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We’re happy to host Eva Ungar Grudin and Eric Joseph’s SAVE THE LAST DANCE Virtual Book Tour today! Please leave a comment or question to let them know you stopped by!
Title: Save The Last Dance
Author: Eric Joseph & Eva Ungar
Publisher: Hargrove Press
Pages: 360
Genre: Literary Fiction
Author: Eric Joseph & Eva Ungar
Publisher: Hargrove Press
Pages: 360
Genre: Literary Fiction
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My Review
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I’m always drawn to stories about second chances at love. This one sounded particularly fascinating as the whole rekindled romance is told through emails.
At first I got a little confused as the emails bounced between several different characters. But once I got into the swing of things, it flowed right along.
Adam and Sarah are no spring chickens anymore. They’re also not free to explore their burgeoning feelings towards each other. But that saying, “The heart wants what the heart wants,” rings loudly through these pages.
I’m not one for supporting taboo relationships. It’s always been my feeling that you should nip those feelings in the bud before they do harm. Reading Adam’s and Sarah’s text messages and emails allowed me to see how they struggled with it and their turmoil over hurting others they cared about.
An engaging story that brought back memories of my first love and had me wondering, what if. If you do read this book, be sure to set aside plenty of time to finish it. You’ll not want to stop until you found out how it ends.
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4 Stars
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A tale of the power and peril of first love rediscovered.
Adam Wolf and Sarah Ross were teenage sweethearts who grew up in Cleveland Heights, Ohio in the late 50’s and early 60’s. They set a wedding date when they turned fifteen. The day came and went. For most of their lives the two were out of contact.
With their 50th high school reunion approaching, Adam and Sarah reconnect. Email exchanges – after the first tentative “hi”, then a deluge- five, ten- by the end of the week twenty emails a day. Soon Sarah admits, “All my life I’ve been looking for someone who loves me as much as you did”.
Written entirely in email and texts, Save the Last Dance allows the reader to eavesdrop on Sarah and Adam’s correspondence as their love reignites. It also permits the reader to witness the reactions of significant others, whose hum-drum lives are abruptly jolted by the sudden intrusion of long-dormant passion. Can Sarah and Adam’s rekindled love withstand the pummeling they’re in for?
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For More Information
- Save The Last Dance is available at Amazon.
- Pick up your copy at Barnes & Noble.
- Discuss this book at PUYB Virtual Book Club at Goodreads.
Book Excerpt
From: Adam Wolf
To: Paul Bishop
October 12, 2014 4:54 pm
Subject: Finally saw Sarah, virtually
Oh Paul — “L’avventura” continues. No pauses for
breath or thought. Since the last email, this thing with Sarah has detonated.
We are now writing each other all day, every day, sometimes at night, on the
way to work, at work, lunch, at intersections, on the back porch. I spend my
days longing for her messages and panic when an hour goes by without. No more
tentative phrases and innuendo. No more stuff about vague ambiguous longing.
It’s full blown, Paul. Jesus H — it’s sweet passion and sexy -particularly
exciting because we never had the chance in our first go-round way back when.
breath or thought. Since the last email, this thing with Sarah has detonated.
We are now writing each other all day, every day, sometimes at night, on the
way to work, at work, lunch, at intersections, on the back porch. I spend my
days longing for her messages and panic when an hour goes by without. No more
tentative phrases and innuendo. No more stuff about vague ambiguous longing.
It’s full blown, Paul. Jesus H — it’s sweet passion and sexy -particularly
exciting because we never had the chance in our first go-round way back when.
The day came. We decided it was the right time to
finally see each other — to Skype. I was in Cleveland,
alone. Sarah picked a time when I would call. I brought three changes of
clothes and tried each of them on before we Skyped — stood back from the mirror
and rejected them all. I finally settled on a button-down light blue shirt with
one of those newfangled small-ish collars, and a dark blue crew neck. (I
remembered that Sarah doesn’t like V-necks.) The pants, Izod chinos with the
pleated front and room to grow. I was now prepared with my best Belmondo charm
to woo Sarah into bed.
finally see each other — to Skype. I was in Cleveland,
alone. Sarah picked a time when I would call. I brought three changes of
clothes and tried each of them on before we Skyped — stood back from the mirror
and rejected them all. I finally settled on a button-down light blue shirt with
one of those newfangled small-ish collars, and a dark blue crew neck. (I
remembered that Sarah doesn’t like V-necks.) The pants, Izod chinos with the
pleated front and room to grow. I was now prepared with my best Belmondo charm
to woo Sarah into bed.
It wasn’t like that, though. I don’t know what it was, Paul. Maybe it was modesty,
perhaps fear about what we must look like now to people who last saw us when we
were young. The mask of age. Anyway, whatever it was, when the time came we
both sat in the shadows in our respective rooms and just peered at the camera.
First there was giggling over nothing. Eventually, I decided to thrust my face
forward into the light, regardless of the consequences. Sarah leaned forward
herself for a moment, her hand over her face, just briefly let her eyes show
and stared at me nervously. Later she said she thought me so handsome still. I
told her I would recognize those beautiful baby blues anywhere, if only she
would let me see them clearly.
perhaps fear about what we must look like now to people who last saw us when we
were young. The mask of age. Anyway, whatever it was, when the time came we
both sat in the shadows in our respective rooms and just peered at the camera.
First there was giggling over nothing. Eventually, I decided to thrust my face
forward into the light, regardless of the consequences. Sarah leaned forward
herself for a moment, her hand over her face, just briefly let her eyes show
and stared at me nervously. Later she said she thought me so handsome still. I
told her I would recognize those beautiful baby blues anywhere, if only she
would let me see them clearly.
I couldn’t really see her face. The light was arranged so only a silhouette was
visible. For a while she resembled someone being interviewed in the witness
protection program. I expected her voice to sound shrill and electronic. “I
foist met Vinnie da Butcher Bugliosi in 1946 at a pizza parlor in Passaic.
He showed me a good time. His last words to me were ‘keep your mouth shut’.”
visible. For a while she resembled someone being interviewed in the witness
protection program. I expected her voice to sound shrill and electronic. “I
foist met Vinnie da Butcher Bugliosi in 1946 at a pizza parlor in Passaic.
He showed me a good time. His last words to me were ‘keep your mouth shut’.”
As for the rest of her, I conjured up the worst — telling myself I will love her
no matter what. I had visions of Sarah Ross now — cauliflower ears and 7 teeth,
four of which dangled precipitously. I feared her neck would show signs of some
old rope burns from 10 years ago, when she tried to hang herself in the mental
ward.
no matter what. I had visions of Sarah Ross now — cauliflower ears and 7 teeth,
four of which dangled precipitously. I feared her neck would show signs of some
old rope burns from 10 years ago, when she tried to hang herself in the mental
ward.
When Sarah finally spoke, her voice was soft. Softer than I remembered, sweet, more
confident, deeper. At first she spoke out of the darkness. She said, “It’s you.
It’s really you.” The conversation deteriorated from there. And I said, “It’s
you, really you,” but I wasn’t sure. Except for the voice it could have been
Golda Meier there, for all I knew. When she finally leaned into
the light, I must have lost my breath. I saw her — and despite the few
wrinkles, the face more set in place, she was immediately my girl, her smile
now even sweeter. Her gestures were more refined and confident. She was dressed
elegantly for me — a silky salmon top and a paisley shawl. The years dissolved,
and the fears about age were gone. My Sarah and she beamed at me. We talked softly, nothing sexually charged about it, just soft remembrance. We imagined that we were back in her sunroom,
with the low red love seat — tamely making out — her hand caressing my belly
but- ton, just under the belt — how we slept together at 15, quite literally,
in that hot room, napping together in the heat — or about her head on my lap
when we watched The Twilight Zone Friday nights — or the path we took
through Cain Park when I carried home her books after school — or the people we
routinely met along my paper route. At some point, Paul, we stopped talking and simultaneously touched our fingers to our lips and reached toward the screen.
confident, deeper. At first she spoke out of the darkness. She said, “It’s you.
It’s really you.” The conversation deteriorated from there. And I said, “It’s
you, really you,” but I wasn’t sure. Except for the voice it could have been
Golda Meier there, for all I knew. When she finally leaned into
the light, I must have lost my breath. I saw her — and despite the few
wrinkles, the face more set in place, she was immediately my girl, her smile
now even sweeter. Her gestures were more refined and confident. She was dressed
elegantly for me — a silky salmon top and a paisley shawl. The years dissolved,
and the fears about age were gone. My Sarah and she beamed at me. We talked softly, nothing sexually charged about it, just soft remembrance. We imagined that we were back in her sunroom,
with the low red love seat — tamely making out — her hand caressing my belly
but- ton, just under the belt — how we slept together at 15, quite literally,
in that hot room, napping together in the heat — or about her head on my lap
when we watched The Twilight Zone Friday nights — or the path we took
through Cain Park when I carried home her books after school — or the people we
routinely met along my paper route. At some point, Paul, we stopped talking and simultaneously touched our fingers to our lips and reached toward the screen.
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About the Authors
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Eric Joseph and Eva Ungar (Grudin) were teenage sweethearts in Cleveland Heights, Ohio, who set a wedding date
when they turned 15. The last time they saw each other they were 21 years old.
Three years ago they reunited, around the time of the 50th high school reunion.
Although their book is a work of fiction, it’s about a couple like them, who
fall in love again, almost instantly, via email.
when they turned 15. The last time they saw each other they were 21 years old.
Three years ago they reunited, around the time of the 50th high school reunion.
Although their book is a work of fiction, it’s about a couple like them, who
fall in love again, almost instantly, via email.
Eric is in public health, a consultant/educator at hospitals and
clinics, concentrating his career on Native American health services across the
country. Eva is an art historian who taught at Williams College in Massachusetts for 40+ years. She
specialized in African and African-American art; the history of European
painting: also Holocaust Studies – memorials and museums; In addition, she has
performed in and written Sounding to A,
a multi-media work about inheriting the Holocaust. It premiered at the Ko Festival
of Performance in 2004.
clinics, concentrating his career on Native American health services across the
country. Eva is an art historian who taught at Williams College in Massachusetts for 40+ years. She
specialized in African and African-American art; the history of European
painting: also Holocaust Studies – memorials and museums; In addition, she has
performed in and written Sounding to A,
a multi-media work about inheriting the Holocaust. It premiered at the Ko Festival
of Performance in 2004.
Learn more about Eva and Eric and their history together by visiting hargrovepress.com
– At the website you’ll find memories about their time together in the late
50s, early 60s, as well as interviews from today.
– At the website you’ll find memories about their time together in the late
50s, early 60s, as well as interviews from today.
Their latest book is the literary fiction, Save The Last Dance.
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Fore More Information
- Visit the authors’ website.
- Connect with authors on Facebook and Twitter.
- Find out more about the authors at Goodreads.
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