Synopsis

 

A prank gone wrong …

A case of mistaken identity …

Is this love story doomed before it can begin?

I messed up.

I accidentally told my parents I found love. Don’t judge. You deal with your mom constantly setting you up with models who want to use you for your connections and see how you respond.

Now my parents can’t wait to meet the man. Neither can I.

Internet dating to the rescue. But when my first date turns out to be Mr. Married Farter, I’m done.

Before I can tell my parents I’m a big fat liar I connect with Rafael, a Dutch guy from Amsterdam. And guess who happens to have the opportunity to live in Holland for six months? Things are suddenly looking up.

Except when I arrive in Amsterdam, Rafael isn’t the nice, dependable man I thought he was. He’s a mischief-maker who needs to grow up already.

But what if the immature prankster isn’t who he seems? What if Rafael is the nice, dependable man I thought he was? Should I give him another chance?

Is it possible I can find Dutch love Online?

This romantic comedy features a woman who protects her heart with a heavy dose of cynicism, a man doing his damndest to save his sister, and a whole passel of friends determined to push the two of them together no matter the subterfuge necessary.

Each book in the Love in the Lowlands romantic comedy series can be read as a standalone.

 

 

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Review

 

This is the last book in this series (but I keep hoping for a book about Joke, I think she has a story to tell) and the gang is all here with the addition of a new friend to the group.

I loved being back in the Hague with Abby, Mia, Charlotte, and Avery….and of course, the hunky dutchmen that go with these feisty women. The story is fast-paced, hilarious, sexy, and sweet all at the same time. These women know what it means to have your back, mostly at Abby’s interference, but that is what friends do. They stick their noses in and back you 100% no matter what.

Sofia is a talented photographer but her passion is really her art. Her mom, a famous model, just wants to see her daughter in a happy relationship so sets her up blind dates whenever she can get away with it. So Sofia takes this into her own hands…well actually it is her best friend Zara…and joins a dating app. Men can be lowlifes but enter Rafael. Rafael seems like a loving brother and all-around good guy and their text conversations are fun. When these two meet, it will not be what either of them expected.

I loved how Rafael was protective of his sister and did whatever he had to do to keep her well and happy.  She is living with kidney failure and who knows if a kidney will be found in time. But that overprotective instinct causes him to make some bad decisions, especially where Sofia is concerned. But that is what makes this story feel real, that they make mistakes and bad choices which is what we all do.

Sofia is a no-nonsense kind of woman and will do anything for anyone she cares about. Heck, she is roped into taking photos at a kid’s party when she first arrives in The Hague, but that is just the kind of woman she is.

This series has been so much fun to read. I laugh, I cry a little, and I drool over some hunky dutchmen (just don’t tell my husband). I could even relate to how Sofia and Rafael meet since I also met my husband online. I relish in the girl gang friendship and how they are all there for each other no matter what, even at the whim of Abby who likes to stick her nose in everyone’s business. But that is what makes Abby endearing, the lengths she goes to for her friends.

I love how there is a “wrap up” that is a few years down the road. It is a great way to end the series and not leave us hanging too much as to what this group of friends is up to and if everything was still working in their relationships.

You won’t be sorry if you check out this series. We give it 5 paws up.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Excerpt

 

As I enter, I hear a click above me. I glance up right in time to see a bucketful of water come raining down on me.

“What in the world?”

I dash to the side before my equipment can be soaked and therefore ruined, but I don’t move quick enough to avoid my hair and clothes being doused with water.

“Oh my god, this is classic!” someone says in between guffaws of laughter.

I lift my head to discover a man holding up a phone directed at me.

“Are you filming me? What the hell is going on? Was this some kind of prank?”

I lay my equipment on the sofa in the reception area before surveying the door. Yep, there’s a contraption with string and pulleys all right.

“What in the world is wrong with you? You could have ruined my equipment.”

“If you’d shut the hell up, I’d apologize.”

“Apologize? As if there’s an apology big enough for what you did.”

“Calm down.”

I feel my nostrils flare. I hate it when someone tells me to calm down. As if saying the words will magically make me calm. Not bloody likely.

“I’ll calm down when I’m damn well ready to calm down.”

“Real mature.”

I grab the sides of my head to keep it from exploding. “Are you seriously saying I’m not mature right now? You, who barely five minutes ago, set up a prank in a professional office? I’m the one who’s not mature?”

“You’re the one having a hissy fit in this professional office.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

About the Author

 

I grew up reading everything I could get my grubby hands on, from my mom’s Harlequin romances to Nancy Drew, to Little Women. When I wasn’t flipping pages in a library book, I was penning horrendous poems, writing songs no one should ever sing, or drafting stories which have thankfully been destroyed. College and a stint in the U.S. Army came along, robbing me of free time to write and read, although on the odd occasion I did manage to sneak a book into my rucksack between rolled up socks, MRIs, t-shirts, and cold weather gear. After surviving the army experience, I went back to school and got my law degree. I jumped ship and joined the hubby in the Netherlands before the graduation ceremony could even begin. A few years into my legal career, I was exhausted, fed up, and just plain done. I quit my job and sat down to write a manuscript, which I promptly hid in the attic before returning to the law. But practicing law really wasn’t my thing, so I quit (again!) and went off to Germany to start a B&B. Turns out running a B&B wasn’t my thing either. I polished off that manuscript languishing in the attic before following the husband to Istanbul where I decided to give the whole writer-thing a go. But ten years was too many to stay away from my adopted home. I packed up again and moved to The Hague where, in between tennis matches and failing to save the world, I’m currently working on my next book. I hope I’ll always be working on my next book.

 

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Synopsis

 

Two decades after his family suffers trauma, Max, the loving but remorsefully jealous older brother of a musical genius, chronicles the story of his dysfunctional family.

In mid-1970’s New York City, Max’s sister, Kayla, vaulted to fame as a piano prodigy, holding both audiences and her family in awe with her uncanny musical ability and warm smile. But deep within her lie the seeds of destruction: the paranoid fear of being stalked by a murderous fan. This mystery explores themes of family dysfunction, mental illness, and the long-term effects of family secrets going untold.

 

 

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Excerpt

 

Your Aunt Kayla was a piano prodigy of the highest degree. The term is thrown around way too much to describe any child who displays virtuosity on a musical instrument at an early age. Most of those deemed “prodigy” are talented, yes, but don’t really have the inner drive to propel them to greatness. Years pass, they may study their instrument with dedication, but almost inevitably their talent no longer seems extraordinary, and few can pursue music as a career. Kayla was one of the very few who deserved the term “prodigy.”

So. Town Hall. …

The publicity was phenomenal, with feature articles appearing in the main New York papers in the days leading up to the event. The family had been instructed by Herr Lindorf – Kayla’s teacher at Bellington – to refuse all requests for interviews of Kayla, because, he said in his heavy German accent, it would make the intrigue much greater when Kayla did perform. But Lindorf himself, if not the entire Bellington hierarchy, gave a lot of information to the media and passed out copies of the professional photographs Bellington had made. The shots selected for the campaign portrayed Kayla as a little girl, making her look perhaps only nine. She’d been posed in frilly costumes, which I knew Kayla hated. They’d stood her next to a grand piano, which looked large enough to engulf her. The articles stressed that Kayla Covo’s first full-length recital would be a miracle coming to fruition.

If the publicity bothered Kayla, she didn’t let on. It bothered everyone else in our family, though. Dad grumbled that he didn’t see why his little girl had to be plastered on posters at the entrance to the subway and likened the Bellington publicity to Nazi propaganda. Mom worried Kayla would be overwhelmed by all the attention. My own unhappiness stemmed from the realization that my influence in Kayla’s life was waning quickly, but my concern was more than outweighed by excitement and anticipation. I couldn’t wait for my sister to show the world what an outstanding pianist she was.

All Kayla would say is “I’ve got much more practice to do so everything is perfect.”

She spoke of perfection often, and, if there’s such a thing as perfection in music, then Kayla came as close to it as a human being can come. From the moment your Aunt Kayla walked on stage to warm applause, she held the audience in her hand and never let go. Her smile said it all. She loved being in front of the hundreds of people lucky enough to attend and exuded an air of extreme confidence, nothing feigned. She knew her power and her abilities. After a modest bow, she took her seat at the Steinway, placed her hands in her lap, and looked down, her gaze beneath the keyboard. All accomplished pianists pause to gather their thoughts before beginning, but Kayla had the habit of stretching the silence almost beyond endurance. While we waited at Town Hall, not a cough could be heard. Then Kayla started to play, and the wait had been well worth it.

We sat on the right side of the audience, to have the best view of Kayla’s face. From her look, we knew she’d transported herself well beyond the recital hall into a realm only she could occupy. I’d seen that look many times, a look I interpreted as complete oneness with the music. I’d often asked her to explain where she’d been in those moments, and she could never really say, but it was always clear she’d been in the music and part of the music at the same time.

 

 

Trailer

 

 

 

 

 

 

About the Author

 

Following a 40-year career as a trial attorney in Washington, DC., Bruce J. Berger turned full-time to writing, earned an M.F.A. in Creative Writing from American University, and now teaches there. His first novel, The Flight of the Veil, is a sequel to The Music Stalker and achieved critical success, winning a Bronze Award in General Fiction from Illumination Christian Book Awards. Kirkus Reviews called The Flight of the Veil “A well-crafted tale about trauma and miracles. Get it.” He has also published more than 50 stories and poems in a wide variety of literary journals.

 

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Synopsis

 

Teddy Crutcher has won Teacher of the Year at the esteemed Belmont Academy, home to the best and brightest.

He says his wife couldn’t be more proud—though no one has seen her in a while.

Teddy really can’t be bothered with the death of a school parent that’s looking more and more like murder or the student digging a little too deep into Teddy’s personal life. His main focus is on pushing these kids to their full academic potential.

All he wants is for his colleagues—and the endlessly meddlesome parents—to stay out of his way.

It’s really too bad that sometimes excellence can come at such a high cost.

USA Today bestselling author Samantha Downing is back with her latest sneaky thriller set at a prestigious private school—complete with interfering parents, overeager students, and one teacher who just wants to teach them all a lesson…

 

 

 

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Review

 

This is quite a twisty tale told from multiple POV. Because of the multiple POV, we know for the most part who is doing what and who is involved in the deaths of the teachers, but we don’t always know the why. Plus, there are a few other mysteries floating around such as where is Teddy’s wife? Is she alive? Who is poisoning the students and staff?

This book is filled with many unlikable characters. I’m not sure too many of them had redeeming qualities. The school is filled with privileged students that don’t usually want for anything, faculty that are former students, and helicopter parents. All except for Teddy who feels somewhat snubbed and feels like it is his place to teach the kids a lesson, especially the ones that he thinks are cheaters, whether they truly are or not. As I said, not many likable characters.

The story has a fast pace and engaged me from page one. I was curious how things were going to turn out and as some truths were revealed, it was quite a jaw-dropper for me. We may know the truth, but is it really the whole truth? The characters don’t reveal everything at once, it is handed to us pieces at a time and just when you thought you might like a character, you are broadsided with another piece of evidence that could sway you the other way.

I have enjoyed this author’s books and this one is no exception. If you are looking for a psychological thriller, you won’t be disappointed.

We give this book 5 paws up.

 

 

 

 

 

About the Author

 

Samantha Downing currently lives in New Orleans, where she is furiously typing away at her next thrilling novel.

 

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Title: PRETTY BROKEN DOLLS

Author: Jennifer Chase

Publisher: Bookouture

Pages: 302

Genre: Crime Thriller

 

 

Synopsis

 

In the thin light of the moon, the woman’s limp body hangs from the iron fence amongst the redwoods. Looped over the railings is the little gold locket her mother gave her when she turned sixteen. The picture of the girl inside smiles out at a future she’ll never see…

As day breaks over the fairground, Detective Katie Scott forces herself to take in another disturbing scene in front of her. A woman, the same age as her, found slumped in the carriage of the Ferris wheel, red lipstick dragged across her lips, her throat cut.

Katie doesn’t want to believe that the serial killer picking off women across the state has found their way to the small town of Pine Valley, California, but when her team finds a gold engagement ring hanging nearby, it’s a terrifying, but undeniable fact.

With a twisted killer on her doorstep, Katie knows if she doesn’t act fast, she’ll find more women left out in the cold like broken dolls. Her team hit dead end after dead end, but only she can see the vital link between the victims: a connection with Katie herself.

Katie has spent years pushing traumatic memories of her years in the military far out of reach, but she must confront them now or more innocent women will die. But as the killer circles closer and closer to Katie, what if the only answer is to give him what he wants? There must be another way…

Warning – This absolutely unputdownable thriller will keep you up all night! Fans of Lisa Regan, Rachel Caine, and Melinda Leigh better hold on tight for a nail-biting rollercoaster ride!

 

 

 

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Praise

 

5 Stars! “This is the first book in the series I have read – and I want more! Suspense up to the end, characters I enjoyed, and K9 units. Loved it!” – NetGalley

5 Stars! “As always this Jennifer Chase thriller just cries out to be read in one sitting. Here we see Katie get tangled up with a serial killer although it takes time before anyone takes her seriously. Great characters and a great story, I loved this book.” – NetGalley

 

 

Excerpt

 

PROLOGUE

 

The front door stood ajar. It bumped gently against the jamb in rhythm with the evening breeze. The screen remained wide open and was bent precariously around the aluminum frame. Pieces of broken glass from a shattered light bulb above had scattered across the porch, leaving behind a shadowy darkness draped across the front of the small house.

The neighborhood remained quiet; the light blue one-story cottage eerily so. No outside illumination or motion lights flooded the front area. The blooming climbing vines and perfectly manicured bushes were eclipsed by the darkness.

Headlights approached.

A small, dark vehicle pulled into the driveway. Waiting a moment before turning off the engine, a woman pushed open the car door and stepped out. The young redhead was dressed for the evening, in a sparkly blouse and tight black pants. Wavering a moment in her spiked sandals, she looked at the house in curiosity—and then in disappointment. Quickly grabbing a warm jacket from inside the car and slipping it on, she walked up the driveway.

“Jeanine, where are you?” she whispered and headed to the front door, ignoring the shattered light bulb on the step crunching under her feet. She knocked on the door. “Jeanine,” she said, more loudly, leaning closer to the opening. “We waited for you… you missed a great party.”

No response.

The front door pushed open, revealing a darkened interior.

“Jeanine?”

The woman hesitated but seemed to be pulled by an unknown force. She stepped over the threshold, not bothering to close the door, and moved through the living room. Confused by the darkness, she turned on a lamp sitting on a small table. The room lit up instantly. Everything seemed in place. The oversized beige couches with brightly colored throw pillows, the dark mahogany coffee table with neatly stacked magazines and books precisely centered appeared usual for Jeanine’s house. It was always neat and organized.

“Jeanine?” the woman said again. “Are you here?”

The woman walked around and checked the kitchen and small bedroom, but there wasn’t any sign of her friend. She eyed a piece of paper on the counter and decided to leave a quick note, scratching out that she had stopped by and asking Jeanine to call her when she got the message.

She suddenly noticed a strange high-pitched whistling noise coming from the other side of the living room. Curious, the woman moved closer to the sound. The back sliding door was slightly open. The crack was enough for the wind to invade and make a strange noise.

Her foot touched something. A tall turquoise vase that had been sitting on a shelf nearby was now lying on the carpet. It seemed strange to her that it had been knocked over. She bent down and picked up the vase, replacing it on the shelf.

She retrieved her cell phone from her pocket and tried calling Jeanine again. It rang numerous times and then went to voicemail where Jeanine’s upbeat voice said, “Hi, sorry I missed your call but please don’t hang up. Leave a message and I’ll get right back to you.”

The greeting was followed by a quick beep.

“Jeanine, it’s Mandy again and now I’m standing in your living room. Where are you, girl? Everyone was asking about you tonight. Hey, and you left your front door open. Call me.” She ended the call.

Mandy was about to head back to the front door to leave, but something stopped her—it didn’t feel right—and instead, she stood at the sliding door staring out into the large backyard where dense rows of pine trees and acacia bushes huddled around the house’s boundary. During the day, the property appeared green and lush, but now it looked gloomy and foreboding.

Mandy flipped on the outside light, but it only lit up the patio areas directly outside the house, and the extended wooded region still looked dark.

She pulled open the sliding door and the wind whipped through the house. It chilled her. Goosebumps scuttled up her arms. Worry now set in and she didn’t know what to do. Redialing Jeanine’s number, Mandy listened to it sound again and in unison heard the faint, far-off ringing of a phone somewhere in the distance.

She stepped outside, trying to decipher where the ringing was coming from. “Jeanine?” she said, noticing that one of the outside chairs had been toppled over and lay precariously on its side.

Moving off the stone patio and pulling her jacket more tightly around her, Mandy slowly trudged toward the trees, a bit wobbly in her shoes. She turned on the flashlight mode on her cell phone and moved forward.

She dialed Jeanine again. This time, she heard the distinct ringing of the cell phone coming from the trees—low at first and then it rang louder.

“Jeanine,” she said, with barely a whisper. Her voice sounded oddly distant.

Looking down, she saw where there were crushed weeds and small broken branches as if someone had walked back and forth recently. Still, she kept moving forward, into the trees, swinging her cell phone back and forth which only illuminated a tiny patch of ground in front of her, creating dense shadows outside its beam.

Her pulse quickened.

Anxiety escalated.

Something fluttering on a bush caught her eye. She leaned closer, focusing. As she moved the cell light beam nearer, it revealed a piece of white fabric with a mother-of-pearl button still attached.

Mandy gasped.

It wasn’t the fact that she had seen Jeanine wear that pretty white blouse on so many occasions, it was the droplets of crimson spattered across the fabric that shoved a spear of fear into her gut.

Thoughts of dread and horror-filled scenarios ran through Mandy’s mind. Urgently, she pushed the redial button on her phone again.

The sound of Jeanine’s ringtone rang in the darkness. This time it kept ringing and there was no cheerful message.

Mandy walked further into the dark realm of the trees, still hoping that there was a logical explanation. Stepping over old branches with loud crunching noises and sidestepping bushes just before reaching the back fence of the property, she managed to make her way to the sound of the ringing phone.

Everything went quiet.

Mandy stood a foot from the phone lying on the ground. It mesmerized her. She slowly bent down to pick it up. With a startled gasp, she stepped back, dropping the phone as she stared at her hand. It was covered in blood.

In a frenzied panic, Mandy ran past the phone and continued along the low wrought-iron fence. The flashlight feature dimmed and she couldn’t see where she was going. Slowing her pace, she glimpsed something white and moving slightly.

“Jeanine? What’s going on?” She spoke in a strained whisper.

Trying to catch her breath and calm her hammering pulse, Mandy approached. Her cell phone flashlight surged and shone brightly on the blood-soaked white silk blouse, now shredded from Jeanine’s right shoulder. She reeled back at the sight of her friend.

Mandy couldn’t tear her eyes away from the horror. Her throat constricted as her breath trapped in her chest. She staggered backwards, taking in the entire scene—unable to turn her focus away.

Her friend’s upper body was impaled on the iron fence penetrating from her back through her ribs, and her throat was slit open. Her head flopped down, lifeless eyes trained on the ground. Her long brown hair fell forward, some strands sticking to the blood seeping from her chest. Her arms hung at her sides, legs crooked, like a marionette waiting for someone to pull the strings. Blood still dripped from her body, sliding down her arms to her fingertips before collecting on the ground—the wet crimson almost matching her fingernail polish. The body was shoeless and Jeanine’s feet were dirty and bloody—as if she had been running through the woods barefoot.

It was the sight of Jeanine’s face that made her sob in terror. Caked in grotesque makeup, making her look like a caricature of herself—a hideous broken doll. Red lipstick drawn heavy around her lips, dark purples for blush on her cheeks, and dark blues for eye shadow made her look like a circus clown instead of her friend.

Beside Jeanine’s body, a necklace hung on the fence. It was a small locket that she always wore, which her mother had given her when she turned sixteen.

Mandy mouthed the word “Jeanine” but no sound escaped her lips. Realizing she still had her cell phone in her hand, she tried to dial 911 but fumbled a few times with the buttons before she heard the words, “Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”

 

 

About the Author

 

Jennifer Chase is a multi award-winning and best-selling crime fiction author, as well as a consulting criminologist. Jennifer holds a bachelor’s degree in police forensics and a master’s degree in criminology & criminal justice. These academic pursuits developed out of her curiosity about the criminal mind as well as from her own experience with a violent sociopath, providing Jennifer with a deep personal investment in every story she tells. In addition, she holds certifications in serial crime and criminal profiling.  She is an affiliate member of the International Association of Forensic Criminologists, and member of the International Thriller Writers.

 

 

 

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Synopsis

 

I’m seven years old and I’ve never had a best mate. Trouble is, no one gets my jokes. And Breaks-it isn’t helping. Ha! You get it, don’t you? Brexit means everyone’s falling out and breaking up.

Huxley is growing up in the suburbs of London at a time of community tensions. To make matters worse, a gang of youths is targeting isolated residents. When Leonard, an elderly newcomer chats with Huxley, his parents are suspicious. But Huxley is lonely and thinks Leonard is too. Can they become friends?

Funny and compassionate, this contemporary novel for adults explores issues of belonging, friendship, and what it means to trust.

 

 

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Review

 

Huxley is a typical seven year old boy. He gets into mischief, has a big heart, and isn’t afraid to say what he thinks or what he wants. His parents, on the other hand, want to make sure he stays safe from harm.

I loved Huxley’s outlook on life. He liked to make different words for common words to be funny. Sometimes, adults got it and sometimes they didn’t. He also saw the desire in others to have a friend when others might pass them by such as Leonard. I have to admit, I thought he might be up to no good, but when we learn the truth, our heart goes out to him and his situation. He also tends to get into a little bit of trouble when trying to stand up to bullies either for himself or others.

While the main character is a young boy, I don’t think this book is meant for younger readers. It covers more serious topics such as bullying, infidelity, pedophilia, and marital infidelity. But at the same time, it brings light to some more serious topics through Huxley’s eyes and his parents. Plus, it covers topics such as friendship and how to get over a disagreement with your friends.

This book will make you smile, especially at Huxley’s new words for more commonplace ones, and will give you insight into an average family. We give this book 4 paws up.

 

 

 

 

 

Read an excerpt here

 

 

 

 

About the Author

 

Novelist, poet and scriptwriter, Gail Aldwin’s debut coming-of-age novel The String Games was a finalist in The People’s Book Prize and the DLF Writing Prize 2020. Following a stint as a university lecturer, Gail’s children’s picture book Pandemonium was published. Gail loves to appear at national and international literary and fringe festivals. Prior to Covid-19, she volunteered at Bidibidi in Uganda, the second largest refugee settlement in the world. When she’s not gallivanting around, Gail writes at her home overlooking water meadows in Dorset.

 

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From award-winning chef and Food Network personality Scott Conant, a cookbook of restaurant-quality Italian meals that you can make easily in your home kitchen

Thirty-five years into an illustrious career of restaurant openings across the country, widespread acclaim, and frequent appearances on the Food Network’s Chopped and many other shows, Scott Conant has returned home to create his most personal cookbook yet. Meals cooked from simple, fresh ingredients were staples of Conant’s childhood in a New England family with roots in Southern Italy. From his grandparents’ garden to the dinner table, he learned early on to appreciate the nuances of different flavors and ingredients, and the strong connection between food and family.

Focusing on these foods Conant grew up with and the ones he makes for his loved ones today, Peace, Love, and Pasta compiles simple, fresh, and flavorful Italian recipes for the home cook to bring to their own family’s table. These recipes are built on the art of cooking for love, fascination with flavors and ingredients, and the simple pleasures of taste and conviviality.

 

 

Amazon * Abrams Books

 

 

Review

 

This is my 4th year as part of the Abrams Dinner Party which is great for me as much as I like to cook and try new recipes. Pasta is always a good fallback because there are so many amazing things that can be made and this new book from Scott Conant will delight everyone because it is so much more than just pasta. There are beverages, soups, meat dishes, sweets, and even a Turkish section. It is all about simplicity and I can tell you from the few dishes I have made so far, they are definitely not complex and great for any level of cooking skill you might possess.

When I first opened the book, it opened to the Roasted Garlic, Parmigiano-Reggiano, and EVOO Spread. I happen to LOVE garlic so I knew this was a MUST to make. Now you can put it on crostini or use it as a dip, but I knew it would be delicious spread on some chicken and put under the broiler to finish off the dish. Let me tell you, it was divine!  I didn’t use as much EVOO as it called for since I wasn’t using it as a dip and didn’t need it running out all over the dish. This is definitely a spread that I plan to make multiple times in the future. This is a photo of that spread, my mouth is drooling just looking at it right now.

 

 

 

The second dish I tried was the Sausage and Porcini Ragu. This is another simple dish that I happened to have all of the ingredients on hand. It came together pretty quickly and the taste was outstanding. I am not a mushroom fan but it worked in this dish (plus there were not a lot of mushrooms). This dish is going into our rotation.

 

 

 

I have several other recipes bookmarked including one of the Turkish dishes, Sigara Börek. It is a pasta dough filled with feta cheese and pan-fried. I found the Yufka dough at a Middle Eastern grocery store and plan to try it out very soon.

Overall, this cookbook has a lot to offer everyone from the amateur to the more professional chef. Plus the recipes are great for bringing family together to try new dishes and even cook together.

 

 

Synopsis

 

Jolie Hogan likes coffee black, panties lacy, and tequila neat. She’s a cop, turned journalist, turned private investigator. People say she’s ballsy. Truth is, her courage is a recklessness that stems from her troubled past.

Jolie is currently in a mess of trouble. She’s been set up for murder by a powerful criminal attorney. The murder victims are the attorney’s wife and Jolie’s husband, Lucas. Jolie will do whatever it takes to clear her name. Including selling her soul to the devil. In Jolie’s case, the devil is a wickedly hot detective who brings the past back to haunt her.

 

 

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Review

 

This is not your average Ashley Farley novel that is sweet yet fraught with emotions. No, this is a grittier mystery (romantic suspense) novel with flawed characters and the search for the truth.

As is with all of this author’s novels, I was drawn in immediately. Who wouldn’t be when Jolie is hired to find out who a client’s wife is cheating with and it turns out to be her husband. And then they both end up dead and Jolie is caught in the middle of the situation. This is where her training comes in handy as she ferrets out the truth, which doesn’t come easy.

I really enjoyed this story and there were some twists I didn’t expect but they fit perfectly with the story. There is a wide variety of characters with motives that range from the pure to the extremely devious. Only Joie and those closest to her will be able to figure everything out, but will they do it in time? The action kept me glued to my seat and I think I stayed up just a little too late reading this book.

Pick up this book as soon as it releases and you won’t be sorry!

We give this book 5 paws up.

 

 

 

 

 

About the Author

 

Ashley Farley writes books about women for women. Her characters are mothers, daughters, sisters, and wives facing real-life issues. Her bestselling Sweeney Sisters series has touched the lives of many.

Ashley is a wife and mother of two young adult children. While she’s lived in Richmond, Virginia for the past 21 years, a piece of her heart remains in the salty marshes of the South Carolina Lowcountry, where she still calls home. Through the eyes of her characters, she captures the moss-draped trees, delectable cuisine, and kindhearted folk with lazy drawls that make the area so unique.

 

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Synopsis

 

Sometimes, the one you’re saving is really saving you.

Harley loses everything when his master dies — his home, his best friend, his reason for living. Day after day, he trudges the streets, trembling from the biting cold, whimpering from the gnawing hunger.

Across town, Rachel has an alimony hearing looming and a make-or-break deadline hurtling toward her, yet they aren’t her biggest worries — her autistic son has withdrawn so far into his own private world, he barely acknowledges she even exists.

Luckily, the magic of life is in the surprises no one ever sees coming…

If you crave a story of love and loss, of compassion and belonging, of friendship that knows no bounds, you need to read When the Skies Cry.

 

 

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Review

 

Have tissues on hand, this book has all the feels running through it.

This book (really the series) is a must read for all dog lovers. While this story is a stand alone, there are some bits and pieces from As The Stars Fall that you just might recognize while reading this book.

This book is told from two points of view – Harvey, a dog that is not sure what happened to his owner, and Rachel, a single mom with a special needs son that isn’t sure how she is going to handle everything. That is until Harvey shows up in their lives and she sees the impact that he makes on her son. Harvey is also looking for something to fill his life, he needs a job because he is a working dog. It is the little things that he does that makes an impact in Rachel and Wes’ life.

I enjoyed watching the interaction between all of the characters, the fierceness of Rachel when protecting her son and eventually Harvey, and the touching moments throughout. Now, there are a few “mean” characters but thankfully they don’t get very far in this story. The ending had me in tears which is why you need some tissues handy. Actually, you need those tissues throughout the whole book, so many moments that will touch your heart and soul.

I also related to Rachel as a cancer survivor and what she had to endure.

Apparently, there are now two ending options available, but I only read the original and didn’t have the chance to check out the other ending. I think you probably can’t go wrong with either one as both will strike a chord with different people.

We give this book 5 paws up.

 

 

 

 

 

About the Author

 

Apart from animals and writing, Steve’s passion is travel. He’s visited 58 countries and enjoyed some amazing experiences, including cage-diving with great white sharks, sparring with a monk at a Shaolin temple, and watching a turtle lay eggs on a moonlit beach. He’s explored Machu Picchu, Pompeii, and the Great Wall of China, yet for all that, he’s a man of simple tastes — give him an egg sandwich and the TV remote control, and he’ll be happy for hours!

He lives in the North of England with his partner, Ania, and two black cats who graciously allow Steve and Ania to stay in their house.

 

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Title: The Last Line

Author: Robert Dugoni

Page Count: 53 pages

Release Date: October 21, 2021

Publisher: Amazon Original Stories

 

Synopsis

 

His old life in the rearview, Del Castigliano has left Wisconsin to work homicide for the Seattle PD. Breaking him in is veteran detective Moss Gunderson, and he’s handing Del a big catch: the bodies of two unidentified men fished from Lake Union. It’s a major opportunity for the new detective, and Del runs with it, chasing every lead—to every dead end. Despite the help of another section rookie, Vic Fazzio, Del is going nowhere fast. Until one shotgun theory looks to be dead right: the victims are casualties of a drug smuggling operation. But critical information is missing—or purposely hidden. It’s forcing Del into a crisis of character and duty that not even the people he trusts can help him resolve.

 

 

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Q&A with Robert Dugoni

 

From books to movies to television, police procedurals are incredibly popular with audiences. What do you think is the appeal of these stories?

 

I think the appeal is readers and viewers have good guys to root for and bad guys to root against. Readers also like a good mystery. They like to see if they can solve the crime, determine the bad guy and figure out what he did and how he did it, just like the detectives. It keeps them engaged in and part of the story.

 

Do you recall the first detective story you ever read or perhaps you have a favorite? What was it about this type of story that made you want to write in the genre?

 

Years ago, I remember reading Michael Connelly’s The Poet. I don’t know if it was the first detective story I read, probably not, but it was visceral and stuck with me. I do recall reading All The President’s Men when I was in high school, and though Woodward and Bernstein were not detectives, per se, they very much functioned like detectives in that story—finding clues, trying to piece together those clues, and then solve the puzzle. In many ways, that’s what a good detective story is all about: solving a puzzle. I think that is one of the appeals to writers, as well as readers and viewers.

 

Del Castigliano, the police detective in your newest release The Last Line, has worked in narcotics, arson, sexual assaults, robbery, and now homicide. He has definitely seen the worst that humans have to offer. What keeps him sane and on the job?

 

For most police officers I’ve spoken with, they do the job knowing that they are keeping people safe—maybe people they know or even love. It’s a tough job and burnout can be a problem. Most detectives have to be mentally tough and can be frequently rotated to help minimize burn out. It’s one of the reasons detectives and uniformed officers, I believe, are underappreciated. It’s a tough job.

 

Throughout The Last Line, readers get to see Del at his worst—he faces loss, failure, insecurity, loneliness…yet we also respect him. He is honest, hardworking, and clever. How do you see him? If you were to sit down to have a beer with him, what would you talk about?

 

In The Last Line, I see Del as a guy trying to find his way after life has thrown him a curveball. If we sat down for a beer, I’d ask him if, looking back, he has any regrets, or if time has helped him put life in perspective and he realizes that what he went through as a young man actually helped him to get to a better place in his life.

 

The Last Line ends in a way that will have readers wanting more. Do you have any future plans for Del and the larger cast?

 

Very much so. Del is a central character in the Tracy Crosswhite series, and in Tracy #9, What She Found, the story of Del’s first case from The Last Line comes back to Tracy, who is now working a cold case and trying to figure out what happened 24 years ago.

 

For fans of your bestselling Tracy Crosswhite series, will they feel at home with Del as the lead protagonist? For readers who haven’t discovered Tracy yet, will they be able to dip right in?

 

Absolutely. The Last Line is a standalone story that predates Tracy arriving at Seattle PD. I’ve had so many readers ask me for more of Del and Faz! Writing The Last Line was an opportunity to dig into how they got started and what shaped them. I have a thought now about Tracy #10 being a cold case that Del and Faz investigated 25 years earlier and telling the story from both time periods leading up to Tracy solving the crime in the present.

 

What do you have coming up next?

 

The third book in the Charles Jenkins espionage series, The Silent Sisters, will be published, February 22, 2022, followed by Tracy #9, What She Found, which will be out August 23, 2022. Beyond that, readers can look for a new standalone legal thriller introducing criminal defense attorney Keera Duggan. I’m excited about that novel and working hard to get it finished soon.

 

***

 

Excerpt

 

Del drove from the parking garage into a blustery and cold November morning—cold being relative. In Madison, anything above freezing was balmy for November, though Del was starting to understand what Seattleites meant when they said it wasn’t the temperature that chills you; it’s the dampness. He could feel the cold in his bones. A stiff wind rocked his metallic-blue Oldsmobile Cutlass.The wind had started blowing late the prior evening; branches of a tree scraping against Del’s bedroom window had kept him awake half the night.

He drove from Capitol Hill with the defroster on high and worked his way around the southern edge of Lake Union, noting marinas and water-based businesses. He pulled into a parking lot where Moss stood beside a black Buick LeSabre, sipping coffee and towering over a patrol officer. Moss was almost as big as Del, who stood six foot five and weighed 250 pounds.

Del pulled up the collar of his coat against the howling wind as he approached the two men. He recognized the green logo on Moss’s Starbucks coffee cup, the company name taken from Captain Ahab’s first mate on the Pequod, the whaling ship Moby Dick sent to the bottom of the ocean. The logo, a green siren, tempted sailors to jump overboard and drown. Neither was a good omen.

“Look what the cat dragged out. Did we wake you, Elmo?”

“Funny.” Del had heard iterations of Elmo since his teens, when the beloved puppet first appeared on Sesame Street. Moss introduced Del to Mike Nuccitelli, the patrol sergeant. “How’d you get here so quick?” Del asked Moss. He understood Moss lived in West Seattle, twenty minutes farther from the marina than Del’s apartment.

“I didn’t take time to do my hair.” Moss rubbed the bristles of a crew cut. “I’m like my name. You know. A rolling stone.”

Del knew. More than once, Moss had told him his parents bequeathed him the moniker because as a child he never remained still. Vic Fazzio had said it was more likely Moss gave himself the nickname. His Norwegian first name was Asbjorn.

“Halloway here?” Del asked.

“At this hour of the morning?” Moss scoffed. “Stayaway doesn’t come out this early on a cold morning unless he thinks the brass might show up and he can shine their badges with his nose.”

“What do we got?” Del asked.

“Two grown men. Looks like they drowned,” Nuccitelli said. “We’re waiting for the ME.”

“What more do we know about the victims; anything?” Del asked.

Nuccitelli raised the fur collar of his duty jacket against the wind. “Hispanic is my guess, though the bodies are pretty bloated and their skin the color of soot. I’m guessing roughly late twenties to early thirties, but again . . .”

“They didn’t have any ID?” Del asked.

“Not on them,” Nuccitelli said.

“That strike you as odd—they didn’t have ID?”

Nuccitelli smiled.“Not my job.That’s your job.”

“How far out is the ME?” Moss looked and sounded disinterested.

Nuccitelli checked his watch.“Should be here in ten.”

“We’ll take it from here.”

 

 

About the Author

 

Robert Dugoni is the critically acclaimed New York Times, Wall Street Journal, Washington Post, and Amazon Charts bestselling author of the Tracy Crosswhite series, which has sold more than seven million books worldwide. He is also the author of the bestselling Charles Jenkins series; the bestselling David Sloane series; the stand-alone novels The 7th Canon, Damage Control, The World Played Chess, and The Extraordinary Life of Sam Hell, Suspense Magazine’s 2018 Book of the Year, for which Dugoni won an AudioFile Earphones Award for narration; and the nonfiction exposé The Cyanide Canary, a Washington Post best book of the year. He is the recipient of the Nancy Pearl Book Award for fiction and a three-time winner of the Friends of Mystery Spotted Owl Award for best novel set in the Pacific Northwest. He is a two-time finalist for the Thriller Awards and the Harper Lee Prize for Legal Fiction, as well as a finalist for the Silver Falchion Award for mystery and the Mystery Writers of America Edgar Awards. His books are sold in more than twenty-five countries and have been translated into more than two dozen languages.

 

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Giveaway

 

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Synopsis

 

Love across cultures is tested when Antonio, a penniless university student, and Evelyn, a strong-willed Peace Corps volunteer, succumb to their attraction to one another at the end of her two-year commitment in Peru and Evelyn gets pregnant. Deeply in love, the twenty-three-year-olds marry in Cusco—and decide to begin their married life in Northern California.

Evelyn, like most wives of the ’60s and ’70s, expects her husband to support their family. And Antonio tries to take his place as head of the household, but he must first learn English, complete college, and find an adequate job. To make ends meet, Evelyn secures full-time positions, leaving their infant son in the care of others, and they both go on to attend college—she for two years, he for six. Then Antonio is offered a full-time professorship at the university he attended in Peru, and he takes it—leaving Evelyn a single parent. Parenthood, financial stress, the pull of both countries, and long visits from Antonio’s mother threaten to destroy the bonds that brought them together.

Clear-eyed and frank, Love in Any Language illustrates the trials and joys in the blending of two cultures.

 

 

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Guest Post

 

Have Gender Roles Changed in the Past 60 Years?

By Dr. Evelyn LaTorre

 

In 1966, when I married, women in the US were subject to a long list of financial and personal disadvantages. They could be denied a credit card, placement on a jury, or employment if pregnant. The National Organization for Women (NOW) organized a march in 1970 to protest these inequalities. I didn’t notice the march or the discrimination at first because in the early 1970s I was busy trying to balance full-time mothering with full-time work and feeling pulled between the two.

Back then, women who worked while raising children was unusual. My job as a school social worker took me away during the day from my newborn and four-year-old. I wanted to be a full-time mother, but I also enjoyed my work. What I didn’t enjoy was my mother’s disapproval.

“A good husband supports his family,” my mother said. “You should be staying home caring for your children.”

Her words, insinuating that maybe I neglected my two boys, filled me with guilt. I didn’t respond to her admonishment because the mother part of me agreed with her. But the part of me that desired a career, didn’t. Besides, I secured good childcare for them and had three months off in the summer. My husband often took care of our sons and helped clean the house.

Mom shouldn’t have been so critical of my situation. After staying home to raise us five older children, she began working full-time right after having child number six in 1960. By then, I think she yearned to use her mind and communications skills in the job she’d landed as a clerk for the local police department.

Still, my stomach tied in knots when I acknowledged that I didn’t have the option to be a stay-at-home mother. My husband, Antonio, took four years to complete his B.A. degree in physics, then said he’d need another two to earn a master’s degree to be employable. I already had those degrees and assumed he was right about physicists needing advanced degrees. So, I agreed that he could be a full-time student while I continued to work.

Mom’s example wasn’t what we saw on TV in the 1960s. Mothers like June Cleaver of Leave it to Beaver, Harriet Nelson of Ozzie and Harriet, and Donna Reed of The Donna Reed Show, fed their TV husbands’ egos along with their dinners, while keeping spotless homes and wearing dresses, pearls, and heels. Similar to present day, the commercials on TV and radio extolled the virtues of specialized cleaning products to keep bathrooms and kitchens sparkling. I’ve never aspired to have spotless bathrooms and kitchens.

Only Lucy of I Love Lucy attempted to work outside her home. She always failed, though with humor. In the 1960s, my three younger sisters and I sensed the difference between Lucy, our mom, and those other TV mothers and wives. Her salary would go to put us through college. And we didn’t wear pearls and heels, we wore blue jeans and saddle shoes to clean the house, help make dinner, and care for our baby brother.

So, in 1971, I was caught in a quandary. My parents had sacrificed so I could have a college education, but for what? Mom discouraged me from using my master’s degree in social welfare because I had young children. And I believed the dilemma was my fault. I’d had two children before my husband could support them. I could hear my mother thinking, You made your bed, now lie in it.
Similarly educated women with children in the 70s didn’t hold full-time jobs. Their husbands supported them like the women on TV. Of course, there have been small populations of married women in every decade who work for a few years to put their husbands through medical, law, or other professional schools. They’d reap their rewards later with a move to an upper income level. Then there had been the husbandless moms on my AFDC (Aid to Families with Dependent Children) caseload when I’d worked for the county welfare department.

However, neither Antonio nor I had been raised to live for money or prestigious positions. Our lower middle-class parents taught us that education was longer lasting and more satisfying than material wealth. We weren’t intentionally upwardly mobile, and I wasn’t a single mother. So I didn’t fall into either the striver or the welfare mother category.

Like it or not, I was part of a new wave of able women, mothers with young children who held down jobs to support our families. I had mixed feelings about full-time work vs. full-time mothering. My heart ached with a desire to spend my days with my two young boys, but breadwinner was the role I had filled since marrying. I’d opted for higher education to make me a capable earner, so would continue working for as long as I had to. Work provided me intellectual challenges, feelings of competence, and a bigger say in our family’s spending.

In the first decades that I worked, I saw few models of married women with young children who held down jobs to support their families. In retrospect, women like me were setting an example. Articles in magazines reported that working full-time, while raising children, required a superhuman effort. A woman reporter had said that combining an engrossing occupation and a happy marriage was impossible. She bet that only one woman in a thousand could do it. I wondered if she were a full-time reporter with children.

I had read a book that contradicted the ‘Children Equals No Career’ motto when I was a senior at College of the Holy Names. My sociology professor had assigned us to read Betty Friedan’s The Feminine Mystique. The popular 1963 book illustrated many cases of unhappy college-educated women who filled their days with homemaking duties. Cleaning, cooking, childcare, and tending to their husbands left these wives and mothers without identities outside their well-kept homes. Though women had comprised 50 percent of the professional workforce in 1930, Ms. Friedan wrote, in 1960 the percentage had dropped to only 35 percent. This, although the number of women college graduates had tripled. I’d witnessed the accuracy of that statistic.

One-third of the women who’d entered Holy Names with me as freshmen in 1960, married before or right after our graduation in 1964. A few classmates admitted to attending college to get an ‘M.R.S.’ degree. A Rhodes Scholar awardee a couple grades ahead of me was given the choice of marriage to her fiancé or graduate school abroad. She elected to marry and declined the prestigious honor and the opportunity to grow her mind. Her decision disappointed her professors—and me. I would have opted for education at Oxford University in England in a minute.
Ms. Friedan’s conclusion, while controversial in 1963, was that many women with educations were happier using their minds to fulfill their intellectual and creative needs than they were living through the lives of their husbands and children. I agreed and still do. I never wanted my tombstone to read, “She kept her husband happy in a tidy home.”

A variety of legislation, designed to level the playing field for women, began with the 1963 Equal Pay Act, and continued up through the 2013’s lowering of the ban against women in military combat. Today, more women than men earn undergraduate and graduate college degrees. Occupations that excluded women in previous decades are now open to them. The result has been an increase of women in the labor force from 32% in 1950 to 57% in 2018. But these hard fought-for improvements have come with little growth for women in the higher paying positions of authority and management. They are crowded into lower-paying jobs in education and health care.

Nevertheless, gains for women can be seen in the record number of women in a wider variety of occupations and in government. The number of females running businesses on the Fortune 500 just hit a record of 41. In 1980, the first woman, not following her husband or father in the job, was elected to the Senate. Today there are 21 female senators and a female vice president.
I succeeded in raising two children and having a successful career in part because of financial assistance in the form of college scholarships, affordable childcare, and food stamps. Having parents nearby, a helpful husband, advanced degrees, and understanding employers were also important factors.

 

 

About the Author

 

EVELYN KOHL LaTORRE grew up in rural Southeastern Montana, surrounded by sheep and cattle ranches, before coming to California with her family at age 16. She holds a doctorate in multicultural education from the University of San Francisco, and a master’s degree in social welfare from UC Berkeley. She worked as a bilingual school psychologist and school administrator in public education for 32 years. Evelyn loves to explore other lands and cultures. To date, she and her husband have lived in and traveled to close to 100 countries.

Evelyn’s first published book, “Between Inca Walls” about falling in love while serving in the Peace Corps, has won much praise and numerous prizes. Evelyn is often a featured podcast guest, lecturer and guest blogger. Her work has appeared in World View Magazine, The Delta Kappa Gamma Bulletin, the California Writers Club Literary Review, the Tri-City Voice, Dispatches, Conscious Connection and Clever Magazine.

 

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