I am a Christian, a retired teacher, a mother and a grandmother. I love to read and I love the Lord Jesus Christ! Unless otherwise specified ,all visual illustrations are from the YOU VERSION APP of the Bible.
This is such a heartwarming, toasty feel-good book that I highly recommend it to anyone who enjoys family stories, even if the family is not the traditional one. Vera Swanson moves to a new town to be near family, but her family moves away for a new job opportunity. When she befriends a young neighbor named Fiona, Vera’s eyes become open to the possibilities of new friends and a substitute family. The pace is perfect for a Christmas novella, moving along at a good clip and resolving all of the conflicts along the way. The characters were realistic and relatable, even curmudgeonly Eleanor who seems to have no heart for the holidays or anything else. There was even romance included between a young couple that was fun to get to know. I enjoyed the entire story and especially enjoyed how the group came together to help each other and a struggling family. The themes are having hope and reaching out to others to meet their needs. Faith is a theme here but it does not overwhelm the story. A lovely, sweet tale that deserves to be read any time of the year! Disclaimer Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher via Netgalley. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255, “Guides Concerning the Use of Testimonials and Endorsements in Advertising.”
Clean Christian Read, rated G for all audiencesMelody Carlson has written more than 200 books (with sales around 6.5 million) for teens, women and children. That’s a lot of books, but mostly she considers herself a “storyteller.” Her novels range from serious issues like schizophrenia (Finding Alice) to lighter topics like house-flipping (A Mile in My Flip-Flops) but most of the inspiration behind her fiction comes right out of real life. Her young adult novels (Diary of a Teenage Girl, TrueColors etc.) appeal to teenage girls around the world. Her annual Christmas novellas become more popular each year. She’s won a number of awards (including Romantic Time’s Career Achievement Award, the Rita and the Gold Medallion) and some of her books have been optioned for film/TV. Carlson has two grown sons and makes her home in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and yellow Lab dog. To find out more about Melody Carlson, visit her website at http://www.melodycarlson.com/Author’s photo from her website and bio from her page on Amazon Amazon/MelodyCarlson
This is very dark comedy with some romance mixed in, so it was quite a different genre for me. The premise is one that I had never read before about a woman named Laurel Applebaum who is very unhappy with her marriage and deals with it by constantly imagining that her husband Doug dies. Of course, he is not dying quickly enough to suit her purposes so she diabolically plots his death, scheming to cause him to die a natural death by what he feeds him or asks him to do. The first time her mind wandered to what life would be like without Doug, I was amused. Then, when it kept happening, I just wanted her to be honest with him and do what a normal person would do and either work it out or leave. The subterfuge and almost pathetic way that she went about plotting his demise lost its humor factor about halfway through the book. There are many characters who contribute to the story, none of them particularly relatable or likable except perhaps Laurel’s mother and her friend Eleanor who has a snarky macaw who inserts much needed laughter into some of Laurel’s antics. Doug was a weak man who was whiny and not at all relatable since he didn’t even try to help his marriage but he did constantly complain about how bad it was. His protestations that he truly loved and needed Laurel were too little, too late for me since he was more like a child than a forty-something year old unemployed man who was not seeking employment. Laurel was a somewhat sympathetic character because she did work hard to keep money coming in and she understandably wants to go to California to visit her son and daughter-in-law when their new baby comes. A burning desire to visit a first grandchild was a realistic detail as was the description of Trader Joe’s (where Laurel works) and the upscale customers who frequent that shop. I was not able to relate well to most of the characters and at some points I just wanted to find out what the final solution to the marriage was going to be and be done with it. The plot was moderately paced for the most part and at times slowed down. There were some very humorous parts, like the Thanksgiving dinner, but most of the humor was portrayed in the scenes of Laurel’s dark imagination of life without Doug and those fell short for me. I give the book a solid 3.5 stars, rounding it up to 4 for its originality. Some of the language is coarse, so that was not a plus for me. Although I liked reading about a woman with creative solutions to ending her marriage, I was not totally engaged in the read and was not sure where it was going to end up at times. Without spoilers, the ending was satisfactory if a bit over the top for me. Fans of contemporary fiction will enjoy Meister’s book with its wit and sharp, biting dialogue. Disclaimer Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher via Netgalley. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255, “Guidelines Concerning the Use of Testimonials and Endorsements in Advertising.”
Content is somewhat disturbing and not for all readers. I would rate this book M for mature audiences due to language, theme and descriptions. Ellen Meister is the author of several novels including THE ROOFTOP PARTY, LOVE SOLD SEPARATELY, DOROTHY PARKER DRANK HERE; THE OTHER LIFE and others. Ellen is also an editor, book coach, ghostwriter, and frequent contributor to Long Island Woman Magazine. She teaches creative writing at Long Island University Hutton House Lectures and previously at Hofstra University. Her latest novel is TAKE MY HUSBAND. For more info visit ellenmeister.com.
Laurel Applebaum heard a familiar ringtone as she shuffled toward the lockers at Trader Joe’s, tired and spent after a full day on her feet. Was that her phone? Her first instinct was to rush, but she stopped herself. It was probably her husband, Doug, with one of his inane emergencies, like running out of chocolate-covered almonds. God forbid he should go ten minutes without a snack.
The phone rang again, but still Laurel didn’t pick up her pace. She could have—there was always a little reserve left in the tank—but she decided to indulge in her end-of-the-day crankiness, even though she might pay for it later, when Doug started whining about his deprivations. For now, for this one moment she had to herself, it felt like a miniature vacation.
Sometimes, Laurel told herself she should get a job where she could sit all day, like her sister-in-law, who answered phones in a doctor’s office. Then Laurel would look at her co-worker Charlie Webb, who was more than twenty years her senior and the fastest cashier they had. Always smiling, he was beloved by staff and customers, and Laurel thought of him as a cross between Kris Kringle and the philosophical deathbed guy from Tuesdays With Morrie. He made her laugh. And want to be better.
By the time Laurel opened her locker, the ringing had stopped and started up again. She pulled her purse from its hook and fished out her phone. Sure enough, DOUG was on the caller ID.
“Hi,” she said wearily, hoping she conveyed enough pathos with the single syllable to elicit some sympathy.
“Laurel Applebaum?” said a woman’s voice.
A chill swept through her. Something was wrong.
“Yes?”
“I’m so glad I finally reached you. I’m calling from Plainview Hospital. Are you Douglas Applebaum’s next of kin?”
“That’s my husband,” she said, her scalp prickling, her whole body suddenly alert. An instinctive chill had her in its grip. “Is he okay? What’s wrong?”
“He was brought in by ambulance after a motor vehicle accident. We’re still assessing his condition, but he’s unconscious. Right now the doctors—”
“I’m not far,” Laurel said. “I’ll be there in ten minutes. Less.” She dropped her phone into her purse and grabbed her jacket. Dear god, was this really happening? And why did it take a near tragedy for her to remember how much she loved him?
I have to do better, she thought, a lump taking shape in her throat. I have to.
“Is everything okay?” asked Charlie Webb. He had been standing close by, which wasn’t unusual. Sweet as he was, the old guy was just this side of stalkerish when it came to Laurel.
She chalked it up to a harmless crush. To Charlie, Laurel was still in the blush of youth. But she understood that his age filtered her through a softening gauze. To most men, she was all but invisible—a fifty-two-year-old woman who maintained only the last vestiges of attractiveness. It had been at least ten years and as many pounds since anyone told her she resembled Diane Lane. Granted, she didn’t make the effort she used to, but she simply couldn’t see the point.
She looked into Charlie’s kind face. “I don’t think so,” she said, her eyes watering. “Doug’s been in an accident. They wouldn’t have called me unless…” She searched his expression, hoping she didn’t have to finish the sentence.
He nodded and took her by the shoulders. “You’re going to be okay,” he said slowly, “no matter what. You are here and you’re fine. You only have one job right now, and that’s to drive carefully. You understand?”
The cadence of his speech slowed her rocketing heart, but she was suddenly so overcome by his concern she couldn’t speak. So she gave him a quick hug, and dashed out.
Laurel slammed the door of her twelve-year-old Altima, considering Charlie’s advice as she pulled her seat belt across her torso. Drive Carefully, she thought, turning the words into initials. It was something she often did to settle herself, playing a game where she tried to think of famous people to match the letters. DC=Don Cheadle, Dana Carvey, Diahann Carroll.
Calmer, she realized Charlie was right—she didn’t need to tear out of the lot. Reaching the hospital two minutes faster was not going to make a difference. Because realistically, she thought as the bulge in her throat swelled and tightened, Doug was probably already dead. She could almost feel it in her bones. He was gone, the life snuffed from his body. That was why she had been summoned. The hospital probably had a policy against giving next of kin the news over the phone.
Once she got there, she would be pulled into a private room by a doctor and a social worker. They would tell her they did everything they could, and ask if there was anyone they could call for her. She thought about her mother, elderly and detached, who would be no help at all. Then, of course, there was Doug’s sister, Abby, who was just the opposite. She would want to push in and take over.
Laurel bristled at the thought as her salty tears began to dry on her face, contracting the skin on her cheeks. Abby. God, she was annoying. The woman had an answer for everything. And usually, it was wrong. Maybe Laurel wouldn’t call her right away.
But no, Abby could be helpful if she stayed in her damned lane. Laurel would just have to be strong, assertive. She would give Abby a list of people to call. That would make her feel useful and important. Keep her out of Laurel’s hair.
And then, well, Laurel would have to make the most difficult call of all—to her son, Evan, who lived on the West Coast and was expecting his first child. He’d want to fly to Long Island for the funeral, but what about his wife, Samara? She was having a difficult pregnancy and might not be allowed to fly. Maybe Evan wouldn’t even feel comfortable leaving her.
It was painful to consider, and Laurel shook her head. She was making this too complicated. Of course they would both come to the funeral.
The thought of seeing them lightened her heart. She’d been depressed about not being able to fly out there for the birth of their child. Money was just so tight, with Doug still out of work. And he had insisted it was foolish for them to get any further in the hole on their credit cards. But now…now she’d be free to buy a ticket without getting into a fight about it. At least there was that. She would finally get her wish of being there for the birth of her first grandchild, to hell with credit card debt.
And then Laurel had a thought that made her gasp. She hadn’t remembered it until this moment. Doug had a huge life insurance policy—$850,000. So much money! It would solve everything. She’d be able to pay off all the credit cards. She could sell the house, and move to a cute little apartment, all by herself, and live off the savings. My place, she would call it. The decor would be soft and cool, in shades of aquamarine and sand. She imagined getting up in the morning without thinking about making Doug breakfast, setting out his vitamins and medication, picking up his damp towels from the bathroom floor, washing the dishes he left in the sink, swiping his crumbs off the counter. There were always so many damned crumbs. But now, she might even get a little dog. Doug was allergic so she had never been able to, and the thought of it filled her.
Laurel stretched in the seat, thinking how lovely it would be to quit the long shifts at Trader Joe’s and give her aching back a rest. And with no job, she would be able to stay home with a new puppy to train it.
And then there was her mother, who desperately wanted Laurel to spend more time with her. This could be just what their relationship needed. Laurel imagined her mother being so grateful for the extra attention she might even summon the courage to take a break from her vintage doll collection and leave the house. Laurel warmed at the thought, the tension in her throat easing.
And of course, that would be nothing compared to holding her first grandchild. How she loved newborns! Their impossibly tiny noses, their kernel-sized toes, the smell of heat rising off their velvety little heads. She imagined a baby girl with Evan’s silky dark hair.
By the time she parked at the hospital, Laurel was trying to work out whether it made sense to get a dog right away, or if she should wait until after the birth of the baby, so she wouldn’t need to worry about finding someone to care for it while she was in California.
She stopped the thought in its tracks. This wasn’t about her, it was about Doug, and she needed to be sadder. He was her husband. They had been married for nearly thirty years. Laurel tried to picture the early days of their courtship, recalling when they first met. She had just landed her first real job, working in the marketing department of a trade magazine publisher, when one of the women in her office offered to fix her up with a friend of her husband’s. “A solid citizen,” the woman had said, and Laurel took it to mean he was someone she could trust.
The phrase stuck with her all these years because it had defined Doug from their very first meeting. He was an honest and decent man who had gone into his father’s business. Eight years older than Laurel, he had a boyish face, unruly hair that charmed her, and an irresistibly corny sense of humor. Even on that first date, she didn’t mind that he was overweight. It made her feel safe to be with someone who wasn’t all that attractive to other women. Here was a man who would always be faithful. And also, he thought he was the luckiest guy in the world to be dating someone so very pretty. She was even flattered by his jealousy. It made her feel like a princess.
When he proposed six months later, Laurel was dizzy with joy. She was young—barely twenty-two—but she had always dreamed of being a wife. And she was being offered a sparkling emerald cut diamond solitaire ring by a man who wanted her so desperately he couldn’t wait to make it official. She’d been so overcome she could barely choke out the word yes.
Laurel parked and pulled a tissue from her purse, well aware of what she was doing—digging into memories to feel appropriately sad. It worked. Her heart felt leaden as she slammed her car door and hurried to the emergency room entrance.
“I got a call about my husband, Douglas Applebaum,” she said to the woman at the desk. “He was…in an accident.” She arranged her face into a stoic expression so the receptionist would understand she was prepared for whatever bad news was about to unfold.
But the woman remained impassive as she tapped at her computer, asked for ID, and then printed out an adhesive name badge. “Observation unit 4B,” she said, handing it to Laurel.
“What?” Laurel asked, confused. She had expected someone to come out and greet her.
The woman pointed a long nail embedded with a diamond chip. “Straight down that hall, all the way to the end. Make a right, show your badge to the security guard.”
For a lingering moment, Laurel stood transfixed by the glamorous manicure, a covetous urge growing tight in her gut. She hid her raw, unmanicured hands behind her back as she recalled better days, when she would indulge in mani-pedis with her friend Monica, as they laughed and gossiped.
And then, just like that, the nostalgia was replaced with furious reproach. How could she possibly be so shallow? Especially now, when there was so much at stake.
Guilt brought her back to the present, where she tried to focus on the instructions she had just been given. Dazed, Laurel did as she was asked, going through door after door until she found herself in a room full of patients in reclining chairs, separated by curtains. Some were alone, others had a loved one sitting close by in a plastic seat, crowded into the tiny space. Medical professionals buzzed around the middle of the room, going from patient to patient. The air was too hot, and smelled like disinfectant.
Laurel followed the signs. 1B, 2B, 3B, and then she stood before 4B, where two nurses in lavender scrubs hovered over a patient, blocking her view. One was leaning across him, pulling off a Velcro blood pressure cuff, and the other adjusted a bag of clear liquid hanging on an IV pole. The patient said something to make both nurses laugh, and then they took a step back, as if sensing Laurel’s presence.
And there he was, lounging in the reclining chair, a purple bruise across his forehead.
Laurel stopped and blinked, taking it in. The IV bag was connected to his arm by a thin tube. He wore the faded plaid shirt she’d been trying to get him to throw out, his belly hanging over his belt.
“Doug?” she asked, trying to make sense of the tableau before her. There was, she knew a term for what she was experiencing. Cognitive dissonance. Still, she couldn’t understand what she was looking at. That is, until he spoke.
This is a suspense thriller with action from beginning to end and credible, likable characters. Samantha Williams is an art teacher when her life goes crazy with a runaway car, shootings, car chases and other things that endanger life and limb. There is a hint of romance that adds to the story but it is not totally evident until near the end. The plot is wild, with research that makes it believable and scary at the same time. Carrie Stuart Parks writes with a fast pace and twists throughout that make this book one not to be missed and haunting in its scope of reality. This is a dynamically written page turner that had me on the edge of my seat and reading fast to get to the satisfying conclusion. This book offers an insightful look at motives for murder and is thought-provoking, with a foundation of faith that the main character relies on. I loved Sam’s “Sneetches” that she seemed to blurt out whenever some common sense and wisdom needed to be inserted. This brilliantly written and complicated novel was so clever, with a tight plot and head-spinning layers that had me guessing who could possibly be so evil as to wreak so much havoc. I guessed incorrectly multiple times, so the big reveal was an eye-opening surprise. Fans of mystery, suspense and thrillers will enjoy the complexities of the novel and get lost in the heads of a strong female protagonist who is as smart as she is talented. Disclaimer Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the author via BookFunnel. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255, “Guides Concerning the Use of Testimonials and Endorsements in Advertising.”
This is clean Christian fiction with intense content, so I would recommend a rating of PG. Carrie Stuart Parks is Christy, Carol, and Inspy award-winning author, an award-winning fine artist, and internationally known forensic artist. Along with her husband, Rick, she travels across the US and Canada teaching courses in forensic art to law enforcement as well as civilian participants. She has won numerous awards for career excellence. Carrie is a popular platform speaker, presenting a variety of topics from crime to creativity. Photo and Bio from the author’s page on Goodreads. Link below.
When and how did you know that she wanted to be an author?
My first books were how-to art books and illustrations. I wanted to share how I taught people to draw and paint in watercolor. When our neighbor and friend, Frank Peretti, offered to mentor me and teach me how to write, I fell in love with the process.
What is your writing process like?
I first brainstorm a book, usually having only the location roughly worked out. Then 3 x 5 index cards with different ideas on each one. Then I arrange the cards into something like a story and move this to some kind of mind mapping program (I use several.) I order any books I need to research the topic, download articles, and move to James Scott Bell’s program “Writing the Knockout Novel” to hone the details and get to know the characters. I find photos of the area, the house(s) layout, what the characters look like, elements in a scene, etc. I’m usually still researching during the actual writing (the story will have a note in red that might say, “look up how Washington State handles skulls” or “what does this really look like?” I have the story worked out on paper and in my head, but it’s still open to changes as I write. I don’t usually have to do a lot of re-writing if I do this correctly. Editing, yes. Re-write, no. I write 500-1000 words a day.
What special research did you have to do to write FALLOUT?
I read 5 books on the area and Handford, interviewed a number of people, drove to La Crosse and looked around, drove to Pullman and did the same, and downloaded a number of articles.
What would be your advice to new authors?
Have a teachable mind and learn the craft.
If you could have a luncheon with a group of authors, whom would you invite and why?
LOL. I’ll be doing just that at ACFW! I’d invite my buddies Colleen Coble, Lynette Eason, Roni Kendig, Robin Miller, (and a bunch more!) Then have afternoon lattes with Frank Peretti and his dear wife, Barb. In fact, I’d book a week or two of lunches and pork out with a bunch of other authors I don’t know but would love to meet.
This fascinating book is available for pre-order now and releases on 9-13-2022! Purchase Links:
With the theme of friends to lovers, this is a romance book that has an original twist to it. Mia needs a kidney transplant so has to keep a job that she doesn’t really like but she is willing to continue to sacrifice her own happiness in order to have medical insurance. Her best friend Noah, an ever-present boy since her childhood, is the boss’s son who wants Mia to be happy. In his quest to help her, he offers to marry her (fake it) so she can go back to school and finish the degree that she has been longing for. The story itself is almost magical in Noah’s unselfishness as he is willing to lose status in his dad’s company rather than have Mia give up her dream. Both characters are well-developed and relatable, and I especially enjoyed the office pranks they played on each other. There is even an unlikable (on purpose) guy named David who wants to usurp Noah’s role in the company and expose his marriage as fake, so it becomes very important that the new couple convince others of their true love for each other. The real romance starts over halfway through the book even though I kept anticipating it as Noah was already committed to Mia and she was stubbornly resisting. Her reasons for resistance are almost altruistic as she doesn’t want anyone saddled with her health issues and costs. The plot moved along well with a lot of humor and a few clever twists. This book presents a compelling dilemma at the same time that it gives insight into the challenges of leaving the past behind and reaching for a new future together. The dialogue between Mia and Noah was flirty and fun while that between David and the other characters was terse and demanding. In other words, the characters fit their roles perfectly. Fans of light romance with some steam building will enjoy this story from beginning to end because getting to know the couple involved is entertaining as well as thought-provoking at times. The theme of sacrifice and true love is one that resonated with me and I think will be enjoyable for those looking for something a little deeper in a rom-com. Disclaimer Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher via Netgalley. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255, “Guidelines Concerning the Use of Testimonials and Endorsements in Advertising.”
Rated PG-13 due to contentAuthor Bio: Allison Ashley is a science geek who enjoys coffee, craft beer, baking, and love stories. When she’s not working at her day job as a clinical oncology pharmacist, she pens contemporary romances, usually with a medical twist. She lives in Oklahoma with her family and beloved rescue dog. Social Links: Author Website Twitter: @AllisonAuthor Facebook: Author Allison Ashley Instagram: @authorallisonashley Goodreads
This unique Rom-Com is available now! Purchase Links:
Many thanks to HTP Books for including me in the Summer 2022 Rom-Coms Blog Tour! I enjoyed the laughter and the fun of reading new books by new-to-me authors and I’m delighted to share my pleasure with you.
The story of Tabitha Steele and Chris Hobbs touched my heart in all of the right places. Tabitha was abandoned by her mother and raised by her foster mom, whom she calls Auntie El. She has never felt wanted or completely accepted or loved and her brief stint in the military where she was sexually harassed did not help matters. Now suffering from PTSD, she has a support dog named Trinity. She is working hard at becoming a survivor. She joins a gym called Semper Fit and meets Hobbs, one of the trainers. The story of their starting and building a relationship is well written, incorporating both of their pasts and the trauma that they both went through. I enjoyed the fast pace and getting to know the characters, all of whom became like friends to me by the end of the book. What I did not enjoy about the book was the description of all of the exercises at the gym which were too detailed and boring for me because I’m not a gym enthusiast. In fact, for some of them, I had no idea what the exercise entailed, but I wasn’t interested enough to look it up online. This is a good romance, with triggers including assault, abuse and alcoholism. Disclaimer Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher via Netgalley. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255, “Guides Concerning the Use of Testimonials and Endorsements in Advertising.”
Rated PG due to sensitive topics and triggers in the content. Elysia Whisler is the author of RESCUE YOU and other coming titles in the Dogwood County series. She was raised in Texas, Italy, Alaska, Mississippi, Nebraska, Hawai’i and Virginia, in true military fashion. Her nomadic life made storytelling a compulsion from a young age. Her work as a massage therapist and a CrossFit trainer informs her stories. She lives in Virginia with her family, including her large brood of cat and dog rescues, who vastly outnumber the humans. Author Website:https://www.elysiawhisler.com/Facebook:https://www.facebook.com/ElysiaWhisler/ Twitter:https://twitter.com/ElysiaWhisler Instagram:https://www.instagram.com/elysiawhisler/ Goodreads:https://tinyurl.com/rpukw53
Tabitha’s radar was lit before the woman even entered the store. The way she whipped into the parking space, killed the engine at a crooked angle and jangled the bell over the shop door like it was being throttled. Tabitha had just taken a bite of the Really Big Cookie—a birthday indulgence bought at the community college cafeteria—when the woman marched right up to the front counter and, without so much as hello, slapped down some pictures. “My father’s old Harley has been sitting in the barn for decades,” she declared, out of breath. “And I’m determined to get it going.”
Tabitha closed up her Journal of Invincibility—I am not afraid; I was born to do this. ~Joan of Arc—and tucked it behind the counter, like a mother protecting her young. The woman went on for a bit, while Tabitha tried to chew and swallow her treat. When she was done ranting, she stood there in silence. Eventually, she shook her head. “Don’t you know anything about motorcycles?” Big-breasted, big-hipped, big personality, big, brassy red hair, the customer rested her elbow on the counter and leaned against it, settling in.
“Not much, no.” A hunk of cookie fell from Tabitha’s lips and landed on the front of her Triple M Classics employee T-shirt. She hastily brushed it away and gestured to the shelves that lined the rear of the shop. “I just ring up the merchandise. Keep tabs on the floor when the mechanics are in the back.” She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples, but that just prompted images from school this morning, which she didn’t want in her head. Still, with her eyes closed, Tabitha sensed that this wasn’t really about the motorcycle. The woman was upset, possibly grieving. The motorcycle meant something to her and she wanted quick answers because she was searching for a way to ease her pain. Tabitha opened her eyes again, looked past the woman and settled her gaze on Trinity, the little black rescue pit bull who always made her feel better.
“Then get the mechanic. Or, better yet, get the owner. Where’s Delaney Monroe?”
“She’s on an errand.” Tabitha kept her gaze on Trinity, who lay near the stairs that led to Delaney’s apartment. She was catching some zees in the dog bed intended for Delaney’s dog, Wyatt. For about the third time that day Tabitha thought, What am I doing here? I’m not cut out for this.
“Delaney Monroe is who I came to see,” the woman pressed. “I heard she’s an expert on classic bikes. If you work in a bike shop, you should know about bikes. I don’t have time for this.” She straightened up and planted her hands on her hips.
“Delaney’s out. Maybe I can help.”
Tabitha turned to the sound of Nora’s raspy voice.
“I’m Nora. One of the mechanics.” Delaney’s mom had come out of the back room, wiping grease from her fingers with a shop rag. She had a cigarette tucked behind her ear, right where her temples were starting to gray. The rest of her hair was silky black and tied back in a ponytail. Nora was a small woman with a slight build, but the way she carried herself, she might as well have been six feet tall. She wore blue jeans and the same Triple M Classics T-shirt and she locked her fearless, almond-shaped eyes into the irritated gaze of the customer. “Whatcha got?” She nodded at the photographs.
The woman pushed them across the countertop. “This has been in my father’s barn for ages. He recently passed and I’m not sure if it’s worth fixing up.”
Nora went silent while she leafed through the pictures. “An old Harley Panhead,” she murmured. “Sweet. Do you know the year? Looks like a ’49.”
“Yes. How did you know that?”
Tabitha felt a shift in the air as the woman’s demeanor changed, her anger melting away, relief softening her shoulders and her scrunched-up mouth. Crisis averted.
“The window on a Panhead is only ’48 to ’65. The emblem on the gas tank in this shot tells me it’s a ’49.” Nora tapped the top photo with her grease-stained finger.
The woman stuck out her hand, a huge grin on her face. “Nelly Washington. Nice to meet you.”
“Nora.” Nora glanced at Nelly’s hand but didn’t touch her. “My girl owns this place.”
“I’ve heard good things.”
“Damn straight you heard good things. My girl’s the best.”
Nelly gave off a deep belly laugh and used the humor as an excuse to withdraw her unrequited handshake. “Can she fix it up? Make it run?”
Like a cowgirl walking into a saloon in an old Western, Delaney pushed open the shop door at that moment. The bell jangled as she strode inside, motorcycle boots thunking over the floor, helmet in her gloved hand. Delaney was taller than her mother by several inches, had the same slender build and dark hair, but in a pixie cut. Wyatt, the wandering white pit bull with the brown eye patch, trotted in next to her, still wearing his Doggles. Delaney slipped the eye protection off her motorcycle-riding companion. Wyatt spotted Trinity on his dog bed and raced over to play. He leaned on his front paws, butt in the air, tail wagging, then jumped backward and spun. When that didn’t work, he danced all around her, flipping his head and poking his muzzle in the air. Trinity, unmoved, looked to Tabitha for instruction.
“Break, Trinity,” Tabitha said, and the dogs were soon twining necks like ponies.
Nora waved at her daughter and shrugged at Nelly. “You’ll need to bring the bike in. See what’s up. Is it dry?”
“Been in the shed. Covered up.” Nelly’s gaze went to Delaney as she neared.
“She means did you drain the carburetor and gas tank,” Delaney clarified, settling her helmet on the counter. “Before you stored it.”
“Oh.” Nelly’s face went straight. “I don’t know, actually. My father is the one who stored it. Once his arthritis got too bad for him to ride.”
“That’ll make a difference,” Delaney continued, like she’d been in on the conversation from the beginning. “That, and how straight the bike was when it was put up.” She glanced at the photos. “A ’49 Panhead. Cool. Bring it in. We’ll take a look.”
“I will definitely do that. Thank you. My father recently passed away. He used to take me on rides on that bike when I was a little girl.” Nelly’s voice grew faraway, wistful. “We’d go to the general store and he’d buy me a grape soda. I loved feeling the wind in my hair.” Nelly waved a hand. “This was before helmet laws. Anyway.” The reminiscent look in Nelly’s eyes slid away and she sniffed deeply. “Are you Delaney?”
“Yes, ma’am. Don’t worry. I’ve never met a Panhead I can’t get going.”
Tabitha stuffed the rest of the cookie in her mouth and tried to sneak away, her lack of motorcycle knowledge no longer an issue. Her shift was over, she was exhausted and she was ready to go home.
“Get back here, Steele.” Delaney grasped the hem of Tabitha’s shirt and pulled her back gently. “You need to take down this lady’s information. The more you listen, the more you’ll learn. Pretty soon you’ll know a Harley Panhead on sight.” Delaney nodded at Tabitha. “She’s still learning.”
“She seems like a nice young lady.” Nelly was all smiles now, like their earlier interaction had never happened.
After Tabitha filled out a capture sheet with Nelly Washington’s information, and the woman had left the shop in an entirely different mood than the one she’d barged in with, Delaney turned to her and said, “What’s going on, Steele? You look ready to lie on the floor and call your dog for Smoosh Time.”
Smoosh Time was Delaney’s slang for the deep pressure therapy Trinity was trained to provide if Tabitha was having a panic attack. It was affectionate rather than sarcastic. Unused to affection, Tabitha liked it and had taken to calling the therapy Smoosh Time herself. Smoosh Time actually sounded really good about now. But Trinity was still on break, chasing Wyatt around the perimeter of the shop. “It’s been a long day.”
“Massage school getting you down?”
“Old Nelly was kinda rough on her,” Nora offered. She slipped the cigarette from behind her ear and stuck it between her lips.
“That’s why she’s learning as much as she can.” Delaney tapped the capture sheet. “That’s all you can do, Steele. I don’t expect you to become a mechanic, unless you want to, but you soak in everything you can while you’re here.” She glanced at her mother. “Don’t you dare light that in here, Nora.”
Nora pulled it from her lips and rolled her eyes. “I’m not. It’s just a prop, okay?”
“How many days has it been?” After some hemming and hawing Delaney clarified, “For real.”
“Half a day,” Nora admitted. “I’d gone two days and then I caved this morning. It’s so hard not to smoke after I eat. Maybe I need to stop eating.”
Delaney shook her head. “You gotta be tough, Nora. Like Tabitha here.”
“I’m not tough.” Tabitha had been enjoying watching the mother-daughter pair interact, despite how rough her day had been so far. They made her wonder what her relationship with her birth mother would’ve been like, if she’d known her. Tabitha’s relationship with Auntie El—the woman who’d raised her and the only mother Tabitha had ever known—was as old-fashioned as it got. Yes, ma’am, No, ma’am, please and thank you, respect your elders and all boundaries clearly drawn and rarely crossed. There was none of this role reversal or sarcastic banter. Life certainly hadn’t been easy, and Tabitha had been handed absolutely nothing. If that didn’t make her tough, nothing would. “Tough is just not my nature.”
Sensitive was Tabitha’s nature, for good or bad. The armor she lacked had never been very useful, not until she joined the navy and her main job in Afghanistan was to protect her chaplain from harm. She’d been pretty good at smelling trouble, hearing things nobody else heard, seeing things nobody else saw. Some had even jokingly called her Radar, after the character from M*A*S*H. It made her good at her job, despite the fact that she hadn’t been able to prevent the IED that had got her chaplain hurt, and despite the fact that the skill was kind of useless, and often counterintuitive, in everyday life.
“You’re tough-ish, Tabitha,” Nora agreed. “Which means you got potential. Just gotta stand up for yourself with lippy women like Nelly.”
“Spill it, Steele.” Delaney shot her mother a silencing look. “What’s going on?”
“You were right, Sarge,” Tabitha admitted. She hadn’t planned on discussing her day, but there was just something about Delaney, the woman she’d met at Camp Leatherneck years ago. The woman who’d helped her keep her head straight during that awful day when an IED had taken out her convoy. “It’s massage school.”
“What about it?”
“It’s the student exchanges.” Tabitha drew a deep breath. “We have to swap with our classmates once a week to practice the strokes we learn in class. At first, I was doing really well. Everyone loved my massages and said that I just had that magic touch. But then…well… I’m doing something wrong. I’m not…massaging right.” Tabitha bit down on her lower lip.
“How can you not massage right?” Nora spoke around the unlit cigarette dangling from her lips. “Aren’t you just squirting lotion on each other? How hard can that be?”
“No. We’re not just squirting lotion. It’s a lot more than that.” Tabitha was used to Nora’s directness at this point, and did her best to not let Delaney’s mother get under her skin. “You have to learn all the bones and muscles and physiology. Plus all the strokes. There’s a lot of science. You have to learn about how the body moves and how everything works together. And then you have to massage in such a way that you’re helping people. And right now, I’m not helping anyone.” Just like she hadn’t been able to help Nelly Washington with her Panhead. Tabitha wasn’t helping anyone, anywhere.
She was an impostor in every aspect of her own life.
Nora pulled a Zippo from her pocket and flipped it open. “How do you know?” She ran her thumb over the wheel, making a clicking sound with the lighting mechanism without actually bringing the flame to life.
“I’m…” Tabitha sighed and faced the blank expressions of the women. “I’m giving the men erections.”
A round of silence passed.
“I’ve done it three times now, to three different men. So it’s not like a one-off. I’m doing something wrong.”
“Man,” Delaney said, shaking her head. “It’s always the quiet ones.”
Wyatt gave off a loud woof and everyone burst into laughter.
“Well.” Nora stuck the cigarette behind her ear and jammed the lighter in the front pocket of her jeans. “Au contraire, but I bet those men think you’re doing something right.”
“We’re definitely not supposed to get erections,” Tabitha insisted. All three men had reacted differently. Todd—young, indifferent, thought massage therapy would be an easy career field—had pretended it didn’t happen. Frank—in his forties, quiet, deliberate—had been embarrassed and would no longer make eye contact with Tabitha in class. Corbin—a loud twentysomething who called everyone dude—had eyed his own erection with detached interest and announced, “You’re doing something wrong, dude.”
Delaney shook her head. “Men are just like that. The wind blows and their dicks get hard. I wouldn’t be so down on yourself.”
“I already struggle with the science. Like right now we’re learning all the bones, with all their divots and ridges and stuff. It’s excruciating and not coming easily to me,” Tabitha said. “And now I’m screwing up the massages. I’m starting to think I’m just not cut out for it.” Just like I’m not cut out for this bike shop, she didn’t add. She already knew Delaney had given her the job out of pity. No need to shine a spotlight.
“Sounds like the bones are coming easily to you,” Nora muttered as she collected today’s paperwork from the counter and started to file it away. “You’ll be the most requested massage girl in the county. I don’t see what the big problem is.”
Delaney stifled a laugh. “Don’t listen to her. Ask Red about it later. We have the Halloween party, remember?”
The party. Tabitha died a little inside. “Right. The party. Tonight.” But Delaney was right. Tonight she could ask Constance, “Red” for short, the famous massager of humans and dogs alike, about the erections. See what advice she had to give. She’d been the one to talk Tabitha into massage school in the first place, claiming Tabitha had a gift for connecting with people. She was connecting, all right. Just not in the way she meant to.
Delaney grinned and slapped her on the shoulder. “Go home and get some Smoosh Time with your dog, Steele. Rest up. We’ll figure out the boners later.”
Twisted does not even begin to describe the plot of this book! It’s more like driving on a curvy mountain road with all kinds of switchbacks that you weren’t expecting and a tractor trailer tailgating you. There were so many unexpected surprises that I just sat back and decided to enjoy the ride instead of trying to figure it all out. Not only was the plotting phenomenal, but the characters were completely fleshed out, with their flaws and weaknesses on display for all to see. Nicole is the lawyer in a large firm, but her job may be ending because the powers that be in her organization are no longer standing behind her. Desperate for that elusive success, Nicole receives an email from an organization called Panthera Leo inviting her to join a group of powerful women who make things happen in their lives and in their careers. Thinking she has nothing to lose, Nicole attends their weekend getaway. And that’s what happens next. Her life gets away from her, out of her control, bouncing to places and events that she never dreamed would happen. The sub-plot of her relationship with Dan was also mesmerizing as he just came across as a good guy who wanted whatever would make Nicole happy. Meanwhile, Nicole has a whole set of new lady friends and something weird is going on in her career, something remarkably unexplainable. Without giving the twists away, I cannot tell you much more about the plot except that this book captivated my imagination like no other book has lately. Told with real emotion and some evil manipulations that are somewhere in another stratosphere, this book is one that no one who loves suspense thrillers should miss. In fact, it’s a good thing that the book is listed as fiction or I would be trying to join Panthera Leo myself. Realistic book with so many wow factors and including so many details that demonstrated excellent research. Creativity and imagination combine to make this story one of the best fiction books that I have ever read! Disclaimer Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from Simon and Schuster via Netgalley and also a hard copy from them via mail. I was not required to write a positive review, but I was absolutely delighted to do so for such an amazing book. The opinions expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255, “Guides Concerning the Use of Testimonials and Endorsements in Advertising.”
This book is a hard PG-13 for me because of subject matter. It deals with a secret society that has a lot of weirdness going on in it and some cult-like aspects. Catherine McKenzie was born and raised in Montreal, Canada. A graduate of McGill in History and Law, Catherine practiced law for twenty years before leaving the practice to write full time. An avid runner, skier and tennis player, she’s the author of numerous bestsellers including HIDDEN, FRACTURED, THE GOOD LIAR and I’LL NEVER TELL. Her works have been translated into multiple languages and THE GOOD LIAR, YOU CAN’T CATCH ME and I’LL NEVER TELL have all been optioned for development into television series. Photo and bio are from the author’s website at http://www.catherinemackenzie.com
Pre-order now! This book releases on August 23, 2022. Here are purchase links for your convenience:
With deep appreciation to Simon and Schuster for the copies of the book that they provided me, including an e-book on Netgalley and a hard copy that I received via mail.
Julianna is an FBI hostage negotiator and is proud of the fact that she has never lost a hostage. She is fearful of relationships and is responsible of taking care of her younger sister Dottie, an intelligent and precocious teen who frequently makes Julianna take a hard look at her life. When Julianna meets Clay, an SRO at the local high school, she is attracted but won’t allow herself to trust him because of an incident in her past when she trusted the wrong man. In this story, the threats against Julianna are the central focus and finding out who is behind the threats provides the suspense and the mystery. Julianna has a painful secret in her past that has led to her successful career as a hostage negotiator, but she is not willing to share that secret with others so that she can possibly overcome it. The pacing in this book is absolute perfection, going from one hostage negotiation scenario to another and with the villain seemingly always a step ahead of the FBI. There are some really tense moments that take place that had me on the edge of my seat and almost biting my nails as I hoped for a good outcome. The characters are well-developed and realistic microcosms of society, flawed human beings trying to do their best in a flawed world. Clay, the romantic interest in the story, has his own past that is keeping him from moving forward, a traumatic incident that he has to deal with. The way the characters and plot move together makes the story believable and thoroughly entertaining romantic suspense. Faith is woven into the story and is an integral part of the lives of the characters. The themes of forgiveness of self and others, learning to trust God and people, and forming relationships that last are timeless and presented in an honest way that is also thought-provoking at times. Fans of romantic suspense will devour this latest book by Eason and enjoy the time spent with hostage negotiation and with teens exploring all life has to offer. Disclaimer Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from Revell for the Revell Reads Blogger Program via Netgalley. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255, “Guides Concerning the Use of Testimonials and Endorsements in Advertising.”
This is a clean Christian fiction book but it does have some intense action that may not be suitable for all readers. Lynette Eason is the best selling, award winning author of almost forty books including the Women of Justice series, the Deadly Reunions series, the Hidden Identity Series and the Elite Guardians series. She writes for Revell and Harlequin’s Love Inspired Suspense line. Her books have appeared on the CBA and ECPA bestseller lists. She has won several awards including the 2013, 2016 and 2017 Carol Award in the Romantic Suspense category. She’s also the recipient of the Christian Retailing’s Best 2017 Award. She placed in the top ten (out of thousands of entries) in the James Patterson 2016 co-writer contest. Her Stolen Past was recently made into a Lifetime Movie Network movie and will air February 2nd, 2018. Lynette teaches at writing conferences all over the country. She is a member of American Christian Fiction Writers (ACFW), Romance Writers of America (RWA), Mystery Writers of America (MWA), International Thriller Writers (ITW), and Faith, Hope, and Love chapter of RWA as well as the Kiss of Death (KOD) chapter. Lynette can be found online at http://www.lynetteeason.com and http://www.facebook.com/lynette.eason and @lynetteeasonon Twitter.
Deep appreciation to Revell Books for including me in their Blogger Program and giving me the opportunity to share with my readers some great Christian fiction.
This is a multi-layered story about family, broken relationships, new relationships and forgiveness. Madison Thorne is an ISB Ranger and returns to her home town of Natchez to investigate a white-collar crime. Once there, she is caught up in a vortex of cases, including murder and human trafficking. There are so many characters pretending to be what they are not that it was hard to keep up with all of their secrets and lies, but what a high entertainment factor! The action did not stop from the shooting on the Trace until the very end. The plot was definitely fast-paced and intriguing since I never knew what new twist would be added next. Madison was a sympathetic character with a flagging faith and loss of her ability to trust people, especially men. Clayton, the Ranger who patrols the Trace and an old nemesis of Madison’s, is a character with sin in his past that he is still trying to overcome. He and Madison team up to solve the mysteries and the murder of a relative close to Madison. I liked how the characters were realistically portrayed, with weaknesses that were difficult for them to overcome, but they kept trying. There were definitely some unlikable characters, like Madison’s father who seemed to be controlling and manipulative without caring about his daughter’s feelings at all. My favorite character was a secondary one named Nadine, the housekeeper for Madison’s grandfather, and a wonderful woman who dispensed wisdom just at the right moments. With danger closing in, Madison and Clayton have to solve the cases before they end up being victims, too. This was a race to the finish and had a spark of romance added that was a welcome addition to the story. Fans of romantic suspense will enjoy the trip to Mississippi and the unraveling of the story of deception and discovering the truth. Disclaimer Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from Revell via Netgalley. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255, “Guides Concerning the Use of Testimonials and Endorsements in Advertising.”
Rated G for general audiences. This is a clean Christian romantic suspense. Honoring God through my writing is top priority for this Mississippi Writer. Thank you so much for visiting my website today! I am a USA Today Best Selling Romantic Suspense writer living in the Deep South. My first published works were short stories published in Woman’s World Blood Kin is available on the website as a thank you for visiting my site!. And now I’m the proud author of fourteen novels and five novellas. I am also proud to be represented by Julie Gwinn of the Seymour Agency. I have three series published by Revell, a division of Baker Books: The Logan Point Series, The Memphis Cold Case Novels, and The Natches Tracer Park Rangers. Learn more about all my books on the Books Page! I’m working on book #15, the first book set in the Cumberland Plateau, just north of Chattanooga. When I have a title, I’ll be back and let you know. I’ve also done the unthinkable–written a couple of romances with no suspense–who would’ve thought it’d be such fun? You can read more about them here. I’m also co-founder of Aiming for Healthy Famillies, Inc. an abstinence/healthy relationship organization that offers youth the skills to make better choices. I speak to audiences nationwide about writing and also teach writing courses at conferences I would love to have the opportunity to speak to your group or teach at your conference. Feel free to contact me here. When I’m not writing or speaking (Or playing with my rescue kitties), I throw mud on a wheel and try to make something beautiful. BIO and Photo from the author’s website at http://www.ptbradley.com
Wow! Just a big wow at how intricately the plot is woven around the theme of a woman with amnesia who forgets everything once she falls asleep. Liv is the victim of a traumatic incident in her life, resulting in her amnesia and also putting her life in danger. When two friends are killed and she is the only witness as well as a suspect, Liv cannot remember what happened at all, but her life depends on her regaining her memory. When another friend is killed and Liv is the primary suspect, she wanders around the city trying to recall who she is and where she should be. I really enjoyed how tightly woven together the plot was and how it all came together in a spectacularly mesmerizing conclusion. I was impressed by the detective work of Halliday and her dogged determination to find out the truth about the murders. There were interesting details added, like Liv’s work at a magazine called Cultura and her hanging out at a bar called Nocturnal. I liked that all of the details ended up being important in the end and were actually clues. This is a book to read for pleasure the first time and to read for honing your detective skills the second time. It would also make a great book for a book club, with the discussion centered around the effects of amnesia and recovered memory. This was edge-of-your-seat suspense with a lot of psychological thriller mixed in, just the right combination to enthrall, entice and entertain. Disclaimer Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher via Netgalley. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255, “Guides Concerning the Use of Testimonials and Endorsements in Advertising.”
Author Bio: MEGAN GOLDIN, author of THE ESCAPE ROOM and THE NIGHT SWIM, worked as a correspondent for Reuters and other media outlets where she covered war, peace, international terrorism and financial meltdowns in the Middle East and Asia. She is now based in Melbourne, Australia where she raises three sons and is a foster mum to Labrador puppies learning to be guide dogs. BIO from http://www.us.macmillan.com
Happy Release Day to Megan Goldin and to the publishing team at St. Martin’s Press! Get this dynamic page turner today by following a link below:
Many thanks to St. Martin’s Press for the invitation to read and review an ARC of this book. It is amazing and I recommend to all who enjoy a good book that captures you and won’t let you go!
This is such a fun romance to read and educational, too, as I learned a lot about Jewish culture by reading this book. Dara Rabinowitz, the protagonist, is a reclusive CEO of J-Mate, a matchmaking service for Jewish people. With generations of matchmakers in her past, Dara is the first to use algorithms and modern tech to set up a successful online presence. When she and her beloved grandmother are interviewed on a morning news show, Dara is humiliated that her beloved Bubbe presents to the viewers her list of what her perfect mate would be like. Chris Steadfast, a widower and single father is quickly attracted to Dara. But he is suffering from poor ratings and about to lose his job until he comes up with the brilliant idea of building shows around Dara and her quest for her perfect match. This book was laugh out loud funny, especially when Bubbe was around or when Dara was giving herself talks about what should and should not be happening in her life. The interaction between the main characters was entertaining and so realistic! I loved the characterization that was believable as well as relatable. Chris’s dilemma about his job was heart-touching and Dara’s loneliness was understandable since she has an anxiety disorder that kept her from seeking a mate. I enjoyed finding out the cultural differences as Chris discovered them and waited impatiently for Dara to realize that she had already met her perfect match, even if he wasn’t Jewish. That part, of course, was predictable, but what fun it was to get there with Dara! This is the first book that I have read by this author and it was so engaging that I did not want it to end! Disclaimer Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher via Netgalley. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255, “Guides Concerning the Use of Testimonials and Endorsements in Advertising.”
Author Jean Meltzer studied dramatic writing at NYU Tisch, and served as creative director at Tapestry International, garnering numerous awards for her work in television, including a daytime Emmy. Like her protagonist, Jean is also a chronically-ill and disabled Jewish woman. She is an outspoken advocate for ME/CFS (Chronic Fatigue Syndrome), has attended visibility actions in Washington DC, meeting with members of Senate and Congress to raise funds for ME/CFS. She inspires 9,000 followers on WW Connect to live their best life, come out of the chronic illness closet, and embrace the hashtag #chronicallyfabulous. Also, while she was raised in what would be considered a secular home, she grew up kosher and attended Hebrew School. She spent five years in Rabbinical School. She is the author of The Matzah Ball and Mr. Perfect on Paper.
Excerpt:
1
“Now,” Dara said, glancing down at her watch. “If you don’t mind, we’re on a tight schedule here. I need to get out of here before the coming of Moshiach.”
With that, the entire room jumped into action. Dara took a seat at her vanity. Bobbi laid out the makeup palettes, flipping on two nearby lights to mimic the high-intensity light-ing of a studio. Simi took the clip out of her hair, allowing Dara’s thick black corkscrews to fall free around her shoulders.
Naveah moved to the center of the room, by the built-in island that housed an impressive array of shoes, and began unzipping the plastic packaging. Hanging the outfits up on a mobile rack, she worked hard to carefully display each item.
“Okay, we have three looks for you to choose from this morning.”
Dara analyzed her choices. There was an elegant pleated skirt and tight cashmere sweater. It was Jewy, which went with her brand, but possibly too Jewish for a nationally syndicated televised event that needed to appeal to a broad audience. She glanced over to her next choice, a pair of smart silk pants and a floral blouse. Finally, there was the casual tech look. A pair of tight blue jeans, Converse sneakers and a Patagonia vest.
“Number two,” Dara said.
“Fabulous,” Naveah swooned, hanging it up on the room divider screen.
Dara stepped behind the screen, tossed off her robe and changed into the outfit. After a few moments, she returned to the center of the room, taking her usual place in front of the full-length mirror to analyze the final look.
The black silk pants, cinched at the ankles, gave her more curves than usual. The dramatic blouse, made from the most luxurious of fabrics, was imprinted with stunning large white orchids. It achieved the right type of look for her interview. Professional yet feminine. Assertive without feeling aggressive. It was all the things she needed to accomplish as a powerful female executive—often held to a different standard than her male counterparts.
“What do you think?” Naveah asked, looking over her shoulder.
“It’s perfect.”
Everyone applauded. Dara sat back down at the vanity. Simi ran her fingers through her curls, while the rest of her staff gathered round, peering down at her with tablets and makeup brushes in hand.
“And what’s the look we’re going for today?” Cameron asked.
“Professional,” Dara instructed.
“Got it,” Cameron said, moving to pick out a pair of maroon heels. “A pop of color to go with all that black and white!”
“And the hair?” Simi asked.
“Just put it up.” She smiled. “A stylish bun, nothing too sexy.”
Bobbi and Simi began working on her hair and makeup.
Meanwhile, Naveah pulled up a chair and turned on her tablet. “Now, I know you’re taking this afternoon off to be with your grandmother, so what do you need me to work on in your absence?”
“I sent you a list this morning.”
Naveah tapped on her screen. Moments later, she had the to-do list that Dara had sent her at four o’clock in the morning. “‘Grocery,’” Naveah said, reading the items aloud, “‘laundry, check with caterers for Yom Kippur breakfast, confirm travel for all executives attending October J-Mate sales conference, confirm all of Miriam’s oncology and radiation therapy appointments for September…’”
Dara was always making lists. Always trying to figure out how to turn her chaotic and extremely busy life into some-thing manageable and organized. In truth, her to-do lists, like her obsessive planning, helped her control her anxiety.
She was certain that her nonstop list-making drove every-one she worked with—including Naveah—straight-up meshugana. Janet had even once jokingly referred to Dara as the Good List Dybukk, a dislocated soul who appeared without warning and sprinkled to-dos on every person who crossed her path. Fortunately, as Dara paid her staff extremely well for their efforts, they kept the majority of their criticisms to themselves.
Dara heard the familiar refrain of an incoming Skype call. “Got it!” Naveah said, snapping at Cameron to grab Dara’s phone. “It’s Janet.”
Dara waved Simi away from her face. She asked everyone to give her a minute, and her entourage left the room. Dara waited for the door to shut firmly behind them before continuing.
“Good morning!” Janet beamed from her home office in Colorado.
“What time is it there?” Dara asked.
“Early.” Janet laughed. “You got the whole crew with you today, huh?”
“You know it,” Dara said, glancing at her half-done makeup in the mirror.
Just as Dara’s generalized anxiety disorder was well-known among those she worked with, so, too, was the fact that she genuinely despised all types of public appearances. Alas, that didn’t stop her from doing them. She had learned early on that selling herself on television, in interviews and on Instagram was a necessary evil. Everybody wanted a face, a real person to support, behind the brand. Over the years, Dara had de-vised all sorts of systems for handling her anxiety regarding these appearances.
“And how are you feeling this morning?” Janet asked, get-ting right to the point.
“Oh, you know me,” Dara said. “I’m only nervous for the three days before and the six days after…so in terms of the actual interview, I imagine it will go just fine.”
Janet laughed. “You’re going to do great, Dara.”
In truth, she always did great. She was a perfectionist, after all. She always had a plan and always said all the right things. She smiled in all the right places. She was never caught off guard, and therefore, never floundered. Though the glam squad and to-do lists may have seemed overkill to some, her obsessive-compulsive tendencies worked. Her business was thriving. Her reputation in tech, and the Jewish world, was flourishing, too.
“Like we already discussed,” Janet continued, “there shouldn’t be any surprises, okay? Everything has been worked out between our publicity people and their producers. You want to run through the script one more time?”
“No,” Dara said, firmly. “I got this.”
Janet nodded. “Then I hope you have a blast with your bubbe today.”
The camera shut off. Dara put her phone away, catching sight of her reflection in the mirror. Her hair had been ar-ranged into a sophisticated bun. Her angular features had been softened with light contouring. On the surface, she was the picture of poise and finesse. And yet, her hands were shaking.
She cracked her knuckles, took a sip of tea. She knew it was ridiculous, being this nervous about going on Good News New York, a show that nobody even watched…but she couldn’t help herself.
Dara watched it.
Religiously.
It was a habit of hers to keep the television running in the background while she worked. She liked the noise, the hum of familiar voices. It helped her anxiety. She especially liked the deliciously handsome head anchor of Good News, Christopher Steadfast, and the easygoing way he ended every episode with the words, “I’ll be waiting for you.”
Unfortunately, it had a weird time slot. Midafternoon, during the week, squeezed between the morning talk shows and the soap operas. Plus, it was an oddity in the world of live broadcasting in that it only focused on positive stories. Good news and human interest tales, like the two kids who donated proceeds of a lemonade stand to a homeless shelter, and Bucky, the vegan golden retriever.
Dara adored the segments on Bucky. She watched all of them, often on repeat, staying up late into the night, scrolling through all his reposted videos on the Good News New York Facebook fan page. In fact, the only reason she had even suggested going on Good News New York to begin with was for a chance at meeting the King of Aww himself. Though she was far too mired in her own busy schedule (and anxiety) to ever own a pet herself, she had adopted the quirky golden retriever in her heart.
As for Christopher Steadfast, it could never happen. And the reason it could never happen was right there in his name. Christopher Steadfast was not Jewish. As such, and thanks to a very clear rabbinic prohibition against interfaith marriage, she regarded the man the same way she would some beautiful non-Jewish Fabergé egg you passed by in a museum. Some-thing to gaze upon and admire…but never, ever touch.
She couldn’t believe she would be meeting him today. The dog, obviously.
Not the man.
She had no interest at all in some sexy Southern heartthrob with a voice that could melt schmaltz and the pectoral muscles of a Norse god.
Dara shook the thought away. Then, as her own ema, or mother, had taught her, she focused all her energy on dealing with practicalities.
She had Simi and Bobbi come back to the room, finish her hair and makeup. She did one final run-through of her sched-ule with Naveah. She had Cameron and Alexa double-check her bags at the front door, packing up her phone and tablet. Eventually, with well wishes and air kisses, Naveah and the entourage departed for the day. Normally, she would have someone from her staff accompany her to her events. But today, she wanted to focus on spending time with her grandmother.
Dara found herself alone in her apartment once more. She glanced down at her watch. She still had fifteen minutes left before she needed to head out to her bubbe’s. Fifteen minutes. It was a long time to sit around staring at the concrete walls of her apartment. Quiet was dangerous for Dara. It left her open to obsessing.
She moved to fill the space. She brushed her teeth again. Double-checked the bedroom, making sure the bed was made and everything was neat and tidy. She turned off her computer monitors and all the lights. She unplugged her coffee maker and double-checked the third bedroom for any hair straighteners or curling irons left plugged in. She made sure all the knobs on the oven were turned off, and that the patchouli candle was blown out. She pulled out her phone and snapped a photograph of both. Just in case her brain started obsessively worrying that she had left something on by mistake, and she was single-handedly responsible for burning down all of Hoboken.
Dara landed at the front door. Her eyes wandered down to her red high heels. She hated wearing heels in the city. Not for any practical reason, or because they gave her blisters. But because in case of emergency, the zombie apocalypse or an-other mass casualty event, she was worried about having to traverse sixty city blocks—or, God forbid, a bridge—to get back home.
She debated her options. She could pack her heels and wear sneakers for the commute, but that would require yet another bag for the simple day trip into Manhattan.
She hated that it had to be that way. That she couldn’t just be judged on who she was and what she created. Sadly, Dara was a realist. A huge part of her success in life had been understanding how the world works, and the way people inter-act with each other. Whether she agreed with it or not, first impressions were important. Like a shidduch sheet, or a profile on J-Mate, everybody went to the photo first.
Otherwise, she looked perfect. The house looked perfect, too. Perfection was the layer of armor she wore to protect her-self from the swings and swipes of an uncertain world.
She reminded herself of the positive. She was going to be spending the day with her beloved bubbe. They would be making important memories together. Necessary memories. Any anxiety she felt—any sense that something terrible was about to happen—was simply the neurons in her brain misfiring. Her feelings could not be trusted.
Forcing her shoulders back, and her chest upward, she projected confidence. And then, slinging her messenger bag over one arm, she grabbed that box of black-and-white cookies from the kitchen counter and headed out.
Vickie's Book Nook and Meditation Corner 