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 book had me mesmerized from beginning to end, trying to guess what had happened to Becky and why Wylie was staying away from her son Seth. Beginning with Josie and Becky, tweens who are best friends and who are caught in the crossfire of the brutal murder of Josie’s family members. Josie escapes and Becky disappears, never to be seen again. The dual timeline mystified me for a few chapters, but I caught on quickly and the italics for the scenes with the a woman and her young daughter helped tremendously. The characters were well-developed but also cloaked in mystery. There was an atmosphere of impending doom throughout the book that kept me engaged and waiting for the Twilight Zone theme song to start playing. The plot was one that was difficult to read at times because of the violence and abuse that were portrayed, but the realism drew me back to the pages time and time again. I thoroughly enjoyed this book and think that it may be one of the best psychological thrillers/domestic suspense that I have ever read. The slow unraveling of the truth was an added bonus to a story that was well written and completely absorbing. Read this book and be prepared to be amazed at the reveals and the ending! 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.”
Caution: Mature audiences because the violence is realistically graphicAuthor Bio: Heather Gudenkauf is the critically acclaimed author of several novels, including the New York Times bestseller The Weight of Silence. She lives in Iowa with her husband and children. Social Links: Author Website Instagram: @heathergudenkauf Twitter: @hgudenkauf Facebook: @HeatherGudenkaufAuthor Goodreads
EXCERPT:
Three
“Maybe we can go outside and play?” the girl said as she peeked around the edge of the heavy curtain that covered the window. The sky was gray and soft drops of rain tapped at the glass.
“Not today,” her mother said. “It’s raining and we’d melt.”
The girl gave a little laugh and then hopped off the chair she had dragged beneath the window. She knew her mother was teasing. They wouldn’t actually melt if they went out in the rain, but still, it made her shiver thinking about it—stepping outside and feeling the plop of water on your skin and watching it melt away like an ice cube.
Instead, the girl and her mother spent the morning at the card table cutting pink, purple, and green egg shapes from construction paper and embellishing them with polka dots and stripes.
On one oval, her mother drew eyes and a pointy little orange beak. Her mother laid the girl’s hands on a piece of yellow paper and traced around them using a pencil. “Watch,” she said as she cut out the handprints and then glued them to the back of one of the ovals.
“It’s a bird,” the girl said with delight.
“An Easter chick,” her mother said. “I made these when I was your age.”
Together, they carefully taped the eggs and chicks and bunny rab-bits they created to the cement walls, giving the dim room a festive, springy look. “There, now we’re ready for the Easter Bunny,” her mother said with triumph.
That night, when the girl climbed into bed, the butterflies in her stomach kept chasing sleep away. “Stay still,” her mother kept re-minding her. “You’ll fall asleep faster.”
The girl didn’t think that was true, but then she opened her eyes, a sliver of bright sunshine was peeking around the shade, and the girl knew that morning had finally arrived.
She leaped from bed to find her mother already at the tiny round table where they ate their meals. “Did he come?” the girl asked, tucking her long brown hair behind her ears.
“Of course he did,” her mother said, holding out a basket woven together from strips of colored paper. It was small, fitting into the palm of the girl’s hand, but sweet. Inside were little bits of green paper that were cut to look like grass. On top of this was a pack of cinnamon gum and two watermelon Jolly Ranchers.
The girl smiled though disappointment surged through her. She’d been hoping for a chocolate bunny or one of those candy eggs that oozed yellow when you broke it open.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Thank the Easter Bunny,” her mother said.
“Thank you, Easter Bunny,” the girl crowed like the child on the candy commercials that she’d seen on television. They both laughed.
They each unwrapped a piece of gum and spent the morning making up stories about the paper chicks and bunnies they made.
When the girl’s gum lost its flavor, and she had slowly licked one of the Jolly Ranchers into a sharp flat disc, the door at the top of the steps opened, and her father came down the stairs toward them. He was carrying a plastic bag and a six-pack of beer. Her mother gave the girl a look. The one that said, go on now, mom and dad need some alone time. Obediently, the girl, taking her Easter basket, went to her spot beneath the window and sat in the narrow beam of warm light that fell across the floor. Facing the wall, she unwrapped another piece of gum and poked it into her mouth and tried to ignore the squeak of the bed and her father’s sighs and grunts.
“You can turn around now,” her mother finally said. The girl sprang up from her spot on the floor.
The girl heard the water running in the bathroom, and her father poked his head out of the door. “Happy Easter,” he said with a grin. “The Easter Bunny wanted me to give you a little something.”
The girl looked at the kitchen table where the plastic bag sat. Then she slid her eyes to her mother, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing her wrist, eyes red and wet. Her mother nodded.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
Later, after her father climbed the steps and locked the door behind him, the girl went to the table and looked inside the plastic bag. In-side was a chocolate bunny with staring blue eyes. He was holding a carrot and wore a yellow bowtie.
“Go ahead,” her mother told the girl as she held an ice pack to her wrist. “When I was little, I always started with the ears.”
“I don’t think I’m very hungry,” the girl said, returning the box to the table.
“It’s okay,” her mother said gently. “You can eat it. It’s from the Easter Bunny, not your dad.”
The girl considered this. She took a little nibble from the bunny’s ear and sweet chocolate flooded her mouth. She took another bite and then another. She held out the rabbit to her mother and she bit off the remaining ear in one big bite. They laughed and took turns eating until all that was left was the bunny’s chocolate tail.
“Close your eyes and open your mouth,” her mother said. The girl complied and felt her mother place the remaining bit on her tongue and then kiss her on the nose. “Happy Easter,” her mother whispered.
This is the perfect ending to a totally absorbing series about CIA agents forced to go rogue when they are suspected of treason. Hunter Wright is the leader of the Topaz unit and feels responsible for the fact that they are being hunted down by a kill squad. In this last book of the series, Hunter decides to take the fight back to the home turf of the CIA and confront his team manager, Kelly Russell, the woman he is more than a little attracted to and the one whom he suspects of betraying and setting up the team. The action is non-stop and fast-paced, with bombs, mercenaries with high power rifles and subterfuge on the highest levels of the spy agencies of the U.S. I was able to figure out who the real villain was, but not until very close to the end. The suspense was riveting and built from chapter to chapter, with the entire team involved in a life or death struggle against an unknown enemy. There were some really steamy bedroom scenes, but I just skimmed those since they neither added nor detracted from the story for me. I enjoyed the fact that there was romance in the midst of all of the danger and that realistic details about the characters were part of the story. With three-dimensional characters and a plot that was engaging, this book is one not to be missed. It is the last book in the series, but it can be read as a standalone. Disclaimer Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the author via Book Funnel. 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 book, but I did skim over super-steamy bedroom scenes, so I would rate this a hard PG-13. About JUNO RUSHDAN: Juno Rushdan draws from real-life inspiration as a former U.S. Air Force Intelligence Officer to craft sizzling romantic thrillers. However, you won’t find any classified leaks here. Her stories are pure fiction about kick-ass heroes and strong heroines fighting for their lives as well as their happily-ever-after.
What a fun and uplifting book to read! Grace Travis is an interior designer, about to graduate while she juggles a lot of part-time jobs. Her new neighbor, wealthy real estate developed Noah Jansen is determined to purchase her house in order to extend his holdings, but he has met his match in Grace. The repartee and interaction between these two was thoroughly amusing and captivating, holding my attention for hours at a time as I mentally gave Grace advice on how to beat Noah at his own game. There were so many laugh aloud scenes, especially the one with the flower pots. I cannot ever remember enjoying a rom-com more and can only imagine this becoming a TV series. It would definitely be a good one! Told with wit and more than a little bit of understanding for emotional conflicts, this story is one to remember and read again whenever I need a laugh. The characters were realistic and quirky, strange in all of the good ways that made me smile at their antics. The plot rolled along at a good pace and although it was predictable, the surprises that were thrown in made the book thoroughly enjoyable from beginning to end. Disclaimer Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher via Netgalley. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255, “Guides Concerning the Use of Testimonials and Endorsements in Advertising.”
With extra-marital sex among various couples, I would rate this book a definite PG-13.Info from the author’s website at http://www.sophiesullivanauthor.com
What an intriguing, captivating way to write a novel! Told via emails and what’s app messages between the characters, this is a whodunit murder mystery without equal. The main characters are many, but throughout the book, I felt like I got to know them well as they revealed things about themselves and each other via their correspondence. Thus, in a very creative way, the characters were fully developed and the plot raced to a stunning conclusion. I was guessing all the way through about who would die and who would be responsible, and I must admit I kept guessing incorrectly. I really enjoyed the riddles established by the investigator, with people not being who they seemed and one person not existing. Wow! Mind-blowing and so totally engaging! I could not get through this book fast enough to satisfy my own curiosity and since this is a debut novel, I sincerely look forward to more from this author. The winning combination of mystery and deep revelations of character was a perfect way to entice me to keep reading until the very end. It was like reading an Agatha Christie novel in epistolary form, so good and such a welcome respite from the same mysteries that I usually read. Loved it and highly recommend it to mystery lovers everywhere! 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 mystery with a twist since it is told in epistolary form. I would rate it PG because of the murder, but there is nographic violence described nor expletives used.
Information about the author can be found at Sheiland. She is a British author and this is her debut novel. Promises to be a real blockbuster and has already been optioned for a TV series.
Available on January 25th at your favorite bookstore. Here are some links to help you find this delicious murder mystery:
I have read every book by this author and I think this is my favorite so far. It is a heart-touching story of friendship, forgiveness and redemption. It is also a journey of self-exploration for the protagonist, Kendra Brennan. Kendra has always dreamed of being an author, so when she publishes her first book, she is excited beyond belief. That excitement is brought to a screeching halt when she receives a letter at her apartment signed from “A Very Disappointed Reader.” So Kendra returns to her grandfather’s cabin on Hidden Lake, the place that she is sure the letter originated because she wants to confront the writer who stole her joy. In her stay there, she discovers hard truths about her friends Cami and Tyler and their parents. She also meets the translator for her new book, a German American named Andreas, a man with a good sense of humor and of himself. Finding out more about Cami and Tyler is central to the story and helps Kendra explore her own feelings and how they have shaped her writing. I thoroughly enjoyed this book and all of its nuances, as the story meandered down the road of self-discovery and acceptance of the past. The plot was somewhat complicated and woven like a spider’s web, intricate and multi-layered. The characters fairly jumped off the page into my mind, drawing me to read more about their lives and their relationships together. The story is sad at times and uplifting at others, with an underlying theme that God can redeem even the worst circumstances and that He understands why we have become the people that we are today. I highly recommend this book for all who enjoy good Christian fiction with lessons to teach and relationships to discover. Disclaimer Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the Revell Reads Blogger Tour via Netgalley. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255, “Guides Concerning the Use of Testimonials and Endorsements in Advertising.”
Rated PG-13 because of mature contentPhoto and Bio are from the author’s website at https://erinbartels.com. ERIN BARTELS is the award-winning author of We Hope for Better Things, The Words between Us, All That We Carried, and The Girl Who Could Breathe Under Water. Her short story “This Elegant Ruin” was a finalist in The Saturday Evening Post 2014 Great American Fiction Contest and her poetry has been published by The Lyric. 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.
Available Now where ever books are sold. Here are purchase links for your convenience:
This book is one that needs to be read by all evangelical Christians because it is a warning and a call to action. The warning is that a tsunami is coming our way, preceded of course by earthquakes like the sexual revolution and acceptance of the LGBTQ lifestyle. The author does a masterful job of explaining how our culture got where it is today and then gives succinct and practical advice about how Christians should be reacting to the new culture. The book was fast-paced and relevant, making it a book that all pastors, lay leaders and evangelicals should read. When I first started reading, I was concerned that only the problems with the current culture would be portrayed, but I was proven wrong as the author offered so many solutions to what is happening and what we can do to stop the tsunami from overtaking us. The whole theme is that it’s never too late for God to work, so in faith, we need to go forward and represent Him here on earth. The research was well done and provoked many thoughtful discussions between me and my husband. I highly recommend it for church study groups to tackle and discuss how they will plan to face “The Coming Tsunami.” Disclaimer Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the author as part of his launch team. 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.”
Non-fiction andrecommended for all Christians who are seeking solutions to the culture wars being mounted against evangelical Christians Bio and photo from http://www.denisonministries.org
I hope that you are as excited about getting your hands on this book as I was! A practical guide to overcome the culture wars that are targeting Christians, this book is not to be missed!
The story of Torie Bergstrom’s determination to discover the truth about what happened to her best friend Lisbeth was a compelling read, with a sub-plot of a romance developing between Torie and sea lion trainer Joe. Torie is an heiress to a hotel empire and takes her responsibilities seriously, including solving the mystery of her friend’s death. With the help of Joe and local state trooper Craig, Torie follows the clues and inevitably winds up endangered herself. The plot is somewhat complicated because the resort on Jekyll Island is the site for an important meeting with the Federal Reserve and someone nefarious seems to be targeting the participants. I thoroughly enjoyed the details of the setting and the behind-the scenes look at the resort. It was obvious that the author had done her research! The romance between Joe and Torie was well-paced and realistic, with Joe’s concern for his daughter Hailey overriding any romantic feelings he might have for Torie. With three-dimensional characterization and a storyline that was original and absorbing, this book held me enthralled and even giving advice to the characters. The ending seemed rushed to me, but I think that was because I did not want the story to end. I could continue reading about Torie’s adventures and her quest for truth and justice for a long time to come. The story was just that good and the characters were just that likable. Of course, there were villains who were despicable, portrayed just as they should have been. All in all, this is a winning book in the romantic suspense genre and fans of good, clean Christian fiction will cheer at the ending and applaud a well-written 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.”
This is a pulse-racing, breath-holding suspense thriller with two strong protagonists. Penny Carlton is a helicopter pilot and EMT who has a deep attraction to FBI agent Holt Satterfield. Their attraction to each other has to be put on hold when Holt has to capture an escaped serial killer who seems to be targeting him and Penny. There are some twists and some really intense moments in the plot, so it was an absorbing book to read. I really enjoyed that the characters were totally fleshed out, including their family connections and their past mistakes. With a theme of forgiveness and family and hope for the future, this first book in a new series holds the promise for many more hours of mesmerizing entertainment and more than a few pounds of my heart. I highly recommend this book to anyone who enjoys to be engaged in a life or death struggle against a wily foe. Disclaimer Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from The Revell Reads Blogger Tour. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255, “Guides Concerning the Use of Testimonials and Endorsements in Advertising.”
This is a clean Christian read with some intense plot elements.Information about the author and her other books can be found at http://www.lynetteeason.com
This was a fast-paced book with non-stop revelations about the characters and the events that entangled their lives. Thea is an English professor and a mom and her husband Jep is a coach at a local college. Their son Stefan, an only and much beloved child, is arrested and imprisoned for killing his girlfriend Belinda when he was under the influence of drugs. The book begins when Stefan is released from prison and the family has to deal with society’s outrage at his actions and at his release. The book focuses mostly on Thea and her coming to terms with Stefan’s felony, with snippets into Jep’s happy-go-lucky attitude as he basically continues his life unscathed by the scandal. Stefan has to re-invent his life and come up with a new plan for his future since he is not really accepted anywhere for employment. I thought the creativity of what he decides to do was amazing and fit right into the storyline. The plot flowed seamlessly between the characters, showing the heartbreak of Thea as well as that of Jill, Belinda’s mom. There are so many layers to this story that it is hard to touch on them all without spoilers, but I will say that it is one of the best family dramas that I have ever read. The characterization is as complex as the characters and totally fleshed out. The mystery of the character of Esme is a theme throughout the book that enticed me to continue to read late into the evening. Esme seems to know a secret about Belinda’s death and teases Thea with it, but she won’t share what she knows with anyone. The ending was somewhat of a surprise, although there were plenty of clues that led me to guess part of what would happen. The twists are numerous as well and kept me engaged in the saga of a young man trying to overcome insurmountable obstacles. Fans of the author and domestic suspense will devour this new book and cheer for the characters who become like family members that I personally knew as I read. 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 would rate this book a hard PG-13, not because of sexual contentor language, but because of content that can be definite triggers for those who have been abused physically and/or emotionally. There is a homosexual relationship referenced in the book, but there are no descriptions of the relationship itself. Author Bio: #1 New York Times bestselling author Jacquelyn Mitchard has written nine previous novels for adults; six young adult novels; four children’s books; a memoir, Mother Less Child; and a collection of essays, The Rest of Us: Dispatches from the Mother Ship. Her first novel, The Deep End of the Ocean, was the inaugural selection of the Oprah Winfrey Book Club, and later adapted for a feature film. Mitchard is a frequent lecturer and a professor of fiction and creative nonfiction at Vermont College of Fine Arts in Montpelier. She lives on Cape Cod with her husband and their nine children. SOCIAL LINKS: Author Website Facebook: Jacquelyn Mitchard Twitter: @JackieMitchard Instagram: @jacquelynmitchard Goodreads
Excerpt:
1
I was picking my son up at the prison gates when I spotted the mother of the girl he had murdered.
Two independent clauses, ten words each, joined by an adverb, made up entirely of words that would once have been unimaginable to think, much less say.
She pulled in—not next to me, but four spaces over—in the half circle of fifteen-minute spots directly in front of the main building. It was not where Stefan would walk out. That would be over at the gatehouse. She got out of her car, and for a moment I thought she would come toward me. I wanted to talk to her, to offer something, to reach out and hold her, for we had not even been able to attend Belinda’s funeral. But what would I say? What would she? This was an unwonted crease in an already unaccustomed day. I slid deep into my down coat, and wished I could lock the car doors, although I feared that the sound would crack the predawn darkness like a rifle shot. All that Jill McCormack did, however, was shove her hands into the pockets of her jacket and lean against the back bumper of her car. She wore the heavy maroon leather varsity jacket that her daughter Belinda, captain of the high school cheer team in senior year, had given to her, to Stefan, and to me, with our names embroidered in gold on the back, just like hers.
I hadn’t seen Jill McCormack up close for years, though she lived literally around the corner. Once, I used to stop there to sit on her porch, but now I avoided even driving past the place.
Jill seemed smaller, diminished, the tumult of ash-blond hair I remembered cropped short and seemingly mostly white, though I knew she was young when Belinda was born, and now couldn’t be much past forty. Yet, even just to stand in the watery, slow-rising light in front of a prison, she was tossed together fashionably, in gold-colored jeans and boots, with a black turtleneck, a look I would have had to plan for days. She looked right at my car, but gave no sign that she recognized it, though she’d been in it dozens of times years ago. Once she had even changed her clothes in my car. I remember how I stood outside it holding a blanket up over the windows as she peeled off a soaking-wet, floor-length, jonquil-yellow crystal-beaded evening gown that must, at that point, have weighed about thirty pounds, then slipped into a clean football warm-up kit. After she changed, we linked arms with my husband and we all went to a ball.
But I would not think of that now.
I had spent years assiduously not thinking of any of that.
A friendship, like a crime, is not one thing, or even two people. It’s two people and their shared environs and their histories, their common memories, their words, their weaknesses and fears, their virtues and vanities, and sometimes their shame.
Jill was not my closest friend. Some craven times, I blessed myself with that—at least I was spared that. There had always been Julie, since fifth grade my heart, my sharer. But Jill was my good friend. We had been soccer moms together, and walking buddies, although Jill’s swift, balanced walk was my jog. I once kept Belinda at my house while Jill went to the bedside of her beloved father who’d suffered a stroke, just as she kept Stefan at her house with Belinda when they were seven and both had chicken pox, which somehow neither I nor my husband, Jep, ever caught. And on the hot night of that fundraising ball for the zoo, so long ago, she had saved Stefan’s life.
Since Jill was a widow when we first met, recently arrived in the Midwest from her native North Carolina, I was always talking her into coming to events with Jep and me, introducing her to single guys who immediately turned out to be hopeless. That hot evening, along with the babysitter, the two kids raced toward the new pool, wildly decorated with flashing green lights, vines and temporary waterfalls for a “night jungle swim.” Suddenly, the sitter screamed. When Jill was growing up, she had been state champion in the 200-meter backstroke before her devout parents implored her to switch to the more modest sport of golf, and Belinda, at five, was already a proficient swimmer. My Stefan, on the other hand, sank to the bottom like a rock and never came up. Jill didn’t stop to ask questions. Kicking off her gold sandals, in she went, an elegant flat race dive that barely creased the surface; seconds later she hauled up a gasping Stefan. Stefan owed his life to her as surely as Belinda owed her death to Stefan.
In seconds, life reverses.
Jill and I once talked every week. It even seemed we once might have been machatunim, as they say in Yiddish, parents joined by the marriage of their son and daughter. Now, the circumstances under which we might ever exchange a single word seemed as distant as the bony hood of moon above us in the melting darkness.
What did she want here now? Would she leave once Stefan came through the gates? In fact, she left before that. She got back into her car, and, looking straight ahead, drove off.
I watched until her car was out of sight.
Just after dawn, a guard walked Stefan to the edge of the enclosure. I looked up at the razor wire. Then, opening the window slightly, I heard the guard say, “Do good, kid. I hope I never see you again.” Stefan stepped out, and then put his palm up to a sky that had just begun to spit snow. He was twenty, and he had served two years, nine months and three days of a five-year sentence, one year of which the judge had suspended, noting Stefan’s unblemished record. Still, it seemed like a week; it seemed like my entire life; it seemed like a length of time too paltry for the monstrous thing he had done. I could not help but reckon it this way: For each of the sixty or seventy years Belinda would have had left to live, Stefan spent only a week behind bars, not even a season. No matter how much he despaired, he could always see the end. Was I grateful? Was I ashamed? I was both. Yet relief rippled through me like the sweet breeze that stirs the curtains on a summer night.
I got out and walked over to my son. I reached up and put my hand on his head. I said, “My kid.”
Stefan placed his huge warm palm on the top of my head. “My mom,” he said. It was an old ritual, a thing I would not have dared to do in the prison visiting room. My eyes stung with curated tears. Then I glanced around me, furtively. Was I still permitted such tender old deeds? This new universe was not showing its hand. “I can stand here as long as I want,” he said, shivering in wonderment. Then he said, “Where’s Dad?”
“He told you about it. He had to see that kid in Louisville one more time,” I told him reluctantly. “The running back with the very protective grandmother. He couldn’t get out of it. But he cut it short and he’ll be home when we get back, if he beats the weather out of Kentucky this morning, that is.” Jep was in only his second season as football coach at the University of Wisconsin–Whitewater, a Division II team with significant chops and national esteem. We didn’t really think he would get the job, given our troubles, but the athletic director had watched Jep’s career and believed deeply in his integrity. Now he was never at rest: His postseason recruiting trips webbed the country. Yet it was also true that while Stefan’s father longed equally for his son to be free, if Jep had been able to summon the words to tell the people who mattered that he wanted to skip this trip altogether, he would have. But he couldn’t quite bring himself to say it’s a big day, our son’s getting out of prison.
Now, it seemed important to hurry Stefan to the car, to get out of there before this new universe recanted. We had a long drive back from Black Creek, where the ironically named Belle Colline Correctional Facility squatted not far from the campus of the University of Wisconsin–Black Creek. Stefan’s terrible journey had taken him from college to prison, a distance of just two miles as the crow flies. I felt like the guard: I never wanted to see the place again. I had no time to think about Jill or anything else except the weather. We’d hoped that the early-daylight release would keep protestors away from the prison gates, and that seemed to have worked: Prisoners usually didn’t walk out until just before midday. There was not a single reporter here, which surprised me as Jill was tireless in keeping her daughter Belinda’s death a national story, a symbol for young women in abusive relationships. Many of the half dozen or so stalwarts who still picketed in front of our house nearly every day were local college and high-school girls, passionate about Jill’s work. As Stefan’s release grew near, their numbers rose, even as the outdoor temperatures fell. A few news organizations put in appearances again lately as well. I knew they would be on alert today and was hoping we could beat some of the attention by getting back home early. In the meantime, a snowstorm was in the forecast: I never minded driving in snow, but the air smelled of water running over iron ore—a smell that always portended worse weather.
This was abook that was hard to put down because of all of the emotions involved in the story of a mom with a son who is a felon. It hooked me from the beginning and kept me readingto find out what would happen to each of the characters whose lives were destroyed by the death of one young girl.
Since I am a huge fan of this author, I expected nothing less than perfection from her for a murder mystery, and I was certainly not disappointed. The plot was complicated mixed with the simple premise that a girl from Northern Arizona University was murdered and her killer was still on the loose, a homeless man who had been seen on campus before Candace disappeared and then ended up dead. Lucas Vega, a forensics student on campus, is doing a final “Capstone” project on Candace’s disappearance and death, hoping to use crowdsourcing as a means to find out what happened to her before she was killed and why she ended up dead. The clues are forthright and easy to follow, but the mystery itself was complex as bodies continue to pile up. When Lucas seeks the help of former U.S. Marshal Regan Merritt, the action ramped up as did the danger to those seeking the truth. There were a lot of themes in the book, most importantly one of friendship and being careful whom you choose to be your friends. There were also sub-themes of compassion and closure for families suffering loss as well as grief over lost loved ones. This was a deep book that had me engrossed from beginning to end, captured by the realistic characters and their quest for justice. I particularly enjoyed the character of Regan, as she is multi-layered and trying to find where she belongs now that she has quit the Marshal service. I also liked the way the story unfolded gradually, with plenty of mystery and mayhem happening along the way. All in all, this was my favorite mystery that I have read this year and it will be hard (if not impossible) to top it! 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 would rate this a hard PG-13 because of content, including violence, even though it is not graphically described. There are some triggers for sensitive people who have been abused or bullied. ABOUT THE AUTHOR: ALLISON BRENNAN is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of over thirty novels. She has been nominated for Best Paperback Original Thriller by International Thriller Writers and the Daphne du Maurier Award. A former consultant in the California State Legislature, Allison lives in Arizona with her husband, five kids and assorted pets. The Sorority Murder is the first of a new mass market series,
Candace Swain forced a smile as she walked out of her dorm room.
Smiling was the last thing she wanted to do, but Candace had an image to uphold.
She was going to be late for the Sigma Rho Spring Fling—the last big party before the end-of-year crunch. Studying for finals, capstones and senior projects, stress and more stress, and—for some of them—graduation.
The mild April weather was perfect for an outdoor gathering. Candace had led the sorority’s social-events committee with setup, and they’d included heat lamps along the perimeter. The Mountain View dorm—which housed all campus sororities, each with their own wing—was on the northeast corner of campus, adjacent to the football field. The Spring Fling was held on the large lawn that framed the north entrance, where they had the most room. It was open to all students for a five-dollar admission, and was one of the biggest moneymakers for the sorority, more than charities. Candace had fought for—and won—giving the profits to a rescue mission that helped people get back on their feet. She volunteered weekly for Sunrise Center, and it had changed how she viewed herself and her future. She now planned to be a nurse in the inner city, working for a clinic or public hospital, where people deserved quality health care, even if they were struggling. She even considered specializing in drug and alcohol issues, which were unfortunately prevalent among the homeless community.
She used to think of her volunteerism as penance for her failings. She wasn’t religious but had had enough preaching from her devout grandmother to have absorbed things like guilt, penance, sacrifice. Now, she looked forward to Tuesdays when she gave six hours of her time to those who were far worse off than she. It reminded her to be grateful for what she had, that things could be worse.
Candace exited through the north doors and stood at the top of the short flight of stairs that led to the main lawn. Though still early in the evening, the party was already hopping. Music played from all corners of the yard, the din of voices and laughter mingling with a popular song. In the dusk, the towering mountains to the north were etched in fading light. She breathed deeply. She loved everything about Flagstaff. The green mountains filled with pine and juniper. The crisp, fresh air. The sense of community and belonging felt so natural here, something she’d never had growing up in Colorado Springs. With graduation on the horizon, she had been feeling a sense of loss, knowing she was going to miss this special place.
She wasn’t close to her parents, who divorced right before she started high school and still fought as much as they did when they were married. She desperately missed her younger sister, Chrissy, a freshman at the University of South Carolina. She’d wanted Chrissy to come here for college, but Chrissy was a champion swimmer and had received a full scholarship to study practically a world away. Candace had no plans to return to Colorado Springs, but she didn’t know if she wanted to follow her sister to the East Coast or head down to Phoenix where they had some of the best job opportunities for what she wanted to do.
Vicky Ryan, a first year student who had aspirations of leadership, ran up to her.
“That weirdo is back,” Vicky said quietly. “Near the west steps. Just loitering there, freaking people out. Should I call campus police?”
Candace frowned. The man Vicky was referring to was Joseph, and he wasn’t really a weirdo. He was an alcoholic, and mostly homeless, who sometimes wandered onto campus and wouldn’t accept the help he had been repeatedly offered. He wasn’t violent, just confused, and sometimes got lost in his own head, largely from how alcohol had messed with his mind and body. But his problems understandably made her sorority sisters uncomfortable. He’d twice been caught urinating against the wall outside their dorm; both times, he’d been cited by campus police. He wasn’t supposed to be on campus at all anymore, and Candace knew they’d arrest him if he was caught.
“I’ll take care of it,” Candace said and made her way around the edge of the party.
She found Joseph on the narrow grassy knoll that separated the football field from the dorms. A small group of students approached her, but one in their group turned toward the grass, likely to confront Joseph.
Candace walked faster, caught up with the student, and smiled brightly. “I got this.”
“It’s okay,” he said. “I’ll handle him.”
“I said I will take care of this. I know him. But thank you anyway.”
Mr. Macho didn’t want to walk away, yet Candace stood firm. She didn’t want anyone to harass Joseph, and she knew he would listen to her. While he wasn’t violent, he could be belligerent, and being confronted by a jerk wanting to impress his girlfriend was a surefire way to trigger Joseph and have him dig in his heels. It would only lead to an arrest, and that wasn’t going to help him in the long run.
The group walked off, grumbling; Candace ignored them. She approached Joseph cautiously, so as not to startle him. “Joseph, it’s Candace,” she said. “Remember me? From Sunrise Center?”
He turned slowly at the sound of her voice. A tall man, nearly six foot four, he could intimidate people. But he was also skinny and hunched over from years of walking the streets and looking down, rummaging through garbage, with his hangdog face, ragged salt-and-pepper beard, and watery blue eyes. He was the kind of guy her grandmother would have called a bum—dressed in multiple layers of dirty, mismatched clothes, and smelling of dirt and stale beer. He looked about sixty, but she knew that he was only in his early forties. She’d heard he’d been living along Route 66 for the better part of ten years. The people who ran Sunrise Center didn’t know much about his personal life, only that when he was sober (which was rare), he would talk about home being east, at the “end of the line.” But no one knew if that meant Chicago or any of the stops in between.
Candace wanted to know more about his story, how he came to be in these circumstances, why he wouldn’t—or couldn’t—accept help. Many of the homeless who came to Sunrise for shelter or food would talk to her freely. But not Joseph. When she’d pried once, he disappeared for a while, so she stopped asking. She would rather him be safe than riding the rails, which was dangerous.
“Candace,” he said slowly after several moments.
“You can’t be here, Joseph. The campus police told you that. Don’t you remember?”
He didn’t say anything or acknowledge that he understood what she said.
“Would you like me to take you over to Sunrise Center? You can get a hot meal there, maybe a cot for the night.”
Again, silence. He turned away from her but didn’t leave.
She really didn’t want to call campus police, but if she didn’t do something, someone else would.
“Is there a reason you are here?” she asked.
“Leave me alone,” he said.
“I will, but you have to leave. Otherwise someone is going to call the police.” If they haven’t already.
He abruptly turned toward her, staggered on the slope of the lawn. His sudden movement startled her; she stepped back.
“No cops!” he shouted.
“You have to leave, Joseph,” she said, emphatic. Her heart pounded in her chest, not so much from fear but uncertainty. “Please go.”
Again, he turned abruptly, this time staggering down the short slope toward the stadium fence. She held her breath, watching him. He almost ran into the fence, put his arms out to stop himself, then just stood there. A minute later, he shuffled along the field perimeter, shoulders hunched, without looking back.
She breathed easier, relieved that he was heading off campus. She would talk to the director of Sunrise on Tuesday, when she went in to volunteer. Joseph couldn’t keep coming here, but she didn’t really want to call the authorities on him. He needed help, not more trouble, and definitely not incarceration.
Candace was about to return to the party when she heard someone call her name. She turned and saw one of her former tutoring students, Lucas Vega, running toward her. She didn’t want to talk to Lucas tonight. How many times did she have to tell him to leave her alone?
She stopped anyway and waited.
“Candace,” he said, catching his breath. “Thanks.”
“What do you want?” she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest.
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry,” she said bluntly.
“I didn’t mean to upset you the other day. I am sorry about that.”
She blinked. He sounded so sincere. And truth be told, something he’d said to her a few days earlier made her think long and hard about herself, her life, and the time she’d spent as a student at Northern Arizona University.
A lie for a good reason is still a lie.
Lucas and his wide-eyed, good-natured innocence, his innocuous questions had her feeling guilty for no reason. He had picked up on that. And pushed.
No reason? Ha. Plenty of reasons. All these doubts and worries she’d been having this semester, the sleepless nights, all came from something she’d done as a freshman that she now had good reason to regret. But what could she do about it? What would come of the truth now?
Maybe there was no good reason to lie.
“All right,” she said. “Thank you.” It was easier to forgive Lucas than to hold on to this anger. None of what happened was Lucas’s fault.
“So will you tutor me again, for finals?”
“No. Afraid not.” She could forgive him for prying, but she really needed first to forgive herself. And she didn’t know if she could do that with Lucas around, reminding her of her failures and mistakes. He didn’t even know what she’d done, but seeing him now was like reliving the past, and her chest tightened. “I’m sorry, but I have too much studying of my own, too many tests. And I’m not working at the writing lab anymore.”
Because of you.
Was that even fair? Was it because of Lucas…or because of her own guilt?
He was disappointed, but that wasn’t her problem.
“Okay, I understand,” he said.
“Besides, you’re smart. You’ll be fine.”
He shrugged. “Thanks.”
“Uh, you want to come to the party?” She gestured over her shoulder. They could hear the music from where they stood. “I’ll get you a pass. Won’t even cost you the five bucks.”
He shook his head. “I’m fine. I’m not really one for parties. But thanks anyway.”
He turned to leave.
“Lucas,” she said. He looked at her over his shoulder. “I’m really sorry.”
Then she left him there, waiting for something she couldn’t give him.
It took Candace several minutes before she could work up the courage to return to the party. An idea she’d been thinking about for the last few months was now fully developed, as if something inside clicked after her brief conversation with Lucas. Everything shifted into place, and she knew what she needed to do; it was the only thing she could do.
No one was going to like her decision.
When she realized she no longer cared what anyone thought, a burden lifted from her heart. She was certain then that she was doing the right thing.
Everyone at the party was asking for Candace, and Vicky had become worried when her friend and mentor hadn’t returned after thirty minutes. She sought out Taylor James, the Sigma Rho president, and told her about the homeless guy. “I don’t know where Candace is,” she said. “I should have just called campus police.”
“Candace says he’s harmless,” Taylor said, frowning. “Sometimes she’s so naive. I’ll go look for her.”
“Thanks. The party is great by the way. Everyone seems to be having fun. How does it compare to previous years?” This was the first party Vicky had helped put together for the sorority, so she was eager to know how well she’d done.
“As good or better,” Taylor said with a wide smile.
Vicky tried not to gloat as she practically floated over to her friends chatting near one of the heat lamps. It wasn’t cold, but the warmth of the heat lamp and the glow from the string lights added terrific ambience to the place.
“Oh my God, Vicky, this is a blast,” her roommate, Nicole Bergamo, said. Nicole was a half-Black, half-Italian math major who could have easily been a model she was so tall and stunning. “Everyone is talking about how great it is.”
Vicky smiled, talked for a bit, then moved around, being social, doing all the things that she’d seen Sigma Rho board members do. Hundreds of people were dancing, talking, mingling, eating, drinking, playing games. Mostly, they were having fun, which was the whole purpose. When the new Sigma Rho advisor, Rachel Wagner, told her it was the best Sigma Rho party she’d been to ever, Vicky thought she’d never come down from cloud nine.
“I agree,” said the gorgeous woman who was with Rachel. “I’m Kimberly Foster, by the way,” she introduced herself. “I’m a sorority alum, and I’m so happy I came up this weekend. You’ve done a fantastic job. Rachel said you’re part of the social-events committee. Isn’t Candace leading the committee? I haven’t seen her yet.”
“Yes, she’s around,” Vicky said. “This is all her vision. We just implemented it.”
“I love Candace. Oh! I see her over there.”
Vicky looked to where Kimberly was gesturing. Candace was talking in a small group.
“I’m going to catch up with her,” Kimberly said. “Nice to meet you, Vicky.”
The two women walked away, and Vicky continued her rounds. She was having a blast as her worries that the party might flop were replaced with pride and satisfaction over its success.
Hours later it was midnight, and per city ordinance—because their dorm bordered a public street—they had to cut off the music. That put a damper on things, but it was fine with Vicky—she was exhausted after working all day prepping and all night making sure everything was running smoothly. She was a little miffed that Candace was hardly there: Vicky had only caught a glimpse of her twice. But whatever, she’d seemed preoccupied, and that would have been a party downer.
Vicky ran into the dorm to get extra trash bags—they had to clean up tonight so wild animals wouldn’t get into the garbage and create a bigger mess in the morning. She came back out and heard voices arguing near where the DJ had been set up. He’d already packed up and left. She couldn’t hear exactly what was being said. It seemed like a quiet, intense exchange between Taylor and Candace though Rachel and her guest Kimberly were there, too. Everyone, especially Taylor, seemed angry.
About sixty people were still milling around, mostly Sigma Rho sisters helping with the cleanup. Nicole came up to Vicky and said, “What are Candace and Taylor fighting about?”
“I don’t know. It’s probably nothing.”
“It’s not nothing,” Nicole said. “I heard Taylor call Candace a selfish bitch.”
“Ouch. Well, Rachel is there. She’ll mediate.”
But Rachel looked angry as well; it seemed that Candace was on one side, and the other three women were yelling at her.
“You’re wrong!” Candace screamed, and Vicky jumped. She glanced at Nicole, who looked perplexed as well. Vicky handed her a garbage bag, and they both started picking up trash. She didn’t want anyone to think she was eavesdropping.
But she was. As she inched closer to the group, she heard Kimberly say, “Let’s talk about this tomorrow, okay? When everyone has had a good night’s sleep and we can all think more clearly.”
“I am thinking clearly,” Candace said. “I’m done. Just…done.”
She left, walked right past Vicky without even seeing her. There were tears in Candace’s eyes, and Vicky didn’t know if she was angry or upset, but probably both. Vicky thought about going after her to make sure she was okay, then felt a hand on her shoulder.
She jumped, then laughed nervously when she saw Rachel. Taylor and Kim had walked away in the other direction.
“Sorry. You startled me.”
“I’m sorry you had to witness that,” Rachel said.
“I didn’t, really. Just saw that Taylor and Candace were arguing about something. I didn’t want to intrude.”
“It’s going to be fine. Just a little disagreement that Candace took personally.”
“About the party?” Vicky asked, her insecurities rising that she’d messed up something.
“Oh, no, the party was perfect. Don’t worry about that.”
Relieved, she said, “Maybe I should go talk to Candace.”
“No, let her be. I’ve known her since she was a freshman and took my Intro to Bio class. She has a big heart, and sometimes you can’t help everyone.”
Now Vicky understood, or thought she did. Taylor had been the most vocal about the creepy homeless guy hanging around the dorms, and she’d been the one who’d called campus police last time, after Candace said not to.
“Let me help,” Rachel said and took a garbage bag from Vicky’s stash.
Rachel chatted with Vicky, who felt lucky to be able to spend so much one-on-one time with her sorority advisor. Rachel was so smart, an associate professor at just thirty-two, an alum of the University of Arizona Sigma Rho chapter. Plus she had such interesting stories to share. By the time they were done with the cleanup—it didn’t take long with so many people working together—Vicky had forgotten all about the argument between Candace and Taylor.
Vickie's Book Nook and Meditation Corner 