In this story, Jane is a forty year old grieving mother. I have been meaning to read the sequel, Jane’s Harmony, so I decided to read the first book again since it has been a while. Jane’s Melody is actually a re-read for me as I first read this one in 2014. And now Jane must decide if it’s too late for her to start over, or if true love really knows no limits. Sometimes our greatest gifts come from our greatest pain.

A sexy but touching love story that will leave you both tantalized and in tears, Jane’s Melody follows a forty-year-old woman on a romantic journey of rediscovery after years of struggling alone. That’s the question a grieving mother must answer when she takes in a young street musician she believes can shed light on her daughter’s death-only to find herself falling for him. WHAT BOUNDARIES WOULD YOU CROSS FOR TRUE LOVE? Books upon books to feed a boy’s feverish dreams and the boy now grown, it’s still books that kindle the memories of those dreams on these long winter nights.First line: The day after the funeral, Jane came back to the island cemetery and sat in her car, watching rain fall on her daughter’s grave. Books that taught without preaching the difference between wrong and right.

Books to help me escape, books for courage when I needed to stay and fight. And while I've walked through my own hell, made my own mistakes, and found my own redemption, always there have been books. Nothing has affected me as much as reading has. Walls of worlds bound and waiting for me. The heavy door, the warmth, the light, the old wood floors-the bookstore! Smells of paper and leather and ink. Salvation Army bells, white lights strung in sidewalk trees, bundled shoppers, hunched and hurrying, kicking up little snowdrifts scattered by the wind. Johnson waiting at her door the smell of Avon powder, her smile as she pressed an envelope into my palm-ten dollars and a peppermint candy cane thank you!Įvening now, running downtown. I remember snowmen and igloos and icy trails through the white and wondrous woods. I remember rubber bands and ink stained hands. I feel the canvas newspaper bag on my shoulders, the weight of Sunday's headlines heavy on my mind. Foghorns blowing on the mist-covered bay. I remember racing to dress, struggling with my boots – “Here, don't forget your mittens.” I remember the soft thump of that first footstep, the tracks looking back, and everything new and blanketed in quiet white.

Jane's Melody by Ryan Winfield