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The Sunshine Trilogy

Marc is a retired automotive professional who started writing later in life. The Sunshine Machine is his first novel and part of a trilogy with a prequel and sequel in the works. When Marc is not writing he enjoys playing acoustic guitar, hiking trails in the Adirondacks, reading and spending time with his family. Marc is a graduate of the school of Architecture and Environmental Design from the State University of New York at Buffalo. and resides in Buffalo with his wife, Kathi. Growing up in the household of ABUELA GUADALUPE, a native American woman and a single parent mother, molds FRANCESCA into a young woman of conflicted thoughts about sexuality and self. Her mother, SORPRESA DA RIMINI, a flower child of the sixties, offers little support to her maturation and Abuela Guadalupe provides only mythical native tales of the “The First People” to school her in feminine sexuality and identity. From an early age she discerns that she is different, supported by the fact that she has a mysterious birthmark on her hand. Abuela Guadalupe insists that it is a sign of her wolf spirit, which affirms strength and vision. Others see the birthmark as a curse and bad luck. Francesca’s halcyon teen years are interrupted by the untimely death of her mother, Sorpresa. At her mother’s funeral she meets the patriarch of the Da Rimini family; GUIDO DA RIMINI. She is surprised to learn he is her grandfather and requests that she return to the family; The Da Rimini family her mother was banished from years earlier, because of her illegitimate pregnancy. She accepts the patriarch’s proposal but later pays a heavy price, when she is raped by her cousin; ROBERTO “Robbie” DELGADO. Francesca's troubles are far from over . . .

Marc M. Minnick · Real
Sin suficientes valoraciones
60 Chs

Chapter 39: Eggplant for Thanksgiving

After we toked, drank wine and talked into the wee hours of the morning, I suggested Rachel sleep in my room while I crashed on the couch. It was the right thing to do. As the morning sun leaked through the beaded curtains, clanging pots and pans awoke me from a fitful slumber. A strange and pungent odor lingered. I rose and shuffled into the kitchen to see what it was. Ali, at the range, was sautéing what appeared to be purple brain matter.

"What are you frying dude? It's stinks to high heaven!" I asked.

"Eggplant!” He replied.

"Smells awful and looks disgusting. Who’s going to eat this this shit?” I continued.

“We are!”

“Not me, hey, where's Blondie?” I asked.

"She’s in the shower and her name is Shandra,” he replied, as he breaded another piece of rotted flesh.

"So…how did it go?” I queried.

“A gentleman never tells, but at least now, I know she’s a natural blond!"

"OH, didn’t need to know that.” I replied.