Sunday, June 11, 2023

Hemingway's Daughter - Book Tour


Historical Fiction

Date Published: July 2, 2021

 Finn Hemingway knows for a fact that she's been born at the wrong time into the wrong family with the wrong talents, making her three dreams for the future almost impossible to attain.

 She burns to be a trial lawyer in an era when Ruth Bader Ginsburg is being told to type and when a man who is 500th in his law school class is hired over a woman who is first in hers. She yearns to find true love when the family curse dictates that love always ends for the Hemingways, and usually, it ends badly. And finally, she'd give up the first two dreams if she were able to triumph on the third. She longs to have an impact on the only thing that matters to her father: his writing. To accomplish that would require a miracle. All three dreams are almost impossible, but it's the "almost" that keeps Finn going. Ernest Hemingway had three sons and ached to have a daughter. This is her story.


photo add-to-goodreads-button_zpsc7b3c634.png



About the Author

I get my best ideas in the barn as I groom my horse, Nifty. The dogs keep a careful distance as I lift a hoof, scrape it out, then move on to the next one. The repetition soothes me. I begin to dream about women like me, women on the edge, restless women who still want to trust that there is love out there, and that being sentimental is not always contemptible, and that good men are not so hard to find if you keep slogging along, seeking a melody to fit your words. So that’s who and what I write about: restless women searching.


Contact Links








Purchase Links


Barnes and Noble

RABT Book Tours & PR

Excerpt from "Hemingway's Daughter"

Book Title:  Hemingway’s Daughter

Excerpt Pages and Chapter: First 2 Pages

Excerpt: Hemingway’s Daughter Excerpt



June 17, 1961

A mi hija hermosa, to my beautiful Daughter:

Well, Flea! Despite being in prison, also known as a forced hospital stay courtesy of my present wife, I’ve finished the book, the one for your mother. Finito! I never forgot what you said 13 years ago—that it broke her heart that I never put her in my books; wrote her out of my life, you said. Well, she’s in this one, all the way. It’s about us and Paris and the way it was then.

And if I live that long—ha! at least another couple weeks!—the dedication will read, “To Finley Hemingway, My Daughter and My Muse.”

You still there, Flea, or have I bored you into oblivion already? You knew it was always you, right? Without you, do you think I could have written a page of the finest book that ever came out of this much-battered Midwestern boy’s head? “A Single Drop of Red Wine” never would exist without you dancing across each page, hija mia. You were the engine. It’s that simple. And that’s the one that should have won the Noblitzer Prize (Nobel and Pulitzer together!), if it existed. Should we create one? And sure, I might have had some vigor injected at times by some of the “others” who shall remain nameless so as not to bitch the fine mood I have going here (I know you hated them, so let’s not talk about that). But the unvarnished truth is, I needed you, only you, to be proud of the old man, that you were Hemingway’s Daughter with a capital “D.” Not embarrassed or ashamed. Made me try for more each time I sat down to write, one sentence, then another. Sometimes flowing, sometimes drilling.

I’m calling the new one “A Moveable Feast.” And it will make her immortal. Love can do that.

I love you, kid. Forever. No way around it. See you in your dreams.

Con todo mi amor siempre,


With all my love always. That was the last letter I got from him, and while a bit garbled, it was him, like he always was. A bit of Spanish thrown in and some of his own odd phrasing. If I didn’t know better, I wouldn’t have guessed how ill he was.

He was gone two weeks later. The highs and lows of living with him were over, and the loss of both was as excruciating as a finger bent to the breaking point, then twisted off to be sure you appreciated the pain the first time around. Still, without knowing it, he’d thrown me a lifeline. I now knew. Finally, after thirty-six years, I knew.


Purchase Links:


Website URL:

No comments:

Post a Comment

Hateful and Unrelated Comments Will Be Deleted. Anonymous comments are invalid to enter into giveaways.

If you see any spam comments, please notify me. My email is on the "About Me" page. Thanks much.