Tag: five stars

Review of THE SUMMER OF NO ATTACHMENTS by Lori Foster

On By vickleaIn Book ReviewLeave a comment

This is a really sweet, feel-good contemporary romance. Ivey is a veterinarian and her assistant is Hope. Ivey has declared that this will be a summer without a long and complicated relationship. At least, that is what she believes until she meets the new man in town, Corbin. Corbin is a single dad to his young son Justin and is struggling with being a single parent and trying to work. Enter Corbin’s older brother Lang, a character who is like a guardian angel who is always “johnny on the spot” for him. He has come to town to help Corbin take care of Justin. Naturally, Corbin and Ivey start hanging out together and Lang starts to woo Hope away from her trust issues. Although I really enjoyed getting to know all of the characters, Justin captured my heart because of his deep love for animals and his need to be wanted and loved. This is a great summer read because of the characters who steal the show and the animals who are so endearing, too. As the characters discovered their inner strength and the ability to juggle family and friendships, I discovered that I was totally absorbed in reading their story. The plot just naturally flowed and was easy to read. This is a book that I will long remember for its characters and its lessons about depending on others.
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 PG-13 because of some content.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Since first publishing in January 1996, Lori Foster has become a New York Times, USA Today, and Publisher’s Weekly bestselling author. She lives in Central Ohio where coffee helps her keep up with her cats and grandkids between writing books. For more about Lori, visit her website at http://www.lorifoster.com, like her on Facebook or find her on Twitter, @lorilfoster.

Social Links:

Author website: https://lorifoster.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/lorifoster

Twitter: https://twitter.com/lorilfoster

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/lorilfoster/

Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCgeOARHmjBYWcmReym_N39A

EXCERPT

Chapter One

Ivey Anders shoved back a wayward curl and gently secured the dog against her body so it couldn’t move while her tech, Hope Mage, carefully clipped away the twisted wire. The poor thing, a stray by the looks of it, had gotten itself tangled pretty tightly and one hind leg was in bad shape. Ivey wanted to get it to the clinic where she could properly assess the damage.

Mud caked the fur, making it difficult to find any other injuries just yet, but there was one astounding fact Ivey couldn’t ignore.

Behind her, the homeowner groused that the dog had likely been stealing eggs from his chicken coop.

Voice calm, temper mostly in check, Ivey said, “You didn’t hesitate to call me, did you, Marty?” It was well-known that Marty was not a fan of dogs, or cats for that matter, and mostly considered them a nuisance. However, they’d come to an agreement some time ago. Marty, who owned a fair amount of wooded acreage, was supposed to call her if a stray showed up, and she, as the local vet, would take care of the “problem” for him.

Laura, his wife, was quick to say, “I called.” Defiant to Marty, she added, “Soon as I heard the poor thing, in fact.”

Which didn’t mean much. The animal might have been there for hours. Possibly more than a day, though Ivey couldn’t bear the thought of that.

“She’s pregnant, you know.” Refusing to take her eyes off the dog and unwilling to raise her voice since it might frighten the animal more, Ivey said, “If she took an egg, it would have been from starvation—and you already know I would have compensated you for it.”

Affronted, Marty grumbled, “I wasn’t worried about one egg, just don’t want to lose my chickens.” He cleared his throat. “If it helps any, I was out here this morning and she wasn’t caught then. Afternoon I watered my garden, and that’s why there’s so much mud. So I doubt she was hung up there more than a few hours.”

The fist around Ivey’s heart loosened just a little. “That helps tremendously, Marty. Thank you.”

More times than she could count, Ivey had taken on problems with stray animals who needed special love and care. It didn’t matter that she’d been working as a veterinarian for years now, seeing all manner of hurt, neglected or just plain ill animals. She still loved them all, and when one hurt, she hurt with it.

“No thanks necessary,” Marty complained, his tone gruff with insult. “Not like I’d let an animal suffer.”

Ivey had a feeling their definitions of suffer varied a bit, but she realized this mattered to him, and she was too grateful to quibble so she just nodded.

Almost got it,” Hope murmured, and with one last clip, the wire loosened. “There.” Fingers gentle, she disentangled the dog’s leg, exposing a painful wound.

Ivey murmured to the small animal all the while, cooing softly, petting and holding her secure. The second she was able to sit back on the muddy ground, she pulled the dog into her lap. With her face close to the top of the dog’s head, she whispered, “There now, that’s better, isn’t it? We’ll get you all fixed up, I promise.”

“Here.” Slipping off her zip-up hoodie, Hope offered it to Ivey to wrap around the dog. “Do you want me to get the carrier?”

Busy swaddling the dog, careful not to jar her, Ivey shook her head. “She doesn’t weigh more than ten or eleven pounds. I’ll carry her to the truck and we’ll see how it goes.” Feeling mud seep into the seat of her pants, she realized she couldn’t get up without letting go of the dog. Lifting a brow at Hope, she said, “A little help?”

“Oh sure.” Hope caught her under one elbow, and Laura hurried forward to take the other, giving her the leverage she needed.

Marty stepped back to avoid getting muddy.

Carefully, the two women got Ivey on her feet. The thick mud was heavy on the seat of her pants, dragging on her stretch jeans that had loosened throughout the day. At least her rubber boots wouldn’t be ruined. Since they treated all sorts of animals, including those on farms, she and Hope each kept a pair at the clinic.

“Let’s go.” Plodding forward, Ivey led the way to the truck. Halfway there, the dog started panting. Concerned, she hastened her step, not at all worried about getting mud on the truck seats. “No need for the crate. Just get us back to the clinic.”

Picking up on her angst, Hope ran around to the driver’s side and got the truck on the road in record time. “Everything okay?”

“Not really, no. Something’s wrong.”

“What should I do?”

Poor Hope. A sick cat had kept them an hour past closing, and then Marty had called… “I’m sorry.” Ivey barely took her gaze off the stressed dog. “Do you think you could assist me at the clinic?”

“Of course I will! You don’t even have to ask.” Frowning, Hope muttered, “Did you think I’d drop you off with a dog in distress? Tell you good luck?” She snorted. “Have I ever done that?”

She and Hope were close enough that Ivey knew she’d inadvertently insulted her. “No, you haven’t. But it’s Friday night after a very long day.”

“It’s Friday night for you, too, you know.”

“What a sad situation for us both.” Despite her worries, Ivey chuckled. “Most women would have plans, and yet we never do.”

“You have Geoff.”

Ivey made a face. “Lot of good that does me.” Likely Geoff was settled on the couch already, watching sports or playing a video game. The excitement had left their relationship a long time ago, so she doubted he’d even notice her absence.

For her part, Hope never dated. That bothered Ivey a lot, but she loved Hope enough that she would never pry.

Smiling at her friend, Ivey said, “I’m glad I won’t have to do this alone.”

“Not ever,” Hope vowed. “Even if by some miracle I ever do have something worthwhile lined up for the weekend, I’d still be here for you, okay?”

Her friendship with Hope meant so much more than any other relationship Ivey had, including her lackluster romance with Geoff. “Smartest thing I ever did was hire you.”

“I’m so glad you did,” Hope whispered. “Otherwise we might not have become friends, then where would I be?”

“Let’s just agree that we’re better off together.” Though Ivey was ten years older than Hope, they’d still hit it off from the start, meshing together as if they’d been lifelong friends. Where Ivey was take-charge and sometimes a little too outspoken, Hope was an intent listener with an enormous heart.

Ivey often wanted to challenge the world, and Hope, sadly, wanted to hide from it.

Or more accurate, she wanted to hide from any interested men.

Hope had an affinity with animals, plus a gentle but sure touch. She was never squeamish, but she exuded sympathy. Ivey valued her. The clients loved her. And the animals trusted her.

Unfortunately, they were still five minutes away from the clinic when the dog went into labor. “This is definitely happening,” Ivey said, doing what she could to make the animal comfortable.

Leaning closer to the steering wheel, Hope drove a little faster. “Be there soon.”

They’d barely gotten in the door when her water broke. Hope ran ahead to prepare an area, moving with practiced ease as she opened an already cleaned kennel and set up a whelping box, then filled it with bedding material. The box had three tall sides to contain the coming puppies, and one low side for the mother to step out for food and water.

Knowing Hope had it in hand, Ivey began cleaning the dog as quickly and efficiently as possible. She managed a cursory job, removing the worst of the mud, when Hope rejoined her. “We’re all set.”

“With luck we’ll have enough time to clean and wrap her leg before she gives birth.” Usually that happened within two hours after the animal’s water breaking, so they didn’t have a minute to spare.

A day that had already been long just turned entirely endless.

Excerpted from The Summer of No Attachments by Lori Foster, Copyright © 2021 by Lori Foster. Published by HQN Books.

Available for purchase now. Buy Links:

Bookshop.org: https://bookshop.org/books/the-summer-of-no-attachments/9781335459893

Amazon: https://amzn.to/3ioRrfn

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-summer-of-no-attachments-lori-foster/1137483437?ean=9781335459893

Books-A-Million: https://www.booksamillion.com/p/Summer-No-Attachments/Lori-Foster/9781335459893?id=7036960299115

Indie Bound: https://www.indiebound.org/book/9781335459893

Many thanks to HQN for inviting me to participate in this summer blog tour!

Review of PERIL ON THE RANCH by Lynette Eason

On By vickleaIn Book ReviewLeave a comment

Fast-paced, uplifting and with lovable characters, this book was one of my favorites from this author. I really enjoyed the story of widowed Isabelle who has a big heart and takes in foster children. She needs a handyman around her ranch so she hires Mac, a man with a tragedy in his past that he can’t seem to let go. Getting to know these two main characters was a real pleasure, but I enjoyed even more getting to know the children. Katie was a real heart-tugger. I could just picture her gamine face and her adorable little smile each time she came on the scene. And baby Lily was a welcome addition to Isabelle’s growing family, just as she also captured my heart. The undercurrent on the ranch of constant danger to Lily and Isabelle had me wondering how it would all end. With a simple plot that turned more complex the more I delved into the story, this book was enjoyable and so heart warming that I just wanted it to never end. Fans of clean romance with suspense mixed in will love 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.”

Clean romantic suspense, rated G for all readers
Photo from author’s website at http://www.lynetteeason.com

About the Author:

Lynette Eason lives in Simpsonville, SC with her husband and two children. She is an award-winning, best-selling author who spends her days writing when she’s not traveling around the country teaching at writing conferences. Lynette enjoys visits to the mountains, hanging out with family and brainstorming stories with her fellow writers. You can visit Lynette’s website to find out more at http://www.lynetteeason.com or like her Facebook page at www.facebook.com/lynette.eason

Connect with the Author:

Website: http://www.lynetteeason.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/lynette.eason

Twitter: https://twitter.com/lynetteeason

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1091207.Lynette_Eason

Peril on the Ranch – Excerpt

Lynette Eason

Mac bolted from the truck just as the sun crested the horizon and spread light around the area. He raced around the side of the house to the back and skidded to a stop. The intruder the owner had mentioned had one foot inside the window and his gloved hands gripped the molding. Mac darted forward, placed his hands on the porch railing and vaulted over it. He landed on the wooden flooring with a thud and faced the frozen figure now half in and half out of the house. “Don’t do it, man,” Mac said. “Cops are on the way.”

His words seemed to send indecision sweeping through the guy. A pause Mac took advantage of. He lunged, grabbed two fistfuls of the hoodie material and pulled him away from the window. A heavy fist glanced off Mac’s cheek. He winced and jerked back, losing his grip. That gave the wiry figure the opening he needed, and he darted away from Mac to dash down the length of the porch, leap over the steps and head full-speed across the pasture. Mac pounded after him.

The guy broke through the tree line and disappeared into the woods. Mac did the same seconds later, only to stop when he realized he’d lost him. Mac turned, listening, his eyes searching. Finally, he heard the crunching of underbrush to his left and headed that way, hit a patch of mud and slid almost falling. He managed to catch his balance, but a second later, the roar of a motorcycle captured his attention. After one last push through tree limbs and vines, he found himself staring at the back of a disappearing bike. He didn’t know where the trail led, but there was no way he’d catch the guy on foot. With a sigh, he gave up the chase and retraced his steps.

When he came to the pasture beyond the tree line, he could see the woman who was, hopefully, his future boss. Isabelle Trent. She stood on the front porch, a little girl about five years old clutching Isabelle’s knee with one hand and a doll with her other. Isabelle cradled an infant in the crook of her right arm.

Dressed in jeans, boots and a long-sleeved red flannel shirt, she had her blond hair pulled into a messy ponytail. It struck him that she looked comfortable and completely in her element. If understandably shaken. Two police officers faced her. One wrote notes in a little black book while the other spoke into the radio on her shoulder. As Mac approached, Isabelle’s green eyes landed on him, and the officers turned. Mac made sure they could see his hands.

“That’s the man who came to the rescue,” Isabelle said.

Available on June 29th!

Add Peril on the Ranch to your Goodreads!

Buy Peril on the Ranch by Lynette Eason! Purchase Links:

Harlequin.com: https://www.harlequin.com/shop/books/9781488072406_peril-on-the-ranch.html

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Peril-Ranch-Love-Inspired-Suspense-ebook/dp/B08MWJP1KM/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=peril+on+the+ranch&qid=1621021472&sr=8-1

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/peril-on-the-ranch-lynette-eason/1138076990?ean=9781488072406&st=AFF&2sid=HarperCollins%20Publishers%20LLC_7651142_NA&sourceId=AFFHarperCollins%20Publishers%20LLC

 Apple Books: https://books.apple.com/us/book/peril-on-the-ranch/id1539146966?uo=4&at=10l9MF&ct=hqnweb

 Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Lynette_Eason_Peril_on_the_Ranch?id=BnYHEAAAQBAJ

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/ca/en/ebook/peril-on-the-ranch-1

Many thanks to Harlequin for a clean romantic suspense with elements of faith included!

Review of HER SMALL TOWN SECRET by Brenda Minton

On By vickleaIn Book ReviewLeave a comment
I’m delighted to be part of the summer blog tour!

What a delightful way to spend an afternoon! This book was a quick read, with an enjoyable look at small town life, including some very stubborn animals. Avery Hammons is a single mom of her ten year old daughter Quinn when Grayson Stone unexpectedly returns to town and wants to get to know Quinn. After all, he is her father. There were some really quirky and funny secondary characters that I enjoyed meeting in the pages of this book , but the main characters were ones that I was engaged with, rooting for them to learn how to trust again and to forgive each other. The anxiety faced by Avery, Grayson and even Quinn was realistically portrayed and made the story totally believable. There was the underlying faith element of the genre (Love Inspired Romance) as well as a spunky little girl who knows when to make demands and when to just step back and watch things unfold. I think that Quinn was my favorite character, next to the judge who is Grayson’s dad and who was involved in getting him back to town to begin with. The interactions between the characters made a fun read that entertained and uplifted. The genre is contemporary romance, featuring a second chance at love.
Disclaimer
Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from Harlequin via Netgalley. I was not required to write a positive book. The opinions expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255, “Guides Concerning the Use of Testimonials and Endorsements in Advertising.”

Other than having an unwed mother, the book is clean, so I would rate it PG.
About the Author: Brenda Minton lives in the Ozarks. She’s a wife, mom to three, foster mom to five and grandma to a princess. Life is chaotic but she enjoys every minute of it with her family and a few too many dogs. When not writing she’s drinking coffee on the patio, wrangling kids or escaping for an evening out with her husband. Visit her online at www.brendaminton.net

Connect with the Author:
Website: www.brendaminton.net
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Brenda-Minton-Author-251261655615597/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/brendaminton?lang=en
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1144373.Brenda_Minton

Available NOW! Purchase Links:

Buy Her Small Town Secret by Brenda Minton

Harlequin.com: https://www.harlequin.com/shop/books/9781335488916_her-small-town-secret.html 

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Small-Town-Secret-Love-Inspired-ebook/dp/B08ND3GC7H

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/her-small-town-secret-brenda-minton/1138246009

Apple Books: https://books.apple.com/us/book/her-small-town-secret/id1540088021 

Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Brenda_Minton_Her_Small_Town_Secret?id=-5kIEAAAQBAJ

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/ca/en/search?query=her+small+town+secret+brenda+minton

Add Her Small Town Secret to your Goodreads!

Many thanks to Harlequin for the opportunity to read and review an ARC of this book. Uplifting and fun to read!

Review of ALONG A STORIED TRAIL by Ann H. Gabhart

On By vickleaIn Book Review1 Comment

This was a story that I hated to see end because it was so wonderful! This historical fiction is set in rural Kentucky during the Great Depression. The main characters are Tansy Calhoun, her family and a crotchety old woman called Aunt Perdie. Tansy has taken a job delivering books to the inhabitants of the mountains and sets forth daily to fulfill her responsibilities. There is plenty of romance within this book’s pages, but what is most memorable to me is the characterization, the way the people just seemed to jump off the page and into my heart. I also enjoyed reading about how the hard-working folks all pitched in together to support each other when needed, like when Aunt Perdie lost her home. But I especially enjoyed the stories that were woven into the fabric of the main story, folk tales told by Aunt Perdie and Preacher Hiram, both of whom knew how to captivate an audience during a time of hardship and take people away from their dally drudgery. I learned a great deal from this book about how people should be treating their neighbors and look out for each other, even in the worst of times. This was a totally enjoyable book and one that I will enjoy sharing with others who want to take a trip to the hills of Kentucky and into a rustic log cabin where life is appreciated and faith is an important part of life.
Disclaimer
Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from Revell. 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 completely clean Christian read from Revell
Five plus stars for this charming look at rural Kentucky during the Great Depression
Photo and bio from the authors website at http://www.annhgabhart.com

Available Now at the following retailers or your own favorite bookstore:

Amazon

Google Play Store

Page 158 Books

Christian Book

Powell’s Books

Target

Wal-mart

Indiebound

Books-a-Million

Happy to be a part of a team to introduce you to good Christian authors!

Review of THE STEPSISTERS by Susan Mallery

On By vickleaIn Book ReviewLeave a comment
Delighted to be part of this blog tour!

Told with the signature wit of the author as well as her understanding of and sympathy for her characters, this book delved deeply into the broken family relationships that seem unable to be repaired. Daisy is a trust fund baby with a big home, the undying love of her father and a job that she enjoys. Sage is beautiful, well traveled and has already looked for love in all the wrong places so she has returned home. And Cassidy, the adventurer, returns home unexpectedly and reluctantly when she has an accident on one of her adventures. All three stepsisters are thrown together into a book that reads like a movie. With plenty of romance and family drama, this book captured my imagination and my heart. I think that anyone who reads it will have a character with whom they can identify. For me, it was Daisy, the one who is misunderstood and who just wants love and acceptance in a world where judgment seems to come first. I liked all of the main characters, actually, even Cassidy who is the youngest but who also spouts gems of wisdom at the most unlikely moments. These siblings didn’t get along growing up, but they seem to bond together when another is threatened by anything and that just touched my heart. When Daisy’s husband Jordan leaves her, her world is upended and she seeks solace in a bottle but finds it in her sisters and their advice. Sage is stuck with her self-centered mother who has no love for Daisy and little love for Sage. She just wants to find a rich man and ride off into the sunset with him. Cassidy, meanwhile, is terrified of committing to any kind of relationship and needs to see for herself how families really work. She forms a bond with Daisy’s two children and helps Daisy in surprising ways. I loved the well-written story, with all of its many little side trips to explain the relationships. But mostly, I loved the humor in the story that was just what I needed. Yes, there was plenty of drama, too, but the humor made the story so much fun to read. The book was engaging and totally entertaining and I look forward someday to seeing a movie featuring this title and these characters. Fans of family, romance and a theme of forgiveness will definitely want to pick up this book and will enjoy its journey to restoration.
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 definite PG-13 because it does have some extramarital sex scenes as well as some expletives.
About the Author:#1 NYT bestselling author Susan Mallery writes heartwarming, humorous novels about the relationships that define our lives―family, friendship, romance. She’s known for putting nuanced characters in emotional situations that surprise readers to laughter. Beloved by millions, her books have been translated into 28 languages. Susan lives in Washington with her husband, two cats, and a small poodle with delusions of grandeur. Visit her at SusanMallery.com.

Social Links:
Website: https://susanmallery.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/SusanMallery
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Mailing List: https://susanmallery.com/join-mailing-list.php

EXCERPT:

one

“Mom, I think I’m going to throw up.”

Daisy Bosarge felt the fear that was universal in the parenting world when Krissa uttered those eight little words. Even more concerning was the fact that her son was already home with stomach flu.

She’d known better than to let her daughter go to school this morning, she thought ruefully, but Krissa had begged and Daisy had been late for work and it had just seemed easier to say yes. A decision that was getting ready to bite her in the butt as she drove as fast as she could, given the traffic on the road.

“Ten more minutes,” she said, glancing at her eight-year-old in the back seat. “We’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“I don’t feel good.”

“I know, sweetie. I’m going to get you home.”

At least cajoling her daughter was better than trying to avoid looking at the ominous Check Engine light that had popped on right before Daisy had arrived at the school to pick up her daughter. Yet another problem she didn’t have time to deal with.

Priorities, she told herself. Get Krissa home and in bed, look in on Ben, then make an appointment to take her Mercedes to the dealership. After that, she would—

“Mommy, I’m going to throw up now!”

Daisy held in a moan. She carefully checked her mirrors before pulling to the side of the road.

“Just a second,” she murmured, knowing at this point there weren’t any words in the world that would keep the inevitable from happening.

Seconds later her day took yet another unfair turn as her daughter threw up all over herself, the back seat and the carpet. The smell and the sound of Krissa bursting into tears hit her at the same time.

She put on her flashers and raced around to the passenger side, where she helped her daughter out onto the sidewalk. Cars drove by so close, Daisy felt the whoosh of air as they passed. She kept hold of her daughter as she circled to the trunk, where she kept her emergency tote filled with paper towels, wipes and a shirt for each of her kids.

She cleaned off her daughter’s face, then reached for the hem of her T-shirt.

“Let me get this off you,” she said. “I have a fresh one right here.”

But Krissa stopped her, tugging the shirt back in place.

“No!” she shrieked, looking around frantically. “I’m outside. Someone will see.”

Someone who? Krissa was eight and the car was between them and the traffic, with Daisy blocking their view.

“Can you change in the front seat?” she asked, trying to sound reasonable, instead of close to losing it.

“No.” Tears spilled down her daughter’s flushed cheeks. “Mommy, no!”

The headache that had started a little before noon clicked up a level or two, with a steady pressure building right between her eyes. She ignored the pain and put her hand on her daughter’s forehead, feeling the heat there. Before she could figure out what to do, Krissa threw up again, this time down the front of Daisy’s scrubs and on her shoes.

Krissa’s tears increased and at that moment, Daisy really wanted to join in. She’d had a bad day at work, both her kids were sick, she was never getting the vomit smell out of her car and just because there wasn’t already enough crap in her life, her husband had moved out two days ago. To “give them both space to think,” as he’d phrased it.

In a text.

Jerk, she thought, feeling the familiar fury tinged with a hint of panic. Although the real word was closer to asshole than jerk. How could he have done that to—

One step at a time, she told herself. First, she had to get Krissa home, then the car, then—

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a dark blue BMW slow as it drove past. She wanted to yell out something vulgar to the voyeur, but knew that would set a bad example, so she instead forced a smile.

“Sweetie, let me clean the back seat so you can get in. You can change your shirt in there, and no one will see. All right?”

Krissa nodded reluctantly.

Daisy planted her where she could see her, then cleaned up the mess as best she could. In the eighty-plus-degree weather that was spring in Los Angeles, the interior of the car was already heating up. The smell nearly made her gag. Blood she could handle just fine. Open up a body and she was okay with that, but this? A nightmare.

She finished her work and coaxed Krissa closer to the car only to notice the BMW driving by again, but with the sun hitting the side window, she couldn’t see who was driving.

Better to ignore them, she told herself, slipping off her daughter’s school uniform polo shirt and putting on a T-shirt with Elsa from Frozen on the front. Sadly she had nothing for herself to change into. She wiped up her pants and shoes and was about to try to buckle Krissa in when the BMW pulled up to the curb behind her car.

Daisy told herself not to panic, even as she wished for lethal training in some kind of karate. Or a can of pepper spray. Was that legal in Los Angeles? Before she could decide, the driver’s door opened and a tall, beautiful blonde woman stepped out.

Daisy silently ran through all the swear words she knew, created a few unique combinations, then wanted to know why God currently hated her because there was no other explanation for Sage Vitale to be walking toward her, looking as fabulous as only Sage could in skinny jeans and a flowy top that made her appear sexy and ethereal at the same time. Four-inch-heel boots completed the look. Daisy, on the other hand, had been up since four, hadn’t showered since yesterday and hey, the vomit.

Last she’d heard, Sage was in Italy, married to a count. Because that was Sage’s life. Race car drivers and counts and being tall and skinny and beautiful. Daisy was smart and had a sparkling personality. It just wasn’t fair.

Sage looked from her to her daughter. “Daisy? I thought that was you when I drove by. Are you okay?”

No. No, she wasn’t. Any idiot could see that. Her kid was obviously sick, Daisy had puke on her pants and shoes, so no. Not okay.

“We’re fine,” Daisy said, trying not to clench her teeth. Her dentist had told her that if she didn’t learn to relax, she was going to have to wear a mouth guard at night to stop herself from grinding her teeth. She felt her bedtime routine already lacked a certain sex appeal and she sure didn’t need a mouth guard adding to the problem.

“You don’t seem fine,” Sage said, her nose wrinkling, no doubt from the smell. 

“Who are you?” Krissa asked.

“I’m, um, I’m…”

“This is Sage. She’s my stepsister.” Or at least she had been, once.

Krissa rubbed her suddenly running nose. “So you’re my aunt?”

“No,” Daisy said firmly. “Please buckle up so we can get home.”

For once, Krissa didn’t complain or talk back. Instead she buckled her seat belt, twisting her head to keep looking at Sage. Daisy thought about warning her of the danger of that. Sage was like the sun and if you stared at her too long, there was permanent damage.

Later she would think about what quirk of fate had her former stepsister driving by at the exact moment she was at her lowest. LA had a population of what, eight million people? What were the odds? Although she supposed they did live close. Sort of. But still!

She forced a tight smile. “Thank you for stopping. It was very kind.”

“I couldn’t believe it was you, standing there on the side of the road,” Sage admitted. “I knew you had kids, but seeing you with your daughter… It’s just strange.”

“We haven’t really kept in touch,” Daisy said, inching toward her door.

“Right. We haven’t seen each other since your wedding.”

Daisy stared at her stepsister. Really? Sage had gone there? “Yes, my wedding twelve years ago, where you announced to everyone in the room that you were still in love with the man I was marrying. It was great.”

Sage flushed. “It wasn’t exactly like that.”

Oh, yes it was, but Daisy didn’t want to stay and chitchat. “Thanks again.” She waved and ducked into her car.

“She’s really pretty,” Krissa said admiringly. “I like what she’s wearing.”

“It’s jeans and a shirt,” Daisy snapped before she could stop herself. “Sorry. I’m tired. Let’s get you home.”

In the rearview mirror she saw Sage get back in her car. Their eyes met briefly in the mirror, then Daisy focused her attention on starting her car. She pushed the button to engage the engine…and nothing happened. The dashboard lights came on, along with the red Check Engine light, but the engine stayed silent.

Daisy grabbed the steering wheel with both hands and tried not to scream. She didn’t want to scare her daughter and possibly herself by giving in to the crazy building up inside of her but why did this have to happen?

Someone knocked on her window. She rolled it down.

“You okay?” Sage asked.

“Not really. My car won’t start.”

“Want me to take you home?”

Daisy thought about saying she would call an Uber or Lyft or something, but figured that fate was messing with her and she might as well simply surrender. The sooner she got through whatever hell this was, the sooner it would be over. Later, when the kids were in bed and she had showered, she would review her life and try to decide where she’d messed up so much that she had to be punished. But for now, she had a sick kid and someone willing to give her a ride.

“Thank you,” she said through clenched teeth, looking into the beautiful green eyes of the one woman on the planet she hated more than anyone. “That would be great.”

Excerpted from The Stepsisters @ 2021 by Susan Mallery, Inc., used with permission by MIRA Books.

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This is a book that is humorous and that teaches good life lessons. Get it today! Thanks so much to MIRA Books for the ARC to read and review and for the invitation to the blog tour!

Review of YOU WILL REMEMBER ME by Hannah Mary McKinnon

On By vickleaIn Book ReviewLeave a comment

This is a five plus stars book that had my mind percolating on the ending long after I had completed it. With the themes of amnesia, persevering love, evil that lurks and promises to destroy, this book was one that had me rooting for the underdog and gasping at some of the events in the plot. Well written does not begin to describe the plot. It was written in such a way that I became more than a reader or a spectator. I was waiting with bated breath until the villain was revealed and then I could not wait for the ending when the happy part came. When Jack disappeared from a beach in Maryland, Lily was determined to find him because she saw him as the love of her life, her second chance. Through happenstance, she finds him in Maine and follows him there, only to discover that he does not remember her at all. Lily befriends Jack’s sister Maya and is introduced to the real Jack, whose actual name is Ash. Unfortunately, Ash does not remember why he went to Maryland or anything really about his past. He does know that one of his former girlfriends disappeared and another died tragically, but he does not remember any details about either Celine or Kate. Lily accepts Ash as he is and wants to help him to remember. Maya is helpful, too, giving Ash a job to do while he recovers from his head injury. There are three points of view in the story and I found myself racing through each one, trying to find out what the truth was about Ash’s past and who Lily was and any secrets that Maya had. The action was fast-paced and non-stop, giving me time to take a deep breath before I plunged into the next heart-racing scene. With characters that were perfect for the parts they played, this book was like a play that I was watching unfold and I was sad when it ended. I cannot say more without giving away the shocking conclusion, but I will highly recommend this thriller to anyone looking for a book to entertain, enthrall and mystify. Wow! Just wow!
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: This book has content that could be disturbing to younger readers. I would rate it a hard PG-13.
Author Bio: Hannah Mary McKinnon was born in the UK, grew up in Switzerland and moved to Canada in 2010. After a successful career in recruitment, she quit the corporate world in favor of writing, and is now the author of The Neighbors, Her Secret Son, and Sister Dear. She lives in Oakville, Ontario, with her husband and three sons, and is delighted by her twenty-second commute.

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Excerpt:

Chapter 1—The Man from the Beach 

Cold. Cold was the first word that came to mind. The first thing I noticed when I woke up. Not a slight, uncomfortable chill to give me the shivers, but a cramp-inducing, iced-to-the-bone kind of frozen. I lay flat on my stomach, my left ear and cheek pressed into the rough, grainy wet ground beneath me, my entire body shaking. As my thoughts attempted to assemble themselves into some form of understandable order, a wave of icy water nipped at my bare toes and ankles, my instincts pulling my feet out of reach. 

I had a sudden urge to get up, a primal need to take in my surroundings and assess the danger—was I in danger?—but the throbbing pain deep in my head made the slightest effort to shift anything seem impossible. Lifting a finger would be too much effort, and I acquiesced, allowing myself to lie still for another few freezing seconds as the frigid water crept over the balls of my feet again. When I blinked my eyes open, I was met by a thick, fuzzy darkness enveloping me like a cloak. Where the hell was I? And wherever it was, what was I doing here? 

When I lifted my head a fraction of an inch, I could barely make out anything in front of me. There was hardly a noise either, nothing but a gentle, steady rumble in the background, and the cry of a bird somewhere in the distance. I made my brain work its way backward—bird, rumble, sand, water—and the quartet formed the vaguely cohesive image of a beach. 

Searching for confirmation, I inhaled the salty, humid air deep into my lungs as another slosh of water took aim at my calves. This time the discomfort was enough to push me to my feet, and I wrapped my arms around my naked torso, my sopping board shorts clinging to my goose-bump-covered thighs. An explosion of pain in my head threatened to send me back to my knees, and I swayed gently, wishing I had something to steady myself with, willing my body to stay upright. As I pressed a hand to the side of my skull, I let out a quiet yelp, and felt along a two-inch gash in my scalp. My eyes had adjusted somewhat to the lack of light, and my fingertips were covered in something dark that smelled of rust. Blood. How had I…? 

Another low rumble made me turn around, shuffling slowly in a semicircle. The behemoth effort was rewarded by the sight of a thousand glistening waves dancing under the moonlight like diamonds, the water stretching out and disappearing into the darkness beyond. As my ears tuned in to the rhythmic whoosh of the waves, my mind worked hard to process each scrap of information it took in. 

I’m definitely on a beach. It’s nighttime. I’m alone. What am I doing here? 

Before I could answer the single question, a thousand others crowded my brain, an incessant string of chatter I couldn’t stop or get away from. 

Where is everyone? Never mind them, where am I? Have I been here long? How did I get here? Where was I before? Where are my clothes? What day is it? 

My legs buckled. Not because of the unfamiliar surroundings, the cold burrowing its way deeper into my core, or the pain in my head, which had increased tenfold. No. My knees hit the sand with a dull crunch when I realized I couldn’t answer any of the questions because I couldn’t recall anything. Nothing. Not the tiniest of details.

Including my name.

Chapter 2—Lily 

A frown settled over my face as I put my phone on the table, pushed the bowl of unfinished berry oatmeal away and stretched out my legs. It was Saturday morning, and I’d been up for ages, too eager—too hopeful—to spend a day at the beach with Jack, but those plans had been a literal wash-out. The start to the summer felt capricious, with this second storm in the last week of June poised to be much worse than the first. I’d convinced myself the weatherwoman had exaggerated or got her forecast completely wrong, but clouds had rolled in overnight anyway. As a result, I’d been unceremoniously woken up at two thirty by a trio of bright lightning, deafening thunderclaps and heavy raindrops pelting against my bedroom window. 

At first, I’d pulled my pillow over my head to deafen the noise, and when that didn’t work, I rolled over and stretched out an arm. The spot next to me was empty and cold, and I groaned. Jack hadn’t come over to my place as I’d hoped he would, slipping into bed and pressing his naked body against mine. I’d buried my face back into my pillow and tried to ignore the tinge of disappointment. We hadn’t seen much of each other this past week, both of us too busy with our jobs to spend more than a night together, and I missed him. Jack had called the day before to tell me he’d be working late, finishing the stain on the cabinets he’d labored on for weeks before his boss had to let him go. Apparently expensive custom kitchens weren’t in as high demand in Brookmount, Maryland as originally thought. 

“But you got laid off,” I’d said. “It’s your last day. Why do you care?” 

“Because I made a commitment. Besides, it’ll help when I need a reference.” 

Typical Jack, always keeping his word. He’d bought a lottery ticket once, and the clerk had jokingly asked if he’d give him half of any winnings. Jack had laughed and shaken the man’s hand, and when he won ten bucks on the ticket, had promptly returned to the store, and paid over the share as promised. His loyalty was one of the many things I loved about Jack, although part of me wished he weren’t quite as dedicated to his soon-to-be ex-boss. 

“You could come over to my place when you’re done,” I said, smiling slowly. “I’ll leave the key under the umbrella stand. I don’t mind you waking me up gently in the middle of the night…or not so gently.” 

Jack laughed softly. The sound was something I’d fallen in love with eighteen months ago after our eyes had met across a crowded bar, the mother of all uninspired first-encounter clichés, except in this case I’d been forced to admit clichés weren’t always a bad thing. 

“It’ll be really late, Lily,” he said, his voice deep. His English accent was something of a rarity in our small coastal town, and still capable of making my legs wobble in anticipation of his next words. “I’ll go for a quick swim now, then finish up work. How about I come over in the morning? Around nine? I’ll bring you breakfast in bed.” 

“Blueberry pancakes from Patti’s? With extra maple syrup?” 

“This time I’ll order three stacks to make sure I get some.” 

“Pancakes or sex?” I said, before telling him how much I loved him, and whispering exactly how I’d thank him for waking me with sweet weekend treats. I’d hoped it might change his mind and he’d come over earlier, except it was ten now, and he still hadn’t showed. It was odd. Jack detested being late as much as he loved being early. He often joked they set Greenwich Mean Time by his father’s old watch, which Jack had worn since his dad passed a little over a decade before we’d met, when Jack was only twenty.

I checked my phone again. Jack hadn’t answered either of my calls, another anomaly, but I tried to talk myself into believing he’d worked late into the night to make the final good impression he wanted, and overslept. Maybe there was a line at Patti’s—the restaurant was slammed every weekend—and perhaps his phone was set to silent. 

I picked up my bowl and wandered to the kitchen. My place was the smallest of six apartments, a tiny but well-maintained one-bedroom in a building a few miles from the beach, farther than I’d planned, but the closest I could afford. I’d lived there for almost five years, had furnished it with an eclectic assortment of third-hand furniture, my favorite piece a royal blue microfiber sofa I’d bought for fifty bucks, and which Jack swore was the most comfortable thing he’d ever sat on. Whenever he sank down into it and pulled me on top of him with a contented sigh, I’d tease him about what made him happier; the squishy, well-worn cushions, or me. 

The image made my frown deepen. Where was he?

Excerpted from You Will Remember Me by Hannah Mary McKinnon, Copyright © 2021 by Hannah McKinnon. Published by MIRA Books

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Review of LEGACY by Nora Roberts

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This book was a captivating read about family relationships, external threats and the love that overcomes all obstacles. Adrian Rizzo was raised by her mother Lina to be fierce and independent, so when she strikes out on her own to do exercise videos and offer a line of exercise clothing on her own, that was no surprise to anyone. However, when she decides to move home to her grandparents’ house in Maryland, that does cause a little stir. Adrian is loving, compassionate and kind and wants to look after her grandfather, so I admired her willingness to upend her life and sacrifice the easy way for the way that was slightly more challenging but so beneficial to her and her beloved Popi. Lina and Adrian narrowly escaped death once when attacked in their home in NYC, so Adrian does not welcome the threatening notes that she receives regularly from a non-admirer that she calls the poet. The plot is complex and well-written so that it drew me in quickly to the lives of the Rizzos and their close friends. I really fell in love with the dog Sadie, a huge dog who is obedient to every command from Adrian but who is a gentle giant. I liked Adrian’s strength and resilience and thought that her character was extremely well-developed, from her childhood on. This book is like a saga of the Rizzo family and includes their tragedy, their loves lost and gained and their complicated relationships. The author certainly knows how to weave a generational story into a book that enthralled me and made me want to know more each time I finished a new chapter. With mystery, murders, romance and plenty of drama, this contemporary fiction is one for the record books of great novels!
Disclaimer
Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book via the Booked Up All Night Sweepstakes and the publisher, St. Martin’s Press. 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.”

Excellent and entertaining read but has content appropriate for readers that are more mature. So, a hard PG-13.
Image from Wikipedia

Biography (from her website at http://www.noraroberts.com


Nora Roberts was born in Silver Spring, Maryland, the youngest of five children. After a school career that included some time in Catholic school and the discipline of nuns, she married young and settled in Keedysville, Maryland.

She worked briefly as a legal secretary. “I could type fast but couldn’t spell, I was the worst legal secretary ever,” she says now. After her sons were born she stayed home and tried every craft that came along. A blizzard in February 1979 forced her hand to try another creative outlet. She was snowed in with a three and six year old with no kindergarten respite in sight and a dwindling supply of chocolate.

Born into a family of readers, Nora had never known a time that she wasn’t reading or making up stories. During the now-famous blizzard, she pulled out a pencil and notebook and began to write down one of those stories. It was there that a career was born. Several manuscripts and rejections later, her first book, Irish Thoroughbred, was published by Silhouette in 1981.

Nora met her second husband, Bruce Wilder, when she hired him to build bookshelves. They were married in July 1985. Since that time, they’ve expanded their home, traveled the world and opened a bookstore together.

Through the years, Nora has always been surrounded by men. Not only was she the youngest in her family, but she was also the only girl. She has raised two sons. Having spent her life surrounded by men, Ms. Roberts has a fairly good view of the workings of the male mind, which is a constant delight to her readers. It was, she’s been quoted as saying, a choice between figuring men out or running away screaming.

Nora is a member of several writers groups and has won countless awards from her colleagues and the publishing industry. Recently The New Yorker called her “America’s favorite novelist.”

This book will be available on Tuesday, May 25, 2021, but it is available for pre-order now. Purchase Links:

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I thought that this book was an amazing look at a multi-generational family, with their triumphs, their tragedies and their love stories. Many thanks to #StMartinsPress and the contest at “Booked Up All Night”! Escape into a good book…LEGACY!

Review of A WISH FOR HOME by Jo Ann Brown

On By vickleaIn Book ReviewLeave a comment

This book was a good Amish story with lovable characters and a plot that had some surprises and unexpected twists in it. Lauren Nolt is a former member of the Amish community in Lancaster County where she is sent by her employer to win the people over to the idea of building a casino in their community. When her car breaks down during an ice story, Lauren is stuck asking for assistance from widower Adam Hershberger, a mechanic who used to bully her in their childhood. Lauren stays with her Aunt Sylvia, a feisty older Amish woman who speaks the truth in love to Lauren and who was my favorite character in the book. Her wisdom led Lauren to many hours of thoughtful reflection. When Lauren meets Adam’s precocious daughter Mary Beth, it was life love at first sight. Mary Beth is a cute little matchmaker who wants her dad to have a new wife and for herself to have a new mother. Although parts of the book were predictable, there were numerous secrets revealed and some surprises, too, so it was was a really captivating read. I was totally invested in the story of Lauren and Adam and rooting for little Mary Beth to get her way with them. This is a great first book in a new series and I look forward to more!
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.”

Totally clean Christian fiction from Harlequin Love Inspired.
Photo and biography from author’s website http://www.joannbrownbooks.com

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I loved this romantic story and hope that you will buy it and read it for yourselves. Many thanks to Harlequin for giving me the opportunity to read and review this book!

Review of THE SUMMER SEEKERS by Sarah Morgan

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This was a great summer read that took me away from the doldrums of pandemic quarantine onto the road of discovering new things and being open to new adventures. Kathleen is an eccentric and fun eighty-year old who is determined to go on a road trip across America. She needs a companion and chooses Martha, a twenty-something who is still trying to find herself and her purpose in life. Kathleen leaves behind her morose and worrying daughter Liza, a middle-aged woman who is burdened down with her responsibilities in life and has forgotten to take care of herself. There is thus a character for all generations to relate to: wild and carefree Kathleen who has just gotten her second wind in life; stalwart and long suffering Liza who is desperate to discover a place for herself beyond her family and its stress; and Martha, the exuberant young woman who is open to adventure. At the beginning, the tone of the book was one of humor and was light-hearted. As the book progressed, there were some somber and thought-provoking moments. Reading the book was like taking a journey on the road of life and the three main characters portrayed traveling down this road perfectly. This was an uplifting story of self-discovery and being open to looking for and finding new things in life, even at an advanced age. I loved this book and highly recommend it to those who enjoy contemporary fiction and a good 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.”

Fun book, rated PG-13

Author Bio: USA Today bestselling author Sarah Morgan writes hot, happy, contemporary romance and women’s fiction, and her trademark humor and sensuality have gained her fans across the globe. Described as “a magician with words” by RT Book Reviews, she has sold more than eleven million copies of her books. She was nominated three years in succession for the prestigious RITA® Award from the Romance Writers of America and won the award three times: once in 2012 for Doukakis’s Apprentice, in 2013 for A Night of No Return and in 2017 for Miracle on 5th Avenue. She also won the RT Reviewers’ Choice Award in 2012 and has made numerous appearances in their Top Pick slot. As a child, Sarah dreamed of being a writer, and although she took a few interesting detours along the way, she is now living that dream. Sarah lives near London, England, with her husband and children, and when she isn’t reading or writing, she loves being outdoors, preferably on vacation so she can forget the house needs tidying.

Social Links:

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Facebook: @AuthorSarahMorgan

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EXCERPT:

1

Kathleen

It was the cup of milk that saved her. That and the salty bacon she’d fried for her supper many hours earlier, which had left her mouth dry.

If she hadn’t been thirsty—if she’d still been upstairs, sleeping on the ridiculously expensive mattress that had been her eightieth birthday gift to herself—she wouldn’t have been alerted to danger.

As it was, she’d been standing in front of the fridge, the milk carton in one hand and the cup in the other, when she’d heard a loud thump. The noise was out of place here in the leafy darkness of the English countryside, where the only sounds should have been the hoot of an owl and the occasional bleat of a sheep.

She put the glass down and turned her head, trying to locate the sound. The back door. Had she forgotten to lock it again?

The moon sent a ghostly gleam across the kitchen and she was grateful she hadn’t felt the need to turn the light on. That gave her some advantage, surely?

She put the milk back and closed the fridge door quietly, sure now that she was not alone in the house.

Moments earlier she’d been asleep. Not deeply asleep—that rarely happened these days—but drifting along on a tide of dreams. If someone had told her younger self that she’d still be dreaming and enjoying her adventures when she was eighty she would have been less afraid of aging. And it was impossible to forget that she was aging.

People said she was wonderful for her age, but most of the time she didn’t feel wonderful. The answers to her beloved crosswords floated just out of range. Names and faces refused to align at the right moment. She struggled to remember what she’d done the day before, although if she took herself back twenty years or more her mind was clear. And then there were the physical changes—her eyesight and hearing were still good, thankfully, but her joints hurt and her bones ached. Bending to feed the cat was a challenge. Climbing the stairs required more effort than she would have liked and was always undertaken with one hand on the rail just in case.

She’d never been the sort to live in a just in case sort of way.

Her daughter, Liza, wanted her to wear an alarm. One of those medical alert systems, with a button you could press in an emergency, but Kathleen refused. In her youth she’d traveled the world, before it was remotely fashionable to do so. She’d sacrificed safety for adventure without a second thought. Most days now she felt like a different person.

Losing friends didn’t help. One by one they fell by the wayside, taking with them shared memories of the past. A small part of her vanished with each loss. It had taken decades for her to understand that loneliness wasn’t a lack of people in your life, but a lack of people who knew and understood you.

She fought fiercely to retain some version of her old self—which was why she’d resisted Liza’s pleas that she remove the rug from the living room floor, stop using a step ladder to retrieve books from the highest shelves and leave a light on at night. Each compromise was another layer shaved from her independence, and losing her independence was her biggest fear.

Kathleen had always been the rebel in the family, and she was still the rebel—although she wasn’t sure that rebels were supposed to have shaking hands and a pounding heart.

She heard the sound of heavy footsteps. Someone was searching the house. For what, exactly? What treasures did they hope to find? And why weren’t they trying to at least disguise their presence?

Having resolutely ignored all suggestions that she might be vulnerable, she was now forced to acknowledge the possibility. Perhaps she shouldn’t have been so stubborn. How long would it have taken from pressing the alert button to the cavalry arriving?

In reality, the cavalry was Finn Cool, who lived three fields away. Finn was a musician, and he’d bought the property precisely because there were no immediate neighbors. His antics caused mutterings in the village. He had rowdy parties late into the night, attended by glamorous people from London who terrorized the locals by driving their flashy sports cars too fast down the narrow lanes. Someone had started a petition in the post office to ban the parties. There had been talk of drugs, and half-naked women, and it had all sounded like so much fun that Kathleen had been tempted to invite herself over. Rather that than a dull women’s group, where you were expected to bake and knit and swap recipes for banana bread.

Finn would be of no use to her in this moment of crisis. In all probability he’d either be in his studio, wearing headphones, or he’d be drunk. Either way, he wasn’t going to hear a cry for help.

Calling the police would mean walking through the kitchen and across the hall to the living room, where the phone was kept and she didn’t want to reveal her presence. Her family had bought her a mobile phone, but it was still in its box, unused. Her adventurous spirit didn’t extend to technology. She didn’t like the idea of a nameless faceless person tracking her every move.

There was another thump, louder this time, and Kathleen pressed her hand to her chest. She could feel the rapid pounding of her heart. At least it was still working. She should probably be grateful for that.

When she’d complained about wanting a little more adventure, this wasn’t what she’d had in mind. What could she do? She had no button to press, no phone with which to call for help, so she was going to have to handle this herself.

She could already hear Liza’s voice in her head: Mum, I warned you!

If she survived, she’d never hear the last of it.

Fear was replaced by anger. Because of this intruder she’d be branded Old and Vulnerable and forced to spend the rest of her days in a single room with minders who would cut up her food, speak in overly loud voices and help her to the bathroom. Life as she knew it would be over.

That was not going to happen.

She’d rather die at the hands of an intruder. At least her obituary would be interesting.

Better still, she would stay alive and prove herself capable of independent living.

She glanced quickly around the kitchen for a suitable weapon and spied the heavy black skillet she’d used to fry the bacon earlier.

She lifted it silently, gripping the handle tightly as she walked to the door that led from the kitchen to the hall. The tiles were cool under her feet—which, fortunately, were bare. No sound. Nothing to give her away. She had the advantage.

She could do this. Hadn’t she once fought off a mugger in the backstreets of Paris? True, she’d been a great deal younger then, but this time she had the advantage of surprise.

How many of them were there?

More than one would give her trouble.

Was it a professional job? Surely no professional would be this loud and clumsy. If it was kids hoping to steal her TV, they were in for a disappointment. Her grandchildren had been trying to persuade her to buy a “smart” TV, but why would she need such a thing? She was perfectly happy with the IQ of her current machine, thank you very much. Technology already made her feel foolish most of the time. She didn’t need it to be any smarter than it already was.

Perhaps they wouldn’t come into the kitchen. She could stay hidden away until they’d taken what they wanted and left.

They’d never know she was here.

They’d—

A floorboard squeaked close by. There wasn’t a crack or a creak in this house that she didn’t know. Someone was right outside the door.

Her knees turned liquid.

Oh Kathleen, Kathleen.

She closed both hands tightly round the handle of the skillet.

Why hadn’t she gone to self-defense classes instead of senior yoga? What use was the downward dog when what you needed was a guard dog?

A shadow moved into the room, and without allowing herself to think about what she was about to do she lifted the skillet and brought it down hard, the force of the blow driven by the weight of the object as much as her own strength. There was a thud and a vibration as it connected with his head.

“I’m so sorry—I mean—” Why was she apologizing? Ridiculous!

The man threw up an arm as he fell, a reflex action, and the movement sent the skillet back into Kathleen’s own head. Pain almost blinded her and she prepared herself to end her days right here, thus giving her daughter the opportunity to be right, when there was a loud thump and the man crumpled to the floor. There was a crack as his head hit the tiles.

Kathleen froze. Was that it, or was he suddenly going to spring to his feet and murder her?

No. Against all odds, she was still standing while her prowler lay inert at her feet. The smell of alcohol rose, and Kathleen wrinkled her nose.

Drunk.

Her heart was racing so fast she was worried that any moment now it might trip over itself and give up.

She held tightly to the skillet.

Did he have an accomplice?

She held her breath, braced for someone else to come racing through the door to investigate the noise, but there was only silence.

Gingerly she stepped toward the door and poked her head into the hall. It was empty.

It seemed the man had been alone.

Finally she risked a look at him.

He was lying still at her feet, big, bulky and dressed all in black. The mud on the edges of his trousers suggested he’d come across the fields at the back of the house. She couldn’t make out his features because he’d landed face-first, but blood oozed from a wound on his head and darkened her kitchen floor.

Feeling a little dizzy, Kathleen pressed her hand to her throbbing head.

What now? Was one supposed to administer first aid when one was the cause of the injury? Was that helpful or hypocritical? Or was he past first aid and every other type of aid?

She nudged his body with her bare foot, but there was no movement.

Had she killed him?

The enormity of it shook her.

If he was dead, then she was a murderer.

When Liza had expressed a desire to see her mother safely housed somewhere she could easily visit, presumably she hadn’t been thinking of prison.

Who was he? Did he have family? What had been his intention when he’d forcibly entered her home? Kathleen put the skillet down and forced her shaky limbs to carry her to the living room. Something tickled her cheek. Blood. Hers.

She picked up the phone and for the first time in her life dialed the emergency services.

Underneath the panic and the shock there was something that felt a lot like pride. It was a relief to discover she wasn’t as weak and defenseless as everyone seemed to think.

When a woman answered, Kathleen spoke clearly and without hesitation.

“There’s a body in my kitchen,” she said. “I assume you’ll want to come and remove it.” 

Excerpted from The Summer Seekers by Sarah Morgan. Copyright © 2021 by Sarah Morgan. Published by HQN Books.

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Many thanks to Harlequin for the opportunity to read and review this book!

Review of LOCAL WOMAN MISSING by Mary Kubica

On By vickleaIn Book Review1 Comment

This was a well-written and extremely complex suspense thriller dealing with some very emotional issues, including child abduction, child abuse, relationship issues and, of course, secrets that kill. The time frame jumps sporadically from past to present and there are four narrators, including a missing child, a young child at home, a midwife named Meredith and her neighbor Kate. I was confused at first because of the complicated points of view and timelines, but I quickly got pulled into the story and ended up enjoying it immensely. In fact, I got so invested that it was hard to put the book down in the last few days of my reading it. The story is about a small town with two woman and a child suddenly missing. Supposedly a safe place, the town is no longer considered safe and there is a lot of speculation about what happened to Shelby Tebow, Meredith and six year old Delilah. There was a lot of backstory to this book, and since I don’t want to spoil it for anyone, I will just say that the background information is important to the understanding of the story, so I had to pay careful attention to it. I discovered the secrets and mysteries as I read as the clues were very nuanced and I was not able to figure things out. I will say that there were a lot of coincidences that weren’t quite believable, but they did not take away from my enjoyment of the story. At the end, I wanted more. I wanted to know more about the missing child, more about the neighbor, more about Meredith’s family and their future together. This was an engrossing book, but it did have some disturbing scenes in it that are not for the faint of heart. Fans of thrillers with some really intense scenes 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.”

This book was excellent for me, but I am a mature reader. The content was somewhat disturbing, especially the parts that dealt with child abuse and neglect. There was also a lesbian relationship as a central part of the story. So I would rate this book M for mature audiences.

Excerpt:

MEREDITH

11 YEARS BEFORE

March

The text comes from a number I don’t know. It’s a 630 area code. Local. I’m in the bathroom with Leo as he soaks in the tub. He has his bath toys lined up on the edge of it and they’re taking turns swan diving into the now-lukewarm water. It used to be hot, too hot for Leo to get into. But he’s been in there for thirty minutes now playing with his octopus, his whale, his fish. He’s having a ball.

Meanwhile I’ve lost track of time. I have a client in the early stages of labor. We’re texting. Her husband wants to take her to the hospital. She thinks it’s too soon. Her contractions are six and a half minutes apart. She’s absolutely correct. It’s too soon. The hospital would just send her home, which is frustrating, not to mention a huge inconvenience for women in labor. And anyway, why labor at the hospital when you can labor in the comfort of your own home? First-time fathers always get skittish. It does their wives no good. By the time I get to them, more times than not, the woman in labor is the more calm of the two. I have to focus my attention on pacifying a nervous husband. It’s not what they’re paying me for. 

I tell Leo one more minute until I shampoo his hair, and then fire off a quick text, suggesting my client have a snack to keep her energy up, herself nourished. I recommend a nap, if her body will let her. The night ahead will be long for all of us. Childbirth, especially when it comes to first-time moms, is a marathon, not a sprint. 

Josh is home. He’s in the kitchen cleaning up from dinner while Delilah plays. Delilah’s due up next in the tub. By the time I leave, the bedtime ritual will be done or nearly done. I feel good about that, hating the times I leave Josh alone with so much to do. 

I draw up my text and then hit Send. The reply is immediate, that all too familiar ping that comes to me at all hours of the day or night. 

I glance down at the phone in my hand, expecting it’s my client with some conditioned reply. Thx. 

Instead: I know what you did. I hope you die. 

Beside the text is a picture of a grayish skull with large, black eye sockets and teeth. The symbol of death. 

My muscles tense. My heart quickens. I feel thrown off. The small bathroom feels suddenly, overwhelmingly, oppressive. It’s steamy, moist, hot. I drop down to the toilet and have a seat on the lid. My pulse is loud, audible in my own ears. I stare at the words before me, wondering if I’ve misread. Certainly I’ve misread. Leo is asking, “Is it a minute, Mommy?” I hear his little voice, muff led by the ringing in my ears. But I’m so thrown by the cutthroat text that I can’t speak. 

I glance at the phone again. I haven’t misread. 

The text is not from my client in labor. It’s not from any client of mine whose name and number is stored in my phone. As far as I can tell, it’s not from anyone I know.

A wrong number, then, I think. Someone sent this to me by accident. It has to be. My first thought is to delete it, to pretend this never happened. To make it disappear. Out of sight, out of mind. 

But then I think of whoever sent it just sending it again or sending something worse. I can’t imagine anything worse. 

I decide to reply. I’m careful to keep it to the point, to not sound too judgy or fault-finding because maybe the intended recipient really did do something awful—stole money from a children’s cancer charity—and the text isn’t as egregious as it looks at first glance. 

I text: You have the wrong number. 

The response is quick. 

I hope you rot in hell, Meredith. 

The phone slips from my hand. I yelp. The phone lands on the navy blue bath mat, which absorbs the sound of its fall. 

Meredith. 

Whoever is sending these texts knows my name. The texts are meant for me. 

A second later Josh knocks on the bathroom door. I spring from the toilet seat, and stretch down for the phone. The phone has fallen facedown. I turn it over. The text is still there on the screen, staring back at me. 

Josh doesn’t wait to be let in. He opens the door and steps right inside. I slide the phone into the back pocket of my jeans before Josh has a chance to see. 

“Hey,” he says, “how about you save some water for the fish.” 

Leo complains to Josh that he is cold. “Well, let’s get you out of the bath,” Josh says, stretching down to help him out of the water. 

“I need to wash him still,” I admit. Before me, Leo’s teeth chatter. There are goose bumps on his arm that I hadn’t noticed before. He is cold, and I feel suddenly guilty, though it’s mired in confusion and fear. I hadn’t been paying any attention to Leo. There is bathwater spilled all over the floor, but his hair is still bone-dry. 

“You haven’t washed him?” Josh asks, and I know what he’s thinking: that in the time it took him to clear the kitchen table, wash pots and pans and wipe down the sinks, I did nothing. He isn’t angry or accusatory about it. Josh isn’t the type to get angry. 

“I have a client in labor,” I say by means of explanation. “She keeps texting,” I say, telling Josh that I was just about to wash Leo. I drop to my knees beside the tub. I reach for the shampoo. In the back pocket of my jeans, the phone again pings. This time, I ignore it. I don’t want Josh to know what’s happening, not until I get a handle on it for myself. 

Josh asks, “Aren’t you going to get that?” I say that it can wait. I focus on Leo, on scrubbing the shampoo onto his hair, but I’m anxious. I move too fast so that the shampoo suds get in his eye. I see it happening, but all I can think to do is wipe it from his forehead with my own soapy hands. It doesn’t help. It makes it worse. 

Leo complains. Leo isn’t much of a complainer. He’s an easygoing kid. “Ow,” is all that he says, his tiny wet hands going to his eyes, though shampoo in the eye burns like hell. 

“Does that sting, baby?” I ask, feeling contrite. But I’m bursting with nervous energy. There’s only one thought racing through my mind. I hope you rot in hell, Meredith. 

Who would have sent that, and why? Whoever it is knows me. They know my name. They’re mad at me for something I’ve done. Mad enough to wish me dead. I don’t know anyone like that. I can’t think of anything I’ve done to upset someone enough that they’d want me dead.

I grab the wet washcloth draped over the edge of the tub. I try handing it to Leo, so that he can press it to his own eyes. But my hands shake as I do. I wind up dropping the washcloth into the bath. The tepid water rises up and splashes him in the eyes. This time he cries. 

“Oh, buddy,” I say, “I’m so sorry, it slipped.” 

But as I try again to grab it from the water and hand it to him, I drop the washcloth for a second time. I leave it where it is, letting Leo fish it out of the water and wipe his eyes for himself. Meanwhile Josh stands two feet behind, watching. 

My phone pings again. Josh says, “Someone is really dying to talk to you.” 

Dying. It’s all that I hear. 

My back is to Josh, thank God. He can’t see the look on my face when he says it. 

“What’s that?” I ask. 

“Your client,” Josh says. I turn to him. He motions to my phone jutting out of my back pocket. “She really needs you. You should take it, Mer,” he says softly, accommodatingly, and only then do I think about my client in labor and feel guilty. What if it is her? What if her contractions are coming more quickly now and she does need me? 

Josh says, “I can finish up with Leo while you get ready to go,” and I acquiesce, because I need to get out of here. I need to know if the texts coming to my phone are from my client or if they’re coming from someone else. 

I rise up from the floor. I scoot past Josh in the door, brushing against him. His hand closes around my upper arm as I do, and he draws me in for a hug. “Everything okay?” he asks, and I say yes, fine, sounding too chipper even to my own ears. Everything is not okay. 

“I’m just thinking about my client,” I say. “She’s had a stillbirth before, at thirty-two weeks. She never thought she’d get this far. Can you imagine that? Losing a baby at thirty-two weeks?”

Josh says no. His eyes move to Leo and he looks saddened by it. I feel guilty for the lie. It’s not this client but another who lost a baby at thirty-two weeks. When she told me about it, I was completely torn up. It took everything in me not to cry as she described for me the moment the doctor told her her baby didn’t have a heartbeat. Labor was later induced, and she had to push her dead baby out with only her mother by her side. Her husband was deployed at the time. After, she was snowed under by guilt. Was it her fault the baby died? A thousand times I held her hand and told her no. I’m not sure she ever believed me. 

My lie has the desired effect. Josh stands down, and asks if I need help with anything before I leave. I say no, that I’m just going to change my clothes and go. 

I step out of the bathroom. In the bedroom, I close the door. I grab my scrub bottoms and a long-sleeved T-shirt from my drawer. I lay them on the bed, but before I get dressed, I pull my phone out of my pocket. I take a deep breath and hold it in, summoning the courage to look. I wonder what waits there. More nasty threats? My heart hammers inside me. My knees shake. 

I take a look. There are two messages waiting for me. 

The first: Water broke. Contractions 5 min apart. 

And then: Heading to hospital.—M. 

I release my pent-up breath. The texts are from my client’s husband, sent from her phone. My legs nearly give in relief, and I drop down to the edge of the bed, forcing myself to breathe. I inhale long and deep. I hold it in until my lungs become uncomfortable. When I breathe out, I try and force away the tension. 

But I can’t sit long because my client is advancing quickly. I need to go.

Excerpted from Local Woman Missing @ 2021 by Mary Kyrychenko, used with permission by Park Row Books.

About the Author:

Mary Kubica is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of six novels, including THE GOOD GIRL, PRETTY BABY, DON’T YOU CRY, EVERY LAST LIE, WHEN THE LIGHTS GO OUT, and THE OTHER MRS. A former high school history teacher, Mary holds a Bachelor of Arts degree from Miami University in Oxford, Ohio, in History and American Literature. She lives outside of Chicago with her husband and two children. Her last novel THE OTHER MRS. was an instant New York Times bestseller; is coming soon to Netflix; was a LibraryReads pick for February 2020; praised by the New York Times; and highly recommended by Entertainment Weekly, People, The Week, Marie Claire, Bustle, HelloGiggles, Goodreads, PopSugar, BookRiot, HuffingtonPost, First for Women, Woman’s World, and more. Mary’s novels have been translated into over thirty languages and have sold over two million copies worldwide. She’s been described as “a helluva storyteller,” (Kirkus Reviews) and “a writer of vice-like control,” (Chicago Tribune), and her novels have been praised as “hypnotic” (People) and “thrilling and illuminating” (Los Angeles Times).  LOCAL WOMAN MISSING is her seventh novel. 

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Many thanks to Harlequin Trade Publishing for the opportunity to read and review this riveting and thought-provoking book!