Told in gorgeous, poetic tones, The Brevity of Roses will take you on a journey delving into three unique characters as delicate and beautiful as a rose itself. Lewis’ rich understanding of relationships is phenomenal.” – Michelle Davidson Argyle, author of Monarch
Meredith Dahlberg-Lang hides behind a façade. In public, she’s a wealthy socialite. In private, she’s a lonely woman with a heart imprisoned by guilt after her husband’s death. But she can’t deny the longing she feels when a younger man seeks her attention.
Jalal Vaziri, after years of trying in vain to win his father’s approval, defies him by pursuing a new career. When he meets the woman of his dreams, his satisfaction is complete, but fate challenges his plan for a blissful future.
Renee Marshall, matured beyond her years by a hard life, heads for a fresh start in Los Angeles. But when car trouble detours her to a village on the central coast, she enters the life of a man whose fierce denial of the need to be loved matches her own.
Grief, discovery, anguish, pleasure, rejection, acceptance, atonement, forgiveness—the rhythmic odes of marriage, friendship, family. A fine debut novel that reaches deep into a poet’s beating heart, lays it open, vulnerable to the bitter betrayals, and the joyful loyalties, of this thing we call Love.” – Kathryn Magendie, author of the Graces Sagas, Sweetie and Petey, publishing editor of Rose & Thorn
Linda Cassidy Lewis is a virtuoso with the English language and this book is a joy to read. — LLBookReviews
Ms. Lewis has provided a tender and thought-provoking look at life, chance, and love. — The Book Diva’s Reads
This book starts off with a bang and I was gripped from the get go. — Fabulosity Reads (SPOILER ALERT!)
What readers like you are saying: Reviews
Meredith sat reading on the floor beside the window, her hair a silver blonde halo against the streaming sunlight. Jalal lay on the sofa with an open book propped on his chest. He only pretended to read. He was studying her. After a few minutes, she looked up.
“Why are you staring at me?” she asked.
“Why do you insist on sitting on the floor when there are two sofas and four chairs in this room?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “This feels more … natural.”
“More spiritual?” he asked. “More connected to the earth’s energies?”
She closed her book with a snap. “Are you mocking me?”
“Not at all,” he said. “I have concluded you are a goddess. Goddess of the roses. Queen of the hummingbirds.”
Meredith rolled her eyes.
“I am serious,” he said. “I believe you are an eternal spirit born into this world from time to time. And I am the fortunate man to have found you in this incarnation.”
“And I believe,” she said, rising to her feet, “that you are a silver-tongued devil bucking for a roll in the hay.”
“That too,” he said, laughing. He had just enough time to toss his book to the floor before she pounced on him.
She glanced at her watch. It was nearly three o’clock, well past time to leave here. What excuse did she have to linger?
At that moment, the sun broke through and a ray filtered through her wine glass casting a bright pool of pale gold on the tablecloth. She slid her hand over to the light and smiled when her index finger appeared to become a magic wand with glowing tip. As if she could wave her hand through the air and transform her life. As if she could envision that life. As if she dared.
Well, why not?
She surrendered with a sigh. She drank the last of her wine, turned away from the window, and picked up her magazine again. They had not even served the man his lunch yet. How could she leave?
Damn him. Why’d he have to cheat now? “Six more weeks, Matt. That’s all I needed—” She’d flipped the light switch and the glare exposed the mess he’d left behind: half-opened drawers, empty hangers on the bed, a leftover packing box. Gone. The breath she held eased out like a prayer. “I wanted to be the first to leave this time.”
During the minute she stood in the doorway surveying the remnants of Matt, she assessed the situation, adjusted her plans, and shot her middle finger into the air. Done, and done. She cleared the bed with a sweep of her arm, peeled off her tip-increasing micro-skirt, cut the lights, and crawled under the covers.