07 April 2014

Scary Modsters... and Creepy Freaks by Dinae Rinella

 A fantastical romance involving a girl, the music that fuels her, and her Ouija board.

Rosalyn possesses a sunny personality that is laced with quirks. Although she seeks acceptance in a world where she lives out of time, what she gets is ridiculed for her eclectic wardrobe and unconventional music collection.

One fateful night, Rosalyn bewitches Niles, a stylish man whose offbeat character perfectly complements her own. Unfortunately, he possesses a critical flaw that means relationship suicide for him and pretty much anyone.

While under the influence of insomnia-impaired judgment, Rosalyn summons Rock ‘n Roll deity Peter Lane back from the dead. Not only does he spin her hormones into a frenzy, Peter is also the precarious puzzle piece that brings sense into her world. When Niles learns that he can overcome his life-long challenge by helping Peter avenge his death, how far will he go to secure Rosalyn’s heart?

This book is so not what I usually read, the title alone had me wondering what in the world I was getting into, but I can honestly say now I am so glad I found this book.  It is unique and refreshing and for those of us who love music from years gone by, it gives us the behind the scenes actions that our favorite bands had to endure.  The author gives us this story with some awesome twists such as past lives, reincarnation and the must have Ouija board. 

Rosalyn is a young lady who knows she is an outcast.  She has her insecurities and she loves her clothes from the 60’s, her strong love for records instead of mp3 players and her dedication to the bands from the past.  Knowing who she is doesn’t make living her life easy, she gets the jokes and sneers not only behind her back but to her face but she is determined to be true to herself and live the life she was meant to live.  Meeting Mr. Right isn’t going to be easy with her check list of must haves in a mate, but she knows he is out there somewhere. 

She meets Niles, he seems to fit the bill for her want list.  He is also a lover of old music and records and shows the respect she deems is a must for those past songs.  His clothing is a lot like hers, straight off the album cover from the 60s but he has no emotions.  He is like a vessel that has never been filled with human desires, emotions or thoughts.  Being a lawyer might be the reason he is so void of a human connection but we later see there is a real reason he is like this and there is only one cure for his condition. 

Peter, OMG can I just say now I LOVE this man, he was in a band back in the 60’s.  Being cheated and mistreated by the ones who were supposed to manage his career he loses it all.  Coming back from the dead to get the help from Niles and Rosalyn he is determined to seek his revenge for not only the loss of his money and career but his life as well.  He has the one thing that will help Niles make it work with Rosalyn, but in order to give him the cure, it will kill him once and for all.  I love Peter’s humor in this book, he had me laughing so many times but by the end he tore my heart out and left me in tears.

Diane took us on a trip of a life time with this book.  She gave us characters that were so different yet blended together into a team that won’t be stopped.  Each bringing their own baggage, pain and motives, yet all willing to do what they needed to do to be free from the past and able to go towards the future.  This is a story of love, acceptance and revenge all wrapped up into a sometimes comical story but always high on intensity.  If you are looking for a different kind of story that will take you away to a different time and place for a while I suggest this book.  It is a clean read, I have my teenage daughter reading this right now and she is constantly telling me how cool this story is.    

I am so proud of Diane for her creativity and her willingness to take topics that are ignored in life and bring light to them.  If you read this book and don’t come away with a new appreciation for the bands of the past and what they went through to give us the music that are a cornerstone in our childhood memories I am not sure what it will take.  I especially loved the chance she gave me to remember those old record stores that I use to save my allowance to go in and buy the latest record.  I miss those times and I am grateful to her for the walk down memory lane while reading this book. 
A brunette, a raven-haired beauty, and a girl looking like a peacock all walk into a bar. No, it's not a joke; it's my not-so-mundane life that generally feels like the setup for a wisecrack.
No matter how many times my friends and I claim we are going to do something new, every Friday night we find our tushes planted at Mulligan's. However, today our weekly Friday night venture truly seemed out of the cards since my friends were originally too tired from their workweeks to consider anything short of collapsing. When you are in your early thirties and single you should be embracing life, not rotting on a sofa. Thus when my friends bailed I detoured into Warped Records which is both a second home and how I envision my little corner of Heaven. Some would call the smell of old album covers a dank stench, but to me it's a musky perfume that seeps into my pores and comforts me with the knowledge that no matter what fails me I always have my sanctuary.
Among the bins of paradise and the blaring Siouxsie the perfect gem captured my gaze and held it for ransom. Before me was a pair of eyes so unlike any other that they were nearly indescribable.
Piercing? No. That implies they shot through my skin and reached my heart; however, these somehow reached my soul. Captivating? Again that was misleading. While they did hold my attention they also kept me at bay. Perhaps haunting? Yes, they did indeed haunt me. They also seemed to follow me to wherever I stood. A true description was so elusive that the color wasn't easily defined. They were deep blue, yet also flannel grey with a hint of green. In a certain light they seemed black with specks of gold.
All of these emotions and colors were brought forth by just one picture—a picture on an album that had been slipped into plastic and unceremoniously tacked to the wall, yet somehow it jumped out at me and begged for worship.
“Who are those guys?” I asked Shane, the store's clerk. Shane's tight black pants, white Split Enz T-shirt, black suspenders, and short, curly brown hair made him look like a skinny, nineteen eighties teenager in a forty-something-year-olds body. His hot pink English Beat button sold the outfit. In an odd way our obsessions make us kindred spirits. It may be like we are third cousins, twice removed, but kindred nonetheless.
“Not a clue.” Shane absent-mindedly tapped a pencil on a note pad while his hazel eyes sat on a ragged copy of Rolling Stone that was decades out of date. “How is it you don't know? You're the super genius that no one can stump.” He sighed, conceding to the call of duty. “I suppose you want me to halt my important work and show it to you.”
“If it's not too much of a bother to pull yourself away from that fascinating article on INXS that is so old it will soon disintegrate, then yes, please. I would appreciate your struggle of removing the tack for a lady.”
With the flick of his wrist, Shane sent the magazine spinning across the counter. “Geez, you practically live here so I thought you would be more at home yanking the thing off yourself.”
“Glad to see that chivalry is alive and well at Warped Records.”
The album was presented with a bow. “Milady, as per your request.” Shane's smugness made me grin. “Anyway, it arrived with some other records from a recent estate sale. Rob seemed to know who they were.”
My eyes honed in on the price tag. “Six dollars? That's a lot for a potentially crappy band no one has heard of.”
Shane's view floated from the magazine to the notepad. “Yep. Six bucks is what this says. I hung it next to the two hundred dollar, Jagger-signed, Goat's Head Soup to be funny.”
Four men, who were partially obscured by a golden overlay of paisleys and swirls, stared back at me. Their clothes were colorful, slightly Edwardian, and accented with fur. It was all very fashionable for the nineteen sixty-eight copyright printed on the back of the cover that held no liner notes. Three of the men felt so insignificant that they were but mere blurs. All I noticed was the cute one with the sandy blonde hair and magnetic eyes whose signature started with the letter P.
My fingers glided over the autograph whose ink felt as if it were luxurious azure velvet. It also gave off an energy that put a beat in my head. What really caught my attention was a spot of what appeared to be dried blood. When I touched it, a fuzz reminiscent of the thrill I get when hearing a vintage guitar effects pedal vibrated through. I had to have that album!
Enjoying San Francisco as a backdrop, the ghosts in Diane’s 150-year old Victorian home augment the chorus in her head. With insomnia as their catalyst, these voices have become multifarious characters that haunt her well into the sun’s crowning hours, refusing to let go until they have manipulated her into succumbing to their whims. Her experiences as an actress, business owner, artisan cake designer, software project manager, Internet radio disc jockey, vintage rock n’ roll journalist/fangirl, and lover of dark and quirky personalities influence her idiosyncratic writing.
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1 comment:

  1. This is so wonderful! Thank you for taking the time to read and review. I am so glad that you enjoyed the ride!