Sandra C. Lopez's Blog, page 295

Review: LOST GIRL by Dax Varley

A young teen girl scries for a lost retainer and suddenly puts herself in search of a lost girl.

Being that she’s always been a little psychic, it all started with a vision and it all kind of came together from there. Who was she? Why did she look scared? Could she possibly be dead?
Short, sassy paranormal YA story!


My rating: 4 stars

Excerpt: SANGRE: THE WRONG SIDE OF TOMORROW by Carlos Colón

Hey, let’s face it. My track record of relating to women by the time I reached eighteen resembled the New York Mets’ won-loss record in the early 1960’s. Hell, my own mother died barely able to tolerate being around me. Add to that, my voyeuristic episode with Stacy Pepper and you could have branded an “L” on my forehead with a cattle iron without it looking out of place. I earned that motherfucker and I earned it hard. It was probably why I interpreted the pensive gazes Carmen, the super’s wife, gave me as sympathetic. She sure played the part well, pitying the suddenly unattended teen as he tried to figure out how to hold on to the apartment all by himself. Her husband Gilberto had been a good friend to me after Papi left, always being supportive of me while Mami drank herself to sleep on a nightly basis, presumably hoping to wake up to a world where Papi and Dani were back and I was the one that was gone. Gilberto even encouraged Carmen to invite me over for dinner after school every once in a while. That’s when I started to notice her leering at me across the table. Even though I was a month or so from being a legal adult, Gilberto looked the other way as I remained at the apartment on my own, refusing to move out to live with other relatives. And though he never verbalized it, he nodded with approval as I took a job to cover the controlled rent and registered for college at Hunter. I was becoming a man. And I was doing it on my own. Privately, he might have been curious as to why I wasn’t taking advantage of the situation and inviting a little feminine company to join me. Maybe he thought I was still mourning or maybe he thought I was just a good stand-up guy. Sorry, Gilberto. Stand-up guy I was not. Since Carmen was the super’s wife, she often took liberties with the spare apartment key and I would often come home from school to find my apartment tidied up, my dishes done and sometimes even my laundry folded. She wanted to help, she said, since I was alone and concentrating on my studies. And though I was a little weirded out, I have to admit that it was nice to sometimes not have those little things to worry about. There were even times when I would find little treats in the fridge like pasteles and flan. By throwing myself into studies and the job I had gotten at a local insurance and tax preparer’s office, I never really found myself going through a mourning period. School and work occupied my mind sufficiently enough that by the time I got home and crashed into bed, the only thoughts that squeezed into this freshman virgin’s head were visions of Channel 47’s Iris Chacón giving me a bronski with her giant ass cheeks (what can I say, I was a sick fuck). In late October of my freshman year, midterms were kicking my ass. On the last Friday that month, I came home after 8:30 p.m. exhausted from school and work. All I wanted to do was just throw myself into bed with my clothes on. Without turning on the light, I dropped my book bag on the floor and took off my coat, tossing it in the same general area. “Oye, dejaste de estar haciendo tanto reguero,” said the frisky voice from the bed, ordering me to not make such a mess. Although I quickly identified the voice as Carmen’s, it startled me enough that I shouted and flick on the light. Carmen, not one to miss her cue, lifted the covers that were draped over her when the room lit up, unveiling her au naturel self. “Avance,” she said, rushing me in Spanish. She only had ninety minutes before Gilberto returned home from his domino game. Now, Carmen was not the most attractive woman in the world. She was maybe about twenty pounds overweight, which I didn’t mind because I liked ladies that were big and curvy. But while that in itself might have kept her off the cover of Cosmopolitan magazine, her khaki-colored, cigarette-stained teeth and her pungent café-con-leche breath likely would have steered most discerning eligible men into other directions. Carmen also had a bit of a mustache that often made one feel like he was making out with Omar Sharif. Also worth mentioning was the fact that her legs were hairy and led up to a mound of fuzz that resembled the top of Kramer’s head being squeezed between her thighs (anyone who watches Seinfeld will understand what I mean). Despite the not-so-appetizing picture I described, when Carmen raised those sheets, I popped a woody that nearly broke my zipper. Carmen saw the enthusiastic bulge ready to break out and moaned “Ooh...” Happy to see such a willing participant, Carmen grabbed my wrist and pulled me under the sheets with her. Unfortunately for her, the 90 minutes she allotted were far more than we needed. I finished with 89 to spare. But virgin or not, Carmen wasn’t about to let me off the hook that easily. She pointed towards Kramer and put me to work. When I did, her thighs pressed so hard against my ears, I was halfway expecting my head to crack open like a walnut. Once my task was done, Carmen got dressed and told me she would return the next day. She said I needed the practice. And practice we did, at least five times a week over the next two years. To this day I fondly look back at those sessions as the best sex I ever had.


Available on Amazon

Excerpt: "My Strange Grandpa,” from SEX & TAIPEI CITY by Yu-Han Chao

I guess I wasn’t all that surprised when my mother told me that Grandpa’s caretaker, the Indonesian maid, had run away. As horrified as we were that a girl willing to leave her country for the purpose of making money was not willing to take care of Grandpa in exchange for good wages and room and board, we also felt vindicated. It seemed to excuse us for all our complaints about Grandpa.My Grandpa has been living with us for as long as I can remember, since Grandma died. I heard that when I was little and he wasn’t as senile, things weren’t so bad, but honestly, for as long as I recall, Grandpa has been something of a skeleton-in-the-closet for my family.            He’s like any other eighty-something-year-old grandfather, except he’s exceptionally demanding, even for a Taiwanese elder, and worst of all, he watches the Japanese porn channel at a high volume all day in his room. When I was in elementary school I asked my mother if I could bring some friends home, but she always suggested that we go to McDonald’s or the park instead, and even went as far as giving me three hundred NT just to make sure we would entertain ourselves outside the house.“It’s not good to disturb your grandfather,” she said in a troubled tone.“I don’t think Grandpa minds,” I said, thinking she was mean, but pocketing the money anyway.Now, of course, the reason we couldn’t have my little girlfriends over was because my mother didn’t want my classmates to hear the weird noises coming out of Grandpa’s room. I didn’t know what they were at the time, and was actually more or less used to them. I’d accidentally seen him watching it a few times, just Japanese people being dramatic about taking baths together—they were often not dressed, so that’s how I understood it.When I was in third grade, Grandpa tried to explain to me where babies came from. He brought me to his room, where he had the Japanese channel playing, and told me about the different parts on a boy and a girl and how they fit together when the boy is excited. My mother interrupted, knocking on the sliding Japanese doors.“Lille, are you in there? Father, have you seen Lille?”“I’m in here, Mom,” I called back. “Grandpa’s teaching me about sex.”I said this, not quite understanding everything, though I had at least been able to learn the word “sex.” My mother rushed in, grabbed me by the arm, and pulled me with her all the way to the kitchen.“Forget what your Grandpa said. He’s really old and sometimes old people say strange things,” she said, stuffing an orange into my hands.I ate the orange and soon forgot about it, although whenever I passed Grandpa’s room and heard the wailing or moaning noises, I wondered if it had something to do with sex. When in fifth grade I finally learned in Health class how sex worked and understood exactly what Grandpa was watching hour after hour day to day, I asked my mom why nobody never at least requested that Grandpa lower the volume on the television, or just quit watching it.“It’s too embarrassing,” she said. “Your father won’t have anything to do with it. Nobody wants to mention to him that we know what he’s watching. And we don’t know how he will respond. He may think we are making him lose face.”“But he’s your father,” I said.“You can complain to him if you want,” she said, flailing her arms.


Bio: 
Yu-Han Chao was born and grew up in Taipei, Taiwan. She received her MFA from Penn State, taught at UC Merced, and recently became a Registered Nurse. The Backwaters Press (an imprint of University of Nebraska Press) published her poetry book, and BOAAT, Dancing Girl, and Another New Calligraphy published her chapbooks. Red Hen Press published her story collection, Sex & Taipei City, in April 2019. She maintains a blog about writing and nursing at www.yuhanchao.com.

Review: WEREWOLF NIGHTS by Mari Hamill

 Image Graphic designed by Sandra Lopez
Threatened by financial ruin, widowed bakery owner Catherine Mercy leads a solitary life with more interest in reading about werewolf lore than in finding a man. Her one true love disappeared after high school and her now deceased husband kept her trapped in the house claiming that a werewolf might hunt her down one day, just as her grandmother repeatedly warned her. When Hollywood interrupts the town's monotony by shooting a werewolf movie on location, Catherine's best friend Anne pushes her to audition. Already in her thirties, Catherine feels ridiculous trying to become an actress, but lands the leading role.
Catherine's daily routine turns into a hair-raising adventure as fame begins to surveil her wanderings and she falls for her sexy costar Greg Byron despite this actor's neon warning sign that flashes conceited womanizer. He's also smitten by her, but just when they are about to find happiness, a wolf bites him.
While Greg's features turn lupine, Catherine discovers a resemblance between the movie script and her family's history. Frightened, Catherine recruits werewolf expert Steve to figure out if the movie's werewolf legend is real and if Wolfern, the werewolf her grandmother dreaded, has finally come for her. If so, Greg will turn into a werewolf. Only undoing Greg's curse and destroying Wolfern before the next full moon can save their love and their lives.
Mari Hamill blends fantasy, intrigue, and passion to create a chilling, unique story.
Available on Amazon


My review: First off, let me just say that I love the cover illustration. I'm always a sucker for a good illustration, and this one reminded me of the ones I used to see in a Tales from the Crypt episode.
Catherine is a bakery owner and in a stalemate in the dating scene. To her, "dating brought more pains than joy." (LOC 241)
Being a Werevillian and living in a town that had festivals celebrating werewolves practically dedicated Catherine's whole live to the shifting dog.
"The moon is like a yellow werewolf fang biting the heavens." (LOC266)
"Love had proven scarier than werewolves." (LOC305)
Evidently, Catherine had a warning that a wolf man might come looking for her. Then a strange man comes into town and somehow Catherine gets casted for the movie, Werewolf Nights, prompting her to gain the attention of a movie star, who seems to have a dark side.
At this point, I'm thinking that we're finally going to get some answers here. Instead, all I got was more ambiguity and a lengthier prose.
The werewolf lore was interesting. Writing was smart with blends of dark poetry and historical lessons. The story might've combined elements of mystery, horror, and classic noir. It definitely had that masking allure that attracts the reader like a moth to a flame, but I just couldn't get past the lack of clarity. The way it reads made me wonder if this was a town of real werewolves. It certainly sounded like it sometimes. The whole thing was just too complicated, which was further exacerbated by various characters coming in and out of scenes, removing the focus from the main character. I just didn't like it as much as I thought.
My rating: 2 stars

Review: MAKING A MEDIUM by Erin Huss

At 23, Zoe Lane was ready to “enter the work force, gain independence, and maybe even move out.” Unfortunately, jobs were hard to come by, especially in a small town like Fernn Valley. Then it hits her—the car. While nursing a mild concussion in the doctor’s office, she gets harassed by a cranky—albeit handsome—guy in a hat. It would seem that this guy was stalking her as he was appearing everywhere she went. Turns out he was more than a stalker—he was a ghost! A ghost that, apparently, only she could see. Of course, she thinks she must be going crazy. But rather than being sent to the loony bit, she decides to play it cool and pretend she doesn’t see him.


The guy apparently won’t leave her alone until the job gets done, and the job is to find out how he died. Even though he was really old at the time of death, the guy can’t shake the feeling that he was murdered.


So now only was Zoe living under the strict rules of her parents, but she was also being bossed around by Casper, the cranky ghost.


Witty and crafty, Making a Medium is a quirky and fun mystery. Zoe can see the dead, hear thoughts, and get into some funny trouble. She never wanted to be a medium, but she learns to accept it, not really having a choice. Little by little, she learns how to harness hew new psychic abilities in naïve and blundering attempts. It’s quite a kick. Not only does she learn how to be a medium and solve mysteries, but she also learns how to be an adult from a ghost. As she stated, she’s not particularly good with people—dead or alive.


It’s simple: Willie wants solve his murder and Zoe wants to get rid of his pushy ghost. And the two are getting on each other’s nerves.


I enjoyed the snarky banter between Zoe and Willie as they disagreed about a lot of things (i.e. her clothes, her sheltered life, the fact that she can’t drive a car.) I especially liked how they commiserated on how life is now and how life was back then. Example: [Willie]: “When I was your age, a woman was called a woman. People are too easily offended these days.” [Zoe]: When you were my age, Nazis occupied Germany.” Such biting wit! I could seriously see this as one of those slap-stick comedy movies.


Full of mystery, quips, and zany twists. A hilarious read!


My rating: 5 stars

Review: AMANDA LESTER AND THE PINK SUGAR CONSPIRACY by Paula Berinstein

Amanda Lester is tired of hearing about the great Sherlock Holmes. Even though it ran in her family, she had no desire to be a detective like her father and grandfather. At 12, she wanted to be a filmmaker. With the deadline for the film festival awards, she had no idea what kind of movie to make.


With a great knowledge of movies, Amanda was a smart, inquisitive kid. But she could be bossy at times, which made it harder to find people to work with. She also had a sweet tooth and was considered a “good eater.” (Basically, she was fat.)


At her parents’ request, she is enrolled in detective school. What? She doesn’t want to go to some filthy school in London; she wants to make movies. Her parents were just trying to squeeze the creativity out of her.


The special school had strict rules. No snacking? Amanda was going to die.


Story was youthful and quirky, but I thought it was a bit weird. School was basically a Hogwartz for detective Harry Potters. The writing was smart, but it was also too smart at times—almost condescending and annoying.  An okay YA read though.


My rating: 3 stars

Review: THE MEDIUM PLACE by Erin Huss

Zoe Lane, the girl who sees dead people, is back!


Still being new to the medium gig hasn't stopped her from working her dream job at the The Fernn Valley Gazette. But when a ghost appears (literally) right in front of her, she has no choice but to help. The ghost's name is Penelope, and while the last ghost was restored to the age of his prime, this one carried a wound in her abdomen. A wounded ghost?


As quickly as this story begins, Zoe starts to wonder if the ghost is not actually dead, but rather close to death. Mmm, interesting. But, of course, this would have to be an attempted murder. And Zoe must find her before she dies.


In an effort to help, Zoe somehow manages to make herself the prime suspect. But it seems nobody will take her word on account that she's Looney Lane.


A good, light-hearted mystery.  Although the quips did not come as often and the case was a little more complicated than the last, Zoe still delivers with warmth and wit.  I definitely liked the first book better.


My rating: 3.5 stars

Excerpt Post: JUSTICE GONE by N. Lombardi Jr.

WINNER NATIONAL INDIE EXCELLENCE AWARD 
Best Legal Thriller 2019  


Chapter 7






The funeralservices, particularly the burial, had been announced asprivate and that sympathizers should remain at a discreet distance; and in a demonstration of exemplary respect, the hundreds of supporters complied with the request.
Family and comrades,especially those from the New Hope Clinic, were designated to be at the gravesite. An uninvited guest, surprisingly, was also among them: John Garson, Police Chief of Bruntfield Township.
After the lowering of the coffin, and the slow deliberate departure of the mourners, Garson slipped away, in the opposite direction that everyone else would follow toward their cars and hired limos: crossing fields of gravestones until he reached the coppices of oak trees, in order to escape the press.
Everyone else present merged into the group of activistswho assembled at the gate of the plot, all intent upon making known the measure of their sorrow to the public.
The crowd that participated was moderatein numbers, but in no way insignificant—about seven hundred were reportedto have shown up. They marched,waving their signs andchanting slogans, from the centralcommercial district to the Bruntfield Veterans MemorialPark, where a makeshift stage had been set up for the guest speakers. The local TV stations from Newark and Trenton, including the network affiliates, were present covering the march.
The whole thing was fairly orderly, despite the loud chants of“Justice for Jay” and the cardboard signs that said: WE DON’T WANT KILLER COPS, SHAME ONYOU, PROTECT NOT KILL, PUTTHE ANIMALS BEHIND BARS. Police presence was minimal and subdued.
Once they arrived at the previouslysetup podium in the park, representatives of the various groups got their chance to express their views with the conditionof keeping it short, and asper Marshal Felson’s request, focused on the incident. The factthat Jay Felson was approachedby police when he was not in the act of committingany crime was stressedon more than one occasion. The TV crews covered the speeches with utmost diligence, as this was one of the highlightsto be expected. Finally, for the emotionaltouch, the organizers called on the young man’s father.
“We are here today to let the city authorities know that we will be following very closely the grand jury proceedings!” Marshal Felson shouted. “That we, as a community, will not just brush this aside. I am grateful to all of you who have shown concern and have voiced their support for my son.” He gave up the mike andwalked off the stage amid cheers and applause.
A rather frail-looking young man with glasses took control of theaudience to announce that Dr. Tessa Thorpe from the New HopeTrauma Recovery Clinic was to be the next speaker.
Tessa had given much thought as to how she should dress for theoccasion. Her first instinct was her Karen Kane pants suit, butdismissed that idea to wear her copper-brown print kaftan in its stead.
Now, with its folds caught in the vigorousSeptember breeze, giving the illusionof a multitudeof miniature flags fluttering around her, her thick locks of hair dancing around her head, she spoke to the crowd, slowly, deliberately taking her time. “Hello, my fellow citizens.”She stopped to survey the mass of people standing in front of her. Dramatic pauses replete with eye contact, if not overdone, were quite effective in getting one’s message across. Not surprisingly, Tessa knew how to get her message across, a specialart in the realm of behavioral scientists. Public relationsfirms, advertising companies, political campaigns, all hired an army of psychologists to sell a product. And Tessa Thorpe, as someone who had thirty years’ experience as a criminal psychiatrist, could sell as well as any of them. “We are here today for two reasons, two very important reasons that are essential to our well-beingin a modern society. Freedom is one, and justice is the other.”
Enthusiastic cheers.
“When the call for war came, we were told that our enemies hated our freedoms. We were told that the citizensof Iraq had beenheld hostage by a ruthlessdictator who denied his own people these freedoms.Our invasion of that country was sold to us as OperationIraqi Freedom. And so we sent our young men andwomen off to war, the most traumaticexperience a human being could ever gothrough, with thebelief that they were fighting for liberty and freedom. And yet, one of those whom we had sent…hadcome back to us only to have his own freedom denied. His single offence at the time he was approachedby law enforcement officers was that he was exercising his freedom to stand on a streetcorner.”
Thiselicited a roar from the crowd.
“This is not merely tragic,it is an act of deplorable fraud, being denied the very thing he fought for!”
More heartfeltcheering.
“When I was young, we were made to pledge allegiance, an oath thatended with the phrase, ‘with liberty and justice for all.’ Well, Jay Felson was denied liberty…let us make sure he is NOT DENIED JUSTICE!”
Anear-shattering reverberationof concurrence.
Having descendedfrom the little platform with the crowd still shouting in endorsement, Tessa was serially embraced by her coworkers: Casey, Ed, Penny…all with praise about her wonderful speech, culminating in Marshal Felson’s hug, whispering into her ear, “Amazing.”
The next event on the program was to go together to the site where Jay was killed at the bus depot in order to lay memorial flowers and gifts. The TV teams followed, instinctively knowing that this was indeed another newsworthy item. In fact, as ahuman interest story, it tugged at the heart to see the gift bearers laying their offers down. And what made it even more poignant was the huge bloodstainthat had yet to be cleaned off the pavement, a crimson smear that drew numerous zoomed-in shots by the camera crews.

Review: HAPPY EVER AFTER by Seb Earl

Image Graphic designed by Sandra Lopez

When Emily wakes up in the middle of her bed, shaking and sweating from yet another nightmare, she knows it will not stop easily. The sexual assault she suffered eight years ago has left an enduring mark on her mind.

In the immediate aftermath, she moved back to live with her parents and, since then, they have happily provided sanctuary. But at what price? Emily is not free, and her inner doubt and anger are increasing their stronghold over her life.

Thrust into action by her best friend, Sarah, Emily finally finds the courage to move out and start a new life on her own. She soon meets Olivier, a charming French man.
As she realises how her future happiness depends on her ability to face the past, Emily begins the slow, and at times painful, journey to finding inner peace. 

But can she truly put her ordeal behind her? And is everything exactly as it appears?

Available on Amazon




My review: After a sexual assault, Emily returned home to live with her parents. "Night curfews, set times for meals, and endless questions about her love life would result in growing anger." (3)


"Her 'monster' was a wild beast that lived insider her head, feeding on her doubt and pain." (3)

At 30, memories and nightmares of that night still plague Emily. "She let her body be invaded. Her whole being had been contaminated, polluted by unwanted touch." (21)


"What does a woman gain from becoming a man's property?" (22)

Words held a violent force that was deep and impactful. Story was of a damaged woman battling the black holes of trauma and despair. That, along with society's archaic views, fueled her anger. This was a woman trying to survive a mad world.

Dark thoughts were taking her over. Who knew what she could if she couldn't control her temper? Why couldn't she just forget? Why, instead, was she living under the scrutiny and control of her overbearing parents?  

Her friend's solution: move out.

Although frightened to be on her own for the first time since the attack, Emily bravely ventures to start her life over again. Soon, she becomes romantically involved with a Frenchman.

At first, I thought this would end up being like a psychological thriller with Emily's "dark thoughts" taking over somehow. I thought that's where it would naturally lead, because, after all, there was some psychological trauma after Emily's sexual assault. Instead, this was more about a woman getting her life back together again, which was fine. I honestly didn't understand why Emily would get involved so soon or get involved at all what with her strict and cynical views on marriage. The whole thing kind of slowed dramatically for me about 1/3 way in (right after she gets involved with the Frenchman.) It started off well, but then it came to a stalemate. It was much more drama than suspense, and I honestly would've preferred it the other way around.


My rating: 3 stars

Review: CIVIL HEARTS by Claire Gem

Olivia Larson, recently widowed after the death of her husband, was looking for a fresh start in a new town, which prompted her to purchase a 2-story mansion that dated back to the Civil War.
“It was actually one of the details about the place that appealed to me. A project, I thought. A blank canvas I could redesign to suit me. The new me. Whoever the hell that was.” (7)
But still what could a Manhattan career woman do in a small Alabama country town?
After befriending a local business owner named Heath, Liv quickly adjusts to small-town living.
Soon she starts hearing noises from the house called The Belle Bride. Images of a strange man in a military uniform appear before her. Mystery gets more involved as historical details of the mansion begin to surface.
Colored in somber tones, this lyrical and well-written story carried a haunting atmosphere, which correlated with the ghostly apparition that traipses through the historical mansion. Like the Southern setting, it moved at a drawling and leisurely pace. The story was a little slow at times, but the good writing overrides the overall lag. Rich in detail and historical significance, story really makes you weed through the cobwebs to follow along. Obviously, the most interesting facet was the ghost and the mansion’s dark past, which would entice history buffs and mystery readers.  It’s a pretty good story.
My rating: 3 stars