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.
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.”
A solid four stars based on entertainment value to me. I would rate the book a PG-13 because of the gory, graphically descriptive crime sceneswhich will not appeal to all readers.Author Bio: B.R. Spangler here. I’m a resident of Virginia along with my family, five cats, two birds, a hamster, and a lizard. During the day, I work as an engineer and spend my off hours writing, editing, and thinking up the next great story.
I split my time across pen names, writing crime thrillers, science fiction, horrors, paranormal and contemporary fiction.
Author Social Media Links: To keep up to date, sign up for his newsletter by copying and pasting this link into your browser: https://brspangler.com/sign-up/
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.”
Mostly clean read. Rating of PG.Photo from the author’s website at kaybratt.com
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.”
This is a mostly clean read that I would rate G.Photo is from the author’s website at maryellentaylor.com
Available TOMORROW but you can pre-order today! Purchase Links:
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.”
Four stars because of the slow build up at first, but once the action started, it never ended. I would probably rate it a PG-13due to the mature content and topic.WHEN I WAS YOU Author: Amber Garza ISBN: 9780778361046 Publication Date: August 25, 2020 Publisher: MIRA BooksBIO: Amber Garza has had a passion for the written word since she was a child making books out of notebook paper and staples. Her hobbies include reading and singing. Coffee and wine are her drinks of choice (not necessarily in that order). She writes while blaring music, and talks about her characters like they’re real people. She lives with her husband and two kids in Folsom, California, which is—no joke—home to another Amber Garza.
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?
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.”
If I could give this book a higher rating, I would! Best devotional gift book that I have found!
Available on November 1st! Perfect Christmas gift for the tween/teen in your life! Purchase Links:
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.”
Because of the mature subject matter included in the novel, I would rate this book a hard PG-13.Author Bio: HELEN CULLEN wrote her debut novel, The Lost Letters of William Woolf, while completing the Guardian/UEA novel writing program. She holds an MA in Theatre Studies from University College Dublin and is currently studying further at Brunel. Prior to writing full-time, Helen worked in journalism, broadcasting and most recently as a creative events and engagement specialist. Helen is Irish and currently lives in London. Social Links:Author Website Twitter: @WordsofHelen Instagram: @WordsofHelen Facebook: @WordsofHelen Goodreads
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.
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.”
The story of professor Corbin Beck and Samantha Alcorn is a sweet, warm romance. Everyone knows from the beginning where the story is headed, but it was so entertaining getting to the end. Of course, there was plenty of conflict between the two of them and drama with toddler Mikey. The story was not totally realistic, but it was a heartfelt story about addiction and the repercussions to your life and that of others. I enjoyed meeting all of the characters, especially Samantha. She was smart, smarter than she gave herself credit for, and so determined to help Mikey fit into Corbin’s life. Corbin was likable, but a little too stubborn and opinionated for me. Samantha had a lot of friends, most notably Hannah, and the promise at the end is that Hannah’s story will be next in the series. I’m looking forward to that one because Hannah is wise beyond her years and has already learned the secret to happiness, i.e. forgiveness. The author devotes about half a chapter to telling about how to be forgiven, but it fits seamlessly into the story, so it’s not like she is proselytizing. I enjoyed the book, found it to be a fast read and really liked how all of the characters flowed together to make one happy town. Fans of clean Christian romance will love this book and become a fan of this 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. 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.”
A clean romance that is suitable for all who enjoy love stories with a little conflict and a lot of interactions between the main characters.About LEE TOBIN McCLAIN: USA TODAY bestselling author Lee Tobin McClain watched Dr. Zhivago way too young and developed a lifelong passion for angsty romance. When she’s not writing, she’s probably FaceTiming with her college-age daughter, mediating battles between her goofy goldendoodle and her rescue cat, or teaching aspiring writers in Seton Hill University’s MFA program. She is probably not cleaning her house. For more about Lee, visit her website at www.leetobinmcclain.com.
Debra Webb’s latest suspense thriller is a blockbuster for sure! The story of Detectives Kerri Devlin and Falco is spun quickly into a web of deceit and twists that makes it hard to guess whodunit. Perfect read for fans of mystery and suspense! The thriller part comes in with the fast pace and the crimes that are committed against some of the most powerful and wealthy families in Birmingham, Alabama. I read several books at a time, but I have to say that this one was hard to put down. Kerri has a sub-plot involving her ex-husband and her rebellious teen daughter, so that made her life seem very realistic. The beginning is explosive and twists and turns around to bring you right back to where you started. Masterful plot! There were a lot of bad guys and I wasn’t convinced at times that the detectives would be able to solve the crime sprees and find the killers without getting hurt themselves. The case becomes real and personal to Kerri quickly, and Falco joins her in the quest to find the missing women before they are harmed. I loved this book! Best one yet by Debra Webb, and she really knows how to spin a good story. This one was so complex and well-written that I felt like I was actually in Birmingham and helping Kerri solve the crimes. Fans of mystery, suspense and thrillers will want to read this one and then maybe read it again to find the clues that they missed the first time. 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.”
Rated PG-13 for contentAuthor Link: Debra WebbAvailable TODAY!
Dr. Faith Finley is a renowned psychologist and is married to Liam, a famous food critic. Everything is good in her life until it isn’t. On her trip home after a book signing, Faith crashes the car and Liam disappears. The assumption is that she did something to him. Then she starts getting threats herself, photos of a woman bound and gagged with excerpts from her recent book. Faith seeks the help of her former boyfriend Will to protect her and to find out what happened to Liam and what is happening to her. Although this book stretches the realm of imagination, the author is brilliant in her depiction of Faith’s fear and all of the undercurrents of tension going on all at once. I don’t think I have read a book that kept my attention as well as this one did. I soared through the pages, wanting to know where Liam was, why Faith was being threatened and who could be trusted. Although the beginning was slow, the pace picked up quickly and raced to a stunning conclusion. Fans of psychological thrillers and suspense will enjoy this book. 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.”
Because of mature topics and references to violence, I would rate this book a strong PGAuthor Bio: Seraphina Nova Glass is a professor and Playwright-in-Residence at the University of Texas-Arlington, where she teaches Film Studies and Playwriting. She holds an MFA in playwriting from Smith College, and has optioned multiple screenplays to Hallmark and Lifetime. Someone’s Listening is her first novel.
WHEN I WAKE UP, IT’S BLACK AND STILL; I FEEL A light, icy snow that floats rather than falls, and I can’t open my eyes. I don’t know where I am, but it’s so quiet, the silence rings in my ears. My fingertips try to grip the ground, but I feel only a sheet of ice beneath me, splintered with bits of embedded gravel. The air is sharp, and I try to call for him, but I can’t speak. How long have I been here? I drift back out of consciousness. The next time I wake, I hear the crunching of ice under the boots of EMTs who rush around my body. I know where I am. I’m lying in the middle of County Road 6. There has been a crash. There’s a swirling red light, a strobe light in the vast blackness: they tell me not to move. “Where’s my husband?” I whimper. They tell me to try not to talk either. “Liam!” I try to yell for him, but it barely escapes my lips; they’re numb, near frozen, and it comes out in a hoarse whisper. How has this happened? I think of the party and how I hate driving at night, and how I was careful not to drink too much. I nursed a glass or two, stayed in control. Liam had a lot more. It wasn’t like him to get loaded, and I knew it was his way of getting back at me. He was irritated with me, with the position I’d put him in, even though he had never said it in so many words. I wanted to please him because this whole horrible situation was my fault, and I was sorry. When I wake up again I’m in a hospital room, connected to tubes and machines. The IV needle is stuck into a bruised, purple vein in the back of my hand that aches. In the dim light, I sip juice from a tiny plastic cup, and the soft beep of the EKG tries to lull me back to sleep, but I fight it. I want answers. I need to appear stabilized and alert. Another dose of painkiller is released into my IV; the momentary euphoria forces me to heave a sigh. I need to keep my eyes open. I can hear the cops arrive and talk to someone at a desk outside my door. They’ll tell me what happened. There’s a nurse who calls me “sweetie” and changes the subject when I ask about the accident. She gives the cops a sideways look when they come in to talk to me, and tells them they only have a few minutes and that I need to rest. Detective John Sterling greets me with a soft “Hello, ma’am.” I almost forget about my shattered femur and groan after I move too quickly. Another officer lingers by the door, a tall, stern-looking woman with her light hair pulled into a tight bun at the base of her skull. She tells me I’m lucky to be alive, and if it had dropped below freezing, I wouldn’t have lasted those couple hours before a passing car stopped and called 911. I ask where Liam is, but she just looks to Sterling. Something is terribly wrong. “Why won’t anyone tell me what happened to him?” I plead. I watch Detective Sterling as he picks his way through a response. “The nurse tells me that you believe he was in the car with you at the time of the accident,” he says. I can hear the condescension in his voice. He’s speaking to me like I’m a child. “They said ‘I believe’ he was? That’s not a— That’s a fact. We came from a party—a book signing party. Anyone, anyone can tell you that he was with me. Please. Is he hurt?” I look down at my body for the first time and see the jagged stitches holding together the bruised flesh of my right arm. They look exaggerated, like the kind you might draw on with makeup and glue for a Halloween costume. I close my eyes, holding back nausea. I try to walk through the series of events—trying to piece together what happened and when. Liam had been quiet in the car. I knew he’d believed me after the accusations started. I knew he trusted me, but maybe I’d underestimated the seeds of doubt that had been planted in his mind. I tried to lighten the mood when we got in the car by making some joke about the fourteen-dollar domestic beers; he’d given a weak chuckle and rested his head on the passenger window. The detective looks at me with something resembling sympathy but closer to pity. “Do you recall how much you had to drink last night?” he asks accusingly. “What? You think…? No. I drove because he… No! Where is he?” I ask, not recognizing my own voice. It’s haggard and raw. “Do you recall taking anything to help you relax? Anything that might impair your driving?” “No,” I snap, nearly in tears again. “So, you didn’t take any benzodiazepine maybe? Yesterday…at some point?” “No— I— Please.” I choke back tears. “I don’t…” He looks at me pointedly, then scribbles something on his stupid notepad. I didn’t know what to say. Liam must be dead, and they think I’m too fragile to take the news. Why would they ask me this? “Ma’am,” he says, standing. He softens his tone. This is it. He’s going to tell me something I’ll never recover from. “You were the only one in the car when medics got there,” he says, studying me for my response, waiting to detect a lie that he can use against me later. His patronizing look infuriates me. “What?” The blood thumps in my ears. They think I’m crazy; that soft tone isn’t a sympathetic one reserved for delivery of the news that a loved one has died—it’s the careful language chosen when speaking to someone unstable. They think I’m some addict or a drunk. Maybe they think the impact had made me lose the details, but he was there. I swear to God. His cry came too late and there was a crash. It was deafening, and I saw him reach for me, his face distorted in terror. He tried to shield me. He was there. He was next to me, screaming my name when we saw the truck headlights appear only feet in front of us—too late.
