REVIEW - ONCE YOU WERE MINE BY ELIZABETH LANGSTON

  

Title: Once You Were Mine
Author: Elizabeth Langston
Publisher: Lake Union Publishing
Genre: General Fiction, Womens Fiction
Release Date: 11th February 2025

BLURB
A genealogy search reveals heartrending connections between friends as it brings to light one woman’s traumatic past as a teenage mother in the 1960s.

In a quiet North Carolina town in 1968, a seventeen-year-old girl’s life is forever changed when a summer romance leads to an unplanned pregnancy. She is sent to an abusive “maternity home,” where she is shamed and deceived into signing adoption papers.

In the present day, Allison Garrett volunteers as a “search angel,” using DNA tests to help strangers locate lost relatives. But the family tree she finds most compelling is that of her own mother, who was abandoned as a baby. As Allison puts the pieces together, they reveal much more than her mother’s origins—and threaten to create further divisions in her tight-knit community.

When a family is separated by devastating circumstances, is it possible for them to heal the pain of the past and make up for lost time?

Goodreads Link 

REVIEW
It was the cover that first caught my eye with the child’s toy carousel and the book title of Once You Were Mine hinted at a loss of a child and then when I read the blurb and discovered that part of the story takes place at a mother & baby home in England along with the DNA ancestry search aspect, I knew I wanted to read it. The weird thing is I’ve read book about mother & baby homes but most have them were based in Ireland and those are the ones you immediately think of, sadly these institutions existed all over the world.

The book begins with a young girl, Molly who is looking forward to Christmas with her family. She’s determined to enjoy it as soon she will have to leave home for a place of uncertainty, a mother & baby home. Then suddenly she is informed she is to leave for the home the next day, she must pack the items on the list she has been provided, and be ready to leave early the next morning so the neighbours don’t see.

After a 'summer fling' Molly finds herself pregnant. At first, she naively thinks she may be able to keep her baby, with the help of her parents. They love all the babies her sister in laws continually produce and are always supportive during their pregnancies and dote on their grandchildren. Molly understands her situation isn’t ideal but its not as if she did it purposefully. She had been caring for her grandmother, a big job for a girl Mollys age that her parents decided she was capable of. It was whilst there she met the young man, Galen who brought books to her grandmother. Galen starts bringing books he thinks Molly will like. They end up bonding over a love of reading, they then begin dating and one thing leads to another, ending up with Molly becoming pregnant. Molly’s parents meet up with Galens parents. With the full backing of his parents Galen is unwilling to marry Molly and raise the baby with her. In fact, his mother puts all the blame for the pregnancy on Molly, saying she seduced her son. To say the meeting of the families doesn’t go well is an understatement. The conclusion is the baby is Molly & her parent’s problem to deal with.

Molly’s parents decide she should disappear to a mother & baby home, to avoid stares and whispers and the shame the neighbours would bestow on the family. Molly will stay there continue her school work, have the baby there, and give it up for adoption.

She isn't asked what her feelings or opinion are is basically dumped on the doorstep of the home. The woman who runs the home is a strict, rather nasty woman who reels out a list ofe rules that must be followed. Molly will also work whilst at the home to earn the keep of herself and her baby when it arrives. Molly is stripped of her personal possessions as well as her name. She is to be called Eve whilst at the home. One of the most important rules no one should know your real name! another resident at the home, Miriam, takes Molly/Eve under her wing and they make the best of a bad situation. They form a strong friendship, sometimes rebellious as they reveal their real names to each other. It is Miriam, real name Gwen and her family that help Molly/Eve to rebuild her life after the home. Years later the women carry a kind of guilt at having to give up their babies. The women do build lives for themselves but they never ever forget what they have had taken from them, and they commemorate the birth of their babies every year. Life moves on for them both.

Years late Allison does a DNA test and sends it to an ancestry site, she wants to learn more about her family as her mother was abandoned as a baby. Her childhood best friend Bree, decides to do a test be a supportive friend and do the whole “journey” together thinking it might be fun. When the results come in it’s a shock to both Allison & Bree to find out they are cousins!! Allison is more experienced with the process as she is a search angel for a site so she takes the news better than Bree. Instead of bringing them closer it begins to drive a wedge between the two previously best friends. At first Allisons mother doesn’t want to know anything at all, in her mind she was abandoned on a doorstep as a child and she doesn’t really wish to find her parents. Her parents are the couple that adopted her and brought her up. It’s a bigger shock for Bree’s father, Everett when it is revealed who his father is. He is interested in tracing his mother and wants a relationship with his sister Heather and niece Allison. Its almost as if Bree is a little jealous of Allison, she’s at a bit of a stalemate with her business so life isn’t as plain sailing for her at the time.

The story tells of the angst the revelation causes everyone involved, including the birth parents when they are contacted. There’s resentment in both cases. Molly resents the fact her mother didn’t turn up for the birth of her babies which was horrific, with the nurses being openly hostile towards her as she is “one of those girls” from the home. The one person Molly can rely on a little is her Aunt Trudy, although she is limited to what she can do as Mollys parents withhold information from her.

I felt like reaching into the book and hugging Molly/Eve, her family literally abandon her, in a strange, hostile place. Molly has guilt at the shame she has brought on her parents and the financial burden of paying for the home, although she later finds out that her college fund money has been used so she has paid to be treat horribly herself. Molly’s life could have really spiralled badly had it not been for the friendship of the slightly older Gwen/Miriam and her family contacts. I don’t blame Molly for not returning to her family home to find a job as her father expects. Gwen being a bit older seemed more confident, wiser and “life smart” than Molly and Gwen had the support of her mother and stepfather as well as the fact she had a good job and her own money too.

I was annoyed with Galen, he was very passive and seemed uncaring at times. He easily went along with his parents wishes to literally abandon Molly. He also went along with another large lie for his parents.

To be honest I was disgusted with Molly’s parents, Galen’s parents, Mrs Mitchell the manager of the mother and baby home and the nurses that were present at the birth of Molly’s babies. Aunt Trudy insisted she did her best, but did she? Personally, I think she could have done more but she didn’t want to risk her relationship with Molly’s parents anymore than she was doing.

Though Molly went through a traumatising experience I loved that she rebuilt her life and I think she ended up with a better husband than Galen would ever have been. Galen however ran away to the army and then gave up pursuing his dream future, settling for running the family business as his parents wanted. Perhaps giving up his dream future was a form of punishment.

My immediate thoughts were that I really enjoyed reading the book, it certainly kept me hooked and guessing about how everyone was related. It felt like a true story and was so believable. All the responsibility, the shame and consequences of an unplanned pregnancy falling onto the shoulders of Molly. Even year later she is still reminded by those around her of her dirty little secret. Whereas Galen simply walks away, able to continue his life with no interruptions, free to continue his life however he wishes.

Summing up this is an emotive story about a chain of events that didn’t happen all that long ago. One innocent but reckless act triggers what one family regards as disaster. Their reaction triggers a whole chain of events and repercussions are felt many years later!

Then when a younger generation fascinated by ancestry does a DNA it stirs up family histories that were never meant to be revealed shining light on those long buried secrets and lies.

 

BLOG TOUR - NOTHING EVER HAPPENS HERE BY SERAPHINA NOVA GLASS

  

Title: Nothing Ever Happens Here
Author: Seraphina Nova Glass
Publisher: Graydon House
Release Date: 11th February 2025

BLURB
Nothing ever happens in small towns…

When Shelby Dawson survives a harrowing attack that should have left her dead, she tries to move past it—for herself, and for her family. Fifteen months later, with the help of her best friend, Mackenzie, she finally feels safe again in the snowy Minnesota town she calls home. But when an anonymous note appears on her windshield bearing the same threats her attacker made, Shelby realizes that her nightmare has only just begun.

As new evidence surfaces, and a group of well-meaning senior citizens accidentally makes the case go viral online, the situation quickly goes from bad to worse. And with suspicious accidents targeting those closest to her happening all over town, Shelby can’t shake the feeling that she’s being watched. Fighting to stay one step ahead of disaster, she finds herself asking the question on everyone’s lips: Who attacked her that night?

But Shelby isn’t the only one with questions. Mackenzie’s husband, Leo, vanished without a trace on that terrible night, and over a year later, no one knows why. Until a deep dive into his finances reveals a history of debts, mismanaged funds, and hidden accounts—one of which is still active. Their suspicion that Leo is still alive only complicates things further, though, and when another person connected to Shelby goes missing, she’s caught in a race against time before her attacker becomes a killer.

PURCHASE LINKS
HarperCollins
Amazon
Barnes & Noble
Bookshop.org

PRAISE FOR THE BOOK

“A charming cast of characters, a twisty mystery, and a diabolical killer make Nothing Ever Happens Here impossible to put down. A riveting page-turner with a sly sense of humor.” —Robyn Harding, internationally bestselling author of The Haters

EXCERPT 

3

Florence

Fifteen Months Later

I read a story on the internet about how elderly people without hobbies are among the saddest sacks on earth, although I’m sure I have that wrong and they didn’t use the word “sacks.” Anyway, it went on to say how having hobbies could greatly reduce one’s chances of developing dementia. They didn’t give a percentage and I would have liked a percentage, because if it’s only a one percent chance reduction, well then, why bother? But I guess they wouldn’t have written the whole article, in that case, or used the words “greatly reduce one’s chances” for that matter either, would they? So I decided I would like a hobby.

So, when I Googled “how to start a hobby” the first advice given was to break it into small steps so you’re not overwhelmed. For Christ’s sake, I didn’t Google how to embezzle diamonds from the Russian mafia, I was simply thinking I might take up cookie making or something. How could I get overwhelmed? Anyway…then I learned that professional cookie decorators call themselves “cookiers” and I just found the term so irritating I gave up on the whole thing.

Then Millie told me I could knit with her and I told Millie that she’s shamefully cliché, and how does she not have carpal tunnel by now? And it’s not really a hobby, is it? She’d be sitting in front of the television watching Bonanza with or without her knitting in hand, so it’s quite mindless, and I don’t think a hobby should be mindless. Bernie has taken up winemaking, but his room smells like a boiled egg, so I don’t think he’s doing it right. It’s still at the top of my list, though.

Gardening was a contender too. I was quite the gardener once, but the snow won’t melt until April, so that seems a long wait. I could be dead by then for all I know. But then Herb said I should make a podcast about gardening and share my wisdom with the world. This intrigued me—because I was once a news announcer on public radio, and in a way it’s a perfect idea. My love for plants and helping people learn, hmm. But how would one even begin? I just showed up and talked into a mic at the station, and that was long ago. I would need to figure out a lot of things, but learning it all would keep me busy, and maybe that’s a hobby all in itself. I was almost sold on the idea.

But then something very serendipitous happened. I was at Murph Moyer’s funeral, which was such a sad occasion since Murph had just had a hair transplant he was very excited about, and had planned a trip to the Bahamas to swim with the pigs. I guess that’s a thing… He even bought a bottle of spray tan on Amazon, and then just like that, a fall on the ice on his way down to The Angry Trout for a pint one night and that was it. And now he looks orange in his casket, poor Murph, and he never even got to put his new hair to good use. It’s like that these days, though. When you get to be our age, you start receiving invitations to a lot more funerals. And part of you gets used to it, but the main part of you never does.

At the reception, I was chatting with Rosie and Susan by the punch bowl. We were sitting in metal folding chairs and holding little slices of white cake on napkins when I noticed Winny pouring a long pull of scotch into a Santa Claus coffee mug and sitting by herself next to a fake ficus in need of dusting. She was hunched over her drink, and I saw her dot her eye with the corner of a napkin, so I excused myself and went to sit with her.

I could tell it wasn’t her first scotch because she had a glassy-eyed look and loose lips, but that’s a good thing. It was easy to get her to confide in me and tell me why she’d missed our bridge game last Tuesday and what in the world was the matter. I mean, I know her husband passed only a couple of months ago, of course. But he’d been battling severe diabetes complications and was in the hospital for who knows how long. He was even left unable to speak after a diabetes-induced stroke. Lord help him. It was a mercy, really, him passing. It was very expected. So I am quite surprised at what Winny tells me—that she thinks her husband was murdered and didn’t die of natural causes. Well, I had to set my punch on the floor next to me and rest my hand on my heart a moment.

“Sweetheart, why would you say that? Otis was so sick, bless him,” I say to her, placing my hands on her knees. I thought she lost the plot, if I’m honest, but I was still going to be sympathetic. She picks at Santa’s chipping glitter beard and talks into her lap.

“Something wasn’t right there,” she says with a haunted look on her face.

“What do you mean, love?” I ask, trying to look in her eyes so she’s forced to look back at me, but she continues to mumble. And I suppose I would speak quietly too if I were saying the crazy thing she was about to say.

“Someone there killed him,” she whispers.

“At the hospital?”

“Yes, Florence. I… Yes. I’m not just—I’m not crazy. I’m not making shit up.”

“Of course you’re not, dear,” I say, but I don’t really mean it. “Well, did you tell the police?” I ask, because what else does one ask in this sort of situation? “Of course, but they don’t believe me. I can tell. They say they’ll ‘have a look,’ whatever that means, but I know when I’m being condescended to. They will not have a look. Plus that old detective Riley has a head full of chipped beef. Has he ever helped anyone solve anything in this town?” she asks, becoming louder and more agitated as she goes. She puts her mug down and takes a deep breath.

To be fair, the only crime I can remember happening in the last few years in this town, besides petty bike theft or drunk fistfights, is the tragedy that happened to Mack and Shelby that terrible night last year, but I can’t blame Riley for that. It absolutely baffled everyone. He does have a head full of chipped beef though, I’ll give her that.

“Why would you think something like that, love? You know all of the hospital workers,” I say, which is a given. She pretty much knows everyone around here. “You think one of them hurt Otis? That’s…” I stop, because I don’t know what to say. It’s absurd and makes me worry for Winny. I wonder if she’s gone around telling other people this sort of thing.

“He told me,” she says, and since I know he was unable to speak, now I really zip my lip and just look over at the bottle of scotch on the refreshments table with a longing gaze, wondering how to kindly extract myself from the conversation.

“Something’s goin’ on around here, Flor. Something is happening. First Shel and Mack, and poor Leo wherever the hell he really is. Now this.” It’s strange to hear someone say “poor Leo,” because the general, mostly unspoken consensus is that he’s a rat bastard who ghosted his wife. I hope I’m using that term correctly. Ghosted. Anyway, I wonder if it would be rude to lean over and pick a few cucumber sandwiches off of the table while she’s talking. I do hate to be rude, but I really am famished, and I know Liddy Wingfield made them, and she uses the pimento cream cheese on them, which is a dream.

Before I can decide, Winny leans in conspiratorially.

“Can I show you something?” she asks.

“Of course,” I agree, giving up on my chance for a cucumber sandwich as she motions for me to follow her. The reception is at Dusty Waltman’s house because he and Murph were very good friends. I suppose he’s a nice enough man, I just can’t get past the urge to take a bottle of Pledge and a washrag after him each time I hear the name Dusty. Not his fault, I suppose, and his house is quite tidy, although too drafty for my taste.

Even so, I follow Winny down his front hall with the brown plaid wallpaper and creaky wood floors, and we pull our coats from a pile of other sad-looking black and navy down coats draped over an old steamer trunk near the door and walk out into the frozen air. It’s so cold the snow is having trouble trying to fall, and it swirls around the lampposts in light, icy specks. Before I can complain about freezing to death, I hear “My Heart Will Go On” start to play inside, and now I’m happy to be out here, so I give her a minute as I shift from foot to foot and blow on my hands while she pulls something from her pocket. Why do they play songs like that at funerals? Everyone is already sad, and now I can hear sobs from inside. I hope they play “Another One Bites the Dust” at my funeral. And have it at a Dave & Buster’s, where everyone will get free mojitos and play free SkeeBall, and not in a drafty house with peely wallpaper and stale sheet cake.

Winny finally fishes out whatever it is she’s been digging for, then shoves the pieces of a ripped-up sheet of paper at me. I take it, examining it and have no idea what the hell she’s playing at.

“What is it?” I ask. She takes the papers back, swipes a layer of snow off of Dusty’s porch swing, and sits. I sit next to her, and she lays them out on her knees.

“Look,” she says, and I do. I see a scrap with the words “Help me” scrawled across it, and another that reads “Trying to kill me.” But the words before it are torn away. She stares at me, waiting for a response. “Well, what is this?” I ask. “Otis wrote it. Look! This is the clearest one.” She puts a scrap on top of the others. It says, “You have to tell someone what’s happening here.” The last part says, “Warn Mack and Shel…” but the end of her name is torn away.

“See,” she says, “and then it stops, like he couldn’t finish.”

“I don’t… Why is this in scraps? Why would he write this?” I’m shivering from the cold, and my words come out in white puffs.

“All I can think is that he was trying to get this note to me. Maybe something happened when I went home that last night, because he was gone by morning and he never had a chance to give it to me. And then I think back to all the people who were in the room when I was there, and maybe he couldn’t risk giving it to me then, but I was there so much it’s all a blur. I can’t keep it all straight. I found it just a few days ago in the wooly sweater he always wore over his hospital gown. It was sitting in a bag for weeks and then I went through it all and… God. He was begging for help. I’ll never forgive myself. Maybe he didn’t want someone to find he’d written it—someone he was afraid of. I don’t know,” she says, tears welling in her eyes as she pushes the paper shreds back into her pocket.

“Why else would it be torn up?” she asks before I even have a chance to respond to all this shocking information. “I mean, that’s all that makes sense, right? For why it’s torn up? It’s like he was afraid of someone finding it, I mean why else? He was trying to warn me—to get help, and he was afraid the person who was after him would find it. I know how that sounds, but I have gone over this a million times in my head, and what other reason could there be?”

“Shit” is all I manage to say.

“My poor Otis, I couldn’t help him and he was all alone there with someone trying to hurt him. But who would want to hurt Otis? I mean, who in the world?” she says, and that’s exactly what I was going to ask.

“And you told all of this to Detective Riley?” I ask.

“Yeah right. What do you think he’d say—that Otis had a stroke and we didn’t know the extent of the damage, so this was probably some delusion or paranoia?” she says, and he would have a point, of course. “But I know my Otis, and he seemed different those last days. I know, of course, a stroke makes people different, but I still know him, Florence. I know him, and I saw his eyes change. Now I think it was fear, not just being sick, but…this…” She half motions to the papers in her pocket.

“I can’t let it go. I can’t have his cries for help literally in my hand and blow it off as paranoia. I need to find out the truth. And fine, people can think whatever they want about me, but what about Mack…and poor Shelby Dawson. It was a warning to them too.”

“You think he meant they’re in danger?” I ask. She closes her eyes and blows a cone of white mist into the frozen air, shaking her head. “I don’t know,” she says. “Yeah. Maybe.”

“This could all be connected,” I sort of mumble to myself, thinking about any reason why, even if he was suffering from some delusion, he would bring Mack and Shelby into it. That’s pretty specific for a delusional man’s imaginings. Winny holds her head in her hands and I put my arm around her shoulder. We shiver together for a few moments.

“I believe you,” I say.

“You do?” she asks, straightening up and looking at me with wet, desperate eyes.

“If there’s some motherfucker out there responsible for this, we’re gonna find him,” I say. She puts her arms around me and cries while I hold her and tell her it’s going to be okay.

And that’s the moment everything was set in motion. I didn’t know it then, but hunting a killer would become my new hobby, not gardening, as it turns out.

Excerpted from NOTHING EVER HAPPENS HERE by Seraphina Nova Glass. Copyright © 2025 by Seraphina Nova Glass. Published by Graydon House, an imprint of HarperCollins. 

 ABOUT THE AUTHOR 

Seraphina Nova Glass is an assistant professor of instruction and playwright in residence at the University of Texas, Arlington, where she teaches film studies and playwriting. Her novel On A Quiet Street was nominated for an Edgar Award, was a New York Times Summer Read, an Amazon Bestseller and Editor’s Pick, and also featured in the Boston Globe and Bustle. Publishers Weekly has named her “a writer to watch.” She’s also an award-winning playwright and holds an MFA degree in dramatic writing from Smith College and a second MFA in directing from the University of Idaho. She is a proud dog mom and loves to travel the world with her husband. She resides in Dallas, Texas.

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