
A couple Christmases ago, John gave me an autographed copy of Project Hail Mary by Andy Weir. I was so excited, but had a few books in my TBR pile that I wanted to finish first. Then I heard the movie was going to be made, so I wanted to wait. I don’t like reading the book before I watch the movie because the movie ends up feeling just a little disappointing. Reading the book after watching the movie also adds all the details the movie couldn’t add, so that makes me happy.

The day before my birthday, John and I went to the big cinema and settled in for the show. About three-quarters of the way through, I leaned over and whispered, “It’s not even over and I already want to watch it again!”
Project Hail Mary had me laughing and crying and gasping all the way through! As luck would have it, I was able to watch the movie again the next week — and it was still just as amazing! By then I had also started reading the autographed book — and like I’d hoped, it was even better! Then my friend and audiobook narrator, Catherine Gaffney, told me the audiobook narrator, Ray Porter, was incredible. I listened to just the 5-minute sample and was blown away!
This is a first for me: I own and am reading the hardcover, I own and am listening to the audiobook, and I have watched the movie twice in the first month of release. (And I am sooo buying the DVD when it’s released!)
I know there are a lot of romance readers and writers on this blog and let me tell you, Ryan Gosling’s character, Dr Ryland Grace, and his new friend Rocky — wow, they’re amazing examples of love and commitment. The characterization of everyone in the movie was heartwarming and made me feel connected to the story on every level. I hope you give it a try in whatever format you prefer.
I love Andy Weir’s The Martian and own it in paperback and on DVD, and I’ve watched the movie many times. But I love Project Hail Mary even more. Rocky’s expression sums it up for me: Amaze! Amaze! Amaze!

Lynette M. Burrows is an author, blogger, creativity advocate, writing coach, and Yorkie wrangler. She survived moving seventeen times between kindergarten and her high school graduation. Her stories weave her experiences into speculative fiction worlds that capture your attention, characters you root for, and action that keeps you turning pages.
Her Fellowship Dystopia series, My Soul to Keep, and If I Should Die, and a companion novel, Fellowship, tell the story of a world where the isolationists and fundamentalists merged after FDR’s assassination and created an America where even the elite can be judged sinners and hunted by the Angels of Death. They are in online bookstores everywhere.
Book three, And When I Wake, was just released.

When your greatest enemy is your own sister, can you save a nation without losing your soul?
In the epic conclusion to Lynette M. Burrows’ The Fellowship Dystopia Series, Miranda must find a way to break the theocratic Fellowship’s iron grip on 1965 America while protecting her real identity. But Miranda wants more than the end of the Fellowship—she wants justice for the deaths of her first love and her beloved mentor.
Meanwhile, her sister Irene, uses deception, threats, and the Angels of Death behind the scenes to regain her status as wife of the Fellowship’s Prophet. Unless she is stopped soon, she will lead the country more ruthlessly than any before her.
And When I Wake is a searing exploration of whether the fight for justice and for freedom can coexist when everything you love has been taken from you.
If you love morally complex female leads and freedom-from-tyranny stories with deep emotional stakes, you won’t want to miss the complete trilogy! (Buy links below.)
Lynette lives in the land of OZ and is a certifiable chocoholic and coffee lover. When she’s not blogging or writing or researching her next project, she avoids housework and plays with her two Yorkshire terriers. You can find Lynette online on Facebook, or BlueSky (@lynettemburrows.bsky.social) or on her website.


Neetu Malik’s poetry is an expression of life’s rhythms and the beat of the human spirit. She draws upon diverse multicultural experiences and observations across three continents in which she has lived. She has contributed to The Australia Times Poetry Magazine, October Hill Magazine, Prachya Review, among others. Her poems have appeared in The Poetic Bond Anthology V and VI published by Willowdown Books, UK, NY Literary Magazine’s Tears Anthology and Poetic Imagination Anthology (Canada).
Her poem, “Soaring Flames”, was awarded First-Place by the NY Literary Magazine (2017). She has also been nominated for the Pushcart Prize, 2019 for her poem “Sacred Figs” published by Kallisto Gaia Press in their Ocotillo Review in May, 2018. She had a monthly column, Poet’s Day, here on A Slice of Orange.
Neetu lives in Pennsylvania, USA.
Hover on the cover for buy links. Click on the cover for more information.

Hannah dipped a brush into the egg wash and spread the pale fluid over the turnovers, mentally crossing her fingers. Beside her and across the steel work table from her other students concentrated on their entries. She had to ace this final exam; if she didn’t, her budding pastry career would never rise to reality.

She slid the tray of turnovers into the oven and set her timer. Some students had their trays in the oven ahead of her, but at least five others were still assembling. Their instructor, Bridget, a tall, large-boned woman with a perpetual frown, kept her gaze moving around the commercial kitchen.
“This is no time to dawdle,” the instructor said, addressing the room. “The clock is ticking.”
Indeed. The test required that the turnovers be done to perfection by a specified time. Hannah relaxed slightly; hers were baking. She had nothing more to do until she removed them from the oven and placed them on the cooling rack.
Pastries. Turnovers. Cakes. Pies. She wanted to make them all. Every day. And if she passed this final exam, she could open her own shop, maybe. Someday.
She was pulled out of her daydream by soft sniffles. The student to her right was frantically stuffing her turnovers while sobbing softly. Pamela, slender as a spatula, routinely was the last to complete a class baking assignment.
The other students, all of whom now had their entries in the ovens, chatted in clumps, ignoring Pamela, although a few sidelong glances said they were quite aware of her struggle.
According to the class rules, each student was to work alone. This was not about collaboration but the ability to complete a task within a time frame. It required focus and efficiency. Pamela seemed lacking in the latter, but to her credit, she never asked for help.
To hell with the rules. Hannah washed her hands and stepped up beside Pamela.
“You fill and I’ll crimp,” she said. “You’ll be done ASAP.”
With a small gasp and a look of gratitude, Pamela moved over to allow Hannah to join her. There was a rise in murmurs from the other students, and Hannah felt the instructor’s eyes on her.
“Miss Stevens, you know the class guidelines,” Bridget said. “This is solo work only. Miss Murray must complete the assignment by herself.”
Hannah did not look up, did not stop her work. Within minutes, the batch was prepped, brushed, and in the oven.
“Thank you,” Pamela whispered, her flushed face turning even redder. “I know it’s not allowed, but . . . ” Her eyes teared. “I’m going to flunk anyway. And now you are, too. Why I thought I could do this . . . ”
Hannah hoped her smile was reassuring. “That’s bullshit. You won’t flunk. You’ve turned out some nice pieces.” She searched her memory for something she could call out, but came up blank. Mostly burnt or underdone. Unappetizing. Bitter flavors.
“What’s your plan after the class ends?” Hannah helped wipe down the table and wash the prep tools.
“To open my own shop.” Pamela looked away. Exactly what Hannah dreamed of. “I’ve got the business savvy down. My dad’s a CPA, and I’ve soaked up what he does. Numbers are my happy place. But baking . . . ” Her words trailed off.
Bridget, the instructor, circulated through the kitchen, stopping to inspect each turnover batch as it emerged from the oven, making notes on her black clip board. By the time she made it around to their side of the work table, Hannah’s turnovers sat cooling on a rack. The aroma made Hannah’s stomach rumble. The crusts were perfectly crisp and brown.
Leaning over the table, Bridget surveyed the platter and nodded briefly. Hannah handed her a knife, and the instructor cut one turnover exactly in half, then sliced a sample. Another nod as she chewed and swallowed.
Pamela, meanwhile, removed her batch from the oven.
Scribbling on her assessment sheet, Bridget gave no hint of her judgment. “Under normal circumstances, your work would place at the top of the class,” she said. “But unfortunately, I must give you lower marks for ignoring the rules.”
“That’s not fair,” Pamela said, her voice rising. “Hannah stepped in because she knew I was behind. It was an act of compassion.” She glanced at Hannah. “And I’m grateful. Don’t mark her down for that.”
Bridget gave a half-smile. “I’m afraid compassion has no place in a commercial kitchen. Speed and efficiency are what matter. As well as a superior product, of course. Miss Stevens must learn that if she hopes to succeed.”
Pamela reached in front of Hannah and picked up half of the turnover the instructor had sliced. She took a big bite, chewed and smiled. “Well, this is a ‘superior product’ despite the compassion she showed.”
“With all respect,” Hannah said, “I think there’s room for kindness along with efficiency. A kitchen staff has to feel part of a team, and you get there by practicing empathy. At least, my staff will.”
“You’ve a long way to go, Miss Stevens,” Bridget said. “You’ll learn or go under.”
Hannah fought the urge to argue back. She wouldn’t win. Instead she turned to Pamela.
“I have an idea.” She took a breath and realized she had the attention of the entire class. “What if we partnered? I hate math, so you keep the books, and I do the baking.” She quickly added, “You could help bake if you want.”
Hannah bit into one of Pamela’s turnovers and squelched her reaction to the off-putting flavors. With luck, the shop would keep Pamela too busy with sales to allow time in the kitchen.
It was after Pamela’s squeal of approval, and after class had ended that Hannah opened the handwritten note the instructor had attached to her graduation certificate.
“The test of any person lies in action.” Below it, in red, her grade: an A.
A Slice of Orange is an affiliate with some of the booksellers listed on this website, including Barnes & Nobel, Books A Million, iBooks, Kobo, and Smashwords. This means A Slice of Orange may earn a small advertising fee from sales made through the links used on this website. There are reminders of these affiliate links on the pages for individual books.
Bailey Devlin believes in fate. . .and luck. . .and fortune telling.
More info →Before Dr. Eric King was with Kyla, he chased Olivia Bennett.
More info →She’s determined to be successful—no matter who tries to stop her.
More info →A Slice of Orange is an affiliate with some of the booksellers listed on this website, including Barnes & Nobel, Books A Million, iBooks, Kobo, and Smashwords. This means A Slice of Orange may earn a small advertising fee from sales made through the links used on this website. There are reminders of these affiliate links on the pages for individual books.
Copyright ©2017 A Slice of Orange. All Rights Reserved. ~PROUDLY POWERED BY WORDPRESS ~ CREATED BY ISHYOBOY.COM