4 Books To Read On These Pretty Spring Days

Happy spring! When I think of spring I think of warm weather, sunny days, driving with the windows down and having a few weeks to take my dogs to the beach before tourist season starts. Oh, and I think of books, duh. All this perfect weather pulls me outside to curl up on a chair on the deck and read. If you’re looking for a good book that will give you all the feels and transport you to another time and place, pick up one of these great books.

The Kitchen House


Y’all. This book. I am so in love with it I can barely explain. I actually listened to this book via audible. I have about a 30 minute commute to work and recently discovered the only way to stay sane during the inevitable traffic (for no reason! #roadrage) is to listen to a book. I downloaded The Kitchen House, honestly, because it was $14. Most audio books are so expensive and I had seen the title at Barnes and Noble recently so I figured I would buy it. The story takes place in the late 1700’s and early 1800’s and focuses around a plantation in VA. The plot is a tangled web of relationships between the white upper-class homeowners, their slaves and a young Irish indentured servant girl.

Just to reiterate how hard I fell for this book, I would actually be driving home, to my man, a warm meal, my PJ’s and my dogs (basically all the things I love) and would cheer when red lights would stop me because that was an extra minute I got to listen to The Kitchen House. I would actually get home and sit in my drive way, not going inside, to listen a few minutes longer while my dogs looked at my car from the doorway in complete confusion.

When a book captivates you so much that you get excited by traffic, you know it is good. And to make it even better, there is a sequel being released next week!

P.S.- Just a little thanks to my boyfriend who actually let me drone on and on about this book for weeks, explaining the plot to him, the characters, the drama and the love. You know I am weird, you picked me, thank you for always letting me explain the best books to you, play by play.

Me before you


Watch this trailer. Try not to cry from it alone. (Books are always better than the movie, read the book first!)

This book was a charming and unique love story and it was funny. I love when books give you so many emotions. This is a perfect beach read and the main character, Lou, will charm you more and more with each turn of the page.

Girl at War


Hi, I am Rachel and my favorite genre of books is historical fiction. This book follows Ana through being a child during war into college in the States. The book is compelling, interesting and, the best part? It was written by a 26 year old. #goals

Firefly Lane


I love Kristen Hannah, she is one of my favorite authors. I didn’t know much about this book before driving in but it started like The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants and ended like Beaches so it was a full blown roller coaster. The story follows two best friends from highschool into their 50’s. Any girl who has a best friend that they’ve screamed Taylor Swift lyrics with and used to sneak PBR with will feel like this book is a warm hug from a close friend.

What are you reading?!

A Meaningless Moment

Bright, blinding white walls with florescent light bouncing off them surround me like a cold chill. I feel the only way a 17 year old girl possibly can during an impromptu visit to a sterile and agonizingly slow doctor’s office. Bored out of my mind.

I ponder the irritating truth of doctor office visits in my mind as the clock tic tocs pass my imaginary appointment time.

“Why does the staff trick you into thinking that because you’re being called back into this room, out of the waiting room, that you’re going to be seen on time?” I mutter to my dad, the center of my teen angst and mastermind behind this inconvenient appointment.

“I planned to go to the beach today Dad, you totally destroyed my plans,” I state.

“Are you even listening to me?!” I add, my voice rising as my very short tolerance is peaked.

My dad ignores me. He isn’t listening. He is a precautious man and he currently can’t be pulled from the hamster wheel of worry going on in his mind about his one and only child.

My dad sits quietly in the corner of the patient room with his brow furrowed and his head in his hands. His dark hair is disheveled and his pants are dirty from a morning of working outside. He remains silent but lets out an exhausted sigh as if to push the concern out physically from within him.

He looks small to me in this moment. A typically domineering man at six foot two, he seems to have shrunk under the weight of his thoughts. I don’t ask him what is wrong. He is annoying me today, like most other days before this particular one. From my spot on the tissue paper lined examination bed, I dramatically roll my eyes at him and go back to picking at the blue nail polish coming off my thumb nail.

We are at the doctors on this particular day because last week we were on a glamourous cruise ship, floating in the sun across the Atlantic Ocean when my dad noticed a small black mole on my left forearm during breakfast. His worrisome mind kicked into high gear as he aggressively asked me when this mole popped up. I didn’t have an exact answer for him, although I did remember noticing its very inky black color a few months earlier.

My dad’s mind instantly jumped to skin cancer, a faraway island that my own young, careless and carefree mind couldn’t wash ashore on. A few years earlier my mother, then 40, found out she had skin cancer and my dad had since paid very close attention to the size and shape of moles he saw on us. He didn’t like what he was seeing. The day after we returned home, he strong armed us into the doctors, refusing to let a booked schedule stop him.

Twenty minutes after our appointment time, the Doctor lightly knocked and slowly opened the door. He timidly smiled in the way that people do when they know they’ve kept you waiting. “Finally,” I thought, picturing myself actually leaving this dreaded appointment and running off to the beach, like I had planned, with my friends on this sunny and unusually warm, late April day.

“I don’t think we need to remove this,” the doctor’s voice boomed, cracking through my salty daydream.

I was instantly brought back into reality as I watched the exchange between my father and the now, suddenly confident, doctor.

My dad looked at him firmly, ready to do battle on my behalf, “you will remove this,” he said, as if it was a real and true fact.

A few stern exchanges later, my dad informed the Doctor he was not willingly leaving the office until this mole was removed from my arm and the Doctor exhaustedly conceded. 5 minutes later he mole was removed. 15 minutes later I was driving away, windows down, already calling my best friend to hurriedly get my afternoon started.

Ten years later, the feeling that overcomes me when I think about that appointment is ultimately that I felt nothing. The innocence of my own mind wasn’t able to probe into the chance that this one, hour long, inconvenient and chilly doctor’s appointment would change my life forever. Yet, ultimately, it did just that.

Two days later I got the call that I needed to go back immediately to the doctor. The results of my biopsy came back. “Melanoma,” the doctor whispered through the phone.