Judy Martialay – Bonjour! Let’s Learn French

 

Bio

Judy Martialay was born in Mount Vernon, New York, and received a BA from Mount Holyoke College and MA from Columbia University. She taught world or foreign languages in elementary school, middle and high school.

During and after retirement, she devoted time to public advocacy for foreign language education with the New York State Association of Foreign Language Teachers.

Judy has traveled to Mexico, France, Spain, Italy, Algeria, China, Ethiopia, Greece, Israel and other countries. She always tries to learn at least a few phrases in the language of the country. “It makes the country come alive; it’s like seeing life in color rather than in black and white”.

Her dream is to give all children the opportunity to experience a foreign language, as early as possible.

She loves guitar, oil painting, and gardening. She lives in Sea Cliff, N.Y. with husband Javier, has two daughters and one granddaughter.

 

JudyPortrait-1 - medium small

 

 

About the book

Bonjour! Let’s Learn French gives children 6-10 a fun start learning French. It is available in print world-wide on Amazon. Go to the website polyglotkidz.com to download the audio version. It is written to be used with parents (grandparents, etc.) whether or not they know French.

Kids take a pretend trip to France on Pete the Pilot’s magic airplane. On board, they learn their first French words and phrases. In France, they meet Louis l’escargot, France’s famous snail, follow his adventure, absorb the culture and learn French. Back home, they can practice French with family and friends with activities, including introductions, daily expressions, skit, Culture Corner, song, and directions for making an impressionist picture with oil pastels or crayons.

There are lots of resources on the website, including tips for parents on how to best use the book, downloadable activity sheets, recipes and more.

 

 

“Give your child the world: an early start for world languages.”

NABE Pinnacle Book Achievement Award Winner Winter 2017
Readers’ Favorite Bronze Award Children’s Educational 2017
Honorable Mention Educational Purple Dragonfly Book Award 2017

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Amy J Hamilton – Missing Remnants

 

Greetings! I’m Amy J Hamilton from England. I’ve written a couple of genres including Sci-Fi and Erotica. Today I’d like to introduce you to something different on Radish Fiction. Authors are invited to write for Radish Fiction which is a free reading app for your Apple or Android mobile device. There are many books available to read in bite-sized chunks or episodes. The first three episodes of anything are always free. Some books are totally free. Others have episodes which unlock for free each week or can unlock early for 3 Radish coins (only about 30-42p per episode.) Other books cost 3 Radish coins for episodes four onwards allowing the authors to be paid for their work.

The book I’d like to introduce to you today is a murder mystery set on a space station and is called Missing Remnants.

Track is the best detective the Si-Cross 4 station has. He has been forced to take three months off, just as a woman dies at his front door after asking for his help. Suspecting an outbreak, the Authority submits Track to a gruelling decontamination process, while someone ransacks his apartment and dismantles his pet robot dog, Banyon. With little help available to him, Track undertakes the investigation the Authority insists on closing within hours. He’s being followed. He has no backup. His trusted colleagues are avoiding him. Someone is pretending to be his dead husband. Will Track survive to solve the mystery of the Missing Remnants?

 

 

Excerpt

We pick up the story as Track’s boss, Beynard, calls him into his office.

“Detective Trackneathan, sit.” I sat. To my credit, I did not bark. I hated my name. Where the hell had Trackneathan come from? It gave rise to the joke why Track Neathan, Neathan isn’t lost. I fidgeted. I hated the discomfort of the Authority chairs. I hated everything.
“Sit still.” I may not have barked, but Beynard did. I resisted the urge to say, “What are you, my mother?” I was good at making things worse.
“You have unused leave. Take it,” Beynard ordered.
I was temporarily incapable of speech. Beynard was not known for a soft side. He was about as much a people person as I was. It wasn’t the order that shocked me. It was the uncontrollable fear of what the hell I’d do with that much free time.
“You’ve accrued three months. This is beyond the limit allowed to accumulate on the system,” he sat in his chair looking down at me with disdain. His lips were permanently stuck in a disapproving expression.
“OK, well, what if I carry on working and lose the leave?” I asked.
“Not an option. You either take the leave or you’ll be Centred. You’ve been classified for study.”
Despite the horror, I was not surprised. No-one wanted to be Centred. People left the station rather than spend any time at the Centre. It was a limbo of banal, meaningless tasks supervised by scientists sent to study and correct the behaviour of potential troublemakers. In my case, you could drop the word ‘potential.’
“There has to be a way out of this? What if I work shorter shifts? Use some leave that way?
“Not an option,” Beynard repeated, “You’ve been assessed for a while. Your attitude has been deemed unacceptable. You need to hand in your Authority accreditation. I can’t take your weapon, despite you keeping possession of it being a risk to others.”
“I am not a risk to others,” I objected.
“Tell that to Byrod. He’s on the list for a new jaw.”
“I barely touched him. And you saw the footage. He came at me with a knife and I had to defend myself. The damn thief has had a glass jaw for years.”
“Yes, but we are over our quota of allowable injuries to criminals this month. So, you put yourself in the view of the Centre with that punch. A new jaw costs money.”
“Then use my leave to pay for it and I’ll carry on working.”
“It won’t cover it.”
I breathed in deeply and let out an exasperated sigh. I was running out of ideas. If my leave wasn’t enough to cover the cost of a new jaw, my savings certainly weren’t.
“So, what is the Authority’s real view on this?” I asked, “I should have taken the knife wound and let him get away with the serum?” I stared at Beynard and scratched the side of my face. I knew the answer.
“Yes. A knife wound in you would cost the Authority less to fix than replacing a criminal’s jaw.”
My hand moved to scratch the stubble on my chin. I’d shaved that morning too.
“Or maybe I should have just shot him and only accrued the cost of recycling the body,” see what I mean about making trouble? Sometimes I just don’t know when to stop.
“Even that would have been preferable to the cost of a new jaw,” Beynard droned, as he leant on his desk and steepled his fingertips.