Rose Cassidy’s fantasy life is a haunting reminder that she’s living a lie. So when she has the opportunity to act on those fantasies, she dives in without any thought to consequences.
Rose’s husband, Ryan, has fantasies of his own, and his actions cause unimaginable hurt [pain] to the very children he tries so hard to protect.
When the happiness each member of the Cassidy family seeks so desperately to find is shattered by shame, guilt, and ultimately murder, they must each face the truth that lies deep within their souls.
ForeWord Clarion Review:
Gossip among women characters evokes a time and place where accusations and
confrontations must be cloaked in scrupulously polite conversations.
Recalling the scandalous small-town secrets of the classic northern novel Peyton Place,
Vera Jane Cook’s Where the Wildflowers Grow heads south with similar themes in this mildly
erotic story of sexual surprises and women’s liberation set in 1960s Georgia. Part romance, part
murder mystery, Cook’s latest looks behind the façade of the perfect American family to reveal
secret longings and taboo affairs of the heart. Darien, Georgia, is an apparently peaceful small
town, but Cook looks beyond the blooming meadows and sparkling creeks and into the
passionate—and unexpectedly violent—inner lives of its residents, resulting in an intense rollercoaster
ride filled with emotional intrigue.
Imagine a world where a pair of capri pants worn by a woman qualifies as an outrage
and a disgrace. That’s the world Rose Cassidy, wife of respected Dr. Ryan Cassidy, inhabits.
She seems to have it all: a successful husband, two kids, and a beautiful home. Strangely,
though, all of this plus her weekly ladies’ group meeting are just not enough to satisfy Rose. Or
her husband, or her kids, as it turns out. The lengths to which they will go in order to break out
of their roles form the backbone of Cook’s southern soap opera.
Like an engaging daytime drama, Cook’s story runs on passion and scandal from the
very first pages straight through to the whirlwind ending. Teen romance, with its earnest
declarations of endless love and the sexual experimentation that often accompanies it, comes
through loud and clear in an opening tryst in the wild meadow that serves as a nexus for the
book’s main events. Much of the action borders on melodrama, but Cook makes it more
believable by taking on each character’s personal perspective as the coincidences and cover-ups
pile up around them. While we’re inside Rose’s head, for instance, it seems plausible that she
might have a crush on the new woman in town. Likewise, Ryan’s desperate attempt to hide an
affair that happened sixteen years earlier feels justified when we’re in on the real reason he’s
never told a soul.
Everyone has a dark secret, or several, including the Cassidy kids, Lily and Dalton. The
continuing revelations can be alternately thrilling and numbing, as it seems that the whole town
is involved in one conspiracy after another. Cook is strongest when she keeps it personal,
focusing on the characters’ inner thoughts and feelings. Natural dialogue succinctly conveys
each character’s personality; the gossip among the women is especially evocative of a time and
place where accusations and confrontations must be cloaked in scrupulously polite
conversations.
Cook sets up several unsolved mysteries throughout her story, and though some may
seem unlikely on their own, she does a skillful job of drawing all of the threads together in the
end. Where the Wildflowers Grow will appeal to readers who want a fast-paced page-turner with
new revelations on every page.
Free Excerpt:
“Will you love me forever, Pierce?” she asked as she swung his hand in hers and they walked their bikes down the path, not really wanting to get where they needed to be.
“Uh-uh,” he said. “Forever.”
It was July and they were off from school, doing nothing during that lazy summer but finding each other’s bodies to explore, swimming by the swimming hole naked, feeling the water as it came up inside them and cleaned where they had just been wet and sticky.
“Think your daddy will mind that I came for you this early?” he asked her.
“He won’t mind,” she said.
They neared the hill that dropped down to the house she lived in. It was large and white, eminent in stature, with a horse fence that ran the length of it. Large oak trees stood tall, protective armies of alpine presence, gracing the property like obedient soldiers. Manicured grass, verdurous and well maintained, proudly sparkled with the morning’s dew like crystal glass.
She could see her father coming down off the porch with Sadie, their old setter. He looked up and saw her, and she noticed the frown gather over his eyes.
Dalton had followed his father out. Trailing him for no good reason but to trail him.
“What you doing up so early, Lily?” her father asked.
He looked quickly at Pierce, and then back to her. She watched as his frown became more pronounced. His skin looked bristly and rough, and the bones beneath it, tightly drawn.
“We wanted to see the sun rise,” she said. “It made the whole sky look like fire.”
“Bet it did.” He kept his eyes on her. “You want to help your mother with breakfast, Lil?”
Dalton shyly kicked the dirt under his feet and glanced at Pierce.
She looked at Pierce too. His T-shirt fell out over his jeans, and he’d forgotten to put his socks back on; they must still be out there in the field. He looked guilty as he glanced past her toward the hills.
“Best be getting home, Pierce,” her father said.
Pierce nodded. He met her gaze for just a moment. “Can I come by later?” he asked.
“About five,” she said. “We can take a walk before dinner.”
“Can I come?” Dalton asked, and Lily jumped in quickly.
“No, you can’t come.”
She felt her father’s movement, as if he might say something, but he didn’t. He looked away.
Pierce hopped on his bike and took off down the road. She watched him till he was out of sight. She smelled him on her clothes; she felt the sweat he’d left on her. She didn’t meet her father’s eyes as she walked past him and into the checkerboard squares of the kitchen where everything was red and yellow and scents of spice sweetly contradicted what was emanating through her pores. Pierce was inside her skin, up under her underwear, his cologne was in her hair. Her father would know; if she got too close her father would know she’d had the ecstasy with Pierce Monroe.
About The Author
Vera Jane Cook, writer of Award Winning Women’s Fiction, is the author of Dancing Backward in Paradise, The Story of Sassy Sweetwater, and Lies a River Deep. In the paranormal genre, Vera Jane is the author of Annabel Horton, Lost Witch of Salem.
The author lives on the Upper West side of Manhattan with her long term partner, her Basenji/Chihuahua mix, Roxie, her chihuahua puppy, Peanut, and her two pussy cats, Sassy and Sweetie Pie.
Visit Vera Jane’s website at: http://www.verajanecook.com
(This is a sponsored post.)