Audiobook Reel

Profile photo for Jo Garcia-Reger
Not Yet Rated


Here are some clips of me reading from some of the books I am currently loving!

Vocal Characteristics



Voice Age

Young Adult (18-35)


North American (General)


Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
I can't hear her sigh, but I know it's there. My mother's signature move, a low exhalation that's almost a grown as if she's 70 instead of newly 40 and plagued by arthritic knees failing vision. A lifetime of bittersweet memories. Mom is nothing like she sounds in those moments. First of all, she's gorgeous. The boys in my class have always made sure I understood that I have fallen short of the family standard. I'm cute in a freckled girl next door sort of way, but Rebecca baker is capital. S stunning, A raven haired, dark eyed, classic beauty. Of course she doesn't realize it and that just makes her all the more appealing. Mom wears the same trend blind clothes she wore when I was little, wide legged pants. When the fashion is skin tight and dresses that hide her slender figure instead of accentuating it. I'd killed address her just once. I'd put her in a pencil skirt that hugs her waist and some low heels, her hair loose and just a little wavy. My mom wears her hair in a knot at the nape of her neck, bobby pins, ensuring that no face framing tendrils will ever escape. I'd have to hate her a little if I didn't love her so much and when I look in the mirror, I can't help but wonder why Jonathan is all her and I made up of the bits and pieces of a stranger. I'm taking a quick shower and then let's go to Munro today. Yes. Today, mom wants me to watch the twins this afternoon. It's the first day of summer break. I interrupt the thought of being stuck at home of being trapped with Jonathan and my angry mother for the afternoon makes me tense camp starts next week and you know I'll be busy every single day after that. Yeah, but Ashley fine. Okay. A big sigh whistles through the line. I'll tell my mom I can't. I sag a little in relief. Half an hour. Can you drive? Yeah. Yeah. Ashley cuts the line when I slip in the side door of the farmhouse. A soft rain is just starting to fall. It splats on the black hood of Jonathan's truck and hisses at the sting of a hot metal. The air is electric charged with warm rain and summer ground dusty and savage.