THE SUMMER VILLA
by Melissa Hill 

My Rating:

Favorite Quotes:

Abandoned in the toilets at Connolly train station in the center of Dublin almost thirty years ago, she’d barely been breathing when she was found by a curious Irish Rail cleaner, who heard a noise from inside the ladies. There he found an infant, scarcely a few hours old, and had called for an ambulance. Even before she had a name, Annie was making headlines for all the wrong reasons.

She sighed inwardly. You could get lost in the guy’s accent, never mind his arms. It was like condensed milk— thick and sweet.

She smiled to herself in the darkness. This was obviously what people were talking about when they joked about Italian men… She’d had no idea what she’d been missing.

My Review:

This book had a bit of everything – women’s fiction, romance, family drama, and several mysteries. The premise and storylines were interesting and well nuanced with plenty of red herrings and misdirections to keep me guessing.

The characters were international and an odd lot of personalities, rich and poor, all attempting to run away from or avoid what their lives had become. And while a few of them were too good to be true, most were guilty of being selfish, less than honorable, hiding several uncomfortable or juicy secrets, and being more than a bit annoying and unlikable – in other words – like most people I know. Except for Colette who was a sweetie pie, her only flaw was being overly gullible, a problem I was once plagued with before I knew better and blossomed into the lovely shade of jaded cynic.

The featured locale was one of the most lovely places on earth, the Amalfi coast of Italy, and as the only safe and screaming baby-free mode of travel currently seems to be digitally provided or on the pages of a book, I was eager to utilize my Kindle as my passport.

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Dreaming of Italy
by T.A. Williams 

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Firstly, my name isn’t T A. It’s Trevor. I write under the androgynous name T A Williams because 65% of books are read by women. In my first book, “Dirty Minds” one of the (female) characters suggests the imbalance is due to the fact that men spend too much time getting drunk and watching football. I couldn’t possibly comment. Ask my wife…

I’ve written all sorts: thrillers, historical novels, short stories, and now I’m enjoying myself hugely writing humor and romance. Romantic comedies are what we all need from time to time. Life isn’t always very fair. It isn’t always a lot of fun, but when it is, we need to embrace it. If my books can put a smile on your face and maybe give your heartstrings a tug, then I know I’ve done my job.

I‘ve lived all over Europe, but now I live in a little village in sleepy Devon, tucked away in southwest England. I love the place. That’s why you’ll find leafy lanes and thatched cottages in most of my books. Oh, yes, and a black Labrador.

I’ve been writing since I was 14 and that is half a century ago. However, underneath this bald, wrinkly exterior, there beats the heart of a youngster. My wife is convinced I will never grow up. I hope she’s right.

The First Date
by Zara Stoneley

My Rating:

Favorite Quotes:

I go out looking for men, but I just find wankers and bell-ends.

He has missed birthdays, holidays and even Christmas on one memorable occasion – memorable because I have never heard my mum scream so loud or threaten to cut off his goolies and hang them from the highest branches of the tree. Quite honestly, at eight years old this held a morbid fascination and I did wonder what colour string she’d use and if she’d drape tinsel round them.

He chuckles, and it’s a rich, chocolatey sound that makes me squeeze my hands together, hunch my shoulders and want to rush round in circles laughing like an excited cartoon princess.

This could be like agreeing to enter a shark cage just because you want to look at the pretty penguins that they’re about to eat.

I really could have grabbed Noah and kissed him. As in totally snogged his face off. Tonsils, tongues and tits as my mate at school used to say when we were young and hormonally challenged.

…come on get a move on we’ve only got two hours and three minutes to get you defuzzed and looking completely au-naturel. And we all know that takes bloody ages! Can’t you just go for tarty and high-maintenance? I can achieve that in half an hour flat.

My Review:

I always enjoy losing myself to Zara Stoneley’s giggle-snort and smirk-worthy levity, wry wit, and endearingly awkward and quirky characters who tend to be more than a bit chipped, frayed, or fully cracked. This cleverly penned, maddeningly paced, slowly evolving, and highly amusing tale appeared to be a hybrid of women’s fiction, romantic/comedy, family drama, and slow-burn romance. I adore Ms. Stoneley’s comedically descriptive, multi-faceted, and well-nuanced writing style; she entertains while requiring me to expend a bit of effort to get there, which flavors that HEA all the sweeter.

And I picked up a naughty little entry for my Brit Word List with bell-end – which appears to be vulgar British slang for the end of the penis as well as a contemptible or foolish person. Like Rosie’s friend Bea, I’ve swum in that dating pool as well 😉

 The Gin Lover’s Guide to Dating
by Nina Kaye

My Rating:

Favorite Quotes:

By the time she’s done, I’ve only heard, and taken in, a fraction of what she’s said. But I have developed, in my head, a full technicolour adaptation of how, given the chance, I would inflict the slowest and most painful death possible upon her. This beast needs to be slain.

‘She is clever. With Aaron she is like butter that would not spread.’ ‘You mean melt.’ … ‘She is a real jacket and hype.’ ‘You mean Jekyll and Hyde!’

I don’t have time for men in my life… My rule is to enjoy looking, but not to touch. They never turn out to be as good as the fantasy anyway.

‘So, you are older. This is good. You can teach him. You can be his puma… You know.’ Reyes searches for the explanation. ‘The older woman who takes a young hombre.’ ‘The word you’re looking for is cougar,’ I say flatly.

‘You are not over this hill.’ Reyes swipes her hand through the air, causing me to instinctively duck. ‘You are only thirty-one. This world is still your oyster sauce.’ ‘Oyster,’ I correct her. ‘It’s just oyster.’

My Review:

This was a slowly developing character-driven novel of women’s fiction with random yet frequent sparkles of amusing levity. I initially struggled with this one as I had difficulty working up much empathy for the main character as Liv came off as snobbish and just far too over-served with her own self-importance. Her goals were serious yet she lived a frivolous and shallow life while contemptuous of anything that appeared beneath her desired standing – Liv was not someone whom I would enjoy sharing my air. But I felt her devastation and inner turmoil and understood her issues once her history was revealed.

The secondary characters were an entertaining and interesting collection of likable personalities and the impetus of most of the humorous content with malaprops from an adorable English as a second language speaker. And the character’s surreptitious blog posts were beyond clever with tasty gin pairings that I was eager to replicate and consume. However, I nearly spluttered my Tom Collins at the idea of Liv waking up and discovering her new blog had amassed over twelve thousand subscribers without effort, that and her expectation to make serious coin from said blog. I laughed and laughed…

I stumbled upon a fun addition to my British Isles word list while enjoying this highly fictional account – with stonker, which is something that is large or impressive. I had a stonker of a bill for bar supplies after reading this thirst-inducing missive.

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The Perfect Couple
by Jackie Kabler

My Rating:

Favorite Quotes:

In the hallway, a plaster statue of Jesus, arms outstretched, greeted visitors, while the rest of the house was dominated by paintings and figurines depicting the Madonna and Child, Saint Bernadette (‘patron saint of illness’, Danny had hissed, one eyebrow raised, as he’d given me the tour), Saint Jude (‘he’s for desperate causes’) and Saint Clare (‘eye diseases. And, weirdly, patron saint of laundry and television,’ he’d said). Wildly sceptical, I’d googled Saint Clare at the first available opportunity, only to find out he’d been absolutely right. Laundry? Why did laundry need a patron saint?

They’re complicated sometimes, family relationships, aren’t they? Love and hate, hate and love, so tightly entwined that they almost become one.

DS Clarke was looking at me with a new interest, the gentleness I’d seen in his eyes previously replaced with something more piercing, as if I was a fascinating exhibit in a museum.

Karma, I thought yet again. The number of times I’d been part of a press pack, staking out the home of a politician or a paedophile, desperate to get that shot, that interview. I’d barely given a thought to how awful it must be for those trapped inside their homes. Well, I knew now, didn’t I?

My Review:

This tale had me chewing on my lips and wanting to pull my own hair, it was cunning, deviously clever, and maddeningly paced. I devised numerous wild and far-fetched theories and while partly correct, I hadn’t worked it all out as this plot was so twisty I doubt anybody could have and dare anyone to claim they had. The little pea in my brain was scorched from the effort and during the big reveal I wanted to shout at the idiocy of the main character, but I’m not sure how I feel about the conclusion other than brain bruised and distressed. Several of these characters were chillingly abhorrent and I despised the nearsighted and mono-focus of the police. Oh the sheer guile and artifice of this crafty author, Jackie Kabler is a full-blown trickster who ruthlessly tipped her own special blend of itching powder into my gray matter.

My Greek Island Summer
by Mandy Baggot

My Rating:

Favorite Quotes:

He could imagine the raised eyes in the village… the not-so-whispered gossip of the village’s president like a rally bullhorn. Greek men didn’t get left like that. Greek men absolutely never got left for a woman… if it didn’t happen in mythology it didn’t exist.

Are you a prostitute? You know, not one of those ones who stand on street corners wearing clothes that look like the 1980s threw up all over them. I mean one of the ones who suck off politicians and pop stars in classy hotels… Oh my God! I guessed it right, didn’t I?! Well, you’re a dark horse. I didn’t really have you pegged for that when you said you hadn’t ever had sex in a plane toilet.

‘The army?’ Petra said, screwing up her face as if ‘the army’ was gone-off chicken no longer fit for human consumption. ‘To be honest the sex trade was more believable. What are you? A captain or something? Sitting behind a desk all day planning assaults?’

Only me. My mother will tell you that as I was ten pounds in weight and it felt like she was evacuating a watermelon. There was no way she was going to repeat the experience… You laugh at me? Being a child on my own growing up. No one to play with because my head was too large?… You are now thinking of me with a watermelon for a head, are you not?

My Review:

At five-hundred-twenty-eight pages, this slowly developing story was cleverly interwoven with humorous yet emotive subplots and secondary story threads that provided vibrant strokes of color and a great deal of texture to the uniquely quirky and oddly captivating characters. I was pleasantly surprised how all the sneakily placed little tidbits skillfully merged together at the end for my highly prized HEA. I smirked, giggle-snorted, and gasped my way through this gastronomical delight, which teased and taunted my various appetites and was rather destructive to my dieting efforts – but any excuse will do 😉

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