Stained Glass Summer
Twelve-year-old Jasmine wants to be an artist. But, can she escape the shadow of her artistic Father to discover her own path as a glass artist?
Synopsis: Twelve-year-old Jasmine adores her photographer Father and wants to be an artist just like him. But when Dad abandons the family, Jasmine is sent to spend the summer with her Uncle on a Pacific Northwest Island. Soon, Jasmine is learning stained glass from island glass artist, Opal, and thinking she might just be developing a crush on Island boy, Cole. But, it’s not until Jasmine finds herself mentoring another young artist that she can truly let go of her Father and call herself an artist by her own terms.
Stained Glass Summer is a 2013 EPIC eBook Award Finalist in the Children’s Category.
“...The author did a great job of making this story relatable, not only to children dealing with the emotions of their parents splitting up, but also to anyone that has dealt with feelings of inadequacy…”-Long and Short Reviews Young Adult
“…Hardwick’s setting on the San Juan Islands of Washington State is rich and authentic. The relationship between Jasmine and little Sammy is heart-warming and revealing….“-Goodreads Review
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The sound of crunching gravel from the driveway startles me. Who is visiting Uncle Jasper this early in the morning? I glance up, expecting to see Opal again, but suck in my breath as long blue-jean legs and a well-toned body wearing a green shirt rides up on a bike with a large wood board attached to the back. He rides slowly, and I think that the board must be heavy on the bike.
I run my hand through my hair and sniff. Is my conditioner still working from my quick shower last night? I can’t smell anything, which might be a good thing; if the conditioner isn’t working, at least I don’t smell like the musty house.
“Is Jasper here?” the boy asks. He leans his bike against the porch railing and sticks hishands in his pockets. The board looks like it’s going to knock the bike over at any minute.
I stare into intense, bright blue eyes with a clear sparkle of light in the center. “In there.” I point toward the house. As he looks inside the screen door, I lick my lips. Why didn’t I think to wear some make-up, like my frosted lipstick? My bare lips taste sour under my tongue, and my early morning breath isn’t much better. I wish I had a mint to shove in my mouth like Mom does every time we go anywhere.
The boy turns around.
And before he stares too long at me or he notices my smelly breath, I stick out my hand. “I’m Jasmine.”
“I know.” The boy moves back and forth on both feet and the tips of his ears turn red. “I’m Cole.”
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