Outskirts Press, INC.

Set in Barcelona, Spain, Just to Be Held is the story of two friends whose common search for happiness and satisfaction brings them briefly together for a mutual journey of discovery and self-revelation. One morning during her daily commute to work, Caroline, a young feminist from New York, abandons a lucrative career and an unfulfilling marriage. Without a plan or particular destination, she finds herself at JFK airport, boards the first available overseas flight, and arrives hours later in Malaga, Spain. Life has been gradually smoldering Caroline’s faith in religious teachings, hope in politics, and trust in capitalism, creating an atheist and cynic searching for answers. Maite is a middle-aged Catalonian, whose life as a woman, wife, and mother has been defined by Christianity, fairy tales, and culture. She finds herself ill equipped to carry on after the accidental death of her husband. Having lived in his shadow, she is forsaken by her two sons and friends. She assumes her husband’s drinking habits and passes each day washing her new life in vodka-tonics—light on the tonic—waiting for God’s call to heaven. The lives of both women entwine with Mehmood, a Muslim man who arrives in Spain to pursue business opportunities for his employer. Before his disappearance, Mehmood builds a successful career that makes him an honored and revered man and leaves Maite living in the Collserola Mountains where she reencounters Caroline. While finding a solution to Maite’s problem, the friends discuss aging and love, religion and women, loneliness, singleness, and why the belief of a prince on a white horse coming to rescue the princess still finds place in the heart of modern day women. Upcoming Release: Wine and a Story A collection of international stories with artwork and wine suggestions taken from my blog: Wineandastory.blogspot.com VISIT ELISABET CAIRO: www.elisabetcairo.com

"I stepped aside and watched three groups cross the street. A life I knew well awaited me on the other side of Madison Avenue. I could cross and continue to follow that path. The numbers descended: twelve, eleven, ten. I joined the line and moved forward—is this moving forward? I turned my back to Madison Ave. In a nearby cafe. . . Page 6 "Maite, listen to me. What are you going to do? You cannot stay outside in this storm. I promise, we can go back to the park when the rain stops. The ticket agent came out of his booth and pretended to be engaged in some activity while casting his eyes and ears toward Maite and me. I attempted to convince myself it was illogical to be embarrassed, but I was. My appearance embarrassed me. Being involved in this female drama embarrassed me. That I had to be vociferous and call attention to myself embarrassed me. How could a woman let a man bring her to this! I took in another deep breath mingled with cold air and regained my composure. Alternatives were few. We could not go back to the park or a hostel. I needed Antonio but found comfort in the thought that my need was a result of my being illegally in a foreign country. I had dogmatically vowed to never put myself in a situation that caused me to need a male. Page 251 Why do women sacrifice logic for love? Are the two not harmonious? Page 309 I arrived as the last body, Antonio's nephew Pablo, was carried out of the house. He lived long enough to tell the police what happened. " When we sat down to dinner. . " page 336