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.
www.goodreads.com/book/show/51938872
I gave this book five stars because it was highly entertaining, but it should be rated M for mature audiences because of the content. The language is not too bad, but the plot revolves around various sexual scandals. Many thanks to #WilliamMorrowBooks for inviting me to read and review this book.
As a big fan of Kate Young’s Southern Sass series, I was dancing with glee when I found out that she has a new cozy mystery series. This was just as good as I could have ever wished! With some really shady characters (providing a substantial suspect pool) and a strong female protagonist, this book appealed to all of my hot buttons as a cozy mystery fan. Lyla Moody is supposed to be a receptionist for her uncle’s PI firm, but when one of her friends is killed, she starts to dabble into investigating herself and gets into deep waters quickly. I think my favorite part of the book was the Jane Doe Book Club, a club of mystery book readers who end up trying to figure out real crimes. I really want to join that club! As expected, some of the characters were quirky and the ending was a total surprise for me. Since I enjoy being surprised in a mystery, that was a bonus point for the author and the way she wove the story line with plenty of clues as well as red herrings. I am looking forward to more Jane Doe mysteries from Ms. Young. I love everything that she has written because she does her craft so well! Fans of cozy mysteries will enjoy this book and look forward to more!
Disclaimer
Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy 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.”
This was a book with extremely well-developed characters and a very complicated plot. The book starts with Romilly Kemp and her father Tobias moving into a house in the English countryside. Romilly seems lonely and at times neglected as her father concentrates on writing and illustrating a book about her and her cat Monty. She is homeschooled so her only socialization comes when a girl named Stacey shows up. But Stacey doesn’t come daily; she comes whenever she wants. In the days between, Romilly is left alone to talk to Monty and to try to engage her father. Tobias means well but he is slowly leaving the world, first with his mind that is more and more unaware of reality. The fact that his published book garnered much attention and enough sales to support him and Romilly should have had Tobias celebrating. Instead, as strangers begin to show up on their small estate looking for some kind of hidden treasure hinted at in the book, Tobias withdraws more and more into himself. This is the part of the book that got very hard for me to read since I felt so bad for Romilly. Her mother is not present, her father is disappearing slowly before her eyes, so she is left to care for herself. Although there is kind of a magical quality about how resourceful and independent Romilly becomes, I found it very dark and sad. The father and daughter had a deep and loving relationship that was slowly dissipating as I read the book. Tobias doesn’t really stop loving Romilly; he just isn’t really aware any longer that she exists. His mental illness is a main theme of the book as is her growing up and facing her father’s inevitable death. I kept reading the book because I wanted to find out what happened to little Romilly, forced to take care of herself when she should have been enjoying a happy childhood. The question remains about whether her childhood was actually happy as she seems to be fine with everything, if a little puzzled at times about what her next step in life should be. There is a hidden story, a treasure hidden within the main plot, and woven throughout that is the treasure that Romilly needs to survive, to encourage her to keep going. I found the story to be dark with hidden gems but very sensitive topics that the author dealt with in an imaginative and different way. Since this is a debut novel, I expect to hear more from Polly Crosby in the future as she hones her craft of weaving a fairy tale within a tale with a truly adult theme.
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.”
Prologue
You probably know me as the Kemp Treasure Girl. Maybe you had the books as a child. Perhaps your dad read them to you in those wilting hours of sleep where books become dreams and dreams become books. Did you look for the treasure, digging in your garden, unsure of what you were searching for?
Mine was an unusual infamy for one so young. Not an all-encompassing, celebrity fame, but one that flattened me into two dimensions and picked out the colour of my eyes and my dress. One that stopped people in the street and made their necks crane back round to gaze at me.
The version of me in the books was my friend. She was always there for me, sharing in my adventures, appearing at the lifting of a page. But children grow up, and as I grew taller and wiser, Romilly Kemp in the book stayed young and innocent, a sickly-sweet imposter who wore my dress and suckled at my father’s love, leeching it away until there was barely any left for me at all.
But then I made a real friend. Someone I could trust: someone who knew intimately my deepest, darkest thoughts even if I dare not acknowledge them myself.
But the beginnings of a friendship are like the beginning of a book: you never know how they will turn out until the very end.
One
Braër was an ancient farmhouse. A month of living there had still not unearthed a fraction of its secrets.
As I ran from the house, tugging on unfamiliar wellies, I stared up at Braër’s mossy roof and dirty walls. Dad told me that it had probably once been called Brother Farm, but time and the soft Suffolk accent had changed it.
The house itself was long and low and surrounded on three sides by a moat clogged with cowpats and slime. Perched in the water at one end was a gargoyle, with a sinister, winking face. It ogled me as I ran past, its eyes bulbous and staring.
On the south side of the house, down an overgrown path stretched a bumpy meadow filled with sagging grass. It was the perfect camp for my newly invented invisible army, and the edge of my territory. I could go there on my own, making pretend campfires and having sword fights with prickly bushes, knowing that I was safe. I could barely see the house above the long, scratchy grass.
As I set off down the path, a sharp whistle brought me back. Dad was stooped in the back door, his huge shoulders nearly touching the frame on either side. Something small and snow-like was curled up in his open palm.
‘What is it?’
‘I wanted to draw one, so, why not?’ he said, planting the tiny kitten into my eager arms, and suddenly it was mine. ‘It’s a Siamese,’ he said, wiping his hands on his trousers, leaving a snail’s trail of white fur on the corduroy.
‘Is it a girl or boy?’ I asked, trying to look through the fur at the correct place.
‘A boy.’ Dad crouched down, looking at me as I hugged the kitten. Briefly he reached forward and touched my cheek, and I leant into the roughness of his hand. ‘Yes,’ he said to himself, his voice a growl of love, ‘it’s that look in your eyes, right there that I want to capture.’ He straightened up, his knees creaking. ‘I’m going to need to paint him. And you, of course. I have an idea…’ he trailed off. Frowning at me, he turned on his heel and entered the house, leaving the kitten and I alone.
I examined his bony body. He was small and soft, and smelt of wee and sawdust. He had pale creamy fur tinged with chocolate brown at each edge. As I was studying him, he uncurled himself, tipping off my arms and towards the moat below us. I caught him by the tail just in time, tucking him back safely into the crook of my arm. He opened his eyes for the first time and stared at me with big, red-blue irises. He was hot and slightly sticky-damp in my hands, and I loved him immediately.
I balanced him on my shoulder and made my way up the two flights of stairs to my bedroom, filling the kitten in on the minutiae of our lives.
‘Dad lost his university job ages ago, and he’s been trying to work out what to do with himself ever since,’ I said, tickling him under his chin as I ran up the second staircase; the tiny windy one that Dad was forever tripping up on. ‘He says we’ve moved here so he can paint instead of teach art. It’s the summer holidays, and I’m going to be nine soon, and Dad says he might have to give me a painting instead of a real present for my birthday, but that’s okby me because his paintings are like stories made real. He says someone has to make money, or we’ll be living on bread crusts and moat water. Here, this is us.’
I pushed open the three-foot-high door that marked the entrance to my vast bedroom.
The kitten perked up as we climbed through into the huge, bright space. It was the shape of a tent, one of those old-fashioned tents – a huge triangle. And it felt like a tent too: when it was windy outside, the air caught beneath all the beams and vibrated until you felt like there was nothing but thin canvas between you and the sky.
When Dad had first shown me my room, I spent the entire day in there, not daring to believe all this space belonged to me. There were dustsheets over the furniture, and in the corner, a pretty parasol leant against the wall as if the young lady it had belonged to had left it there only moments before. I liked to open it up and walk the length of the room in a sedate manner, pretending I was as posh as the young lady who had owned it last.
I tipped the kitten onto the bed, and studied him. ‘You look like someone important,’ I said, ‘and important people have long names. How about Captain Montgomery of the Second Regiment?’ Montgomery seemed satisfied with his name, and curled up happily on the quilt.
Excerpted from The Book of Hidden Wonders by Polly Crosby, Copyright © 2020 by Polly Crosby.
Published by Park Row Books
Although this is the second book in a series, I read it as a standalone and had no difficulty following the plot and characters. In fact, I was drawn into the story from the very beginning and raced to finish it as the tension seemed to ratchet up with each new chapter. Detective Casey White is a strong female protagonist but her vulnerable side is shown also since she has nightmares about the kidnapping of her daughter Hannah as a toddler. When parents are killed with a message carved on the mother and a teen girl missing each time, Casey’s determination to find the girls is understandable. The police procedural part of the story was absolutely engrossing. There is a sub-plot about a weird church in the middle of nowhere, a charismatic pastor who seems evil in many ways, and the mysterious fact that attendees have to be invited in order to attend. The mystery of the invitation was definitely enticing since one girl was found and could only say “he invited me” before she was whisked off to the hospital. Casey’s desperation to find subsequent missing girls is evident and the tension in the plot increases accordingly, making me as the reader enthralled by each new crime, each new detail and each new clue. There were plenty of unexpected twists and a whole gallery of possible suspects, perfect for a mystery/suspense enthusiast like me. The revelation of the killer was a real surprise to me and the final scenes were totally riveting. Fans of thriller/suspense will really enjoy this book. I know for sure that I will look for the next book in the series and Casey White’s next adversary who cannot possibly be a match for her skill and intuition.
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.”
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If I could give this book more than five stars, then I would! This was romance, mystery, cultural lessons about Hawaii and family relationships all rolled into one very well-written and heart-tugging book. Kay Bratt obviously pours her heart and soul into her books for her readers and it is so appreciated by this reader! There are actually at least two storylines going on in this novel, the first about Quinn and her familial dilemma and the second one about Maggie and her stalker that she has escaped and is finally feeling a little bit of safety. There is also the minor story about David and Julianne, a story that just pulled at all of my heartstrings. My favorite character was Woodrow. Yes, Woodrow is a dog, but he is one smart and intuitive service animal who knows just what to do for Maggie and when. Of course, I also liked the hunky men in the story, including Liam and Joe. I especially enjoyed Joe’s humor and acceptance of life’s changes. Finally, I pick Juniper as my favorite human character because she is so laughably quirky and a really good friend for Maggie, not to mention surprisingly intelligent. Bratt has written a book that will long stay in my memory banks as a book to read when I need to be reminded what forgiveness and love look like. Fans of contemporary fiction, domestic drama and mystery will want to pick up this book and enjoy it.
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. 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.”
If you want a book that will tug at your heart strings, take you to Hawaii and teach you about the island’s lore, and entertain you with laughter and fun, then you need to get this book. Highly recommend!
Mary Ellen Taylor has written a book about the ties between generations, secrets, losses, resentment and regret. I assumed when I started reading this book that it would be a light and sweet romance with little conflict. I was so wrong! I was drawn quickly into the story because of the setting in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains, where I was raised. I understood the struggles of young Sadie, trying to help her family to survive any way she can, especially with the secret family recipe of adding honeysuckle to the white lightning that is the family’s main source of income. Sadie is one of the narrators during the time period set in the 1940’s. Fast forward to the current day and the narrator is Libby, a young woman who is aching over the loss of her husband and their dream of having children. Libby is pursuing a new career in photography and it is that job that leads her to Elaine Grant, the owner of Woodmont, a fancy mansion that is perfect for having weddings on its grounds. Elaine introduces Libby to the groundskeeper and handyman Colton and therein lies the hint of romance. There were so many secrets in this book, and the author did a fabulous job of weaving the tale of the main characters and how all of their stories were connected. This is a generational story that was a very satisfying read, but I must say that I want to read more of the story. There was an ending, of course, and it did bring the story to a conclusion. But I think that there are more stories to be told in these secretive mountains. Fans of romance with the nuances of mystery will totally enjoy this book, just as I did.
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.”
I really enjoyed this story and hope that you will buy it and love it, too! The author is from my home state of Virginia, so she holds a special place in my heart. She also writes romantic suspense/mystery books under the name of Mary Burton. Please check out her books! She is fantastically talented!
I was absolutely “wowed” by this debut thriller by Amber Garza! I couldn’t read it long enough or fast enough, right from the beginning. The plot is an original one about a lonely empty nester who really needs someone or something new in her life. One morning, she gets a phone call reminding her of a well-baby appointment at the office of her former pediatrician and she is amazed to find out that there is another Kelly Medina in town. Her objective becomes to find this young woman who shares her name. Well, she finds her and befriends her and then the total compulsive obsession begins. This is a real page-turner that I thought was very well-written, with gripping revelations of truth in the lives of women. The author demonstrates an authentic understanding of women’s issues and has written an exceptionally good mystery with a phenomenally shocking conclusion. I sincerely enjoyed how the story unraveled itself slowly and methodically, with so many twists and so much that I could identify with as I fell into the pages and was captivated by the drama of the lives of these two women. Fans of mystery/suspense/ and psychological thriller will enjoy this book that is definitely women’s contemporary fiction, too. It’s hard to classify the genre because this book fits into so many places!
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.”
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Chapter One
It was a Monday morning in early October when I first heard about you. I was getting out of the shower when my phone rang. After throwing on a robe and cinching it, I ran into my bedroom, snatching my cell off the nightstand.
Unknown number.
Normally, I let those go. But I’d already run all the way in here, and I thought maybe it was a call from Dr. Hillerman’s office.
“Hello?” I answered, breathless. Goosebumps rose on my pale flesh, so I pulled the robe tighter around me. My sopping wet hair dripped down my back.
“Is this Kelly Medina?”
Great. A salesperson. “Yes,” I answered, wishing I hadn’t picked up.
“Hi, Kelly, this is Nancy from Dr. Cramer’s office. I’m calling to remind you of your well-baby appointment this Friday at ten am.”
“Well-baby?” I let out a surprised laugh. “You’re about nineteen years too late.”
“Excuse me?” Nancy asked, clearly confused.
“My son isn’t a baby,” I explained. “He’s nineteen.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Nancy immediately replied. I could hear the clicking of a keyboard. “I apologize. I called the wrong Kelly Medina.”
“There’s another Kelly Medina in Folsom?” My maiden name had been Smith. There are a million other Kelly Smiths in the world. In California, even. But since I’d married Rafael, I’d never met another Kelly Medina. Until now.
Until you.
“Yes. Her child is a new patient.”
It felt like yesterday when my child was a new patient. I remembered sitting in the waiting room of Dr. Cramer’s office, holding my tiny newborn, waiting for the nurse to call my name.
“I have no idea how this happened. It’s like your numbers got switched in the system or something,” Nancy muttered, and I wasn’t sure if she was talking to me or herself. “Again, I’m so sorry.”
I assured her it was fine, and hung up. My hair was still wet from the shower, but instead of blow-drying it I headed downstairs to make some tea first. On my way, I passed Aaron’s room. The door was closed, so I pressed it open with my palm. The wood was cold against my skin. Shivering, I took in his neatly made bed, the movie posters tacked to the wall, the darkened desktop computer in the corner.
Leaning against the doorframe of Aaron’s room, my mind flew back to the day he left for college. I remembered his broad smile, his sparkling eyes. He’d been so anxious to leave here. To leave me. I should’ve been happy for him. He was doing what I’d raised him to do.
Boys were supposed to grow up and leave.
In my head I knew that. But in my heart it was hard to let him go.
After closing Aaron’s door, I headed down to the kitchen.
The house was silent. It used to be filled with noise – Aaron’s little feet stomping down the hallway, his sound effects as he played with toys, his chattering as he got older. Now it was always quiet. Especially during the week when Rafael stayed in the Bay Area for work. Aaron had been gone over a year. You’d think I’d be used to it by now. But, actually, it seemed to get worse over time. The constant silence.
The phone call had thrown me. For a second it felt like I’d gone back in time, something I longed for most days. When Aaron was born everyone told me to savor all the moments because it went by too quickly. It was hard for me to imagine. I hadn’t had the easiest life growing up, and it certainly hadn’t flown by. And the nine months I was pregnant with Aaron had gone on forever, every day longer than the one before.
But they were right.
Aaron’s childhood was fleeting. The moments were elusive like a butterfly, practically impossible to catch. And now it was gone. He was a man. And I was alone.
Rafael kept encouraging me to find a job to fill my time, but I’d already tried that. When Aaron first left, I applied for a bunch of jobs. Since I’d been out of work for so long, no one wanted to hire me. That’s when Christine suggested I volunteer somewhere. So I started helping out at a local food bank, handing out food once a week and occasionally doing a little administrative stuff. I enjoyed it, but it wasn’t enough. It barely filled any of my time. Besides, I was one of many volunteers. I wasn’t needed. Not the way Aaron had needed me when he was a child.
When he left, the Kelly I’d always known ceased to exist. Vanished into thin air. I was merely a ghost now, haunting my house, the streets, the town.
As the water boiled, I thought about you. Thought about how lucky you were to have a baby and your whole life ahead of you. I wondered what you were doing right now. Not sitting alone in your big, silent house, I bet. No, you were probably chasing your cute little baby around your sunny living room, the floor littered with toys, as he crawled on all fours and laughed.
Was your child a boy? The lady on the phone didn’t say, but that’s what I pictured. A chubby, smiling little boy like my Aaron.
The kettle squealed, and I flinched. I poured the boiling water in a mug and steam rose from it, circling the air in front of my face. Tossing in the tea bag, I breathed it in, leaning my back against the cool tile counter. The picture window in front of me revealed our perfectly manicured front yard – bright green grass lined with rose bushes. I’d always been particular about the roses. When Aaron was a kid he always wanted to help with the pruning, but I never let him. Afraid he’d mess them up, I guess. Seemed silly now.
Heart pinching, I blew out a breath.
I wondered about your yard. What did it look like? Did you have roses? I wondered if you’d let your son help you prune them. I wondered if you’d make the same mistakes I had.
Bringing the mug to my lips, I took a tiny sip of the hot tea. It was mint, my favorite. I allowed the flavors to sit on my tongue a minute before swallowing it down. The refrigerator hummed. The ice shifted in the ice maker. My shoulders tensed slightly. I rolled them out, taking another sip.
Shoving off the counter, I was headed toward the stairs when my cell buzzed inside my pocket. My pulse spiked. It couldn’t be Rafael. He was a professor and his first class had already started.
Aaron?
Nope. It was a text from Christine.
Going to yoga this morning?
I’d already showered. I was about to tackle my latest organization project. Today was the kitchen pantry. Last week I’d bought a bunch of new containers and bins. Friday I’d spent the day labeling all of them. After taking the weekend off since Rafael was home, I was anxious to continue with it. I’d already organized several closets downstairs, but my plan was to work my way through all the closets and cabinets in the house.
Usually I loved yoga, but I had way too much to do today.
No, I typed. Then bit my lip. Backspaced. Stared at the phone. My own reflection emerged on the slick screen – disheveled hair, pale face, dark circles under the eyes.
You need to get out more. Exercise. It’s not healthy to sit in the house all day. Rafael’s voice echoed in my head.
The organizing would still be here tomorrow. Besides, who was I kidding? I’d probably only spend a couple of hours organizing before abandoning my project to read online blogs and articles, or dive into the latest murder mystery I was reading.
I typed, yes, then sent it and hurried to my room to get ready.
Thirty minutes later, I was parking in front of the gym. When I stepped out, a cool breeze whisked over my arms. After three scorching hot summer months, I welcomed it. Fall had always been my favorite season. I relished the festiveness of it. Pumpkins, apples, rustic colors. But mostly it was the leaves falling and being raked away. The bareness of the trees. The shedding of the old to make room for the new. An end, but also a beginning.
Although, we weren’t quite there yet. The leaves were still green, and by afternoon the air would be warm. But in the mornings and evenings we got a tiny sip of a fall, enough to make me thirsty for more.
Securing the gym bag on my shoulder, I walked briskly through the lot. Once inside, it was even colder. The AC blasted as if it was a hundred-degree day. That’s okay. It gave me more of an incentive to break a sweat. Smiling at the receptionist, I pulled out my keys for her to scan my card. Only my card wasn’t hanging from my key ring.
I fished around in my bag, but it wasn’t there either. Flushing, I offered the bored receptionist an apologetic smile. “I seem to have misplaced my tag. Can you look me up? Kelly Medina?’
Her eyes widened. “Funny. There was another lady in here earlier today with the same name.”
My heart pounded. I’d been attending this gym for years and never had anyone mentioned you before. I wondered how long you’d worked out here. “Is she still here?” My gaze scoured the lobby as if I might recognize you.
“No. She was here super early.”
Of course you were. I used to be, too, when Aaron was an infant.
“Okay. You’re all checked in, Kelly,” the receptionist said, buzzing me in.
Clutching my gym bag, I made my way up the stairs toward the yoga room, thoughts of you flooding my mind. A few young women walked next to me, wearing tight tank tops and pants, gym bags hanging off their shoulders. They were laughing and chatting loudly, their long ponytails bouncing behind their heads. I tried to say excuse me, to move past them, but they couldn’t hear me. Impatient, I bit my lip and walked slowly behind them. Finally, I made it to the top. They headed toward the cardio machines, and I pressed open the door to the yoga room.
I spotted Christine already sitting on her mat. Her blond hair was pulled back into a perfectly coifed ponytail. Her eyes were bright and her lips were shiny. I smoothed down my unruly brown hair and licked my dry lips.
She waved me over with a large smile. “You made it.”
“Yep.” I dropped my mat and bag next to hers.
“I wasn’t sure. It’s been awhile.”
Shrugging, I sat down on my mat. “Been busy.”
“Oh, I totally get that.” She waved away my words with a flick of her slender wrist. “Maddie and Mason have had a bazillion activities lately. I’ve been running around town like a crazy person. I honestly feel like I’m going insane.”
“Sounds rough,” I muttered, slipping off my flip-flops. This was the problem with getting married and having a kid so young. Most of my friends were still raising families.
“I know, right? I can’t wait until they’re adults and I can do whatever I want.”
“Yeah, it’s the best,” I said sarcastically.
Her mouth dropped. “Oh, I’m sorry. I wasn’t talking about you…” Her pale cheeks turned pink. “I know how much you miss Aaron. It’s just…”
I shook my head and offered her a smile “Relax. I get it.”
Christine and I met years ago in a yoga class. She’s one of those women with almost no self-awareness. It’s what first drew to me to her. I loved how raw and real she was. Other people shied away from her, unable to handle her filter-less statements. But I found her refreshing and, honestly, pretty entertaining.
“I remember how insane it was when Aaron was younger,” I said. “One year he signed up for baseball and basketball. They overlapped for a bit, and I swear I was taking him to a game or practice like every day.”
“Yes!” Christine said excitedly, relief evident in her expression. “Sometimes it’s all just too much.”
“Yeah, sometimes it is,” I agreed.
The class was about to start and the room was filling up. It was mainly women, but there were some men. Most of them were with their wives or girlfriends. I’d tried getting Rafael to come with me before, but he laughed as if the idea was preposterous.
“Remember when there were only a few of us in this class?” Christine asked, her gaze sweeping the room.
I nodded, glancing around. There were so many new people I didn’t know. Not that I was surprised. Folsom had grown a lot in the ten years I’d lived here. New people moved here every day.
Staring at all the strangers crowding around us, I shivered, my thoughts drifting back to you. We hadn’t even met, and yet I felt like I knew you. We had the same name, the same gym, the same pediatrician for our child.
It felt like kismet. Fate had brought you here to me. I was certain of it.
But why?
Excerpted from When I Was You by Amber Garza, Copyright © 2020 by Amber Garza. Published by MIRA Books.
This is a perfect book to give as a gift to the Tween in your life! With each daily devotional, there is an excerpt from a chapter in Anne of Green Gables followed by the devotional, a personal application, Scripture and a prayer. It has everything that parents are looking for in a devotional and it links the life lessons that Anne learned to lessons that teens and tweens need to learn today. I loved how practical and easy to read it was! I also enjoyed the excerpts from the book that was a favorite from my own childhood. Also, each chapter has a beautiful illustration with it. I am definitely adding this book to my list of gifts for my granddaughters for Christmas or birthdays. I think that they would even enjoy reading a chapter of Anne of Green Gables along with the devotional, so it would be prefect for homeschoolers who are looking for a book to read together for literature. The uses are innumerable, and the book is a real treasure!
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.”
For me, this was a book that was difficult at times to stay focused on and to read for long periods of time. That is not to say that it was not a good book. It was a thought-provoking novel that made me think each day of what I had read and ponder its significance to the story and any insights into my own life. The story begins in the present and then goes back almost four decades to the past. Maeve and Murtagh met in Ireland when she was doing an internship in acting and he was a pottery student. The inevitable romance, marriage and motherhood follow, with a great deal of description of the setting and the characters. The author’s ability to help me to visualize the setting of the small island off the Irish coast where the Moone family settled and to empathize with the very deep feelings or each character was a definite strong point of the novel. The tragedy that falls on the family forces them to confront the dark days of the past and to decide to march forward into an unknown future. With themes of depression and the challenges of creating a family together, this novel seemed to wander aimlessly into the past, just as the family members did in their desperate search for a resolution to their hidden past. The story was extremely emotional, with waves of emotion coming from the pages at unexpected times. I cannot say that it was a lovely story because at times the truth was ugly, but the author treated all of the topics with sensitivity and an empathy that made me ponder the whole thing long after I turned the last page. Fans of contemporary fiction will enjoy this book but will want to take time to savor its message.
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.”
Inis Óg: 2005
Murtagh had woken that morning, once again, to an empty bed; the sheets were cool and unruffled on Maeve’s side. He had expected to find her sitting at the kitchen table, wrapped in her hound’s-tooth shawl, pale and thin in the darkness before dawn, a tangle of blue-black hair swept across her high forehead like a crow’s wet wing, her long, matted curls secured in a knot at the nape of her neck with one of her red pencils. He had anticipated how she would start when he appeared in the doorway. How he would ignore, as he always did, the few moments it would take for her dove-grey eyes to turn their focus outward. For the ghosts to leave her in his presence. The kettle would hiss and spit on the stove as he stood behind her wicker chair and rubbed warmth back into her arms, his voice jolly as he gently scolded her for lack of sleep and feigned nonchalance as to its cause.
But Maeve wasn’t sitting at the kitchen table.
Nor was she meditating on the stone step of the back door drinking milk straight from the glass bottle it was delivered in.
She wasn’t dozing on the living-room sofa, the television on but silent, an empty crystal tumbler tucked inside the pocket of her peacock-blue silk dressing gown, the one on which she had painstakingly embroidered a murmuration of starlings in the finest silver thread.
Instead, there was an empty space on the bannister where her coat should have been hanging.
Murtagh opened the front door and flinched at a swarm of spitting raindrops. The blistering wind mocked the threadbare cotton of his pyjamas. He bent his head into the onslaught and pushed forward, dragging the heavy scarlet door behind him. The brass knocker clanged against the wood; he flinched, hoping it had not woken the children. Shivering, he picked a route in his slippers around the muddy puddles spreading across the cobblestoned pathway. Leaning over the wrought-iron gate that separated their own familial island from the winding lane of the island proper, he scanned the dark horizon for a glimpse of Maeve in the faraway glow of a streetlamp.
In the distance, the sea and sky had melted into one anthracite mist, each indiscernible from the other. Sheep huddled together for comfort in Peadar Óg’s field, the waterlogged green that bordered the Moones’ land to the right; the plaintive baying of the animals sounded mournful. Murtagh nodded at them.
There was no sight of Maeve.
As he turned back towards the house he noticed Nollaig watching him from her bedroom window. The eldest daughter, she always seemed to witness the moments her parents had believed—hoped—were cloaked in invisibility, and then remained haunted by what she had seen. Ever since she was a toddler, Murtagh had monitored how her understanding grew, filling her up, and knew it would soon flood her eyes, always so questioning, permanently.
He waved at her as he blew back up the pathway. Later, he would feel the acute pain of finally recognising the prescience his daughter seemed to have absorbed from the womb.
‘How long is she gone?’
Nollaig was now standing before the hallway mirror, her face contorted as she vigorously tried to brush her frizzy mouse-brown hair into shape. She scraped it together into a tight ponytail that thrust from the back of her head as if it were a fox’s brush.
‘Ach, you should leave your gorgeous curls be, Noll,’ her father cajoled, ‘instead of fighting them.’
She smiled at him but slammed the mother-of-pearl hairbrush down on the sideboard.
‘I don’t have curls, I have Brillo pads,’ she sighed. ‘Did she say where she was going?’
Murtagh squeezed his daughter’s arm as he continued into the kitchen. ‘I’m sure your mother is just out for a walk. Happy birthday, love. Lá breithla shona duit.’
He placed a small copper saucepan of water on the range to boil and waved the invitation of an egg at his daughter. She nodded begrudgingly and curled into the green-and-gold striped armchair that sat in front of the stove.
‘With your white nightdress, you could almost pass for the Irish flag,’ he joked, and was gratified with her snort of glee.
He watched the clock hand count three minutes in silence. Expected any moment to hear his soaked wife splash through the door. He was poised, ready to run towards her with a towel and hushed reprimands for her careless wandering, but the boiling, cooling, cupping, cracking and spooning of each egg passed uninterrupted. Nollaig yawned, stretching her arms and legs before her in a stiff salute.
‘Why don’t you go back to bed for an hour?’ Murtagh asked. ‘We’ll all have proper breakfast together later.’
She eyed him with suspicion but acquiesced. ‘If Mam’s not back soon,’ she said, sidling away, ‘come and wake me. Promise? We’ll go out and find her. Remind her what day it is, for God’s sake.’
Murtagh nodded, ushered his daughter out of the kitchen and watched her climb the stairs.
Born on Christmas Eve, twenty years before, she was the only one of their children who came into the world via Galway maternity hospital and not into the impatient arms of Máire O’Dulaigh, the midwife of the island. She resented it; how it made her feel less of a true islander. What was more, the specialness of her own day for individual attention, her birth day, was irrevocably lost in the shared excitement of Christmas. In retrospect, it had been a mistake, perhaps, naming her Nollaig, the Irish for Christmas, and further compounding the association. No nickname had ever stuck, however. She wasn’t the sort of child who inspired others to claim her for their own with the intimacy of a given name.
‘Born ancient,’ her little sister, Sive, always said of her, with bored disdain.
And Murtagh sympathised. Nollaig carried the weight of being the eldest with pained perseverance, heavy responsibilities that were self-imposed. Her mother harboured a not always silent resentment of it, and it seemed only natural, if unfair, that Maeve and Sive gravitated more towards each other; the baby of the family shared her mother’s wit and wildness and often expressed the irritation her mother tried to hide at Nollaig’s sense of duty.
Excerpted from The Dazzling Truth by Helen Cullen, Copyright © 2020 by Helen Cullen.
Published by Graydon House Books
This is an excellent addition to the series but can most definitely be read as a standalone. The story of Sarah Denning and her exploits in Afghanistan had me on the edge of my seat from the very beginning. Her problems with her relationship with her father were extreme but didn’t seem too unrealistic to me. Her father is a general in the army in which Sarah serves as a military journalist, so there is a lot of inherent conflict right there. When she returns to the U.S., she has to be protected by her former boyfriend, Army Ranger Gavin Black, a hero in more ways than one. Sarah is caught up immediately in finding out the truth about her brother’s suicide and her partnership with her brother Caden and Gavin is crucial to the success of the story. I really enjoyed the fast-paced action and the never-ending struggle to discover the truth. This book has me absolutely mesmerized from beginning to end and I know that I would have finished it much faster if I had not had a visit with grandchildren in the middle. This was a book that I had trouble putting down to do the regular routine, like eat and sleep. It was so good that I really didn’t want it to end, although I could see as I looked at the pages that I was nearing the conclusion. Ms. Eason knows how to tell a story that kept me entertained and enthralled, especially since it included one hazardous scene after another. I love that this book is Christian fiction and is totally clean. No expletives, no steamy sex scenes. Just plain good reading!
Disclaimer
Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from Revell as part of the #RevellReadsBloggerProgram. 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.”
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