My Rating:

Favorite Quotes:

 

Gossip travels through a school faster than a toupee flying off in a hurricane.

 

She’s known to the guys in Kent CID as “Jangling Janice.” DI Woods can’t stand her. He always says: “We don’t want that bloody Carslake woman here, jangling her bloody necklace and bracelets and cavorting round the court.”

 

Friends would have described Jennifer Campbell as a keen conversationalist; others might have used less kind words such as ‘gossipmonger’ or ‘blabbermouth.’

 

He gave us a smile that reminded me of his first smile when he emerged from beneath our motor-home. It began with a sparkle in his eyes, a wrinkling of his nose and then it spread across his face, ending with a widening of the mouth.

 

My Review:

 

I enjoyed the creative ingenuity of Mr. Bassett’s plot and storylines, the slowly unwinding nature of his tale kept me guessing while my fingers were tightly crossed that the gentle and hard-working underdog would be found truly innocent and wrongly accused. This debut author cleverly played upon the common tendencies of xenophobic society, racial profiling, basic Caucasian arrogance, and suspicion of the unfamiliar. This was an unusual read for me, I couldn’t seem to fit it into a single genre as it had a bit of everything including mystery, crime, infidelity, murder, human trafficking, the mono-focus of police investigations, poor prison conditions, immigration issues, clandestine military operations, dry humor, and amateur sleuthing. My main takeaways were to never underestimate or provoke an unemployed librarian.

I hit the mother lode for new additions to my Brit Word List with milometer – odometer; potholing – exploring caves; victuallers – licensed to sell alcohol; push bike – bicycle; tittle-tattle – gossip; squaddie – low ranking soldier in British army; keep cavey – be lookout; nous – common sense; and a dog’s breakfast – an untidy mess.

Secret Wishes and Summer Kisses on Lily Pond Lane

by Emily Harvale

Amazon  US / UK / AU / CA

Everyone’s got a secret wish in Little Pondale this summer.

Mia’s been exceptionally lucky since moving to Lily Pond Lane. But even on her honeymoon with the man of her dreams, she still has one remaining wish.

Ella wishes Gill would propose. But since Mia’s wedding something’s changed in their relationship. Now he’s spending time with newcomer, Tabbie Talbaine, Ella wishes Tabbie will leave as quickly as she arrived.

Tabbie wishes she hadn’t driven her car into a pond. But it could be the best thing that’s ever happened to her. When she discovers Hollywood heartthrob, Justin Lake’s staying in the village, getting an interview for her popular blog isn’t her only wish.

Bree was told she couldn’t have a baby. Now she’s expecting twins and is simply wishing it all goes well.

And as for Hettie … she wishes she could get her hands on an old map of the village. Because there’s something hidden in Little Pondale that Hettie Turner really wants to find.

 

If a ghost appeared from nowhere, rescued you from suicide and then ordered you to start solving crimes to help dead people, what would you do?

When it happens to Porter Norton, he just wants to put his head in his hands and have nothing to do with it.

But now he has to atone for the family curse that has seen all the men die at their own hands for five generations.

The Gliss, the sarcastic spirit that rescues him, says he can now and see and hear the Dead – if he’s close to their remains. Porter has to use his unwelcome gift to clear up past injustices. Or else. Forced to investigate the murder of a WW1 British Tommy executed for spying in 1917, he begins to suspect the case has links to his own family history.

Along the way, Porter enlists the help of a bickering group of misfits, who struggle to stay involved – because only fools believe in the supernatural, don’t they?

Full of pop culture references, banter, and twists, the story takes us from present-day London and Flanders to scenes from World War 1.

As Porter, The Gliss, and friends, get deeper into the explosive case, they discover their own lives and sanity are at stake. An evil from WW1 pursues them all.

 

My Rating:

Favorite Quotes:

 

Poor Cherry. As much comfort as a pair of nettle knickers.

 

You’re about as much use as a sniper with Parkinson’s…

 

Porter sipped the coffee. After the drink and drugs, it was like getting a snog from Aphrodite.

 

Get me some water. I’m drier than an Arab’s roof. Has someone been stuffing my gob full of crackers?

 

“There’s one room here, the Oubliette, where a ghost strokes you in the night. Not in a nice way either.” “Is there a nice way to be stroked by a ghost in the night?” “Probably not, but then I’ve been single for a while,” said Feng.

 

Feng expected to find a doddery old man, wrapped in blankets, dribbling. He was met, instead, by a chipper bald-headed man, with monstrous tentacles of nasal hair… His white eyebrows were the size of slippers. More hair than Barry Gibb in his prime –none of it on top.

 

They’re not Bond villains with a masterplan. They’re the spiritual equivalent of a plague… There are nuclear and chemical weapons now. If yours gets to its full power… It would take seconds for it to realise it should go after the man with the nuclear football. Look who’s holding that. He’s barely got a mind to control, but I’m guessing, what there is of it, would be easy prey.

 

He pressed the Facetime button. Zouche appeared, picking his nose, with the gusto of the Seven Dwarves digging for diamonds.

 

Awkwardness patrolled their corridor like a Pac-Man.

 

 My Review:

 

Admittedly, anything paranormal is not my usual read but there is nothing about this cunningly crafted, highly amusing and vastly imaginative tale that could be considered as usual.   The original storylines were exceptionally creative and bristled robustly with intriguing conundrums and life-threatening events that kept the initially skeptical characters scurrying and adapting on the fly. Mr. Burkinshaw’s tantalizing and engaging writing style quickly lured me into his characters’ rather odd vortex, while his clever humor and sneaky strokes of levity had me occasionally barking aloud, as well as smirking and giggle-snorting throughout.

 

His deftly penned descriptions evoked sharp visuals, which were often outrageously comical, although a few gave my delicate intestines a queasy churn. This deviously clever scribe cast his tale with an unending group of peculiar characters who were each perceptively drawn with their own quirky traits and unique histories, while also realistically delineated with recognizable and mind-tickling human foibles which often led to humorous encounters, and delightfully amusing observations and inner musings. I had four pages of favorite quotes and notes highlighted and have gleefully added his name to my list of talents to watch and hope I am paying attention when his next missive is given wings.

 

I’ve gained three new words and phrases for my ever-expanding Brit Word List with struck off – which is officially being barred from working in one’s profession or field; bonce – head; and screaming abdabs – extreme nervousness.

 I Will Follow Him

by Holly Tierney-Bedord

 

My Rating:

Favorite Quotes:

 

Even though I’m in my thirties, I still look exactly like I looked when I was sixteen. My hair is blonde and my eyes are bluish and, for some annoying reason, people often ask me why I look so confused. You’ve heard of resting bitch face? I guess I’ve got resting ditz face.

 

He’s not all that attractive, but like my mom always told me, “Francie, it’s not about the packaging. It’s about the gift inside.” Then she’d add, “With that being said, it wouldn’t kill you to go to aerobics class with me.” The ironic part is, aerobics is what killed her. It turns out she had a blocked artery and too many jumping jacks did her in. Since then, I’ve tried to move as little as possible. I haven’t broken a sweat since 1999. I call it ‘playing it safe.’

 

For the past five years, ever since my dad passed away and I figured it would be easier to take over his shop than clean it out, I’ve been a private detective.

 

 My Review:

 

I gleefully giggle-snorted my way through this wittily written and highly amusing tale. I knew before finishing the first page I was in for a treat.   Francie put the F in the F.N. Meddling Detective and Private Investigation Agency ~ snort! Let me mention Ms. Tierney-Bedord’s clever deployment of levity – it was there in spades, diamonds, clubs, and hearts. I wore a mirthful smile throughout and haven’t had this much fun in ages.

When Maisie Meadows finds herself single and jobless on New Year’s Day, she resolves that this will be the year she focuses on bringing her scattered family back together. Romance is all very well, but it’s the people you grew up with that matter the most.

But a new job working at an auction house puts her in the path of Theo, a gorgeous but unattainable man who she can’t help but be distracted by. As their bond begins to grow, Maisie finds herself struggling to fulfil the promise she made to herself – but the universe has other ideas, and it’s not long before the Meadows family are thrown back together in the most unlikely of circumstances…

Can dealing with other people’s treasures help Maisie to let go of the past, and teach her who she ought to treasure the most?

My Rating:

Favorite Quotes:

He was not only showing the new girl from HR around the archives but also giving her a guided tour of his tonsils.

Being single was all very well until your ovaries started idly flicking through pension options – not that she was anywhere near that stage, but sand still trickled relentlessly into the bottom chamber of her hourglass.

Theo’s jeans weren’t distressed, they were positively traumatised.

Honestly, you’re so tightly coiled that if anyone springs your release catch you’re going to ping over the moon.

… her house was sterile, her desk at work was sterile, bloody hell – after six months without a boyfriend, she was sterile.

He doesn’t give up. All the time he’s in my peripheral vision, lurking like an unidentifiable odour.

My Review:

Jenni Keer is found treasure. This cleverly written and highly amusing book had more sparkles than a glitter bomb and was an utter delight to read. I adored every quirky character and savored each brilliantly chosen word. I fell right into this craftily paced and witty tale, which caused frequent eruptions of giggle-snorts and kept a well-earned smirk on my face throughout perusal. I was also quite resentful of any interruption to my reading and may have actually hissed at the ringing phone. Ms. Keer’s writing was deliciously clever, emotive, crisp, and extraordinarily engaging. She definitely has a gift for effortless levity and absorbing storytelling and I deeply suspect ownership of a magical pen or bewitched software, as she is an absolute powerhouse of a wordsmith.

And in addition to being totally besotted with Ms. Keer, I scored three new additions to my Brit Word List with claggy – which is Brit informal for thick and sticky; banjaxed – which is slang for destroyed or ruined; and G Plan – which is an iconic British brand of furniture.

 

My Rating:

Favorite Quotes:

 

… it happened again. A weird, crawling sensation, like a bony hand running up my spine… A strange, shivery feeling, that had nothing to do with being cold. A feeling of unease, so intense that it was almost a physical sensation. This morning it had come and gone in a flash, and I’d put it down to being in that odd, semi-awake state but now, as I leaned against the kitchen counter, it stayed, first that shiver up my back, then a sense that something was trying to wriggle its way into my consciousness, a voice far, far too tiny for me to hear trying to make itself audible. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut, trying to listen, but just as quickly as it had arrived, the feeling was fading again, and then it was gone.

 

He’s just an idiot boy, Mum. Sienna can be a bit bratty but he’s so horrible to her. Can’t you send him away to boarding school or something? You know, like those old-fashioned ones in films where the teachers will hit him with sticks and make him eat slugs for dinner?

 

I didn’t realize I was probably a psychopath until I went to university. I’d always known I was a little bit different to other kids I knew, never really had close friends growing up. But I didn’t realize I was that different until I started at Northampton Uni, doing my English and Psychology degree, and there it suddenly was one day, on the big screen in front of me in a crowded lecture theatre –a checklist of psychopathic personality traits. A checklist of my personality traits. … not a sociopath – they were messier creatures, emotionally unstable, impulsive, lacking in patience. Psychopaths make fewer mistakes. I looked down on sociopaths, and even as I realized this I was amused by it. It was a bit like an alcoholic looking down on a drug addict, wasn’t it?

 

 My Review:

 

This was a book of multiples – multiple POVs, multiple suspects, multiple twists and misdirections, multiple liars committing multiple selfish and consciously deceitful acts. Any tale involving the death of a child will undoubtedly be a heart squeezer whether the fatality was accidental or something more heinous, and I was back and forth in my theories of which type of act resulted in the death of eight-month-old Zander.

 

So many secrets were swirling and compounding the issues.   The characters were first presented in a singular dimension with all fingers pointing toward the mother, whose shock and overindulgence of alcohol had blanked her memories of the day.   But as the trial date approached, odd pricklings of recall were itching at her brain, were they real or wishful thinking? And the myriad other characters were not at all trustworthy and were all rather vile creatures.

 

The premise was heartbreaking while the characters were all deeply flawed and tainted with duplicity yet oddly compelling and continually pricking at my curiosity. The storylines were slowly paced and tense in tone, full of angst, despair, regret, guilt, anger, and anxiety while compelling and craftily hinting at undercurrents of subterfuge and deception. I was taut with tension and biting my cuticles as my hypotheses bounced among the various suspects, and while I was partly correct I would never have put it all together or as cleverly as this cringe-worthy conclusion.   This was my first experience reading the well-crafted words of Jackie Kabler and I am kicking myself for not noticing her prior works, she’s got mad word skillz!