any longer. My husband and I had moved from Manitoba three provinces away to British Columbia.

I entered the food court, searched and found my husband, Byron, sitting at a table, flipping through a magazine. “I'm sorry I'm late,” I said. Byron doesn't like to wait.

He shrugged off my apology.

The thought of spending Christmas here in BC—the two of us alone in our lonely apartment—made me want to cry.

“I want us to go home for Christmas,” I said trying to steady my voice.

“We are home,” he replied.

“No, I mean—”

“Manitoba? Freezing cold. Snow. No, thanks.”

But we have to be with family for Christmas. That thought haunted me all the way back to our apartment. I know, I'll phone my cousin Susan. After all she's alone too.

“Why don't you and Byron come and have Christmas here on Salt Spring?” Susan suggested.

I was so happy I wanted to sing, dance, but all I did was thank my cousin for saving my Christmas.  

Next post: Monday, December 19th
The continuation of Christmas with Family
Of course you know it won't be that easy. Stay tuned for the complications.

Picture Books in Canada

Pjama Press

Submissions page

Sharing my author journey...

Congratulations to the Iceland Writers Retreat winners and finalists.

Wishing you an information-rich, fun-packed retreat. 

Visiting B.C (short story) 3/3 by Leanne Dyck

(In case you missed them or want to re-read them, parts one, two)

Floyd's parents were waiting for us on the other side. "Congratulations. You crossed the bridge. We didn't know if you were going to be able to make it."

"Neither did I," I told them and they laughed.

"Lyndi, come with me. I want to talk with you." Floyd sounded so serious.

So this is it. This is when he tells me that it's been fun but he's dumping me. We left his parents on the other side of that lookout tower and walked over to the other side. Well, I'm not going to cry. Oh, who am I kidding. I love him; I'm going to bawl like a baby. 

He cupped my hands in both of his. "Lyndi, we've known each other for several months now."

"But I just don't love you," I imagined him saying. My mind was so full of worry that I barely heard him.

"Things seem to be going okay," he told me.

My world began to spin. All I could do was nod. I guess he took that as I sign that I was understanding him because he continued, "I love you with my whole heart and."

What is he saying? What does he mean? I don't understand.

"I want to marry you."

He wants to... What?

"Lyndi, what I'm trying to say... What I want to ask you is, will you marry me?"

Then his words slowly started to make sense. He...wants...to...marry...me. The heavens opened, angels sang, doves flew, the entire world rejoiced--but I think that was all in my head. I wanted to dance. I wanted to jump around wildly. But then I remembered where I was and kept my feet firmly planted on that piece of lumber that was balanced on a few tiny boards a million miles in the air. The most I could do was lean over to him and give him a tight squeeze. "Can I think it over." I said because I wanted to make him laugh.

It worked. He laughed. We kissed. And then I said, "Of course, are you kidding. You don't have to ask me twice."

He dug into his jacket pocket. "You know." He pulled out a box. "This is the reason the security guards stopped me." He opened the box. "This is the reason we almost didn't make it out of the airport." A diamond caught a ray of sun.

"But we did," I said, between giggles. "And we made it across that bridge. And now... And now we're..."

We said the word together. "Engaged."

"But I only have one question," I said. "With our heads in the clouds, how are we going to be able to make it back across that bridge?"

"Together," he told me--and we did. And we still are...

Visiting B.C.(short story) 2/3 by Leanne Dyck

(Capilano Suspension Bridge)

If you missed or would like to re-read the first installment, here's the link.

Visiting B.C. 

The rain stopped, the sun shone but I was glad I hadn't packed flip-flops or shorts. There was a chill in the air. B.C. was definitely part of Canada. One of the best parts, I began to think.

Floyd's parents took pride in showing us their province. There was so much to see and do. We took a water taxi to Granville Island, a sky train to the Science World, and visited the Capilano Suspension Bridge. Floyd and I were still hawking at the scenery when his parents crossed the bridge. I followed him onto the bridge. This is such a beautiful place. I took another step. Look at that blue sky, it sure is a beautiful day. I took a few more steps. Just look at how tall those trees are. I was half-way across that bridge. Look at that river. Gulp. That raging river. The bridge started to sway more and more. I could fall. What will stop me? I wrapped my hand tighter around the rope rail. This flimsy thing? Um, no. Not. I tried to take another step but I just couldn't. I was blocked by a clear image of my death. There I was--a leg bent unnaturally one way, an arm bent unnaturally the other, and a bolder-sized dent in my skull. Oh, why did I leave Manitoba? It's so beautiful there. And the snow is so soft. I shut my eyes really tight but when I opened them I was still in B.C.; I was still on that bridge.

"Hey, Lyndi, what's the matter?" I guess he'd noticed that I was no longer following him.

Oh, nothing. Just my sure death, I wanted to tell him but all I managed to say was, "I can't--"

"You can't what?"

"This bridge. I want to get off this bridge."

"Don't be silly. You  have to walk--"

"I'm not being silly. And I'm not going to walk one step more."

He started to walk toward me--the bridge swayed wildly with each step. 

"Don't do that," I roared.

He stopped. "Okay but you can't stay there. Other people want to cross."

"I really don't care what--"

"Just look at me."

I love you so much, for you--only for you. I took one step and another and another. 

"That's right, very good. See you can do this."

I didn't cross that bridge. I walked to Floyd and together we made it safely to the other side.

A horrendous thing happened to us on the other side of that bridge? I will reveal all...

Visiting B.C. 3/3

Sharing my author journey...

Guest Post Author Darlene Foster

How/why did you start to write?

I have always written.  When I was a child growing up on a prairie farm, I would make up stories in my head.  In grade three, my teacher encouraged me to write my stories down.  She also encouraged me to travel and see the world.  This special woman made a huge difference in my life.  Through the wonders of social media, I was able to locate her a couple of years ago and thank her.

How did you become an author?

I became an author by writing short stories and sending them out to contests and anthologies.  Writing short stories gave me good practice.  Once I started to win prizes and had a couple of stories published in anthologies, I gained confidence.

What was your first published piece?

I had my first article, called Stretch Your Food Dollar, published in a prairie newspaper when I was twelve years old.

Where was it published?

It was published in The Winnipeg Free Press

How long ago?

Now that would be telling.  I can only say it was quite some time ago.

However, my first short story chosen for an anthology, Country Roads, Memoirs from Rural Canada, called The Day Dief Came to Town, was published three years ago.  Sometimes it takes a long time to become a published author.

What did you do before embarking on your writing career? Was it an asset to your writing? How?

I have worked in retail sales and human resources. I still work full-time as an Employment Counsellor and part-time as an English as a Second Language Teacher, and I write whenever I get a spare moment.  Working with the public is a huge asset to me as a writer, as people provide me with ideas everyday.  I often tutor children in ESL. It’s great to meet children from other cultures and learn from them.

What inspires you?

I am inspired by my travels and by the interesting people I meet everyday.

What made you decide to write children’s books?

After returning from an amazing trip to the United Arab Emirates, I decided to write about my experiences.  The result was a bit boring and lacked the enthusiasm I felt while there.  So I started writing about my experiences from the point of view of a twelve year old, tossing in an adventure and some interesting characters which resulted in my first book, Amanda in Arabia – The Perfume Flask, published in 2010.  I was happy with the result and realized Amanda wanted to continue to travel so I wrote Amanda in Spain – The Girl in the Painting (2011) and Amanda in England – The Missing Novel (2012) I love writing for children, perhaps I have never grown up myself.

Please share one of your successful author platform building technique

Once I had my first book published I became very active on social media sites such as Face Book, Twitter and LinkedIn.  I made sure I had a professional profile and made great connections.  I also started a blog which I believe has been the most successful platform builder of all.  I have met the most amazing individuals through my blog who have provided much encouragement. It keeps me writing and has connected me to the  world of writers and readers.

Parting words

When I was a child I dreamt of travelling to interesting places.  I also dreamt of becoming a published author.  Many times these dreams seemed out of reach but I persevered.  It took awhile but my dreams came true. So my parting word to people of all ages is, never give up on your dreams!

Book blurb:

Amanda Ross is an average twelve year old Canadian girl. So what is she doing thousands of kilometres from home in the United Arab Emirates? It's her own fault really, she wished for adventure and travel when she blew out those candles on her last birthday cake. Little did she know that a whole different world awaited her on the other side of the globe, one full of intrigue, mystery and folklore. A world with a beautiful princess, a dangerous desert and wonderful friends. Join Amanda on her first adventure as she discovers the secrets behind The Perfume Flask.

Links:

http://www.amazon.com/Amanda-Arabia-Perfume-Darlene-Foster/dp/1926760360

www.darlenefoster.ca

http://darlenefoster.wordpress.com/

Thank you so  much for the interview and opportunity to promote my books.  If there is anything else you need, let me know.

Author Links

Darlene Foster
dreamer of dreams, teller of tales

www.darlenefoster.ca
Blog: http://darlenefoster.wordpress.com/
Twitter https://twitter.com/#!/supermegawoman
facebook.com/DarleneFosterWriter