Darcia Helle's Blog, page 18

Book Review — LOCK EVERY DOOR by Riley Sager

No visitors. No nights spent away from the apartment. No disturbing the other residents, all of whom are rich or famous or both. These are the only rules for Jules Larsen’s new job as an apartment sitter at the Bartholomew, one of Manhattan’s most high-profile and mysterious buildings. Recently heartbroken and just plain broke, Jules is taken in by the splendor of her surroundings and accepts the terms, ready to leave her past life behind.

As she gets to know the residents and staff of the Bartholomew, Jules finds herself drawn to fellow apartment sitter Ingrid, who comfortingly reminds her of the sister she lost eight years ago. When Ingrid confides that the Bartholomew is not what it seems and the dark history hidden beneath its gleaming facade is starting to frighten her, Jules brushes it off as a harmless ghost story . . . until the next day, when Ingrid disappears.

Searching for the truth about Ingrid’s disappearance, Jules digs deeper into the Bartholomew’s sordid past and into the secrets kept within its walls. What she discovers pits Jules against the clock as she races to unmask a killer, expose the building’s hidden past, and escape the Bartholomew before her temporary status becomes permanent.

Published: July 2019

Amazon | Goodreads

My Thoughts

Riley Sager fans, please move along. Nothing to see here.

Lock Every Door is marketed as a thriller. It’s not. This is slow-build suspense.

And I mean SLOW. We ease in with lots of foreshadowing. My thoughts as I read went like this:

Something’s going to happen!
No, wait. Not yet.
Now?
Nope. Keep waiting.
Finally! Something’s—
Again, no.

Then we have Jules, the main character. You know those B-rated horror movies, when you’re yelling at the lead character (always female) to stop being so stupid? That’s Jules.

The final quarter contains all the action, and this is where the plot fell off the rails for me.

I can get behind some wild horror or supernatural craziness. But this? Sager went for realism, which means I need to believe it could happen. I didn’t because…

Umm… Just, no.

I did love the setting, so there’s that.

The post Book Review — LOCK EVERY DOOR by Riley Sager appeared first on Quiet Fury Books.

Book Review — THE LEAGUE OF GENTLEWOMEN WITCHES: Dangerous Damsels, Book 2 by India Holton

Just when you thought it was safe to go back into the teahouse…

Miss Charlotte Pettifer belongs to a secret league of women skilled in the subtle arts. That is to say—although it must never be said—witchcraft. The League of Gentlewomen Witches strives to improve the world in small ways. Using magic, they tidy, correct, and manipulate according to their notions of what is proper, entirely unlike those reprobates in the Wisteria Society.

When the long lost amulet of Black Beryl is discovered, it is up to Charlotte, as the future leader of the League, to make sure the powerful talisman does not fall into the wrong hands. Therefore, it is most unfortunate when she crosses paths with Alex O’Riley, a pirate who is no Mr. Darcy. With all the world scrambling after the amulet, Alex and Charlotte join forces to steal it together. If only they could keep their pickpocketing hands to themselves! If Alex’s not careful, he might just steal something else—such as Charlotte’s heart.

Release Date: March 15, 2022

Amazon | Goodreads

My Thoughts

What to say about The League of Gentlewomen Witches?

I’ll start with the fact that it’s the second in the Dangerous Damsels series. I didn’t read the first one, and I’m thinking I should have. Maybe it would’ve helped orient me in this story.

We jump right into this odd land of witches, magic, pirates, and flying houses, with absolutely no world building. I couldn’t visualize this place where houses were flown like planes, then landing all over the place in a jumble.

I also got no sense of the community. I wanted to know more about these groups and their feud, as well as why certain kinds of magic weren’t allowed.

Then we have the characters. They’re quirky and fun, but again, absolutely no development.

Confession: I almost gave up about one-quarter in.

I’m glad I persevered, because the second half of the book came together for me. I loved Charlotte’s character and her defiantly unromantic approach to romance.

Moral of the story: Start with book one, The Wisteria Society of Lady Scoundrels. Probably.

I received an eARC from Berkley Publishing, via NetGalley.

The post Book Review — THE LEAGUE OF GENTLEWOMEN WITCHES: Dangerous Damsels, Book 2 by India Holton appeared first on Quiet Fury Books.

New Release Spotlight — FINDING GRACE by Gary Lee Miller, with Adele Booyson

Finding Grace follows a young woman, Judith Lee, who grew up with her very poor grandmother, Grace, and grandfather, Virgil, in Nashville. As a child, she was bullied and mocked in school. After attending Vanderbilt University on full scholarship, Judith moves to California, where she starts her own tech company and becomes extraordinarily successful and wealthy.

Grace calls Judith with a dying wish…for Judith to travel from Los Angeles to Nashville to come visit her. But, there’s a catch, Judith must make the journey by bus.

Each day of Judith’s bus journey becomes a story, as the people she encounters and places she visits along the way challenge her to rethink life. Finding Grace is about Judith’s transformation back into the real world during this journey as a result of the people she meets on the bus, how she deals with the imminent passing of her grandmother, and how all this changes her future life plans. There are tears and laughter throughout, with interesting, well-developed characters whom readers would recognize from their own lives. Today, more people are reflecting on what is and is not important. Finding Grace provides food for thought on many levels, and inspiration, recognizing each of us are on our own journey in hope of finding grace.

Amazon | Barnes & Noble

Advance Praise

“In Finding Grace, author Gary Lee Miller draws on personal tragedy to craft the story of Judith Lee, who is drawn into a journey back home and the real world. Every mile of her wonderful road trip is filled with unforgettable characters who bring tears of both laughter and sadness.  Finding Grace reminded me of Horton Foote’s The Trip To Bountiful, and I highly recommend it.”— Brian Helgeland, Academy Award-winning screenplay writer of L.A. Confidential

“The thing about Finding Grace is that it is without question, the thing that makes Gary Lee Miller so special. He seems to find grace everywhere and in everyone, and it somehow reflects back on everyone he meets. Finding Grace is just the latest collection in written form of how he sees the world.” — Barry Courter, Chattanooga Times Free Press reporter/columnist

“Life lessons are delivered in many ways, and Gary Lee Miller, in Finding Grace, takes the reader on a journey of self-discovery through the eyes of his relatable, and often unpredictable, characters. An easy and insightful read, Finding Grace will leave you thinking about your own journey and the grace we can give to ourselves and others.” — Steve Anderson, Wall Street Journal and USA Today best-selling author of The Bezos Letters

“A well-written, captivating story of human triumph and finding your way in a complex world of challenges and uncertainties.” — Literary Titan

Guest Post

The Back Story of How Finding Grace Came to be Written

An old Chinese proverb says, “The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.” That was how Finding Grace came to be. With a single step. Unfortunately, the cause of that step was the passing of my wife of 45 years, Sharee, from leukemia. Thus began a long winding road of dealing with loss and finding an outlet for my grief. I don’t believe in coincidence, and there were an extraordinary number of occurrences which could have been attributed to coincidence. I know that sometimes we have an angel (or angels) on our shoulder which lead us down paths meant to be traveled. And so began my journey.

Over the years of our marriage, very infrequently, I would write some song lyrics. Not the music, but just the words to express my feelings or to tell a story. Sharee thought they were good and always encouraged me to write more. But our life was busy raising our daughters and earning a living, so writing never became a priority. After her passing in May, 2019, I had too much time available to be alone with my memories and thoughts. That’s when I began spending time writing song lyrics again. Most of my lyrics are called “spoken word”, which tell a story, rather than the traditional Verse, Chorus, Bridge structure. Writing several times each week over the summer I soon had over a dozen song lyrics. Then one day, the angel on my shoulder whispered in my ear, “You know if you take these six song lyrics, they might make a pretty interesting story.” And that was the first step.

They say to write what you know, so while Finding Grace is a fiction novel, there is a tremendous amount of detail based on my first-hand experience with Sharee and her illness. While never having written a screenplay or novel, I wrote what I knew. The characters for each song materialized quickly, as did the idea for the cross-country trip. Then came the two main characters of Judith and Grace. The reason for a cross-country trip was easy, based on my losing Sharee. Grace was dying from leukemia and wanted Judith to come home to visit her before it was too late.

The next step was contacting a friend of mine in LA in the movie industry,sharing my thoughts about writing a screenplay called Finding Grace. He said to write a two-page pitch, and include the song lyrics, which I did. He read it, saying my lyrics were very strong and the idea of Finding Grace was very solid as well. He encouraged me to write the screenplay/script. I had no idea about the structure of a screenplay, so I googled and printed the first ten pages of five movies. After narrowing down the different format structures to two that felt comfortable to me, I began writing the first five pages. Then I sat back, reading those first pages, satisfied and at ease with my format. So, over the next six months, I wrote. That’s when things got interesting.

I wrote when, emotionally, I had the need. There was no schedule for when I would sit down to write. Sometimes a week or more would go by without writing, but there was a routine when I did write. I would sit at the end of my kitchen table with my favorite picture of Sharee facing me on the other end. On my right was the bay window where I could see the trees, birds, rabbits, and squirrels. Seeing God’s blessing of nature helped. Then I would bring up my Spotify playlist of favorite songs that Sharee and I loved, with it playing softly in the background.

To say things got interesting perhaps is an understatement. I have always been a very visual person, so as I began writing, more often than not, I found myself as an outside observer. It was as if I were actually watching the characters in my mind as they talked with each other, and there were times when it was challenging to keep up typing their back-and-forth dialogue. Does that sound strange to you? It truly felt surreal to me. Again, I believed it was that angel on my shoulder still whispering in my ear. So, I listened.

After completing the screenplay, my friend in LA read it, and again was encouraging, but that was when COVID-19 shut down life as we all knew it, and all movie production. Shortly thereafter, a “coincidence” occurred. While having a phone conversation with a friend who had just released a best-selling business book, I mentioned my screenplay. He asked if he could read it, and also if it would be okay for his wife to read it. Naturally I said sure, emailing Finding Grace him. A couple of weeks later I received an email from his wife, asking to schedule a Zoom! call to discuss my screenplay. What I didn’t know was that she was an executive for an international publishing company, and she liked Finding Grace, asking if I might be willing to turn it into a fiction novel. After givingit some thought, I agreed to invest the time and work to bring Finding Grace to life. What were the odds of this kind of connection that would lead to the next step of my journey?

I quickly learned that it was MUCH more work writing a novel as compared to a screenplay or script. A screenplay is primarily the dialogue between the characters with some minimal detail about the day and location of the scene. In a novel, you must create a living, breathing world, researching every detail and nuance to bring that world and the characters in it to life. And such was my goal with Finding Grace. I’m proud of the characters Judith meets during her bus trip back home to Nashville, with each having their own personality and speech pattern based on their life experience and background. As I wrote, each became real to me, as I cared about them, their backstory, and the journey that lay ahead for them after leaving Judith.

The characters in Finding Grace are generally composites of many different people who have crossed my path during my lifetime. My goal was to create truly interesting characters with backstories that every reader could relate to on some level. As I wrote, some made me laugh and some made my eyes leak.

There is a strong component of St. Jude’s Children Research Hospital in part of Finding Grace. Sharee and I knew that cures for all forms of leukemia would eventually come from the research teams at St. Jude. Three months after her passing, I spent a day with an executive at St. Jude which included a full tour of their facilities. It was an emotional day for me. I paid close attention to every detail during my tour and worked hard to convey details accurately for my readers. Those “angels in disguise” at St. Jude certainly deserve our support.

The title, Finding Grace, was the only title possible for this book. With Grace as one of the two primary characters, along with all other character’s search, in one form or another, of finding their own grace, the title came easily. Who is Grace? Her wisdom and values shared in the book were my best efforts to meld those of my late mother (Sarah), Sharee, and, to some extent, myself.

If you decide to read Finding Grace, I hope you enjoy the journey with Judith, and recognize yourself in some of the pages as you go along.Spoiler alert! If you like happy endings; you are going to LOVE Finding Grace.

About the Author

Gary Lee Miller’s writing is rooted in life experiences and people who have crossed his path during his life’s journey. Gary draws on his ability to translate his observations into highly relatable stories for readers. Prior to beginning his writing career, Gary was a successful businessman and entrepreneur. Healso acts in movie and TV productions, and is listed in . He resides in Chattanooga, Tennessee.

Social Links:
Website: garyleemillerbooks.com
Facebook: @garyleemillerbooks
Twitter: @garymillerbooks

The post New Release Spotlight — FINDING GRACE by Gary Lee Miller, with Adele Booyson appeared first on Quiet Fury Books.

Book Review — THE MOTHER-IN-LAW by Sally Hepworth

A twisty, compelling new novel about one woman’s complicated relationship with her mother-in-law that ends in death…

From the moment Lucy met her husband’s mother, she knew she wasn’t the wife Diana had envisioned for her perfect son. Exquisitely polite, friendly, and always generous, Diana nonetheless kept Lucy at arm’s length despite her desperate attempts to win her over. And as a pillar in the community, an advocate for female refugees, and a woman happily married for decades, no one had a bad word to say about Diana…except Lucy.

That was five years ago.

Now, Diana is dead, a suicide note found near her body claiming that she longer wanted to live because of the cancer wreaking havoc inside her body.

But the autopsy finds no cancer.

It does find traces of poison, and evidence of suffocation.

Who could possibly want Diana dead? Why was her will changed at the eleventh hour to disinherit both of her children, and their spouses? And what does it mean that Lucy isn’t exactly sad she’s gone?

Amazon | Scribd | Goodreads

My Thoughts

While I love Sally Hepworth’s writing style, this book was just okay for me.

Pacing is quite slow throughout most of the story. We focus on an overload of daily drama with a lot of unlikable characters.

The story is told via past and present timelines, though we spend most of our time in the past. I wasn’t that surprised by the big reveal, probably because the slow pace gave me lots of time to ponder the outcome.

I did enjoy the way my opinions of people changed over time, as we got to know more about them and their motivations. I still didn’t like any of them, but I understood their motivations.

Hepworth’s writing is engaging, making this an enjoyable read even though it wasn’t a favorite.

I alternated between reading my hardcover copy and listening to the audiobook. The narration is fantastic, and I enjoyed the story more when I was immersed in the audio.

The post Book Review — THE MOTHER-IN-LAW by Sally Hepworth appeared first on Quiet Fury Books.

New Release Spotlight — LOVE & GENETICS: A True Story of Adoption, Surrogacy, and the Meaning of Family by Mark MacDonald and Rachel Elliot

When a family secret comes to light, lives are changed forever in this honest, beautiful, and sometimes painful memoir. When Mark, adopted at birth, set out to find his genetic family as an adult, he found something he never expected—three full-blood siblings, including a persistent sister who would alter the course of his life. He finds himself faced with the emotional task of coming to know his entire birth family, along with the unintended impact it has on his parents and his marriage. This raises age-old questions around the understanding of his own identity and his place in the world—now framed in extraordinarily real and explicit terms: What defines family? Nature or nurture? Life rarely affords such an opportunity for self-examination.

The story focuses on the relationship that develops between Mark and his sister, Rachel, as they discover each other through constant letters and eventual face-to-face meetings. When Rachel learns that Mark and his wife are struggling with having children, a radical idea takes over—could she, a sister he never knew and still barely knows, one who lives on the other side of the country, possibly carry their child? Would they trust her to? Including original correspondence between Rachel, Mark, and their biological mother, Marilyn, Love & Genetics follows the events of a tumultuous year in an astonishing story of love, loss, and the meaning of family.

Release Date: March 22, 2022
Bookshop.org | Amazon | Unsolicited Press

Excerpt

Love

& Genetics

Trademark Mark MacDonald & Rachel Elliott, 2021.

Prologue (Mark)

This was not the first time I had been in the Calgary airport, but it was the first time in years and my first time as an International arrival. My flight from Portland, Oregon had only taken ninety minutes and hardly seemed worthy of the designation “International,” but the sign directing me to Customs and Immigration seemed stalwartly sure of it. My grey and tan North Face backpack was nearly empty. It had served me well since grad school and would continue to be my preferred carry on for many years to come, but with just my laptop inside, it felt too light for air travel and refused to ride as comfortably over my shoulder as it should have. I had a checked bag too, but that was largely empty also—just a change of clothes, some toiletries, and a good bottle of wine that I hoped to share. I wouldn’t be staying long, just the one night.

The morning plane touched down uneventfully and I was soon navigating the glass-walled maze of the international terminal. The myriad of signs and arrows were ostensibly guiding me toward customs, although the route clearly prioritized security over expediency. Fair enough. I readjusted my pack again, trying not to lose myself in thoughts of the day ahead. Through the glass I peered into the passing moments of other travelers— travelers already in Canada, travelers on the other side of the glass divide. I watched families trudge their way through the terminal with kids and bags straggling behind them. Lone adults passed time in a Tim Horton’s with a cup of coffee and a MacLean’s. Where were they headed on this Saturday morning? Where had they come from? Were they on time? Were they glad to be traveling? Were any of them worried about what they might find at their destination?

Airport customs was a small affair in Calgary; they must not get many international flights. There were only a half-dozen kiosks and only two of those were staffed by an agent that morning. But at 10:00 a.m. on a Saturday there was no need for any more. I paused at a high, narrow table near the back of the open room to scrounge through the second pocket of my backpack for a pen to fill out the blue and white customs form. Fortunately, I never cleaned my pack out completely, so there was always a pen, business card, or cough drop to be found in there when needed; I had, of course, double-checked for contraband before I left, knowing full well there wouldn’t be any, but it’s always worth being sure. My completed form in hand, I chose the kiosk on the left, the one with the woman agent and only one other traveler in line. After a rolling stop at the broad red line marked on the floor, I made my way to the side-counter of the kiosk, trying not to look nervous. It never helps to look nervous at a Customs and Immigration inspection. I reminded myself that I had nothing to hide here, I was not doing anything wrong. It was the rest of the day that I was nervous about.

The customs agent took my Canadian passport and opened it to the photo page. She looked me square in the eyes and then proceeded to size me up head-to-toe before returning her gaze to my hopefully anxiety-free face.

“Citizenship?” She began in a voice that was both friendly and tired, yet still held an undercurrent of authority.

“Canadian.”

I had just handed her my passport, of course I was Canadian. I suppose they have to ask, perhaps to get a potential perjury on record, or perhaps just to see who they can trick. But it did say clearly right there on the front cover: CANADA PASSPORT (and then again in French, of course, PASSPORTE). It even goes a step further on the first page, explicitly listing my citizenship as CANADIAN, in case the reader had somehow missed the lettering on the outside cover. I imagined that once in a blue moon someone answers the citizenship question “Italian” while holding a passport from Albania and that’s how they catch bad guys. The people who mess that one up must be extremely nervous-looking.

“Where do you live?” Her focus had now returned to her computer screen, which presumably listed all sorts of interesting details about my immigration credentials and prior travels.

“Portland, Oregon, in the States.” I had been living in the US for more than a decade and had had this same conversation many times while crossing back into Canada at various borders. I had learned from experience that it did not serve to rush to any explanations or caveats, just answer their questions directly and succinctly and they’ll get to the next part at their own pace.

“Why are you living in the USA?”

“I work for Intel Corporation there and live with my wife, who is American. I have a green card.” I had my proof of residency at the ready and it was halfway across the side-counter before she asked for it.

“What are you doing in Canada today?”

This was the question I had been bracing for. Except for Tina, my wife, I hadn’t told anyone why I was taking this trip: not my friends, not my job, not even my parents.

In that moment, my life as I knew it shrank from me and I felt utterly alone. But by law, here at the Immigration kiosk, I needed to be honest, and I had resolved to be plain about it. “I’m meeting my biological family,” I said.

The agent paused and turned to look back up at me, ignoring her screen for a moment.

“First time?” she asked with genuine interest. “Yes” was my spoken reply, although I was on the verge of tears and I’m sure that she could see that piece of my response as well.

“Well, you win the prize,” she said with a wry smile. She stamped my passport and slid my documents back to me across the counter. “Best story of the day. Go on.”

As I turned to head toward the baggage claim area, I heard her add “good luck.”

“Thanks,” I replied without turning back. I don’t know if she heard me. I meant it, but I was too busy holding on to my edges to care about properly completing the social nicety. It was strange, surviving that one moment of honesty and the agent showing herself to be an ally of my quest. It allowed me to breathe normally again and gave me a tiny flush of confidence. Within minutes the world was slowly sinking back into the normalcy of airport navigation and I found myself successfully continuing to put my feet in front of each other as I made my way through baggage claim and on toward the rental car pickup. Searching for the right numbered stall in the sparsely lit garage, I paused and felt the ground more solid beneath me than it had been in days. As I stood there, staring at the white Ford Focus in front of me, the customs agent’s prize comment ran through my mind again, and it made me wonder.

About the Authors

Mark MacDonald lives in Beaverton, Oregon. He is an Adjunct Professor at Portland State University and a Principal Engineer at Intel Corporation and has authored more than forty scientific publications, for which he has received multiple awards, including the Martin Hirschorn Best Paper Prize from the International Acoustics Congress (2010).

Rachel Elliott grew up in the prairies of Alberta, Canada, yet somehow (miraculously) finds herself living outside of Raleigh, North Carolina, and became a US citizen in 2016. She works in mortgage lending and is a voracious reader.

SOCIAL MEDIA LINKS:
Unsolicited Press
> Twitter: @UnsolicitedP
> Instagram: @UnsolicitedP
Mindbuck Media
> Twitter: @MindbuckMedia
> Instagram: @MindbuckMediaBookPub
> Facebook: @MindbuckMedia

The post New Release Spotlight — LOVE & GENETICS: A True Story of Adoption, Surrogacy, and the Meaning of Family by Mark MacDonald and Rachel Elliot appeared first on Quiet Fury Books.

Book Review — THE INVISIBLE KINGDOM: Reimagining Chronic Illness by Meghan O’Rourke

A landmark exploration of one of the most consequential and mysterious issues of our time: the rise of chronic illness and autoimmune diseases

A silent epidemic of chronic illnesses afflicts tens of millions of Americans: these are diseases that are poorly understood, frequently marginalized, and can go undiagnosed and unrecognized altogether. Renowned writer Meghan O’Rourke delivers a revelatory investigation into this elusive category of “invisible” illness that encompasses autoimmune diseases, post-treatment Lyme disease syndrome, and now long COVID, synthesizing the personal and the universal to help all of us through this new frontier.
 
Drawing on her own medical experiences as well as a decade of interviews with doctors, patients, researchers, and public health experts, O’Rourke traces the history of Western definitions of illness, and reveals how inherited ideas of cause, diagnosis, and treatment have led us to ignore a host of hard-to-understand medical conditions, ones that resist easy description or simple cures. And as America faces this health crisis of extraordinary proportions, the populations most likely to be neglected by our institutions include women, the working class, and people of color.
 
Blending lyricism and erudition, candor and empathy, O’Rourke brings together her deep and disparate talents and roles as critic, journalist, poet, teacher, and patient, synthesizing the personal and universal into one monumental project arguing for a seismic shift in our approach to disease. The Invisible Kingdom offers hope for the sick, solace and insight for their loved ones, and a radical new understanding of our bodies and our health.

Published: March 1, 2022

Amazon | Goodreads

My Thoughts

We all want to feel seen, especially when we’re suffering.

With The Invisible Kingdom, Meghan O’Rourke takes us through the quagmire of life with an invisible illness, sharing the emotional turmoil of not knowing what’s wrong, while navigating a medical system that sets you up for failure.

This is not a guide to healing. O’Rourke acknowledges what most of us living with some form of invisible illness already know; every case is different and every person responds differently.

By sharing her personal journey, O’Rourke shines a light in the darkness, allowing those of us suffering to see we’re not alone, and demanding the rest of the world see us as we are—sick, not crazy.

O’Rourke also delves into biology and science, exploring the autoimmune system and the many ways in which it can quietly go haywire.

This book hit me hard because I’ve been living it since childhood. As the decades pass, our numbers grow, and together we’re finally making too much noise to be ignored. Yet the stigma remains, and science is woefully behind.

If you’re living this story or you know someone who is, this book provides insight into a life disrupted and derailed.

*I received a free copy from Riverhead Books.*

The post Book Review — THE INVISIBLE KINGDOM: Reimagining Chronic Illness by Meghan O’Rourke appeared first on Quiet Fury Books.

New Release Spotlight — THE SCARS THAT BIND US by Michele Notaro

Sometimes the worst scars are the ones you can’t see.

Growing up in the magi compound was far from easy. I didn’t think I’d ever get out of that horrid place, but eighteen years ago, my world changed. I was allowed freedoms I’d never had before, although, even today, I was still at the Non-Human Specialties Operations’ beck and call.

Which is how I find myself on a team with my best friend, five shifters, and a human.

Now, I have to figure out a way to work with others—with shifters. I’ve never been one to trust easily, and I don’t see that changing, but this shifter pride has a way of getting past my walls. Unfortunately, all that means is now I have even more people I need to protect against the evils of this world, and I really don’t know how I’m gonna do it.

All three species have been at odds for more than a century, but maybe Cosmo—a lion shifter—and I can put aside our differences to work together and keep everyone safe. And if I’m secretly crushing on the guy, well, I think I’ll keep that to myself.

The Scars That Bind Us is a 115K word novel and the first book in the MM urban fantasy series, The Magi Accounts.*Intended for adults only. Please read the trigger warnings at the beginning of this book.

THE SCARS THAT BIND US
Series Title: The Magi Accounts
Author: Michele Notaro
Publishing Company: self-published
Release Date: Tuesday, February 22 2022
ASN: B09L57W5KN
Cover Artist: Natasha Snow

Buy Links:
Publisher
Amazon US
Amazon UK
Amazon CA
Universal Link

Excerpt

“That sounds nice.” I hesitated, then added, “I’ve never been to a cookout before.”

He froze. “What?”

My brow furrowed. “Uh, I’ve never been to a cookout. It’s not like we had anything like that at the compound, and every mage I know who lives off-base is in an apartment.” I shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal even though I knew it was. Cookouts were a normal thing for humans and shifters. I’d seen enough of them in movies and shows, and read enough about them, to know that I’d love to go to one someday. But that wasn’t really in the cards for me.

“You’ve seriously never been to a cookout? Not even once?”

“Uh, nope. Pretty sure I’d remember something like that.”

A strangled sound came out of his throat before he rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “Madeo…”

“What?”

“I… Jesus, I don’t even know what to say to that. I’ll have to have a cookout and invite you, Jude, and Logan.”

My eyebrows rose. “Really?” Despite myself, a strange flutter of hopefulness flitted around my chest. Which was stupid. People said things like that all the time. It didn’t mean they’d follow through.

Cos smiled softly and shoulder-bumped me. “Yeah, cat lover, really.”

I smiled up at him before entering the sandwich shop. I knew what I wanted, so I ordered, then gestured to Cos, saying, “What do you want?”

He was staring at the menu as he ordered a shit-ton of food. When he finished, paid—even though I’d tried to pay for both—and we sat down to wait, I asked, “Are you trying to feed your entire pride?”

He snorted. “No. I’ll finish it all.”

My eyes widened. “How? You’re a big guy, but you have like zero fat on you, and I’ve never seen you eat that much.”

“You’re asking me that? You’re a mage, and you just ordered an extra sandwich for yourself and a bucket of fries that I have no doubt you’ll finish off.”

“I like to save half of the second sandwich for tomorrow.”

He shook his head. “I have no idea where all this food goes on you. But for me, it takes a lot of energy, burns a ton of calories, to shift, and since I shift at least once a day, I eat a lot. I shifted a couple times yesterday and already once this morning, so I need the calories.”

“Gotcha. That makes sense. I wonder if my magic burns up some of the calories I eat?” I shrugged. “Whatever. Doesn’t matter.”

He grinned. “What are your plans for the rest of the day?”

“This is literally the only thing I have to do all day. I’m wide open. Except I don’t want to stray too far from Jude.”

He nodded. “Can I ask you a couple questions about your bond with him?”

“Uh, sure.”

“Can you feel him all the time? Even when you’re far away from each other?”

“Yes. He’s my focus, so we’d be able to find each other anyway, but it’s more than that, too. We’ve been bonded since I was three days old, so it’s completely normal to me to, uh, carry someone else in my chest.” I patted my chest where my heart was. “It’s like I can feel his heart beating right beside mine. And if he has a strong emotion, I feel it there. It’s… kind of hard to explain.”

“That was a pretty good explanation.”

I grinned. “If you say so.”

“I do.” He scratched his cheek. “Are you and Jude… involved in any other way?”

I stared at him for a few seconds, not understanding the question at first. But then I got it, and my eyes widened in horror. “Ew. Are you fucking serious? That’s… that’s… ew. No. Not even a little bit. Not ever. He’s my dyad. He’s the other half of me, and I… I wouldn’t want to date myself, right? Goddess.”

He laughed. “Okay, okay. Sorry. I didn’t realize.”

“So fucking gross.”

“Okay, so you two aren’t romantically involved. Good to know.”

“No, we’re not. Fucking duh.”

He snorted. “Alright, you don’t have to be an ass about it.”

“Pretty sure you already know I’m always an ass.”

With a grin, he reached across the table to flick my hand.

I snatched it away. “Not cool, jerkhole.”

He snorted again, then gestured to the counter. “Looks like our food’s ready. I’ll go grab it.”

“Thanks.” I watched him walk to grab the two trays of food—no way would it all fit on one—and my eyes accidentally-on-purpose strayed down to his ass.

It was a good ass. Like the rest of him, it was muscled and firm. Round. Bitable.

Thinking about biting his glorious buttcheek made me hum in appreciation out loud. And of course, Cos chose that moment to turn around. I didn’t even get the chance to look away and pretend I wasn’t ogling him before he caught me.

He had a huge grin on his smug face when he sat down and passed me my food. We started eating in companionable silence, and I thought he was going to let me get away with it without saying anything.

But then he opened his mouth and said all casual-like, “So you’re an ass man, huh?”

I almost spit out my food. “What? No. Nope.”

“Uh-huh. Real convincing, cat lover.”

I glared. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, kitty cat.”

He just grinned that smug grin at me.

About the Author

Michele is married to an awesome guy that puts up with her and all the burnt dinners she makes—hey, sometimes characters are a bit distracting, and who doesn’t plot when they’re supposed to be cooking? They live together in Baltimore, Maryland with two little monsters, three-legged and four-legged fiends, and a little old man (aka their two sons, their two cats, and their senior dog). She hopes to rescue another cat soon, and if her hubby wouldn’t kill her, she’d get more than one… and maybe a few more dogs as well.

She loves creating worlds filled with lots of love, chosen family, and of course, magic, but she also likes making the characters fight for that happy ending. She hopes to one day write all the stories in her head—even if there are too many to count!

CONNECT:
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The post New Release Spotlight — THE SCARS THAT BIND US by Michele Notaro appeared first on Quiet Fury Books.

Book Review — FEAR NO EVIL: An Alex Cross Novel by James Patterson

Dr. Alex Cross and Detective John Sampson venture into the rugged Montana wilderness—where they will be the prey.
 
They’re not on the job, but on a personal mission. 
 
Until they’re attacked by two rival teams of assassins, controlled by the same mastermind who has stalked Alex and his family for years. 
 
Darkness falls. The river churns into rapids. Shots ring out through the forest. 
 
No backup. No way out. Fear no evil.

Published: November 2021

Amazon | Goodreads

My Thoughts

I feel disloyal writing this review because I’ve always loved James Patterson’s writing style, and his Alex Cross series was among my favorites. But here goes: I didn’t feel the magic with Fear No Evil, #29 in the Alex Cross series.

The story begins with several storylines that later coincidentally (magically) tie together.

I normally love Patterson’s short chapters, but here the constant jumping between the various storylines and characters felt disjointed, until the last quarter, when the focus finally narrowed.

The action, when we eventually got there, felt over the top, like Patterson tossed out all the explosives at once because he’s bored with his own characters.

And “M.” Do you hear me groaning? “M” is the omniscient, omnipotent supervillain whose continuing thread has been dragged on and on… and on through this series. I am so incredibly sick of “M.” Kill him, already. Or have him kill everyone else. End the misery. Please.

But, no. This book ends with a cliffhanger. Let the misery continue.

*I received an ARC from Novel Suspects Insiders.*

The post Book Review — FEAR NO EVIL: An Alex Cross Novel by James Patterson appeared first on Quiet Fury Books.

New Release Spotlight — SMILE AND LOOK PRETTY by Amanda Pellegrino

A juicy, fun yet piercing debut novel, Smile and Look Pretty tells the story of four assistants working in media who band together to take on their toxic office environments in the ultimate comeuppance—pitched as Sweetbitter meets Whisper Network.

Online they’re The Aggressive One, The Bossy One, The Bitchy One, and The Emotional One. In real life, best friends Cate, Lauren, Olivia and Max all have one thing in common—they’re overworked, overtired, and underpaid assistants to some of the most powerful men in the media and entertainment industries. When they secretly start an anonymous blog detailing their experiences, their posts go viral and hundreds of other women come forward with stories of their own. Confronted with the risks of newfound fame and the possibility of their identities being revealed, they have to contend with what happens when you try and change the world.

Gripping, razor-sharp, and scathingly funny, Smile and Look Pretty is a fast-paced millennial rallying cry about the consequences of whistleblowing for an entire generation, and a testament to the strength of female friendship and what can be accomplished when women come together.

Smile and Look Pretty : A Novel
Amanda Pellegrino
On Sale Date: March 8, 2022
0778311120
Trade Paperback
$16.99 USD
368 pages

Buy Links:
Bookshop.org
Amazon
B&N
Target
Books-a-Million
IndieBound
Kobo
Apple Books
Google Play

Excerpt

1

The signs were always there. He was late to a few meet­ings. He started happy hour at 2:00 p.m. He promoted from within.

The signs weren’t noticeable at first. Until they were.

He was late to Marjorie’s meetings, not Ben’s. He offered scotch on the rocks to the guys. Most of his former male as­sistants were now editors.

It took years of working with him for Cate to learn those things. To realize they were signs.

But he had a reputation. That she knew from the beginning.

“You’ll need a thick skin,” he’d said on her first day. A warning.

She didn’t extend him the same courtesy.

Cate could tell you every book Larcey Publishing had ever released in its twenty-year history, and how old she had been when she first read it. The red LP stood out on all the spines in her dad’s “home office,” which was really the walk-in closet of her parents’ bedroom converted into a small library lined with bookshelves, the clothing rails outfitted with a plank of painted wood to form a desk. When she got home from school, she’d sneak into her parents’ room and read whatever book was on her dad’s nightstand that week—no matter how age inappropriate the title. By the time she was ten, she knew she wanted to spend her life helping people tell stories. Important stories that no one would hear otherwise.

Matthew Larcey was a literary prodigy, not just to her dad, but to the world. Before he was thirty, he was known as the next Maxwell Perkins and by thirty-five he used that acclaim to start his own publishing house. Jobs there were the only ones Cate applied to during her senior year of college. She started as a production assistant ten days after graduation, and when the position of Matt’s executive assistant opened a year later, she was the first to apply.

Matt’s assistant at the time was a lovely girl from Texas named Eleanor, who tried and failed to suppress her South­ern accent. (Cate later learned Matt forbid y’all from conversa­tions. Sign.) She interviewed Cate in a conference room with dull gray walls and two suicide-proof windows that looked out onto Sixth Avenue, forty-nine f lights below. Cate wore her go-to black dress with a leather trim and had prepped in the bathroom a few minutes before: whispering her elevator pitch while applying more mascara; detailing her current re­sponsibilities as an assistant while running some Moroccan oil through her frizzy hair; listing her favorite books while swap­ping out f lats and a cardigan for heels and a blazer.

Twenty minutes into the interview, Matt Larcey walked in, wearing jeans and an AC/DC T-shirt with a small hole in the neck. Eyes wide, Cate and Eleanor watched him slowly sit down at the opposite side of the long conference table, typing on his phone. Despite having worked there for a year, Cate had never met the company’s founder. He wasn’t good-looking in the traditional sense—he was far too old for Cate anyway—but his salt-and-pepper hair paired with his tailored jeans emit­ted a kind of effortless power that Cate found enigmatic. She felt reassured knowing he had smile lines. Maybe it meant he wasn’t as difficult as his reputation implied.

Eleanor’s gaze darted to Matt and then back to Cate. “Um, as I was saying—”

“Did you tell her why you’re being replaced?” he inter­rupted, looking up at them. His phone buzzed against the table four times while Eleanor went as red as the LP on the company’s logo.

“I wasn’t available enough,” she said quietly.

“Be specific.”

Eleanor took a long breath and offered Cate a tight-lipped smile. “I was on vacation and missed an urgent email.”

Cate wanted to crawl under the table and come back when the tension was gone.

“If I’m working, you’re working,” Matt said. “That’s the deal.”

Seems logical , Cate thought. Sign.

“I know why you’re here.” He looked at Cate with an arched brow. “You’re a reader. Right? That’s what your Twit­ter bio says? You want to publish something that matters. The next great American novel, a book that will change the course of literature forever.”

Eleanor seemed to be shrinking in front of them, getting smaller and smaller with every word.

“If that’s what gets you through the day, great,” Matt con­tinued. “By all means, try to find the next Zadie Smith. If you play by the rules, maybe you will. But there are a lot of others out there who would kill for this job. So don’t think you’ll get any favors. If you earn the book, you’ll get the book. Oth­erwise it will be you here picking out your own successor.”

When Eleanor appeared at Cate’s cubicle a few weeks later, offering her thejob, Cate immediately accepted. Because she was a reader. She did want to find the next great American novel. And, despite its founder’s reputation, Larcey Publish­ing was the best place to do that.

Exactly two years later, Cate sat at her desk in the forty-ninth f loor bullpen, moving her eyes slowly across the f loor-to-ceiling color-coded bookshelves packed with LP titles, thinking about how she was officially the longest lasting as­sistant in Larcey’s history. When she had first started, each day she would look up from her desk at the wall of books in awe, like a tourist admiring the Chrysler Building, and dream about the day books she discovered and edited would join those shelves. Now, she had trouble remembering why she wanted to work there so badly in the first place.

She let out a deep breath. A wall of color-coded book­shelves was pretty to look at until you realized how painful it was to put together.

The executive assistants’ desks were located in the EAB, or Elusive Assistant Beau monde, as Cate called it before she got the job with Matt. It actually stood for Executive Assistant Bullpen, but hardly anyone knew that. To Finance they were Evil Annoying Babies; to editors, Eager Ass-kissing Brown­nosers; and to Marketing, Expendable Agenda Builders. What­ever they were called, she was one of them. In the center of the rectangular room were two circular velvet couches around a glass coffee table with a bouquet of f lowers Cate was some­how in charge of buying and maintaining each week. Lining the perimeter of the room were seven desks, perfectly posi­tioned outside each boss’s glass office so that each assistant was always being watched. Like fish in a bowl.

Cate glanced over her shoulder toward the shadows behind the now-curtained glass wall of Matt’s office, listening to the mumbles of the third editor in two months getting fired, and wondered—as they all did at that point—when she should ex­pect the email from HR inviting her to meet them in Matt’s office at 6:30 p.m. on a Thursday.

Lucy, the CFO’s assistant, wheeled her chair toward Cate. “Maggie, huh?” she said, folding her long blond hair behind her ears as if that would help her gossip better.

“Seems that way,” Cate responded.

“Do you know what happened? I thought the self-help cat­egory was doing well.”

Cate shrugged. “I’m not sure.” She tried to look busy, max­imizing and minimizing documents, opening and closing her calendar. Lucy was a great work wife, but she only got the job because her third cousin twice removed was Stephen King’s neighbor or something. This made her a “must hire,” thus untouchable. And Lucy knew it. She was more often found scooting across the bullpen in her white wheelie chair spread­ing rumors than actually working.

“Of course you know, Cate. You’re probably on the HR email.”

As Matt’s assistant, Cate was on all his emails. About the rounds of golf he planned next week. About every book that each editor wanted to acquire this season. About all the fir­ings. She knew that Maggie, a self-help editor, was being fired for considering a position at Peacock Press. Not only were they Larcey’s main competitor, but Cate once heard a rumor that Matt dated its publisher in college, and she broke up with him in favor of his rugby-playing roommate. Either way, the rivalry seemed personal. They had offered Maggie $10K more and a nearly unlimited budget to acquire all the self-help books she could get her hands on. Cate knew ev­erything. And that power was not something she was about to give up for Lucy. It was all she had.

“I guess self-help isn’t doing as well as we thought,” Cate said.

Before Lucy could reply, Maggie threw open Matt’s door. The entire room started furiously typing as Maggie stomped past the EAB, two suited HR reps scurrying behind her. Lucy picked up the first paper she could find on Cate’s desk and examined it so closely you’d think she’d just discovered the Rosetta Stone.

As soon as Maggie was out of earshot, Lucy said, “God, that was awkward.” She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I heard she’s going to Peacock.”

“Do you really think it’s Peacock?” Spencer Park whispered from his desk. “What, are they trying to poach everyone?”

“Poaching the people you want is more cost-effective than buying a company and paying for all the people you don’t,” Lucy responded. Cate could have sworn Lucy’s head cocked toward Matt’s office for the latter part of that statement.

Lucy returned to her desk and everyone went back to nor­mal until a few moments later, when the heavy glass door behind her opened again. Cate didn’t need to turn around to know it was Matt leaving. Her back might be facing his of­fice all day, but she knew his movements by heart. In the same way, she imagined, he probably knew hers.

Matt moseyed to the front of her desk, moving his worn, expensive leather briefcase from his right hand to his left. He’d been kayaking that weekend, and he always got blisters on his dominant hand when he kayaked. Cate hatedthat she knew that. “Why are you still here?” he asked, as if his I’m working, you’re working, that’s the deal speech didn’t play on a loop in her head 24/7. As if that wasn’t why she kept her phone on loud all the time, why she woke up panicking in the middle of the night about missing an email, and why she was that girl who showed up to bars on Saturdays hiding her laptop in her purse.

“Just finishing up some work.” Cate glanced at her nearly empty inbox. She was supposed to be on her way to The Shit List, a much-needed weekly vent session with her friends. In­stead, she was going to be late. Not that that was unusual for her. If Matt was there, Cate was there, after all.

He looked at Cate, then at the other assistants, all furiously typing again to seem occupied. “Looks like everyone else is working a lot harder than you are right now.”

Well, I’m talking to you , Cate wanted to say. I stopped typing to talk to you.

What actually came out of her mouth was, “Have a good night.”

She watched him walk across the EAB and offer a wave and a smile to three executive assistants standing at the bookshelf, peeling some titles off the wall. “You all work too hard. This place would be in shambles without you,” he said to them be­fore turning the corner toward the elevator bank.

After answering a few more emails, Cate poured some whiskey into her Bitches Get Stuff Done mug, grabbed her Board Meeting Makeup Kit out of the bottom drawer of her desk and walked into the bathroom. She was already going to be fifteen minutes late to The Shit List; what was another fifteen to look presentable and rub some slightly off-colored concealer on the under-eye circles that seemed to grow darker throughout the day?

She had discovered the necessity of a makeup kit on her second day as Matt’s assistant. He had a board meeting, which was one of the only times she saw him in a suit.

“At exactly four fifteen, I need you to come into the meet­ing and bring me a cup of coffee,” he said. “Just put it in front of me and walk out. Don’t look at me. Don’t look at anyone. Just in and out. And, you know—” he looked her up and down “—look…presentable.”

Cate could feel her cheeks flame as he walked away. She didn’t wear a lot of makeup, but she did always at least look presentable for work.

“Here,” said the CMO’s assistant at the time. She dropped a smallpink-and-white Lilly Pulitzer bag on Cate’s desk. “That’s code for put on some makeup.”

“I have makeup on.” Cate rubbed her cheek as if the pres­sure from her fingers could force blush to suddenly appear.

She nudged the bag forward. “Not the kind men notice.”

Reluctantly, Cate unzipped it and inside found one of ev­erything: powder foundation, mascara, eyeliner, eye shadow, blush, red lipstick. No variety. Bare minimum to look like the maximum.

“Put it on my desk when you’re done. You should keep a board meeting kit here, too. This won’t be the only time you’ll need it.”

After two years of board, author, and literary agent meet­ings, dropping things off at home for his kid, picking his wife up in the lobby, and countless other occasions for which Cate was told to “look presentable,” getting ready for margaritas with her friends was the only time she used the kit to show herself off, rather than be shown off.

Happy two-year-work-aversary , Cate thought to herself as she put her makeup bag back in her desk. Shetook another look at the bookshelf on her way out. Two years too many.

The weekly calendar invite for The Shit List pinged on Cate’s phone as she darted up the Union Square subway stair­case. The late May humidity combined with 6-train rush hour crowd left small beads of sweat on her upper lip and made her curls wild and frizzy. She passed the produce market closing up shop for the night and the men playing chess under the streetlights.

When Cate arrived at Sobremesa, she waved at the hostess and then at their favorite bartender as she beelined past the crowded bar to join everyone at their usual booth in the back. Sobremesa was a strange place: corporate but lowbrow. That was strategic. Find a bar where they were the only group under forty so no one around would recognize their bosses’ names when Lauren said Pete, an Emmy-winning screenwriter, had been avoiding her all day; or Max complained that Richard, a morning news anchor, had stared at her butt for the entire live shoot; or Olivia yelled about Nate, a washed-up actor who refused to realize he was no long relevant. They didn’t need their work gossip on Page Six.

Cate stopped when she saw the three of them in their usual spot, laughing at something Olivia said, a half-empty pitcher of spicy margaritas moving between them. Lauren was squinting through her black-rimmed glasses, always refusing to consider a new prescription until she got promoted and could afford the co-pay. Olivia’s topknot bounced side to side on her head as she spoke enthusiastically with her hands, one of her dra­matic tendencies as a budding actress. Max sat in the corner, plucking salt crystals off the rim of her glass and licking them off her pointer finger.

“Wow,” Lauren said when she spotted Cate.

“What?” Cate sank into the booth next to her. Lauren was making too much eye contact, the way she did when she was annoyed. Max poured the remainder of the pitcher into a fourth glass and pushed it toward Cate.

Lauren took a long sip from the tiny straw before saying, “Nice shirt.”

Shit . Cate was wearing Lauren’s top. The black T-shirt she told Lauren she’d wash and return to her closet three wears before. The one that now had semipermanent white deodor­ant circles under the armpits and was ever so slightly stretched out around the chest to fit Cate’s larger cup size. “Sorry,” she said to Lauren, who would hold a grudge until the freshly cleaned and folded shirt was back in her dresser. It would be at least a month before Cate could borrow anything from Lau­ren again, which was a bummer because she’d had her eye on a black pleated midiskirt for a date next week.

“Whatever,” Lauren said with a sigh. “Should we just start?” She motioned toward the waitress and, when she arrived, or­dered another pitcher of margaritas in Spanish.

In the center of the table was a small stack of cash to which Cate added her five-dollar contribution. She ripped a napkin into quarters and handed them out, scribbling onto the thin paper, the words bleeding together. I booked Matt’s $37,000 first-class tickets for his family’s Kenyan safari an hour after realizing that unless I get a raise or my student loans disappear into the ether, I can’t afford to go home to Illinois for Thanksgiving for the fourth year in a row. Then she crossed out the latter half. No one she knew could ever afford to leave New York then, which was why the four of them always ended up doing Friendsgiving instead. It wasn’t the same as cooking with her mom and then watching her dad unbutton his pants to fall asleep in his La- Z-Boy in front of the football game, but it was something.

After everyone finished scribbling on their napkins, the storytelling began.

Lauren complained about wheeling an industrial printer covered in blue tarp from the writers’ trailer to Pete’s trailer parked four long city avenues away during a thunderstorm. Then, upon showing up to work drenched, was asked by one of the writers to get coffee for everyone since “she was al­ready wet.”

Olivia had spent an entire day this week trying to sneak into the W Hotel Residences by schmoozing a young security guard so that she could do Nate’s laundry there because he liked the smell of their detergent. “It’s The Laundress,” Olivia said, rubbing her temples as if the mere mention of the brand’s name gave her a headache. “It’s what he uses too. Bought it for him myself. But he insists it’s different.”

Max had to pretend Sheena’s five-year-old son was hers so she could pick up his ADD medication before the anchor’s weekend getaway to a resort in New Mexico. The pharmacist had seemed skeptical, but Max couldn’t return to the news­room without it. “I made a comment questioning how we still live in a world where young motherhood is challenged,” Max said. The pharmacist had stopped asking questions.

The best part about their four-year friendship, Cate found, was the lack of explanations. They didn’t have to preface names in their stories with “my boss” or “my friend” or “the cashier at my bodega.” They never needed to fill anyone in on what they missed. Because they didn’t miss anything. They knew everything about each other’s lives. Cate knew that Lauren hadn’t brought a guy home in at least a year and hadn’t had sex in at least that long as well. She knew that Olivia rolled her eyes at her Southern Peachtree roots but would secretly perk up whenever a familiar accent was within earshot, remind­ing her of home. And Cate knew that Max’s parents wielded enough old money power and privilege to get her promoted anywhere, but Max insisted on earning it herself.

Knowing everything about her friends also meant know­ing everything about their bosses. Lauren’s boss kept bottles of tequila, whiskey, and gin underneath the couch in his trailer. Cate could tell by looking at a paparazzi photo of Olivia’s boss in People Magazine whether it was a coincidental shot or he had Olivia tip them off about his whereabouts. Cate could recognize by Max’s outfit whether she expected Richard, the handsy morning anchor, to be in the office that day.

Once all the stories were told and the napkin scraps circled the tea light on the table like a strange sacrificial ceremony, Lauren said, “Can I make the executive decision that Olivia wins?” Everyone agreed; folding your boss’s stiff boxers, re­gardless of how good they apparently smelled afterward, should win you more than twenty dollars.

Cate took the piece of napkin in her hand and looked down at her chicken scratch handwriting. This was her life. These were the things she spent her days doing. It was her two-year anniversary as Matt’s assistant, and the day went on just like any other. Cate wasn’t expecting a cake with her face on it or anything. But some kind of acknowledgment would have beenappreciated. Something that said couldn’t do it without you orI hope these two years have been worth it or, at least, a simple thank you.

What did Cate learn about the publishing industry from booking Matt’s vacations? What did she learn by organizing the papers on his desk in alphabetical order? What did she learn from spending a week every November opening up his cabin in Vermont for the season? She did learn that he spent $600 every year on a new Canada Goose coat; that the couch in their basement was incredibly uncomfortable to sleep on; and that his wife kept a dildo in the bottom drawer of her nightstand (but what did Matt expect, sending his poorly-paid assistant to his rich vacation house?).

And what had happened while she’d been 340 miles north, spraying salt all over the cabin’s front walkway? Spencer filled in on Matt’s desk and was asked to “sit in on” three author meetings and one board meeting. She’d met only one author in two years, and the closest she came to board meetings was delivering coffee with strict instructions not to speak. Did anyone tell Spencer to “look presentable”?

For the last two years, Cate had only focused on what was at stake: money, access to stamps for mailing rent checks, free food after author meetings,a foot in the door for her dream job. But it was starting to feel… fine. Uninspiring. Empty. What was she working toward?

Cate took one last look at the napkin before dipping the bottom right corner into the tea light’s f lame. She held it between her fingers, watching Matt Larcey’s name burn in her hand as the text slowly turned to ashes and fell onto the wooden table.

After she swept the ashes to the f loor, Cate held up her mar­garita. “Here’s to the day when we can make money without doing something degrading.”

Their glasses met in the middle, and Cate looked at her friends, the assistants busting their asses, making the rules from behind the scenes. What if they all got together? What if they called bullshit?

What if they all said no?

Excerpted from Smile and Look Pretty by Amanda Pellegrino, Copyright © 2021 by Amanda Pellegrino. Published by Park Row Books.

About the Author

Amanda Pellegrino is a TV screenwriter and novelist living in New York City whose writing has appeared in Refinery29 and Bustle. Smile and Look Pretty is her debut novel.

Social Links:
Website
Instagram: @AmandaGPellegrino
Twitter: @AmandaPellss

The post New Release Spotlight — SMILE AND LOOK PRETTY by Amanda Pellegrino appeared first on Quiet Fury Books.

Book Review — MURDER UNDER HER SKIN: A Pentecost and Parker Mystery by Stephen Spotswood

Someone’s put a blade in the back of the Amazing Tattooed Woman, and Willowjean “Will” Parker’s former knife-throwing mentor has been stitched up for the crime. To uncover the truth, Will and her boss, world-famous detective Lillian Pentecost, travel south to the circus where they find a snakepit of old grudges, small-town crime, and secrets worth killing for.

New York, 1946: The last time Will Parker let a case get personal, she walked away with a broken face, a bruised ego, and the solemn promise never again to let her heart get in the way of her job. But she called Hart and Halloway’s Travelling Circus and Sideshow home for five years, and Ruby Donner, the circus’s tattooed ingenue, was her friend. To make matters worse the prime suspect is Valentin Kalishenko, the man who taught Will everything she knows about putting a knife where it needs to go. 

To suss out the real killer and keep Kalishenko from a date with the electric chair, Will and Ms. Pentecost join the circus in sleepy Stoppard, Virginia, where the locals like their cocktails mild, the past buried, and big-city detectives not at all. The two swiftly find themselves lost in a funhouse of lies as Will begins to realize that her former circus compatriots aren’t playing it straight, and that her murdered friend might have been hiding a lot of secrets beneath all that ink. 

Dodging fistfights, firebombs, and flying lead, Will puts a lot more than her heart on the line in the search of the truth. Can she find it before someone stops her ticker for good?

Published: December 7, 2021

Amazon | Goodreads

My Thoughts

Murder Under Her Skin takes us inside a traveling circus, where solving a murder is personal and a lot more complex than expected.

Private investigation is usually a man’s world, especially in 1946, but Lillian Pentecost and Willowjean Parker don’t care about gender expectations. One is middle-aged, well-educated, and struggling with MS, the other is young, streetwise, bisexual, and impulsive, and together they make an unstoppable team.

Lillian and Will are two of my favorite characters. I love the banter and wry humor that keeps things light, even when the topic gets dark.

This is the second Pentecost and Parker novel, and it might even be better than the first (which I loved). While Murder Under Her Skin can be read as a stand-alone, you really should start with Fortune Favors the Dead because you’ll get to know the characters better. And it’s really freaking good.

*I received a free copy from Doubleday Books.*

The post Book Review — MURDER UNDER HER SKIN: A Pentecost and Parker Mystery by Stephen Spotswood appeared first on Quiet Fury Books.