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Jazz
Jazz
Jazz
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Jazz

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Ginger grows up listening to her mom’s jazz records and is determined to become a jazz singer and not a frustrated drunk like her mother, who gave up her dream. A friend's father lets Ginger sing with his trio in a small bar in their hometown. She's a hit and is encouraged to move to NYC where she meets Ben, a jazz pianist, in the Greenwich Village coffee house where they both work. They become a team as well as lovers. While making a record, she is seduced by Bill, a sax player, decides she wants to be free to have other relationships, and risks telling Ben she cheated. He walks out, forcing Ginger to evaluate what she wants. Torn and confused, she sees an old couple, holding hands. Their love causes her to question her decision. Will Ben be able to forgive her?
LanguageEnglish
Release dateSep 27, 2017
ISBN9781509216772
Jazz

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    Book preview

    Jazz - Arnold Greenberg

    Inc.

    Blame it on Mom.

    She was a jazz freak and I grew up hearing Billie Holiday, Anita O’Day, June Christie, Ella and Louis, you name it. "The cats," she called them. She knew all the words and she’d sing to the records, snapping her fingers, looking at herself in the mirror, moving her hips. I remember sitting on the floor, holding the record jackets, looking at the pictures on the front, then up at Mom singing to herself. She sang when she did dishes or was dusting around the house. I can still see her holding a dish and washing it over and over while she sang, When You Wish Upon a Star or Stormy Weather. I can still hear her singing different songs, moving her head from side to side while I sat on the floor playing with my Raggedy Ann doll.

    I remember how she’d laugh at me when I came to her holding one of her Billie Holiday albums and I’d say, Billie on, Billie on.

    She’d say, Ginger, baby, you’re going to be a jazz singer when you grow up.

    She’d put the record on and I’d sit on her lap and listen to Billie singing, Strange Fruit and All of Me, Why Not Take All of Me. The record was scratchy and worn out; I could tell how much Mom loved those records. So did I.

    Jazz

    by

    Arnold Greenberg

    This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

    Jazz

    COPYRIGHT © 2017 by Arnold Greenberg

    All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

    Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com

    Cover Art by Debbie Taylor

    The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

    PO Box 708

    Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

    Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

    Publishing History

    First Champagne Rose Edition, 2017

    Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-1677-2

    Published in the United States of America

    Blame it on Mom. She was a jazz freak and I grew up hearing Billie Holiday, Anita O’Day, June Christie, Ella and Louis, you name it. "The cats," she called them. She knew all the words and she’d sing to the records, snapping her fingers, looking at herself in the mirror, moving her hips. I remember sitting on the floor, holding the record jackets, looking at the pictures on the front, then up at Mom singing to herself. She sang when she did dishes or was dusting around the house. I can still see her holding a dish and washing it over and over while she sang, When You Wish Upon a Star or Stormy Weather. I can still

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