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 a fast ride on a bullet train as the series concludes with the story of Chase and Hope. Introduced in the first book, with Chase transporting a prisoner and Hope remaining behind to provide medical care in the little town of Shadow Ridge, these two characters needed to have a conclusion to their tale and this book not only finishes the story but it also wraps everything in the entire series up in a neat bow. Very satisfying conclusion with some happy surprises along the way as well as some extremely unexpected twists that added to my enjoyment of the story. The characters were well-developed and so realistic that I wanted to comfort Hope as she had a melt down from all of the pressure she has been under since the grid went down. As I read, I kept thinking to myself what a good series this would make, with its lessons on forgiveness and redemption and its story that is heart-wrenching and soul-touching as so many lives have to change to adapt so quickly to a new reality without any electricity or modern conveniences like cars and technology. I cannot recommend this series highly enough. It is scary at the same time as hopeful with an underlying theme that God is always in control no matter what is happening in your world. A clean read with some thought provoking scenes that made me wonder how I would survive under similar circumstances. The series is concluded but the message that it teaches will long stay with me and is a series that I know that I will re-visit in the future as it teaches the eternal lesson of gratitude, family and faith. Disclaimer Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the author. I was not required to write a positive review and all 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.”
A clean Christian read that with intense suspense
About the Author:
Photos and Bio are from Lisa’s page at http://www.lisaharriswrites.com Check out her page and sign up for her newsletter to get a free copy of her prequel to the Fallout Series!
The entire series is available to read free on Kindle Unlimited!
The Fallout Series, in order! Read and enjoy a trip to Shadow Ridge where crime and investigation mimics the old west!
If you’re like me, you will want your own copy to keep. Here’s the purchase link for SHATTERED:
From the New York Times bestselling author comes this twisting, emotionally layered thriller about a marriage torn apart when the police arrive at an infertile couple’s door and reveal the husband’s son is the prime suspect in a murder. The perfect blend of exhilarating suspense and issue-driven book club fiction.
Everybody lies. Even the ones you think you know best of all . . .
Olivia Bender designs exquisite home interiors that satisfy the most demanding clients. But her own deepest desire can’t be fulfilled by marble counters or the perfect rug. She desperately wants to be a mother. Fertility treatments and IVF keep failing. And just when she feels she’s at her lowest point, the police deliver shocking news to Olivia and her husband, Park.
DNA results show that the prime suspect in a murder investigation is Park’s son. Olivia is relieved, knowing this is a mistake. Despite their desire, the Benders don’t have any children. Then comes the confession. Many years ago, Park donated sperm to a clinic. He has no idea how many times it was sold—or how many children he has sired.
As the murder investigation goes deeper, more terrible truths come to light. With every revelation, Olivia must face the unthinkable. The man she married has fathered a killer. But can she hold that against him when she keeps such dark secrets of her own?
This twisting, emotionally layered thriller explores the lies we tell to keep a marriage together–or break each other apart . . .
Dealing with difficult topics and serial murder, this book is rated PG-18.
My Review:
This book was an emotional roller coaster ride for me. I loved the entire ride, but I have to confess that the honesty with which the author deals with the heartbreaking topic of infertility was gut-wrenchingly realistic and a chance to really understand what some of my close friends have gone through. Olivia and Park Bender are trying desperately to have a child when Olivia discovers that Park has fathered children as a sperm donor when he was in college. Not only that, but drum roll for the added dramatic twist, one of his children is a serial killer and has left DNA at a crime scene. Olivia’s world is supposed to be one of order and beauty as she designs home interiors, creating wonderful spaces for happy homes. Instead, her world is instantly an insane combination of reporters, police, distrust of her husband and loss of a dream. The story is told in multiple points of view and although I enjoyed getting into the mind of each character, I identified with and enjoyed Olivia’s POV best. Park was not a favorite character, although he was a devoted husband and wanted to be a father as Olivia wanted to be a mother. The twists that happen in the telling of the intricate web of deceit, murder, infertility and sperm banks was so well written that I was waiting for the documentary credits to roll at the end. I learned from this book as well as being entertained and totally absorbed by the story. The ending was a surprise twist that I didn’t see coming and so good! The fast pace, the mesmerizing topics and the mystery all made this book one of the best books that I have ever read! To leave this book behind would be a travesty. It is haunting in its transparent look at a difficult topic and informative in a way that made me empathetic to friends and to the main character. I would give the book ten stars if possible, five for the writing including the plot and the characters and five more for educating me about infertility in an entertaining yet heart-tugging way. As an added note, if you are a reader who stops reading at the end of the book and doesn’t read dedications, acknowledgements, author’s notes, etc., I recommend that you read all the way to the end, every word on every page and let yourself be caught up in the sacrifice that writing this book must have cost the author. 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. All 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.”
About the Author:
J.T. Ellison is the NYT and USA Today bestselling author of more than 20 novels, and the EMMY-award winning co-host of A WORD ON WORDS, Nashville’s premier literary show. With millions of books in print, her work has won critical acclaim, prestigious awards, and has been published in 26 countries. Ellison lives in Nashville with her husband and twin kittens.
Olivia forces away the threatening tears. She will not collapse. She will not cry. She will stand up, square her shoulders and flush the toilet, whispering small words of benediction toward the life that was, that wasn’t, that could have been.
She will not linger; she will not acknowledge the sudden sense of emptiness consuming her body. She will not give this moment more than it deserves. It’s happened before, too many times now. It will happen again, her mind unhelpfully provides.
There is relief in this pain, some sort of primitive biological response to help ease her heavy heart. Olivia has never lied to herself about her feelings about having a child. She wants this, she’s sure of it. Wants the experience, wants to be able to speak the same language as her sisters in the fertility arts, her friends who’ve already birthed their own. And she loves the idea of being pregnant. Loves the feelings of that early flush of success—the soreness and tingling in her breasts, the spotty nausea, the excitement, the fatigue. Loves remembering that moment when she realized she was pregnant the first time.
She’d known even before she took the test. She could feel the life growing inside her. Feel the quickening pulse. A secret she held in her heart, managing several hours with just the two of them, alone in their nascent lives. Every room of the house looked new, fresh, dangerous. Sharp corners and glass coffee tables, no, no, those would have to be tempered, replaced. The sun glancing off the breakfast table—too bright here, the spot on the opposite side would be best for a high chair. The cat, snoozing in the window seat—how was she going to take an interloper? The plans. The plans.
After a carefully arranged lunch, fresh fruit and no soft cheeses, she’d driven to the bookstore for a copy of What to Expect When You’re Expecting, accepted the sweet congratulations of the bookseller—think, a complete stranger knew more than her family, her husband. She tied the plastic stick with its beautiful double pink lines inside two elaborate bows—one pink, one blue—and gave it to Park after an elegant dinner.
The look on his face—pride and fear and terror and joy, all mingled with desire—when he realized what she was saying. He’d been struck dumb, could only grin ear to ear and pat her leg for the first twenty minutes.
So much joy between them. So much possibility.
Olivia replayed that moment, over and over, every time she got pregnant. It helped chase away the furrowing, the angles and planes of Park’s forehead, cheek, chin, as they collapsed into sorrow when she’d miscarried the first time. And the next. And the next. Every time she lost their children, it was the same, all played out on Park’s handsome face: exaltation, fear, sorrow. Pity.
No, the being pregnant part was idyllic for her, albeit terribly brief. It’s only that she doesn’t know how she feels about what happens ten months hence, and the lifetime that follows. The stranger that comes into being. But that’s normal—at least, that’s what everyone tells her. All women feel nervous about what comes next. Her ambivalence isn’t what’s killing her babies. She can’t help but feel it’s her fault for not being certain to her marrow what she wants. That God is punishing her for being cavalier.
Of course, this internal conversation is moot. There is blood. Again.
She hastily makes her repairs—the materials are never far away. If she stashed the pads and tampons away in the hall cabinet, it would be bad luck. Too optimistic.
Not like they’re having any luck anyway. Six pregnancies. Six miscarriages. IUIs and IVF. Needles and hormones and pain, so much pain. More than anyone should have to bear.
With a momentary glance at the crime scene in the toilet, she depresses the handle.
“Goodbye,” she whispers. “I’m so sorry.”
Olivia brushes her teeth, then pulls a comb through her glossy, prenatal-enriched locks, rehearsing the breakfast conversation she must now have.
How does she tell Park she’s failed, yet again, to hold the tiny life inside her?
Downstairs, it is now just another morning, no different from any over the past several years. Just the two of them, getting ready for the day.
The television is on in the kitchen, tuned to the local morning show. Park whistles as he whisks eggs in a bright red bowl. Park’s breakfasts are legendary. Savory omelets, buckwheat blueberry pancakes, veggie frittatas, yogurts and homemade granola—you name it, he makes it. Olivia handles dinner. If she cooks three nights out of seven, she considers that a success. They eat like kings in the morning and paupers at night, and they love it.
She pauses at the door, watching him bustle around. He is already dressed for work, jeans and a button-down, black lace-up brogues. His “office” is in the backyard, in a shed Olivia converted for his use. A former—reformed—English professor on a semipermanent sabbatical, Park has launched a second career ghostwriting psychological thrillers. He claims to love the anonymity of it, that he can work so close to home, and the money is good. Enough. Not obscene, but enough. They’ve been able to afford four rounds of IUI and two in vitros so far. And as he says, writing is the perfect career for a man who wants to be a stay-at-home dad. There’s no reason for him to go back to teaching. Not now.
A pang in her heart, echoed by a sharp cramp in her stomach. They are throwing everything away. She is throwing everything away. This round of IVF, she only produced a few retrievable eggs, and this was their last embryo.
My God, she’s gotten clinical. She’s gotten cold. Babies. Not embryos. There are no more frozen babies. Which means she’ll have to do it all again, the weeks-long scientific process of creating a child: the suppression drugs, the early morning blood tests, the shots, the trigger, the surgery, the implantation. The rage and fear and pain. Again.
The money. It costs so, so much.
She has frozen at the edge of the kitchen, thoughts roiling, and Park senses her there, turns with a wide smile. The whisk clicks against the bowl in time with her heartbeat.
“How are my darlings feeling this morning? Mama and bebe hungry?”
She is saved from blurting out the truth—mama no more, bebe is dead—by the ringing of the doorbell.
Park frowns. “Who is here so early? Watch the eggs, will you?”
Even chickens can do what she cannot.
It’s infuriating. House cats escape into the woods and sixty days later purge themselves of tiny blind beings. Insects, birds, rats, rabbits, deer, reproduce without thought or hindrance.
Nearly four million women a year—a year!—manage to give birth.
But not her.
She’s not depressed, really, she’s not. She’s come to terms with this. It happens. Today will be a bad day, tomorrow will be better. They will try again. It will all be okay.
Mechanically, Olivia moves to the stove, accepts the wooden spatula. Park disappears toward the foyer, shoulders broad and waist nearly as trim as the day she met him. She will never get over his handsomeness, his winning personality. Everyone loves Park. How could you not? He is perfect. He is everything Olivia is not.
The television is blaring a breaking news alert, and she turns her attention to it, grateful for something, anything, to focus on beside the intransigent nature of her womb and the fear her husband will abandon her. The anchor is new, from Mississippi, with a voice soft as honey. Tupelo? No, Oxford, Olivia remembers; Park took her to a quaint bookstore there on the square one summer, long ago.
“Sad news this morning, as it has been confirmed the body found in Davidson County earlier this week belongs to young mother Beverly Cooke. Cooke has been missing for three months, after she was last seen going for a hike at Radnor Lake. Her car was found in the parking lot, with her purse and phone inside. Metro Nashville Police spokesperson Vanda Priory tells Channel Four Metro is working with the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation and Forensic Medical to determine her cause of death. The Cooke family released a statement a few minutes ago. ‘Thank you to everyone who has helped bring Beverly home. We will have more information on her burial soon. We ask for privacy during this difficult time.’ Metro now turns their attention to identifying a suspect. In this morning’s briefing, Homicide Detective William Osley stated that Metro has a lead and will be pursuing it vigorously. Next up, time to break into the cedar closet, it’s finally sweater weather!”
Olivia sighs in regret. That poor woman. Like everyone in Nashville, Olivia has followed the case religiously. To have a young mother—the kind of woman she’s so desperate to mold herself into— disappear into thin air from a safe, regularly traveled, popular spot, one Olivia herself hikes on occasion, has been terrifying. She knows Beverly Cooke, too, albeit peripherally. They were in a book club together a few years ago. Beverly was fun. Loud. Drank white wine in the kitchen of the house and gossiped about the neighbors. Never read the book.
Olivia stopped going after a few meetings. It was right before she’d started her first official fertility treatments, had two miscarriages behind her, was hopped up on Clomid and aspirin, and all anyone could do was talk babies. Beverly had just weaned her first and was drunk for the first time in two years. She alternated between complaining and cooing about the trials and joys of motherhood. Olivia couldn’t take it, this flagrant flaunting of the woman’s success. She stood stock still in the clubhouse kitchen, fingers clenching a glass of Chardonnay, envisioning the myriad ways she could murder Beverly. Cracking the glass on the counter’s edge and swiping it across Beverly’s pale stalk of a neck seemed the most expedient.
Honestly, she wanted to murder them all, the sycophantic breeders who took their ability to procreate for granted. They had no idea what she was going through. How she was tearing apart inside, month after month. How she felt the embryos detach and knew it was over. How Park’s face went from joy to disdain every time.
Some people wear their scars on the outside.
Some hide them deep, and never let anyone in to see them.
Olivia is still staring at the screen, which is blaring a commercial for car insurance, processing, remembering, fists balled so tightly she can feel her nails cutting the skin, when she hears her husband calling her name.
“Olivia?” His voice is pitched higher than normal, as if he’s excited, or scared.
Park enters the kitchen from the hall between the dining room and the butler’s pantry.
“Honey, they found Beverly—” she starts. But her words die in her throat when she sees two strangers, a man and a woman, standing behind him, people she knows immediately are police officers just by their wary bearing and shifting eyes that take in the whole room in a moment, then settle on her appraisingly.
“I know,” Park says, coming to her side, shutting off the gas. She’s burned the eggs; a sulfurous stench emanates from the gold-encrusted pan. He takes the spatula from her carefully. “It’s been on the news all morning. Liv, these detectives need to talk to us.”
“About?”
The man—stocky, slick smoky-lensed gold glasses, perfectly worn-in cowboy boots and a leather jacket over a button-down—takes a small step forward and removes his sunglasses. His eyes are the deepest espresso and hold something indefinable, between pity and accusation. It’s as if he knows what she is thinking, knows her uncharitable thoughts toward poor dead Beverly.
“Detective Osley, ma’am. My partner, Detective Moore. We’ve been working Beverly Cooke’s case. I understand you knew her? Our condolences for your loss.”
Olivia cuts her eyes at Park. What the hell has he been saying to them?
“I don’t know her. Didn’t. Not well. We were in a book club together, years ago. I don’t know what happened to her. I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.”
“Oh, we understand. That’s not why we’re here.” Osley glances at his partner. The woman is taller than he is, graceful in the way of ex–ballet dancers even in her street clothes, with a long, supple neck, hooded green eyes devoid of makeup and blond hair twisted into a thick no-nonsense bun worn low, brushing the collar of her shirt.
“Why are you here, exactly?” Olivia asks.
Park frowns at her tone. She’s come across too sharp, but my God, what she’s already handled this morning would break a lesser woman.
“It’s about our suspect in the Cooke case. Can we sit down?”
Olivia reigns in her self-loathing fury and turns on the charm. The consummate hostess act always works. Park has taught her that. “Oh, of course. Can I get you some coffee? Tea? We were making breakfast. Can we offer you some eggs, or a muffin? I have a fresh pan here—”
“No, ma’am, we’re fine,” Moore demurs. “Let’s sit down and have a chat.”
Olivia has a moment of sheer freak-out. Was it Park? Had he killed Beverly Cooke? Was that why they wanted to talk, because he was a suspect? If he was a suspect, would the police sit down with them casually in the kitchen? Wouldn’t they want something more official? Take him to the station? Did they need to call a lawyer? Her mind was going fifty thousand miles an hour, and Park was already convicted and in prison, and she was so alone in the big house, so lonely, before she reached a hand to pull out the chair.
She needs to knock off the true crime podcasts. Her husband is not a murderer. He is incapable of that kind of deceit.
Isn’t he?
Sometimes she wonders.
“Nice kitchen,” Osley says.
“Thank you.”
Olivia loves her kitchen. It is the model for all her signature looks. Airy, open, white cabinets with iron pulls, leathered white marble counters. A black granite–topped island just the right size for chopping and serving, light spilling in from the big bay window. A white oak French country table with elegant cane-backed chairs. It was the heart of her home, the heart of her life with Park.
Now, though, it is simply the site of his greatest betrayal. Forevermore, from this morning—with the burned eggs and the somber police and Park’s face whiter than bone—until the end of her tenure here, and even then, in remembrance, she would look at this precious place with fury and sadness for what could have been. The ghosts of the life they were supposed to have clung to her, suckled her spirit like a babe at her breast never would. Everywhere she looked were echoes of the shadow existence she was supposed to be living. Here, a frazzled mother, smiling despite her fatigue at the children she’d created. There, a loving father, always ready to lend a hand tossing a ball or helping with homework. And look, a trio of towheaded boys and a soft blonde princess girl, the teasing and laughter of their mealtimes. How the table would seem to grow smaller as the boys got older and took up more space. The girlfriends came, the boyfriends. The emptiness when it was just the two of them again, the children grown with their own lives, the table bursting at holidays only. The grandchildren, happiness and racket, the noise and the joy creeping out from the woodwork again.
She is alone. She will always be alone. She will not have this life. She will not have this dream.
Park made it so.
As the detectives continue to speak, softly, without rancor, and her world splinters, Olivia hardens, compresses, shrinks. She watches her husband and holds on to one small thought.
I have the power to destroy you, too. Dear God, give me the chance.
Excerpted from It’s One of Us @ 2023 by JT Ellison, used with permission by MIRA Books.
I appreciate being a part of this blog tour and highly recommend J.T.’s book! Have tissues ready and enjoy!
Narrowly surviving an intentional hit-and-run, Sawyer Blackwood hires his unexpected rescuer to guard his niece. Bodyguard Everly Honor will do anything to protect a child, even if it means working with her ex. But, as attacks escalate, how can she accomplish her mission to keep them safe when Sawyer is keeping secrets from her…and she’s concealing the truth about her own past?
My Review:
Everly Honor is an unexpectedly resourceful heroine and courageous bodyguard. When former beau Sawyer Blackwood hires her for protection for himself and his niece Layla, neither of them has any idea what she is actually getting herself into. Sawyer is keeping secrets about why he is being targeted and his secrets may lead to more danger for himself and his niece as well as for Everly. This is the second book in the Honor Protection Series but it can definitely be read as a standalone. With a quick pace and non-stop action, the plot was engrossing and tightly written. The characters were relatable and flawed humans which made them realistic and believable. I enjoyed getting to know each character, especially the strong female protagonist Everly. Her ability to think on her feet during difficult challenges was amazing! I also enjoyed the developing relationship between Sawyer and Everly, a romance that was kept below the surface of the main plot but was definitely present. This is a quick read that is absorbing and entertaining as well as well developed with just enough red herrings to keep me guessing. Fans of Love Inspired Suspense will enjoy the inspirational aspects of the two main characters testing their faith and finding each other as they rediscover faith in God. Disclaimer Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the author as part of her launch team for this book. I was not required to write a positive review. All 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.”
This is Love Inspired Suspense, so the suspense is intense but it is a clean read. Rated PG.
About the Author:
Elizabeth Goddard is the USA Today bestselling and award-winning author of more than 50 novels, including Cold Light of Day and the Rocky Mountain Courage and Uncommon Justice series. Her books have sold nearly 1.5 million copies. She is a Carol Award and Reader’s Choice Award winner and a Daphne du Maurier Award finalist. When she’s not writing, she loves spending time with her family, traveling to find inspiration for her next book, and serving with her husband in ministry. For more information about her books, visit her website at http://www.elizabethgoddard.com. Photo and Bio from author’s page at Baker-Elizabeth Goddard
Available NOW for preorder. Releases on 2-21-23. Purchase Links:
The action is non-stop and high-octane in this Christian romantic suspense. Jack Spencer is an undercover ATF agent with a blown cover who is running for his life. Wounded and barely surviving, he is blessed beyond measure to be under the care of EMT Maggie Coleman, a woman who is dedicated to saving lives and has decided that she will save Jack’s, no matter the cost. Set in Hawaii at first and then moving to the cold mountains of Montana, the settings had me hooked as much as the characters and the plot. Jack and Maggie make an unlikely couple in an impossible scenario and getting to know them was pure pleasure from start to finish. The suspense was breath-stopping, with constant danger for the couple at every turn and in unexpected ways and places. The characterization was so realistic that I found myself giving Jack and Maggie advice and even laughing at their back-and-forth banter as they discovered their attraction for each other. This was a completely engrossing story with an extremely powerful message of faith and redemption and the power of love. Spiritual truths jumped off the page consistently, keeping the focus on the relationship that the characters had with God and their dependence on Him. This is a well-crafted and compelling story that kept me thoroughly engaged and wanting to read late into the night. This story is also a sensitive exploration of PTSD and trauma and coming back from the unthinkable. There are so many layers in this creative and unique tale that I highly recommend you grab a copy and enjoy it yourself. It is romantic suspense at its best, with a fast pace and plenty of misdirection to keep the mystery buffs intrigued. Disclaimer Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the author as part of her review team. I was not required to write a positive review. All 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.”
A clean Christian fiction, I would rate this book PG because of the intense action and emotion throughout the story. The photo and bio are from the author’s website at http://www.jenniferchastain.com
The House Guest is another diabolical cat-and-mouse thriller from USA Today bestselling author Hank Phillippi Ryan—but which character is the cat, and which character is the mouse?
After every divorce, one spouse gets all the friends. What does the other one get? If they’re smart, they get the benefits. Alyssa Macallan is terrified when she’s dumped by her wealthy and powerful husband. With a devastating divorce looming, she begins to suspect her toxic and manipulative soon-to-be-ex is scheming to ruin her—leaving her alone and penniless. And when the FBI shows up at her door, Alyssa knows she really needs a friend.
And then she gets one. A seductive new friend, one who’s running from a dangerous relationship of her own. Alyssa offers Bree Lorrance the safety of her guest house, and the two become confidantes. Then Bree makes a heart-stoppingly tempting offer. Maybe Alyssa and Bree can solve each others’ problems.
But no one is what they seem. And the fates and fortunes of these two women twist and turn until the shocking truth emerges: You can’t always get what you want. But sometimes you get what you deserve.
My Review:
First, let me give you some honest advice. Run, don’t walk to get this book! Second piece of advice, don’t believe anything you read until the very end and then you can shake your head in disbelief at how brilliantly everything comes together. This is the most deliciously twisted book that I have read in a long time and so enticingly deceptive. Alyssa Macallen is living alone after her husband Bill left her. He has plenty of money and she is expecting to be poor any day now. When she meets Bree Lorrance, another put upon female who has been wronged by the male in her life, the two of them click and Bree becomes Alyssa’s house guest. Then, the twists and the labyrinth maze that was the plot begin to really get complex and oh so well written! This fantastically engrossing novel included characters that were just as deceptive as the plot and so devilishly realistic. There were clues and red herrings, but they were so well woven into the plot that I could not figure out who was bad and who was good in the story.The design of the author to trap me in the mousetrap of deceit worked well and thoroughly captivated me. I thought I was on a runaway train, down a mountainous track with switchbacks at every intersection. This book was totally engaging, with characters that popped with credibility and a plot that captured my mind and imagination with awe and wonder about what would happen next. This is a diabolically and cleverly written domestic thriller that gripped me from beginning to end and fooled me all along the way. Loved it! Disclaimer Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the author via Netgalley. I was not required to write a positive review. All 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-16 for more mature audiences due to content. This book is diabolically clever with some deviousness not suited for younger readers. The genre is domestic thriller with an emphasis on thriller!
About the Author:
HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN is the USA Today bestselling author of 14 psychological thrillers, winning the most prestigious awards in the genre: five Agathas, five Anthonys, and the coveted Mary Higgins Clark Award. She is also on-air investigative reporter for Boston’s WHDH-TV, with 37 EMMYs and dozens more journalism honors. National book critics call her “a superb and gifted storyteller”; she’s the only author to win the Agatha in four categories: Best First, Best Novel, Best Short Story and Best Non-Fiction. Her newest is the page-turning standalone thriller The House Guest–a story of psychological manipulation that explores the dark heart of marriage and friendship—it’s Gaslight meets Thelma & Louise. Bestselling author Lisa Scottoline says, “Ryan is one of my favorite authors and The House Guest shows why,” EMMY-winning host Tamron Hall says, “The House Guest kept me on the edge of my seat…” and the Publishers Weekly rave review says, “Ryan is a master of suspense!” and the Library Journal starred review calls it “Binge-worthy.” Hank is a founder of MWA University, host of CRIME TIME on A Mighty Blaze, and co-host of First Chapter Fun and The Back Room. Visit Hank online at HankPhillippiRyan.com, on Twitter @HankPRyan, on Instagram @hankpryan and Facebook at HankPhillippiRyanAuthor.
Publishing Date: January 24, 2023 Publisher: Mira ISBN-10: 0778333620 ISBN-13: 9780778333623
Synopsis:
US Marshal Regan Merritt never bought the FBI’s theory that her ten-year-old son’s murder was tied to her job. Yet as leads went cold, she’d had to walk away from the marshals, the case and her now ex-husband, Grant, who blamed her for Chase’s death.
After Regan receives a chilling voice mail from her former boss, Tommy, claiming new information about Chase’s murder, she can no longer stay away from her pain-filled past. Especially when Tommy’s murdered before she can return his call.
Now more than ever, Regan’s determined to find the truth, but the more she digs, the more evidence points to Grant as the killer’s true target. But Grant isn’t talking. As she tries to pin down her ex, Regan discovers something much bigger and far more sinister is at play—and she’s running out of people she can trust.
My Review:
I love Regan Merritt’s tenacity and boldness, but mostly I love how real she is. This is the second book in the series but can definitely be read as a standalone. Regan thought the worst pain she could ever endure was when her ten year old son Chase was murdered. But she finds out that there is pain that is equally hard to endure when a close friend and mentor is killed and she is determined to follow the clues no matter where they may lead. All of the characters are relatable and realistic although not all of them are likable. The villains are definitely not on my “I would like to meet this guy” list unless I have Regan backing me up with her Glock. The pace is fast and maintained my interest from beginning to end. There are some real unexpected twists here that I did not see coming and I really enjoyed them. I liked finding out more about Regan’s current situation and her quest to find peace with her past. The mystery is real, the red herrings are numerous and this is a well-written whodunit that had me on the edge of my seat. Loved it and look forward to the next book in the series! 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. All 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.”
I would rate this book PG due to content (there are murders involved in the plot).
Meet the Author:
Bio New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Allison Brennan believes life is too short to be bored, so she had five children and writes three books a year. Reviewers have called her “a master of suspense” and RT Book Reviews said her books are “mesmerizing” and “complex.” She’s been nominated for multiple awards, including the Thriller, RWA’s Best Romantic Suspense (five times), and twice won the Daphne du Maurier award. She lives in Arizona with her family and assorted pets. (From Author’s website at http://www.allisonbrennan.com
Book #2 can be read as a standalone, but if you are like me and like to read books in order, here is Book #1! It’s also a riveting read and introduces the character of Regan Merritt.
After witnessing an abduction, FBI agent Luke Harmon vows to return the teenage victim safely to her aunt, his ex, Abby Mitchell. But Abby has a secret—the girl is their daughter. To rescue his child from a human trafficking ring, he’ll partner with the woman who deceived him. But can he forgive the past before Abby becomes the next target…and his family is lost forever?
My Review:
This book has a pace faster than a speeding bullet and it kept me engaged from beginning to end. Beginning with the terrifying kidnapping of a young girl named Kenzie off the streets of a small town in Texas, this book deals with the difficult topic of human trafficking in a realistic and gut-wrenching way. Abby, Kenzie’s guardian and aunt, witnesses the kidnapping but can do nothing to stop it. Enlisting the assistance of FBI Agent Luke Harmon, her former boyfriend, Abby is determined to do whatever it takes to get Kenzie safely home again. The story of Luke and Abby’s former love and how they need to trust each other again is one that touched me deeply. Luke not only lost his love but he also lost his faith in God and needs to find his way back. I enjoyed the realistic portrayal of the characters and all of the feelings that I experienced as I read about them. I especially enjoyed the twists in the story and the way the author kept me guessing about the bad guys until the ultimate revelation at the end. I love a good mystery and this one fit that perfectly! I also liked how the fast pace continued throughout the book, as new details were added about the case and the predicament that Kenzie was in. Abby’s faith was important in the story but it does not overwhelm it; it’s just part of who she is and this makes her more realistic as well as admirable. Luke is a likable character, flawed and vulnerable but strong when the occasion demands it. He is a hero to emulate and a dynamically complex male protagonist. The fact that the book is a clean read in spite of the difficult topic it deals with was a bonus for me. The entire book was an enjoyable, quick read and I highly recommend it to all who enjoy suspense, romance and faith all mixed together to make a remarkably cohesive story. Disclaimer Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the author. I was not required to write a positive review. All 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.”
This is LIS and is a clean read. Rated PG due to content about human trafficking.
Releases tomorrow, 1-24-23! You can order the book by following a link below:
On the night of December 31, 1989–as the Berlin Wall is coming down, the Soviet Union is inching toward democracy, and anything seems possible–a down-on-his luck musician crashes a party and crosses paths with the accomplished and enigmatic young heir to a fading musical dynasty, forever altering both of their futures.
My Review and Rating:
This book is amazing! The prose is like lyrical poetry and the song lyrics come alive and make the story so touchingly realistic. The entire plot just flowed from the page into my heart. The story of Michael Sullivan, a lyricist who has been kicked out of his band, and Natalie Wheeler, a blind musician who is extraordinarily gifted, is one that should be read and appreciated by all who need a story to make them think and feel good about life. It is the story of daring to reach out for a better future and of forgiving those who have held you back in your past so that you can achieve your dreams. I loved getting to know each of the characters, even the seemingly unredeemable Uncle Mike who drinks and gambles to forget his tragic past. I found myself wanting Michael to forgive his father Steve completely and find a new relationship with him. I was totally invested in the stories of the characters because they became like real people to me. The plot was moderately paced, not too fast which I think would ruin it and not too slow which would make it drag. It was perfectly paced for the story that was being told, the story of young love, exploration into new beginnings and support from those who had forged a path in the past. I think my very favorite character was Deb Wheeler, a talented musician who gave up her promising career for personal reasons. She elicited sympathy from me but also a great deal of respect because of her compassion and wisdom that she showed to all whose lives she touched. This is one of the most beautifully written tales I have ever read and I cannot recommend it highly enough. It’s refreshingly original and totally engaging. Disclaimer Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from Revell Books via Netgalley. I was not required to write a positive review. All 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.”
Five plus stars for this clean Christian read.
About the Author:
ERIN BARTELS is the award-winning author of We Hope for Better Things, The Words between Us, All That We Carried, The Girl Who Could Breathe Under Water, and Everything Is Just Beginning. She lives in the capital city of a state that is 40% water, nestled somewhere between angry protesters on the Capitol lawn and couch-burning frat boys at Michigan State University. And yet, she claims it is really quite peaceful. Find her on Facebook @ErinBartelsAuthor and on Instagram @erinbartelswrites. Information and photo are from the author’s website at http://erinbartels.com
Synopsis: A wallflower in her Amish community, Mary Margaret hopes a trip will offer her a chance to come out of her shell. When a chance meeting brings new friends and a gentle young man into her life, she imagines a whole new life in Florida. But will it all disappear once vacation ends?
My thoughts about the book:
This is a quick and sweet romance with the Amish characters visiting a beach in Pinecraft, Florida. I was surprised by the setting and the boldness of the main character to leave her protected Amish community and travel by bus to Florida, but the surprise added to the story as Mary Margaret was joined by other like-minded Amish young women seeking respite from their lives and the troubles that they faced there. Mary finds her true desires in Florida and even has to face forgiving a former enemy who unexpectedly shows up there. I loved the themes of relationships, honesty and forgiveness. I especially enjoyed seeing how all of the conflict worked itself out in just the right way for the lovable characters. I was invested in the story and wanted everyone to get a happy ending, but the ending was not without some real twists along the way. My favorite characters were Jayson who is a responsible young man who feels the weight of taking care of his diabetic sister Joy and Michael, a young orphan who works hard to escape from his cruel aunt and uncle who make him feel worthless. My sympathy lay with these two young men who were courageous and determined as well as dedicated to doing the right thing regardless of the cost to themselves. This is a quick read that can easily be read in a few hours and thoroughly enjoyed! Disclaimer Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from Revell Reads Blogger Program via Netgalley. I was not required to write a positive review. All 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 G for all audiences. This is a clean Christian fiction book. Check out the author’s website for more information about her and her books. http://www.shelleyshepardgray.com
With many thanks to the Revell Reads Blogger Program for introducing me to this author last year and for giving me the opportunity to read and review this first book in her new series.
A cross between Firefly Lane and The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo, a dual-narrative about two sisters who realize their mother isn’t who they’d always thought when a legendary movie star shows up at her funeral, unraveling the sweeping story of a friendship that begins at a nursing school in Iowa in 1967 and onward as it survives decades of change, war, fame—and the secrets they kept from each other and for each other.
A moment of great change sparks the friendship of a lifetime…
1967, Iowa: Nursing school roommates BettyKay and Kitty don’t have much in common. A farmer’s daughter, BettyKay has risked her family’s disapproval to make her dreams come true away from her rural small town. Cosmopolitan Kitty has always relied on her beauty and smarts to get by, and to hide a devastating secret from the past that she can’t seem to outrun. Yet the two share a determination to prove themselves in a changing world, forging an unlikely bond on a campus unkind to women.
Before their first year is up, tragedy strikes, and the women’s paths are forced apart. But against all odds, a decades-long friendship forms, persevering through love, marriage, failure, and death, from the jungles of Vietnam to the glamorous circles of Hollywood. Until one snowy night leads their relationship to the ultimate crossroads.
Fifty years later, two estranged sisters are shocked when a famous movie star shows up at their mother’s funeral. Over one rollercoaster weekend, the women must reckon with a dazzling truth about their family that will alter their lives forever…
This is a book about friendship and perseverance, but it is so much more than a story. It is a look into the hearts of friends and the relationship that develops and endures in spite of differences in lifestyles and choices. Set in the tumultuous era of the Vietnam War and the ensuing generations following, this is almost but not quite like historical fiction. It certainly has that vibe about it as I lived in that time and can recall the draft, the solders leaving for war and not returning and the sacrifices made by those left behind. The story of BettyKay, Jenny and Kitty is memorable not only for the realistic historical details but also because of the characters themselves who popped off the page and into my heart and mind, with their wishes and dreams for a bright future. I really enjoyed reading about how their friendship evolved from not quite trusting to trusting completely with all of the secrets. There were some unexpected revelations made to the reader as well as to BettyKay’s daughters after her death. I thoroughly enjoyed the way the story was intricately and perfectly woven around the lives of the women and then spread out to include the next generation. This is a timeless novel and one that will long reverberate in my heart for the lessons it teaches about moving on, accepting and surviving the unthinkable with grace and fortitude. This book presents women’s fiction at its best! 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. All 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.”
My rating:
I would rate this book PG due to content.
Excerpt
Clara
Greensboro, Iowa
2019
There were too many lilies. Clara wasn’t an authority on flowers or funerals. But, it was like a flower shop—that only sold lilies—had exploded in the blue room of Horner’s Funeral Home.
This was what happened when everyone adored you. They buried you under a mountain of your favorite flower—in this case, stargazers with their erotic pink hearts and sinus-piercing pollen—before they actually buried you.
And it was just a cosmic kick in the pants that Clara Beecher was allergic to her mother’s favorite flowers.
“Clara!” Mrs. Place, her eighth-grade language arts teacher, clasped Clara’s hands in her bony grip. Mrs. Place had not changed at all. She was the kind of woman who seemed middle-aged at seventeen and just waited for time to catch up. “Your mother was so proud of you. You and your sister, you were her pride and joy.”
“That’s nice of you to say,” Clara said, keenly aware of her sister, Abbie, across the room doing the sorts of things that would make a mother proud.
“At book club, she’d go on and on about you and the important work you were doing in the city and, well, most of it went right over my head,” Mrs. Place said. There was nothing complicated about Clara’s work; Mom just lied about it so, as a former hippie, she didn’t have to say the words my daughter is a corporate shill. “But you could tell she was just so proud.”
Clara pulled her hand free in time to grab a tissue from one of the many boxes scattered around the room and held it to her allergy-induced, dripping nose. “Thank you,” she said through the tissue.
“Everyone is going to miss Betts,” Mrs. Place said. “So much. There’s not a part of this town that she wasn’t involved in. Church, the library. Park board. Community gardens.”
Like an invasive species. Invite her to something and she’d soon be running the show.
Grief is making you sharp. That was something her mother would say. If she wasn’t dead.
The Blue Room of Horner Funeral Home was hot and wall-to-lily packed with people coming to pay their respects to one of Greensboro’s favorite citizens.
BettyKay Beecher had lived her whole adult life in this tiny town, and the town had shown up bearing casseroles and no-bake cheesecakes for the reception after the burial, wearing their Sunday best, armed with their favorite BettyKay stories.
She sat with my dad when he was dying.
She helped us figure out the insurance paperwork when our son was in his accident.
They were all mourning. The whole room and the hallway outside and the people still sitting in their cars in the parking lot. People were crying real tears, huddling, sobbing—actually sobbing—in corners. And all Clara could think was:
Did they know?
Had Mom, in true fashion, told the entire town the secret she’d kept from her own daughters for nearly forty years? The bombshell, life-rearranging, ugly secret she’d blurted, exasperated and furious with Clara in their last phone call?
Would they be mourning so hard if they knew?
Clara sneezed.
“Oh, bless you, honey,” Mrs. Place said.
“It’s just allergies.” Clara folded up the tissues before putting them in the pocket of her new black Marco Zanini suit with the sash tie and the sky blue silk lining. She’d thought the lining might be a bit much for a funeral, but that was before she knew about the lilies.
And don’t get her started on all the men wearing camouflage. To a funeral. Were they all going hunting after this?
“She’s with your father now. I hope you find comfort in that.”
“I do, thank you.” It was, as it always had been in Greensboro, Iowa, easier to lie.
Another person came up with another story about BettyKay Beecher. “Is that your sister?” She pointed across the room after sharing an anecdote about their time together in the Army Nurse Corps. “Abbie?”
Abbie was surrounded by her friends from childhood—who used to be Clara’s friends from childhood, not that it mattered—who kept bringing her mugs that were not filled with coffee. Abbie’s cheeks were flushed and her eyes were bright and she was half-drunk, crying and hugging and not at all bothered by the lilies.
“Yep. That’s my sister,” Clara said, ushering the woman toward Abbie and not even feeling bad about it. “She’d love to hear your story.”
Three years ago, they’d stood in this exact same room, mourning their father, Willis Beecher. It was hard to be home and not see him in the corners of rooms. She couldn’t drink rum or Constant Comment tea and not miss him. The smell of patchouli could bring her to tears. A sob rose up in her throat like a fist, and her knees were suddenly loose. She put a hand against the table so she didn’t crumple onto the floor.
I’m an orphan. Me and Abbie—orphans.
She was a full-grown adult. A corporate lawyer (about to make junior partner, fingers crossed) who billed at $700 an hour. She had a condo on Lakeshore and a good woman who loved her. Abbie had two kids of her own, a husband of twenty-five years and kept slices of homemade lemon loaf in the freezer that she could pop in a toaster in case someone stopped by for coffee. They were far from orphans.
But she couldn’t shake the thought.
Clara found the side door and stepped out.
The wind was icy, blowing across the farmland to the west, picking up the smell of fries and burgers from The Starlite Room, only to press her flat against the yellow brick. She felt the cotton-silk blend of her suit snag on the brick.
The first few days of March were cold, too cold to be out here without a jacket, but the freshness woke her up. Spring hadn’t committed to Iowa yet and the cornfields were still brown, lying in wait, like everything else in Greensboro, for the last blizzard to come hammering down from the Dakotas.
Her phone buzzed. She left it in her pocket.
Horner’s Funeral Home was on the other side of town from the Greensboro University, and St. Luke’s School of Nursing’s white clock tower was just visible over the trees. The university had all the flags lowered to half-mast for the week. It was a nice touch. Mom had been a student there and then a teacher and for the last twenty years, an administrator.
She closed her eyes, letting the wind do its work.
“Hey.”
Clara felt her sister lean back against the wall next to her, smelling of vanilla and Pinot Grigio.
“Hey,” she said, eyes still closed.
“The lilies—”
“Yeah.”
“You okay?”
Clara hummed in her throat, a sound that wasn’t yes or no. That was, in fact, the exact sound of the exhausted limbo the last few days had put her in.
“Me neither,” Abbie said. “It just… I feel like I’m missing something, you know? Like I’m walking around all wrong.”
Clara felt the same. Being BettyKay Beecher’s daughter was a part of her identity she didn’t always carry comfortably, but it was there.
“Where’s Vickie?” Abbie asked, and Clara caught herself from flinching at the sound of her girlfriend’s name.
“She wishes she could be here but she has a case in front of the Illinois Supreme Court.”
She felt Abbie’s doubt, the way she wanted to probe and pick.
“Did you have to blow up that picture so damn big?” Clara asked, before Abbie could get to her follow-up questions.
All around the funeral home were pictures of the Beecher family. And—God knows why—Abbie had decided to blow up to an obscene size, the picture of their mother that was on the back of her book: Pray for Me: The Diary of an Army Nurse in Vietnam. In it BettyKay was a fresh-faced twenty-two-year- old, with a helmet-shaped brunette bob wearing an olive green United States Army Nurse Corps uniform.
“Darn.”
“What?”
“Fiona’s turning into a little parrot, so we don’t swear anymore. We say ‘effing’ and ‘darn’ and ‘poop.’”
“That’s effing nonsense.”
“Probably.” Clara could hear the smile in her sister’s voice. “And yes, I did. I love that picture of Mom. She looks so brave.”
Clara thought she looked terrified.
“Max and Fiona don’t understand what’s happening,” Abbie said. “They keep asking why Gran is lying down.”
Clara’s laugh was wet with the lingering allergic reaction to the flowers. “That’s awful.”
“Denise from the hospital keeps trying to get the kids to touch Mom’s hand. So they can feel how cold she is and then they’ll understand.”
“What will it make them understand?”
“That she’s dead.”
“That’s morbid even for Denise.” They were both laughing, which felt alien but sweet.
“She says it will give them closure.”
Abbie reached out and grabbed her hand. Clara started to pull away, but Abbie didn’t let go.
I should tell her. Part of her even wanted to. To share the burden of information like they were kids again. And Abbie, who liked the view from the perch her reputation as a Beecher in this town gave her, would tell Clara it wasn’t true. Couldn’t possibly be. That Mom had been wrong. Angry. Something.
Some excuse to keep everything the way it was.
That was why Clara couldn’t tell her. Because Abbie had to live in this town side by side with the memory of Mom. Bringing Abbie into it would make her sister’s life harder.
“Abbie, don’t get upset but I am going to leave after the reception at the church.” There. Done. Band-Aid-style.
“And go where?” Abbie asked.
“Back home.”
And here comes the look. “Chicago? You’re kidding.”
“We have a new client—”
“You’re leaving?” Accidentally Clara caught Abbie’s furious gaze and wished she hadn’t. She could see her sister’s rage and her grief and it felt worse than her own.
“I’ll be back,” Clara lied.
“Bullshit.” So much for not swearing.
“Abbie—”
“You know. I should have expected this. You show up last-minute in your car and your ugly suit—”
“Hey!”
“With your nose in the air—”
“I’ll pay to have the house boxed up.”
Abbie sucked in so much air Clara went light-headed from the lack of oxygen around her.
“Can we please not make this a big deal?” she asked.
“What did I ever do to you, Clara? To make it so easy for you to leave me behind?”
The wind caught the side door as it opened, banging against the brick with a sound that made Clara and Abbie jump like they’d been caught smoking.
Ben, Abbie’s husband, stuck his head out and Abbie stepped forward. Ben was a good-looking guy in a gentle giant kind of way. Constantly rumpled, but usually smiling. He reminded Clara of a very good Labrador retriever.
She wanted to pat his head and give him a treat. And then yell at him for tracking mud across the rug.
“There you are,” he said.
“I was just getting some air,” Abbie said, with surprising defensiveness. “Is everything okay?”
“There’s…” Ben glanced over his shoulder and made a face, bewildered and somehow joyful in a way that made Clara and Abbie push off the wall. It was his mother-in-law’s funeral after all. Joy was a strange sentiment.
“What?” Clara asked.
“Well, I think you should come in and see for yourself.”
Ben held the door while Abbie and Clara walked back into the packed room. Everyone was silent now, pressed to the walls and corners in little clumps, whispering in that painfully familiar way out of the corners of their mouths and behind their hands. There was a path down the center of the room right to Mom’s casket, where she lay with her arms crossed, wearing her favorite green dress and way too much blush.
Standing at the casket, was a woman. A stranger.
Everything about her screamed not from around here. She wore an elegant long black skirt and a pair of boots with low heels of rich black leather. A gray sweater (Ralph Lauren Collection cashmere or Clara would eat her own boots) with a black belt around her trim waist. Her hair was long and silvery blond, the kind that appeared natural but Clara would put money on the fact that it cost a lot and took a lot of time to keep that way.
She kind of…glittered.
“Who is that?”
“You don’t recognize her?” Ben whispered between Abbie and Clara’s shoulders, his breath smelling of coffee and cough drops.
Something about the woman did seem familiar, polished.
“Is she from the publishing company?” she asked Abbie.
“I don’t think so. They sent a cheesecake.”
“That morning show Mom did sometimes, in Des Moines? Ramona?”
“Ramona Rodriguez died, like, ten years ago.”
Clara should know this woman. But her mother’s funeral was throwing her off.
“Are you kidding me? You really don’t recognize her?” Ben asked. “It’s Kitty Devereaux.”
Vickie's Book Nook and Meditation Corner 