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Barks and Clues is the first entry in author Sharon Michaels’s Canine Cozy Mystery series featuring retired police detective Maya Thompson, her son and granddaughter, and their three canine companions, Dash, Digger, and Daisy. The story is short but fast-paced and intriguing as two separate investigations of the burglary of the next-door neighbor’s home are conducted: one by Maya and her human family and the second by their pets!
At 70 years of age, Maya has long since hung up her handcuffs, but the break-in at her elderly neighbor’s home has her back on a case when the local police completely blow it off. I really liked Maya and could relate to her annoyance with young Officer Kittery’s snide remarks and rude, condescending attitude. Age is relative – some wear it well while others don’t – and Maya is assuredly in the first category. I liked that her son, Ethan, and granddaughter, Lily, were no strangers to her abilities and capabilities and were ready on a moment’s notice to throw in with her on the investigation. While I didn’t independently guess who was behind the rash of local burglaries, I found the resolution highly satisfying because I didn’t like that character from the minute they were introduced. Yeah, I’m petty that way.I recommend BARKS AND CLUES to cozy mystery readers, especially those who like dog-themed books or are looking for something short, entertaining, and quick to enjoy.
I voluntarily reviewed this after receiving an Advanced Review Copy from the author through Great Escapes Virtual Book Tours.Transference
Ian Patterson
Publication date: October 1, 2024
Genres: Adult, Dystopian, Science Fiction
Nicholas Fiveboroughs is a Sicko, someone that takes on others’ illnesses. In a city where diseases can be transferred, the rich buy longer lives without pain, and the poor get a short life of constant sickness. Maybe it was fate, or maybe someone is looking out for him, but after Nicholas barely survives his latest affliction, he gets the chance to try and change things. To finally stop the whole disease transfer network.
Tensions escalate as Nicholas infiltrates a higher society he doesn’t understand, and starts to fall for the very person he needs to manipulate to be successful. And between run-ins with a talking animal and genetically modified humans, the world around him just keeps getting stranger. Can Nicholas tear down the disease transfer architecture? And can he do it without losing his own humanity along the way?
—
EXCERPT:
The Disease Transfer Machine, or the Box as we call it down here, was invented some time before the city. It’s always existed here, the primary thing shaping our lives. It sounds noble at first, the elimination of disease, until you realize it only works that way if you can afford it. For those of us in the lower levels, it’s the thing killing us. It’s the only job we can find. It’s the poison that we can’t stop eating.
Do I know how it works? Not a fucking clue. One person sits on each side of the giant metal box, various tubes extend from it and connect to each of them. There’s a giver’s seat and a receiver’s seat, and no one else in the room when they turn the thing on. It’s a strangely intimate thing, sitting across the room from your destroyer. There’s a feeling of great suction all over your body, and then the misery sets in. The symptoms start like a bucket of ice water dumped on your shoulders. I’ve always wondered what a great relief it must feel like on the other side.
The backbone of our economy is built on it. The very rich trade their diseases to the very poor for appropriate compensation agreed on by both parties. But realistically, when you’re poor enough you’re too constrained to know what appropriate compensation is. Some people have tried to create laws around it, establishing contractual requirements and base pay for different diseases. They don’t mean much though, there was always someone willing to go under the base pay, there was always someone that needed the money badly enough to take the risk. Laws just give the illusion that what’s happening is fair. Of course, it’s not.
This new caste of people, the perpetually ill, were lovingly nicknamed Sickos. The working poor hated them for the ease they got their money, the middle class decried the horrors of rampant capitalism they represented, and everyone tried to buy their services when their own bill came due.
Author Bio:
Ian Patterson is many things. Importantly here, he’s the author of Transference, Book One of the Narrator Cycle. He’s also an engineer, cyclist, foodie, coffee lover, cat dad, human dad, and reader of books. Preferably, thick books that deal with strange things and big ideas. He’s dreamed of being an author for decades, but finally began the journey with the birth of his first daughter. This is an objectively terrible time to start work that requires quiet concentration, and he knows it, but he loves the chaos nonetheless. He lives in Colorado with his wonderful family.
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Cayman Conundrum is the third book in Stacy Wilder’s fun and fast-paced cozy series, Liz Adams Mysteries, but readers new to the story shouldn’t have any trouble enjoying it as a standalone. (However, you should know that the previous books are cozy mystery gold.) Engaging characters, a puzzling and dangerous mystery, and a romance from the past combine for an entertaining and satisfying story.
Liz and Brad celebrate their nuptials with close friends and family before taking off for a dream honeymoon in the Caribbean only to discover that Tim, their friend who lives on the island, has gone missing. Rather than the romantic and restful interlude they'd planned, the newlyweds find themselves trying to find him.The couple’s island sojourn becomes a working holiday as Liz and Brad work together to find their missing friend. The setting is tantalizing as the couple investigates and enjoys some of the local highlights, including a treasure hunt Tim had intended as a wedding gift. A romantic figure from Liz’s past appears to test the newly forged marriage, and the emotions that surface are realistic and understandable. The story is fast-paced and compact, with twists coming one after the other. I was immediately drawn back into this series and read the story straight through in one absorbing sitting.
I recommend CAYMAN CONUNDRUM to cozy mystery readers, especially those who enjoy an island setting and fans of the previous books in the series.I voluntarily reviewed this after receiving an Advanced Review Copy through RABT Book Tours and PR.
1614. At long last, Belladonna has been reunited with Isaak, a pirate captain, on the island of Jamaica. Amidst the chaos of hurricanes and Spanish marauders, they are separated. When she discovers her beloved Isaak is captured and bound for execution in Spain, Belladonna goes back to Venice, planning to leverage her allies to save him, only to learn her influence has diminished. Now facing cunning adversaries and shifting alliances, she must navigate perilous intrigues in a high-stakes bid to rescue Isaak from a tragic fate. Belladonna risks everything, including her own safety, in a daring gambit to save the man she loves.
"Join Belladonna and Isaak on a Caribbean quest filled with rich history, dangerous risks, and suspenseful intrigue. Will the couple be reunited? Can Belladonna save her love and her soul? If you like an atmospheric adventure story, you’ll love The Courtesan’s Pirate. Witty and engaging!"
~ Kelly Oliver, author of The Fiona Figg & Kitty Lane Mysteries
"From the pirate-infested waters of the Caribbean to the silken-clad intrigues of Venice, Nina Wachsman vividly recreates life, and particularly the dangers faced by Jews, in the turbulent 17th century. Exciting and richly textured, with strong, admirable female characters."
~ Alyssa Maxwell, author of The Gilded Newport Mysteries
Book Details:
Genre: Historical Suspense
Published by: Level Best Books
Publication Date: September 1, 2024
Number of Pages: 350
Series: Venice Beauties Mysteries, Book 3
Book Links: Amazon | Goodreads
“Just a short trip to Curacao,” Isaak said, as he stood beside her on the dock, “I will return shortly, I promise.”
Belladonna wondered how many women had heard the very same words from their fathers, sons, and lovers, and how many had returned to their families, as promised.
“Why must you go?” Belladonna had waited so long and given up so much to be with Isaak. She secretly believed their union was at risk every time they were away from each other.
“Despite our efforts to attract the English to Jamaica, the Spanish have moved faster, and the heirs of Christopher Columbus have been bought off. We need to find somewhere else to settle,” Isaak said, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close.
She raised her eyes skyward, to keep the tears from rising. “Then my brother died for naught.”
“We cannot change the past, but we must try to find the way to our future, for you and I and for your brother Roderigo’s family. Curacao has been abandoned by the Spanish and will soon become part of the dominion of the Dutch West India Company.”
Belladonna wanted to believe his promise, but after a life tossed about at the whim of Fate, it seemed like random interventions could foil any plan they made for the future.
Isaak caressed her cheek. “It is also a port of call of the Jewish Brethren. Under the Dutch we have little to fear. The Dutch are the only nation who does not force its Jews to live separately in a Ghetto. We will soon formalize our union. There lies our potential future.”
Belladonna sighed. “In Curacao do you believe no one will care about our origins ̶ if we are Jew or Christian?”
Like her sister-in-law Mariella, she had begun life as the daughter of a New Christian landowner who had sought freedom in the New World. In a terrible twist of Fate, on a visit to Recife, Brazil, the Inquisition had murdered her parents because of their Jewish heritage, turning her into a refugee. Luck had found her, and she had been rescued by Isaak from Barbary pirates. Thanks to Isaak she had been taken to Venice, but he had soon set sail once more, leaving her to save others from captivity.
When Isaak returned to Venice to reunite her with her brother Roderigo, feelings between the courtesan and the corsair were rekindled, and Belladonna made her decision to sail with Isaak. Giving up her palazzo, her wealth and servants had gone against her usual cynicism but for once, she had chosen love over security.
“It is worth the chance,” said Isaak, and then he pulled her close, “You must stop nourishing your guilt over the death of Roderigo. You have come here to take care of his family as you promised. And we have accomplished the impossible: we are together at last.”
Belladonna acknowledged her satisfaction with her decision. “Over the past year in Jamaica and with you, I have discovered the comfort of family, which had been missing from my life for so long. Why dare Fate to disrupt our happiness once more?”
Isaak looked beyond her towards the sea. “There is a storm coming, which will provide us with a distraction to sail by Spanish war ships gathering along the coast.” He lifted her chin and brushed her lips with a last kiss. “Both the storm and the Spanish ships represent a bad omen. But do not fear, I am a seasoned captain and have sailed through worse brews than this. But my senses tell me our idyll in Jamaica is bound to come to an end. I must go to Curacao.”
Belladonna did not want to let him go, but he kissed her, and gently disengaged from her. She ran to the edge of the wooden dock, and leaned as far forward as she dared. He waved one last time as he boarded his ship. She reasoned that the fierce winds should be good for sailing and would speed Isaak’s journey. Squinting, she tried to see his figure on the bridge, imagining him making his farewell to Jamaica and to her.
Isaak’s fears about Jamaica were not unfounded. The Spanish were becoming bolder in establishing their dominion over the island, even though it officially remained under the sovereignty of the heirs to Christopher Columbus. The end of Jamaica’s independence was near, and once the Spanish took over, both she and Isaak, as well as her newfound family would be in danger because of their Jewish blood.
“Senora, we must go. Big storm is coming, and we must prepare. The sky do not look good. Horses do not like it.” The coachman peered up at the amassing dark clouds, and then gave her a pleading look.
Reluctantly, Belladonna turned away from the sea towards the mountains. “Let us go.”
Adjusting his hat so it was firmly placed on his head, the driver flicked his whip and the horses responded by taking off at a gallop, as if they were as eager as the driver to find shelter. Belladonna craned her neck, still looking towards the dock as they drove away.
The coachman kept the horses going at a fast gallop, so she had to hold tight to both sides of the carriage to avoid toppling forward. The wind kicked up the dust of the roadway, flinging it through the bushes and trees, shaking loose leaves and petals, swirling through the air and into their faces.
“Hiyah!” the coachman shouted again at the horses, flicking his whip so they galloped even faster. Used to traveling by boat in Venice, she knew little of carriages and put her faith in the coachman to get them home safely.
Lurching from side to side in the speeding carriage, she closed her eyes to shut out the frightening views of a careening landscape. She dared open them only when the carriage slowed, and the wails of the wind were softer. They had entered the sheltering thickness of the mangrove forest adjoining her brother’s land. The trees here were very thick and though their upper boughs still rustled in the wind, she felt more protected. The respite from the wind did not last long, and soon the carriage emerged from the mangrove trees into a slashing rain. The downpour swamped the open carriage, soaking her completely and making it even more difficult to move forward. Though it seemed like an eternity in the wind and rain, the coach soon drew to a sharp halt. Safe.
Her brother’s plantation house stood two stories tall, surrounded by trees, which the wind lashed against the closed shutters. Assailed by wind and rain, it did not seem to be the safe haven it had seemed several months ago when she first arrived on the island. After over a year at sea, when she first stepped onto the grand veranda, it had conjured long-ago memories of home. Though not as grand as the palazzo she possessed in Venice, it did have many rooms, furnished comfortably with bright island fabrics on sofas and chairs. There were flowers in abundance, and island paintings and pottery similar to her childhood home on the island.
That home and her family had been torn from her when the Inquisition came to Recife, Brazil where they had been visiting relatives. Her parents were New Christians, having been born Jews but then baptized, like many others who had come to the New World, and easy targets for accusations of heresy and the fires of an auto de fé. Both she and Roderigo had escaped capture, but each did not know the other survived until very recently, when they had found each other in Venice. Their reunion was short-lived; and Roderigo’s dying request was for Belladonna to find his family in Jamaica and make sure they were cared for.
After securing the door behind her, Belladonna stood in the entry hall, water dripping from her gown and pooling at her feet.
“Mariella!” she shouted, hoping her sister-in-law was in the house, and could hear her above the howling wind.
Mariella and Moises, her son, bounded down the stairway from the upper floor, each carrying armfuls of clothing and possessions.
“We do not have much time,” Mariella shouted back to her above the rattling of the shutters and the wind, “We must go. Take what you need.”
“We cannot stay here?”
Moises answered for his mother. “When the wind is this strong, the house is not safe. We must go to the Cave.”
Cave? Belladonna shivered in her wet clothes at the thought of it. Mentally, she checked off what she needed to take, including the small leather sack of jewels which had been with her since Venice. Hurrying up the stairs with her water-heavy skirts, she raced to her room. She quickly shed her wet clothing for dry ones, then pulled up a few select floorboards and retrieved the leather sack. She stuffed it into a bundle of clothing she had grabbed, and was heading for the stairs just as the shutters of her room banged wide open. Rain and wind invaded as Belladonna ran, skirting the flying debris of a large tree that had crashed through.
Her wet feet slid on the polished wood floors where she landed from her flight down the stairway, but neither Mariella nor Moises were in sight. She called out both their names, and let out a breath of relief when Moises emerged from behind the door to the servant’s area and beckoned to her.
She followed Moises below the stairs to the servants’ dining area and the kitchen. The servants’ quarters were protected by bushes and were on a lower level, so Belladonna assumed they could take refuge there. The few servants huddled together on plain wooden benches.
“Ready to go?” asked Mariella, Belladonna’s sister-in-law, who had taken full charge. “We have taken some food and supplies. The storm is growing more severe, and it is best we go now, or we will not be able to make it to the Cave.”
“What is this Cave?”
“The Cave of Christopher Columbus. It is on the highest point on the island, safe from flooding, and deep enough to avoid the damage of the wind.”
“That is not the same cave from the map that Roderigo—”
Mariella held up a hand and did not allow her to continue. “Yes, it is. But there is no time for talking or explaining. It is imperative we leave this house now, before another tree crashes down.”
A whimper from a maid was the only other comment as the servants were instantly on their feet, each clutching a bundle of belongings.
Mariella wrapped a shawl around her head and handed another to Belladonna to do the same. As soon as the outer door opened, the wind swept them into its maelstrom. Clustered together, they braced themselves as best as they could, and faced the storm.
***
Excerpt from The Courtesan's Pirate by Nina Wachsman. Copyright 2024 by Nina Wachsman. Reproduced with permission from Nina Wachsman. All rights reserved.
Honest to goodness non-stop action and a suspense-filled good time!
The Courtesan’s Pirate is the third and final book in author Nina Wachsmann’s epic Venice Beauties Mystery series. The action is non-stop and filled with high-stakes suspense.
Belladonna and Isaak had finally united on Jamaica, ready to plan their future, when the dreaded and dangerous Spanish threatened their island refuge. Even though she is a baptized Christian, Belladonna’s Jewish heritage dooms her in their eyes as a religious traitor, and a horrible death awaits should she fall into their hands. Her escape from the island is fraught with peril, while she fears the worst for Isaak, who has been lost at sea during a massive storm.
The story unfolds from multiple points of view, but it is
easy to keep up with, and the different characters are distinct. However, as
this is the third book of the trilogy, there are two full-length novels worth
of backstory in the past. The author does a good job of including expanded details
of the highlights so readers new to the series can get the gist. However, the previous
books are honestly not to be missed! The author’s writing style is vivid, compelling,
and easy to read, and THE COURTESAN’S PIRATE is a real adventure story from
start to finish.
Nina Wachsman is a graduate of the Parsons School of Design, where she studied under Maurice Sendak. She is currently lives and runs a digital agency in New York City. She is also a descendant of a chief rabbi of the Ghetto, a contemporary of her characters in the Venice Beauties Mysteries. The Gallery of Beauties, her debut novel set in 17th Century Venice, was an Agatha nominee for Best First Novel and a Silver Falchion finalist for Best Historical mystery. The second book in the Venice Beauties Mysteries, The Courtesan’s Secret received a 5 star recommendation from the Historical Fiction Company and is a Silver Falchion Top Pick and a finalist for the Silver Falchion for Best Historical. Nina has published stories, many with an art theme, in mystery and horror magazines and anthologies. She is one of the four authors who write stories and novels about art and crime as Curators of Crime.
You can also find Nina on the www.CuratorsOfCrime.com website and Facebook - @curatorsofcrime page or at Facebook - @GalleryBeauties.
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My name is Gemma Stone. I’m a Maricopa County Sheriff’s Deputy and not only must I deal with the sweat-soaked misery of the Arizona desert, I get to respond to a bunch of crazy 9-1-1 calls all day long. Like a parakeet up a tree, or a car accident where a tractor trailer full of fireworks is hit and the 4th of July comes a bit early.
But some days crime takes a deadly turn. Police cars are suddenly blowing up. Detective Sergeant Dante Delgado, the love of my life, was assigned to track down and stop the bomber. Am I worried? You betcha. There’s a madman on the loose and he is very, very good at making bombs.
Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, the Feds think I’m in cahoots with an Iraqi warlord who deals in stolen antiquities, Ichabod, my murderous ex-dance partner, escapes from prison and I’m suddenly in everyone’s crosshairs.
Ding.
Ding.
Ding.
Ding.
Ding.
Julie frowned. “What the hell?”
“Hey! I want my fucking gun back,” Chief yelled.
Ding.
Ding.
Ding.
Ding.
My temper flared to life. “Enough is enough.” I threw open the restroom door and stormed down the hallway.
Mom and Julie were right behind me.
Ding.
Ding.
Ding.
“It’s about fucking time. Did you hear me, or do I need to repeat myself?” Chief bellowed.
Totally ignoring my throbbing lip, I gave him my Debbie Sunshine smile. “I suggest you take it down a notch or I’ll be happy to arrest you for disturbing the peace.”
Chief sneered. “You think I’m frightened by a bunch of itty-bitty females?” His gaze crawled over my face. “And it’s obvious, you can’t fight worth a damn.”
“Wanna find out?” I challenged.
Julie stepped up. “It’s my turn to deal with obstinate jackasses who won’t listen to reason.”
“It’ll mean another arrest,” I pointed out.
Julie pulled out her cuffs. “If I book another prisoner, I meet my quota for the day, and I’ll have enough points to get that toaster oven I’ve been eyeing.”
“Oh, I thought you wanted the microwave?”
A perplexed frown on his face, Chief growled, “What the fuck are you babbling on about?”
“Hey! Wait!” Frank edged in front of me. “I haven’t met my quota for the day, let me take the arrest.”
Lucas elbowed Frank out of the way. “No, I want it. I almost have enough points to get the fishing pole.”
“Oh, hell no. I need the arrest, before someone snags the tool chest,” Jacob shot back.
Chief backed away from the counter. “You’re all fucking nuts.” He turned on his heel and left.
“Come back tomorrow and talk with Sergeant Bergman,” Julie yelled after him.
“You know, he’s right,” Sheriff Maxwell commented. “You are fucking nuts.”
Dad grinned. “Bamboozling suspects is much more fun than
beating the crap out of them.”
I
was a 9-1-1 dispatcher for the Glendale Police Department and to keep from
going totally bonkers – I mean people have no idea what a real emergency is.
Take this for example: I answered, “9-1-1 emergency, what’s your emergency?”
And this hysterical woman yelled, “My bird is in a tree.” Sometimes I really
couldn’t help myself, so I said, “Birds have a tendency to do that, ma’am.” The
woman screeched, “No! You don’t understand. My pet parakeet is in the tree.
I’ve just got to get him down.” Like I said, not a clue. “I’m sorry ma’am but
we don’t get birds out of trees.” The woman then cried, “But… What about my
husband? He’s up there, too.” See what I had to deal with? To keep from hitting
myself repeatedly in the head with my phone I took up writing.
The Lesser Known Travel Tips memoirs are a hilarious series of travel misadventures and dubious personal introspection by Australian author Simon Yeats, who from an early age learned that the best way to approach the misfortunes of this world is to laugh about them.
Simon shares his comedic insights into the unusual and uproarious elements of living life as an Aussie ex-pat and having a sense of Wanderlust as pervasive as the Spanish Flu in 1918 or hordes of Mongols in 12th Century.
From how to keep yourself entertained when unwittingly forced to watch 11 hours of live sumo wrestling in Japan, to surviving heartbreak in India at the hands of a French flight attendant, to 48 hours spent in Nepal that qualify as the funniest most gut-wrenching travel experience since Captain Bligh was set adrift in the Pacific, to his unsuccessful attempts at avoiding going to a brothel in Thailand. From what to do when several people converge to rob you after midnight on a deserted Copacabana Beach, to how to save the Sierra Mountain Range from a wildfire outbreak due to a lack of quality toilet paper, to where not to go in Tijuana when trying to locate the origins to stories of the city’s mythical adult entertainment, to how to save yourself from drowning when caught in a storm while sailing off the California coast. From how to outwit the Italian police while trying to find parking in downtown Genoa, to how to negotiate exploring the Roman ruins of Plovdiv, Bulgaria while on crutches, to how to impress the German Mafia with 80s dance moves, to how to leave a lasting impression on a crowded bar in Gothenburg, Sweden after combining alcohol and antibiotics.
Simon Yeats has gone into the world and experienced all the out of the ordinary moments for you to sit back and enjoy the experience without the need to break a leg, contract Dengue fever, or rupture a pancreas.
Excerpt from How to Start a Riot in a Brothel in Thailand by Ordering a Beer and Other Lesser Known Travel Tips -
My family’s most cherished vacation when we were all kids was a trip we took to the South Island of New Zealand in the southern hemisphere Autumn of 1980. All our relatives live on the north island where my mum and dad both grew up on dairy farms. So, we had already made a trip or two to Auckland in my young life. My parents had emigrated to live in the tropical heat and brutal humidity of the northeast of Australia before any of us kids were born and given a choice in the matter.
There are four of us in my family. An elder brother, an older sister, me, and a younger sister. Each of us is quite different in our personality and our interests. My older sister is the athlete. My younger sister is the diplomat. My brother is the brainiac. Me? Well, I tend to just sit back and let my siblings be in the limelight.
You can imagine me as being the little kid running around in the playground under a mop of red hair being extra polite with all the other kids and no one teasing me at all for having red hair. Something close to that.
But among me and my siblings, none of us ever stole a car and took off for a joy ride. None of us have ever been arrested by undercover police for trying to sell them synthetic crack cocaine we had cooked up in the basement. None of us ever got in trouble for mislabeling someone by using the wrong pronoun. I mean, sure, I once got in trouble for calling my headmaster the C-word, but, other than that small blemish on my record, I considered myself an exemplary student. Our mum and dad were amazing parents to raise us all so well.
We were a very content family growing up in the 70’s and 80’s while living in the sweltering pizza oven, otherwise known as North Queensland. What about central air conditioning? Oh, how entitled and twenty-first century of you to ask. Rubbing an ice cube across the forehead and asking my younger sister to blow against it. Does that count? Central air conditioning? No. There was none. Just like there was extraordinarily little to do in my hometown. Watching paint dry as a kid living in Townsville brought out the same level of unbridled fascination that I now see with adults viewing porn.
The reasoning behind there being nothing to do is obvious. It is not safe to do anything where I lived. Australian country towns are just holding pens for human beings surrounded by a natural species menagerie of death.
Full of humor and heart and all the great things that make life good.
How to Start a Riot in a Brothel in Thailand by Ordering a Beer, and Other Lesser Known Travel Tips is the first book of author Simon Yeats’s fun four-set volume Lesser Known Travel Tales, and it is a spectacular grin-inducing collection of vignettes from his extensive past wandering the globe. Told with humor and a lot of heart, warts and all, Yeats’s stories entertain, inspire, and elaborate on his experiences of a life well lived.
Yeats is a natural storyteller, and each chapter is introduced with a groan-worthy Dad joke. I was immediately drawn into his narrative, which starts with a family trip when the author was at the impressionable age of twelve. His father is a combination of wise and wild, and I easily commiserated with Simon’s mother about some of the events of the trip. Still, this family had FUN and created memories to last a lifetime.
Yeats’s experiences are amazingly varied and emphasize his adventures traveling on a tightly managed budget. Some of his journeys are financed as part of a job, such as being an international courier, while others come to be by working at his intended tourist destination. His life is devoted to fulfilling his wanderlust and subsequently always living away from his family. As satisfying as his ex-pat life proves, his reunions with family are scenes of joy and laughter but bittersweet as he ponders all the missed celebrations and life events of his loved ones. Still, the author has no regrets and has lived his life to the fullest.
With its amazing stories of travel and self-exploration, I
recommend HOW TO START A RIOT IN A BROTHEL IN THAILAND BY ORDERING A BEER, AND
OTHER LESSER KNOW TRAVEL TIPS to readers of memoirs, biographies, and travel.
For years I've been dreaming of a real Christmas back home. Tree trimming, decorating, Christmas carols. What I wasn't expecting was Cole.
If I was to dream up the perfect man even my wildest imagination would have fallen short compared to Cole Nichols.
Tall, broad shoulders, smile to die for and dreamy green eyes that held a mischievous glint.
Add in a heart of gold, always helping others in need.
We had planned out every detail of our lives together…including his dream of becoming a major league pitcher.
So when my gran got sick and I needed to take care of her, I gave him the push he needed, breaking my heart, and his, in the process.
A decade, and a divorce later, I'm heading back home to start my life over.
That new start begins with Christmas at my best friend’s cabin…and the man I’ve done everything to leave behind.
Is Christmas past here to haunt me, or to bring a future I stopped letting myself dream of?
This is a sweet, kisses only, holiday romantic comedy with a second chance, close proximity, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, slow burn, and happily ever after.
The Spotless Giraffe is a new children’s book written by Peter Millett and illustrated by Alison Hawkins based on the imagined first day of “school” for Kipekee, the little giraffe born without the usual spots. She’s solid brown. Since she doesn’t have spots like the giraffes that student helpers have seen in the past, they aren’t sure what animal she actually is and end up taking her to classes for animals who share other common characteristics. As she has a brown coat like a camel, they first try to incorporate her into the camel class, or because her long neck reminds them of the llamas, they try her in their class. Each time, though, some other physical feature is missing, but thinking her missing element will come later as she gets bigger, they come up with a replacement to let her fit in and feel more comfortable. They’re rather big-hearted this way. However, when their alternatives don’t work out, they keep trying another group.
Parents and children can enjoy this fun, simple story on more than one level. While there are humorous attempts to find Kipekee’s class, there is also the important theme of being oneself as they try to make the little giraffe into something she’s not.I recommend THE SPOTLESS GIRAFFE to parents of young children and for reading aloud in a group.
I voluntarily reviewed this after receiving an Advanced Review Copy via Netgalley.SALVADOR DALÍ (Little People, BIG DREAMS) is a new children’s picture book by Maria Isabel Sanchez Vegara and illustrated by Mariona Tolosa Sisteré that portrays the life and work of famed Surrealist artist Salvador Dalí. While aimed at children, older readers curious about the man who created the iconic “melting clocks painting,” The Persistence of Memory, would get a clear and basic introduction and perhaps be tempted to delve further; it’s that enticing!
Vegara tells about the man’s indulgent upbringing and his fascination with the Surrealist movement during the 1930s in Paris and concisely conveys the concept behind his art: consciousness vs. unconscious. Thoroughly enjoyable!I recommend SALVADOR DALÍ (Little People, BIG DREAMS) to elementary-aged readers (and curious elders) with an interest in art, artists, or just that fascinating clock painting.
I voluntarily reviewed this after receiving an Advanced Review Copy via Netgalley.In the Mad Mountains: Stories Inspired by H.P. Lovecraft is a collection of shorter works by master storyteller Joe R. Lansdale, and its theme and publication couldn’t have happened at a better time – the start of spooky season. The stories, inspired by the works of H.P. Lovecraft and influenced by several other giants of genre fiction, present a lot of variety while still landing squarely in the realm of Creepy and heading straight toward the Land of Aw-hell-no! They are wonderful.
Each of Lansdale’s stories is a fully developed, self-contained world in itself. The storytelling is immersive, and each takes on its own distinct voice and style to accomplish this. They don’t come across as Joe R. Lansdale just telling story after story (although that’s exactly what they are) but uniquely crafted singular gems. Some are longer than others, almost novella length, yet still remain lean and compact. Some build on characters created by others, as in “Dread Island,” which features Huck Finn, Jim, Tom Sawyer, and Becky Thatcher from the Mark Twain novels, Brer Rabbit and friends from Uncle Remus’s folktales, and even Captain Hook from J.M. Barrie’s Peter Pan. However, historical figures make surprise cameos as well. I enjoyed finding these literary Easter Eggs. Lansdale even puts his own “Deadwood meets Cthulhu” character, Reverend Jebediah Mercer, through his paces in “The Crawling Sky.”Much like with last year’s Things Get Ugly: The Best Crime Fiction of Joe R. Lansdale, as I read each selection, I couldn’t help but compile a mental list of family and friends who would also enjoy them. It’s a collection made for talking about and sharing.
I recommend IN THE MAD MOUNTAIN: STORIES INSPIRED BY H.P. LOVECRAFT to horror short story readers.I voluntarily reviewed this after receiving an Advanced Review Copy from the author through Lone Star Book Blog Tours.
When college student Ben Porter is murdered in his apartment near the University of Maryland, all evidence points straight to his best friend and roommate, Brian Blaine—the son of Jackson Blaine, the President of the United States. Despite Brian’s estranged relationship with his father, Brian has no choice but to await trial in the house that was never a home—1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. These staggering events exacerbate the young man’s rocky relationship with his demanding father and might very well end his budding romance with a beautiful pre-med student. To the shock of the entire nation, President Jackson Blaine, a former defense lawyer, does the unthinkable—he decides to represent his son in court.
Will Brian and his father discover the truth about Ben’s murder before it’s too late?
"A deftly crafted dystopian style science fiction suspense thriller of a novel, 'TimeLock' by the team of Howard and Peter Berk is a compulsive page turner of a read from cover to cover and unreservedly recommended . . ."
~ Midwest Book Review
"Rating 8 out of 10! TimeLock is a high-octane action thriller with a classic feel, reminiscent of Michael Crichton or Tom Clancy. It’s familiar, but in all the right ways."
~ FanFiAddict
"5-Stars. Whoa!! Okay so this was awesome and I have to say first off- I hope like hell someone picks this up to make a movie or a show out of it!! This was a super interesting premise so I was hooked. It moved at a great pace and I was on the edge of my seat the whole time."
~ Book Blogger @gryffindorbookishnerd
"5-Stars. I vastly enjoyed this quick read . . . The writing was keenly honed and smartly detailed . . . In sum, was a well-plotted and shrewdly paced action-packed thriller featuring slightly frayed characters and storylines that were cleverly laced together with wry humor and witty snark."
~ Empress DJ/Honolulubelle, Books and Binding Book Reviews
Book Details:
Genre: Political Thriller
Published by: IngramElliott Publishing
Publication Date: October 1, 2024
Number of Pages: 242
ISBN: 9781952961281 (ISBN10: 1952961289)
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | BookShop.org | Goodreads | IngramElliott Publishing
The early evening light in the sparse room was growing dim as the weathered photo was gently placed on top of a desk near the window. The left half of the image had been cut out of a newspaper and was then ripped in two down the middle; the shot depicted an angelic fourteen-year-old girl in a snowy setting, a pink wool cap on her head. The torn caption read: Teenaged Skiing Champ…
A few seconds later, a different image of the same girl was also set down on the desk and then another. In less than a minute, more than a dozen photos were methodically laid out—some in color, some in black and white—all of the same sweet girl, smiling, innocent, happy.
After several more minutes, the photos were organized in a symmetrical order that only had meaning to the person placing them there. The occupant of the room stared at the photos, lost in memory, consumed by anguish, anticipating the retribution about to be delivered. Though trying to subdue the rage inside, the fury soon grew too intense, and the owner of the photographs suddenly smashed both hands down on the desk and began tearing up each of the images over and over until every precious photo was sent flying to the ground in pieces, lost forever.
Just like her.
What I wouldn’t give to be having one of my usual nightmares instead of the real-life nightmare I’m living through now. Maybe the one where I’m only eight years old, waiting in front of my elementary school for my father to pick me up but he just keeps driving past me over and over. Or maybe the one when it’s three years ago, I’ve just graduated high school, and I pose for a cell phone photograph with my famous father and then see I’m somehow not in the image at all.
Detecting a recurring theme here? Unfortunately, for reasons too horrific for me to even begin wrapping my head around, my daddy issues are utterly unimportant now because all that matters is finding out what happened last night and why I’ve lost my best friend forever.
Not that I care what they must be saying about me, but I can only imagine the joy my family’s detractors must be feeling at this very moment. To everyone across America, my name is infamous at worst and privileged at best. Brian Blaine, the twenty-one-year-old junior at the University of Maryland who—despite his so-called genius-level IQ—has yet to choose a major, minors in ditching class, and seems mainly interested in serving as some kind of spoiler in his own family’s legacy.
And that was before last night.
Truth is I can’t blame them because I am rather a mass of contradictions. Confident one minute, deeply uncertain the next. Yearning for intimacy yet brimming with cynicism about the human animal. Pensive to the point of withdrawal at times yet surprisingly sociable when the mood strikes me at other times. Desperately wanting to love and be loved yet forever unsure whom to trust with that love.
Then there’s the little matter of my longstanding impatience with people who practice the infuriating art of “political speak”—talking in paper-thin little sound bites instead of actually saying what’s on their mind. Which makes me a card-carrying hypocrite, I suppose. Because for someone who extols straight talk, I realize at this worst moment in all of our lives that I’ve avoided just that my entire adult life.
After all, I’ve spent all this time in the public eye but rarely let anyone really see me. I’ve recited “heartfelt” speeches but never truly spoken from the heart. I’ve told my father what I’m doing, where I’m going, and who I’m seeing, but I’ve never told him who I really am. And, unfortunately, I don’t remember the last time he asked.
And now I wonder if I’ll ever have the chance.
Well, I think I’ve covered “me” as much as I can at this point. College. Drifting. Straight talk. Loneliness. Or didn’t I mention that last one?
Anyway, I guess that’s about it for now. Oh, yeah. Two other minor points.
My father is President of the United States, and I’ve just been arrested for murder.
My new residence—jail—makes my just-off-campus apartment seem like Versailles by comparison. How I miss that crappy, wonderful, little place with its peeling paint, ugly carpet, and useless heater. How I miss my roommate and best friend, Ben Porter.
In deference to my father and security concerns, I’m mercifully being held in a cell by myself, thereby happily denying some tattooed bunkie named Moose lifelong bragging rights about boinking the president’s son. Nevertheless, my relief over being alone in this miserable place is more than overshadowed by my boundless grief and my ever-growing fear.
How could this have happened? How could someone—me?—have shot Ben in the head? How could I have been found apparently drunk or drugged and unconscious on Ben’s bedroom floor with my hand beside the gun that killed him? How could I not remember Ben’s murder when I was, according to everyone who saw me that night—Secret Service included—alone in the apartment with him at the time?
Yet all these unanswered questions take a distant backseat to the one question that’s dominated my every thought since this nightmare began: How am I going to ever come to grips with the loss of my closest friend? The one person I could trust and confide in completely. The one person who could see the real me and not the character I play for the press and the public. No wonder that despite my desperate attempt to maintain a veneer of stoic resolve as I wait here in this cold, dark cell, I can’t help but curl up in the corner and silently cry as I realize for the millionth time that Ben is really and truly gone forever.
Forcing myself to take my mind off my late friend for a moment, I pace the small cell and consider the reality that the court of public opinion has almost certainly already pronounced me guilty. I can almost hear them now: “Such a mercurial young man…so quiet and aloof…so impulsive...Not at all his father’s son…”
My father. Good God. I can only imagine how this is going to affect his job approval ratings, not to mention his re-election chances in November. He and I may have drifted apart the last few years, but whatever I think of him as a father, I’ve never doubted for a second how lucky I am—we all are—to have him as a president.
***
Excerpt from First Line of Defense by Peter Berk. Copyright 2024 by Peter Berk. Reproduced with permission from Peter Berk. All rights reserved.
Peter Berk has written six novels, three TV pilots and a dozen screenplays, including several with his father which became the basis for the TimeLock series of novels. The original TimeLock novel is a Finalist in the 2023 Chanticleer International Book Awards for Science Fiction, Mystery, and Global Thrillers. TimeLock was also named as a Distinguished Favorite in the TechnoThriller category of the 2024 Independent Press Award. TimeLock 2: The Kyoto Conspiracy was published in 2023 and the third book in the series will be published by IngramElliott. Peter and his family live in Southern California.
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