Mother Mala's Kitchen

By J.R. Pearse Nelson

Noctua is not free. Choices are few, and precious.

 

Lili has been raised in the warmth of her grandmother's kitchen.

 

But ever since the Comandante closed the city when Lili was small, Grandmama has been fomenting revolution inside the safety of these walls.

 

And the freedom sought in Mother Mala's kitchen is not without cost.

 

Today the price will be paid.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.R. Pearse Nelson
• Release date: Jan 11, 2015
• ISBN: 9781386748458

J.R. Pearse Nelson

J.R. Pearse Nelson is a fantasy and romance writer who has authored more than 20 novels. She hails from Oregon, USA, where she lives with her husband, two teens, and two dogs among the plentiful trees and clouds of the Pacific Northwest. J.R. weaves tales rooted in mythology, bringing legend to life in modern-day settings and fantasy realms. When not writing, you can find her making magic in the kitchen and enjoying long walks or "rambles" outdoors. J.R.'s books include the Moon Garden Mysteries paranormal cozy series, the Aeon Society fantasy romance series, and the Water Rites fantasy trilogy. You can connect with J.R. and learn more about her fiction at her website. Visit jrpearsenelson.com.

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Mother Mala’s Kitchen

MOTHER MALA’S KITCHEN

J.R. PEARSE NELSON

Copyright © 2015 by J.R. Pearse Nelson

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

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CONTENTS

Mother Mala’s Kitchen

Also by J.R. Pearse Nelson

About the Author

MOTHER MALA’S KITCHEN

When I was a child, my grandmother’s kitchen was the place to be. It smelled of ginger and garlic, heady herbs and the onions she was always chopping. It smelled of strong coffee and a hint of stale cigar smoke.

Some days, it smelled of unwashed bodies and the reek of sweat.

Good days, and bad days...all of the days centered on Grandmama’s cooking.

But even that isn’t quite right. Her company? Maybe that’s what people came for?

There was much I didn’t understand, at the time my cousins first disappeared.

I couldn’t know, then, that the reputation my Grandmama had cultivated was like a Djinn’s blessing, fraught with peril.

I would learn, as we all do. The flowers and rainbows we see as children harbor shadows we’re protected from, if we are in fact so lucky.

There was also much I did understand. Grandmama was important. People went to her for advice, and many important people broke bread in her kitchen, one day or another. Someone was always visiting – even if it was just to read the independence journals, the ones Grandmama collected and kept on a