"A beautiful tale shrouded in mystery"
Reviewed by Bharti C
Posted April 24, 2016
Romance Suspense | Romance Contemporary
THE RAIN SPARROW, I loved the title and after reading the
story fully understood the choice of it. It is an intriguing
title and compelled me to pick up a copy. The
cover provides the right amount of mystery which is an
integral part of the story. With promise of rain,
storms, a lone bird may sound creepy but throw in a mystery
crime writer, an unassuming librarian, a misfit kid and it
makes for an interesting story. That's exactly what I got,
the format of the story felt like playing an exciting game
of 'Tag.' The story is set deep in an out of the way, small
Southern town of Tennessee, where big time thriller writer
Hayden Winters escapes for inspiration. The small town
promises inspiration in its long forgotten, full of intrigue
and past secrets hidden in every nook and cranny, waiting to
be explored along with the town's abandoned mill and
refuge-providing woods. Hayden gets more than what he bargained for: strange dreams
filled with the town's mysterious past trouble
him in sleep, the alive and kicking town residents, two in
particular distract him and drive him crazy. As he tries to
make sense of the dreams, he battles his attraction to the
unassuming beautiful librarian Carrie and is occupied with
Brody, the kid who dredges up the murky, distasteful
memories of his past and brings them closer. The dreams and
reality of Hayden are narrated in a mesmerizing format. One
moment you are thick in the dreams and stage of the lives
post-American Civil War and the next Carrie is distracting
Hayden with her bare feet and Brody shaking his insides with
fear with his cautious ways. THE RAIN SPARROW is a beautiful story of three
people who have resorted to loneliness against the big bad
world but are brought together by circumstances on a dark
night full of a raging and lightning storm. At the other
end they all emerge winners as they overcome their dark
dreary and unsavory pasts. Goes to show that there is hope
and a silver lining at the end of the dark clouds. If you
love a bit of mystery, small town stories and having a
little hope you will enjoy THE RAIN SPARROW on a rainy day.
SUMMARY
A stranger's arrival in a small Southern town stirs up
old secrets and new dreams in this beautiful story full
of hope and haunting mystery, and with the power to win
your heart Renowned yet private, thriller writer Hayden Winters
lives a life colored by lies. As he is deeply ashamed of
his past, his hunger for an honest relationship and
dreams of starting a family remain unsatisfied, and he
can trust no one with his secrets. He's determined to
outrun his personal demons, but the charming old Peach
Orchard Inn and a woman whose presence is as gentle as a
sparrow's song stops him in his tracks. Carrie Riley is afraid of everything from flying to
thunderstorms, and pretty much of life itself. But
meeting the enigmatic writer staying at the inn emboldens
her to learn everything about him. When they discover a
vulnerable boy hiding at the inn, Hayden is compelled to
help Carrie protect him. Soon they're led to a centuries-
old mystery that haunts Hayden's sleep, and his only safe
haven is Carrie. As the secrets of the past and present
cause their lives to become entwined, all that's left to
come to light is love—if the grim truth doesn't tear them
apart first.
ExcerptI’m tired, boss…tired of bein’ on the road, lonely as a
sparrow in the rain. The Green MileIt was a dark and stormy night, a cliché Hayden Winters
dearly loved. These broody, moody nights of lightning and
thunder and violent wind fueled his imagination like no
other. A man intent on committing murder…. The storm had moved in around midnight, interrupting his
original plans to sleep. He could never sleep on a night
like this. Didn’t want to, especially here in a house
filled with memories and secrets. Everyone, he believed, has a secret, and the south was
filled with them. That’s why he’d come. Hayden had a secret, too, a psychological canker worm.
One that was eating a raw, black hole in his soul. Not
that he’d ever let anyone see inside to know that much
about him. To the world, Hayden Winters was a winner, a
success, a man who brushed problems away with a charming
smile. He was a man invited to the best parties he seldom
attended and who gave rare, but coveted interviews. A man
with a charmed life. But on these dark, moody, broody nights the demons danced
around the edges of his fertile mind. He wondered at his
sanity, and knew it was only by a merciful God that he
was strong of constitution and could keep the demons in
their rightful place. Most of the time. So he killed people. Dozens of them. Books littered with
bodies fed some perverse need in the populace and kept
his bank account fat and happy. In the elegant rented bedroom-the Mulberry Room-lit only
by the glow of his laptop, Hayden rose, went to the
windows to watch and listen as rain lashed the sides of
Peach Orchard Inn with its silver-on-black fingers
clawing to get in. The view outside was far different than it had been upon
his arrival earlier today. An Australian shepherd,
graying around the edges, had drowsed on the long and
glorious antebellum veranda. Hayden had immediately
envisioned himself at the wicker furniture, feet up on
the railing with a glass of Julia Presley’s almost-famous
peach tea and his imagination in flight. The two-story columned mansion had shone in the sun,
glowing in its whiteness with dark trimmed shutters,
flowers spilling everywhere and thick vines twining like
great green arms around the oak trees. He’d driven down
the winding lane of massive magnolias right into an
antebellum past, far from the distractions and manic pace
of the modern world. Peach Orchard Inn, a simple name for a magnificent house,
restored he would bet, to better than its former glory.
His assistant, who knew him better than most, though not
well, had discovered the inn while on vacation and
suggested he write the next bestseller here. Exhausted by
the city bustle and another romance gone sour, he’d
jumped at the idea. His ex should have taken him at his
word. He’d told her from the beginning that he was
neither husband nor father material. The reasons for this
aversion he’d kept to himself, more for her protection
than his. She didn’t know that, though, and had been
hurt. He hated hurting people. Other than in his books. And the
latest episode drove him deeper into himself. A man like
him ought not to need other people. He could work here, rest here, research small town
secrets for the next thriller. There were plenty of
interesting places to commit murder. Across the road, a single light glowed like a beacon in
the storm. The source was the abandoned, dilapidated
grist mill that had once been part of this farm. He knew
this because he was ferociously curious and knowing was
his business. Abandoned buildings provided perfect places
to get away with murder. He’d be suitably inspired here
among the hills and hollows of southern Tennessee. A blue-fire javelin of lightning, fierce as a bolt
straight from the hand of Zeus slit the night like a
fiery blade. Gorgeous stuff. Hayden stretched, rolled his neck, considered a walk in
the violence. He’d be up most of the night during a wild thunderstorm
of this magnitude. He could feel the yet unformed story
brewing in his blood, a bubbling cauldron of energy and
creativity. Coffee, and plenty of it, was a must. He wasn’t a Red
Bull kind of guy. Something about it seemed addictive to
him and if there was anything he feared greater than
losing his only useful resource-his fertile mind-it was
addiction. Addictions came, he knew, in many forms. Leaving the laptop curser to blink a blind eye, he let
himself out of the luxurious Mulberry Room and made his
way down shadowy stairs carpeted in blood red, his hand
on the smooth wooden banister, taking care on the creaky
third step he’d noticed earlier. No self-respecting
author of murder and mayhem missed a creaky step. Lightning illuminated the curved staircase and thunder
rumbled like a thousand kettle drums. The house stood
steady, quiet even, as if it had weathered too much to be
bothered by a thunderstorm. There were stories here. He
could feel them.
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