Uvi Poznansky's Blog, page 82

Love Under Fire is such a treat

Follow the killer, hide here, there, any placeRun breathless with me down the slippery streetAt the trickiest moments, let's not stop the chaseBecause in the end, Love Under Fire is such a treat

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A scream rang out—he’s got a gun!

It was a nothing can go wrong kind of bright, sunny day. Meeting her best friend Antonia Gazelle for coffee on a Saturday morning was a chance for Mindy Murphy to catch up, relax, and regroup, her mood joyful. On the way to the café, the flat, uninhabited land dotted periodically with ancient windmills reminded Mindy why she loved living in the desert. The deep blue, cloudless sky reached to the horizon with nothing to interrupt the vista. The chaparral was in bloom as far as the eye could see, and although it wreaked havoc with her allergies, the fragrance was heady and intoxicating, inviting deep breaths, which she’d later regret. Her honey-blond hair, gathered in a ponytail on top of her head, blew in the wind, with the top down on her vintage Mustang convertible, taking advantage of the last days before air-conditioning would be mandatory around the clock. When she arrived at Baker’s Bakery and Coffee Shop, the large EAT sign with a flashing arrow unnecessarily pointing to the entrance, Antonia was already there, smiling, glad to see her old friend. They’d gone from kindergarten thru twelfth grade together, and after graduation, their lives diverged, with Antonia going away to college and veterinary school in San Diego, and Mindy working full time on her grandfather Henry Murphy’s Shadow Valley horse ranch. As different as night and day, in their youth they were called the multiracial twins because they were always together. Antonia was dark and voluptuous with fiery eyes that bored a hole through you. Always seeming to be in motion, Antonia’s vivacious personality just drew men to her, and she had a steady stream of suitors who all fell in love.Shy Mindy was the same height, but slender, with blond hair and blue eyes set in an oval face, and skin that burned without tons of sunscreen. Because of disappointments and probably some fear as well, she rarely dated, and the older she got, the less desire she had to try to meet anyone. Content being alone, her passion was the ranch and the horses they cared for.“Good morning, beautiful,” Antonia said, kissing Mindy’s cheek. “You’re rockin’ those shorts, girlfriend!” “You don’t think they’re too short?”“It’s ninety degrees at ten in the morning. No, they’re not too short. Is my blouse too low?” She put her hands on her hips and posed from left to right. Mindy giggled, the joke being Antonia’s breasts were often in danger of spilling out of her clothing, no matter how modestly she was dressed.In that jovial frame of mind, they entered the café, and the first person Mindy saw sitting near the door was a neighboring rancher, Fred Rough, or Miserable Fred as he was called behind his back, smirking when he saw the girls. Older than middle-aged, Fred still had the ambition of a younger man, with the wisdom and confidence of someone who had pulled a few tricks in his life. “Hi, Mr. Rough,” Mindy said respectfully, her poker face in place. “You can call me Fred. Old Henry finally let you have a day off,” he said, grinning up at her, his hat still on his head even though they were inside. “Enjoy your breakfast,” she replied, ignoring his comment.“And, Antonia, ye’re slumming, I see,” he said. “Just couldn’t stay away from old Baker after the big city.”“I came back here to drive you crazy, Fred, you know that,” Antonia said. “I’m out at your place at least once a week.”Antonia worked for the state of California as a livestock inspector. Her comment shut Fred up, the history between them toxic and getting worse due to his failure to follow the rules the state had in place for the documentation of the animals he boarded on his ranch. Dismissing him, she flipped her hair and kept walking. A favorite booth of patrons was halfway between the back of the café and the front door, and luckily, it was empty. They slid in across from each other, talking in hushed tones about despicable Fred. There was dissension between Fred and Mindy’s grandfather, Henry, and some of the other ranchers. The Bureau of Land Management contracted Fred’s ranch as a long-term holding facility for captured wild horses until they could be adopted or go to auction worse possibly to slaughter buyers. Keeping the lot open so he could collect his money from the government was a priority, and every time Antonia showed up at his place, the threat that she might shut him down made his animosity for her increase. She was constantly poking around, asking to see paperwork, taking pictures with her phone of documents—all things Fred and his brother, Bruno, had to comply with.The BML is the watchdog of the wild horses that live on federal lands. One issue of dissension between ranchers is the way public lands are utilized. Although more land is used for livestock than for wild horse grazing, the BLM and some ranchers feel the horses are damaging the range. Fred would never lack for boarders as long as cattle ranchers had their way.“Old Fred,” Antonia said, taking her compact out to look at her face, “never has a nice thing to say. How are things between him and your grandfather?”“Still tense. Henry hates the crowding over there, how the horses are separated from the bands they grew up in. The way they’re rounded up for capture in the first place is, in my opinion, inhumane,” she said, shuddering. “It’s a hotly debated topic over at the ranchers’ meetings.”“What did you think of his comment about you getting a day off?”“You know it’s a joke around town that I’m the spinster granddaughter who will never leave the ranch. It’s why I got my apartment here in town in the first place. Stupid reason.” “Fred has a lot of nerve insulting anyone. Did you see him bristle when I mentioned being out there every week? I could be at his ranch daily for all the complaints we get.” “Let’s order,” Mindy said, shaking her head in disgust. “I’m sick of talking about Fred.” They studied the menu although it hadn’t changed since they were kids. “I’m having coffee and cherry pie.” “Mindy, it’s ten in the morning,” Antonia said, frowning.“Pretend I’m having fruit,” Mindy replied cheerfully. “Trust me, I’ll work it off later.” They shared the gossip and news of the week. Antonia considered dating another veterinarian in her office. But he ate with his mouth open and never cleaned his glasses.“You’re nitpicking,” Mindy said, looking at her carefully. “Are you sure you aren’t keeping something from me?”“You know me, can’t keep a secret if I tried. When do you leave on the drive?” Antonia asked, changing the subject to the trail ride Mindy and her grandfather had been planning for six months.  “Next week,” Mindy answered. “If we can get all our supplies together, we’ll leave midweek. That’s why I’m glad you could see me today. I hope you’ll be able to get away and come up for the weekend.”  “You can’t keep me away. I’m taking my vacation up there again this year,” Antonia said.The horse drive was a tradition from generations back. The yearly journey to Shadow Valley Ranch’s summer camp in the high country had its roots in the mystical time of the wild horses of the Mojave Desert. The horses near Henry’s camp in the Kingston Wilderness were descendants of a post-Civil War horse drive across the Sierras. In the early days, Henry’s father, Mindy’s great-grandfather, had watched the wild horses carefully for any that might be sick. The horses had a natural immunity to parasites, but if they found a sick animal, they’d treat them. Rarely, they’d have to put them out of their misery. This was before the time of the Bureau of Land Management, which was founded in 1946. At one time ranchers were allowed to sell the horses they captured, but it was the Murphy family’s tradition to release them after they were treated. Occasionally, over the generations, they’d keep a horse. The modern-day trip was focused on getting their domestic herd out of the summer heat of the desert.  “I can’t wait,” Mindy said, waxing fondly about the quiet and simple life they’d have, at least for the weekend. “You talked me into it. I’ll come the first weekend you’re up there,” Antonia said. “I can’t wait to get away.” There was a break in the conversation when Antonia glanced at the counter across from their booth. She tapped Mindy on the hand. “You have an admirer,” she said, smiling.“Do you know them?” Mindy whispered.Two men sat at the counter. One was angrily talking on the phone; the other guy was staring right at Mindy. She looked into the greenest eyes she’d ever seen, his left eye almost covered by a shock of sandy hair. It was Randy Johnson, a fellow horse-lover she’d seen from afar at a bait and trap protest she’d once gone to. The protest had been held on public land bordering the edge of Fred Rough’s vast property, and Mindy knew that the horses they caught would probably end up in his long-term holding lot.Shuddering, Mindy didn’t want to think about the horrible experience of seeing the wild horses trapped. A temporary corral had been prepared with bait for the horses: green alfalfa that would be difficult to resist no matter the threat. The corral was set up over a period of days to trick the horses into feeling safe. As each horse entered the trap and the door banged shut behind them, Mindy could feel their fear and hopelessness. The confusion brought on by the trap they had just walked into segued to resignation. They would seek out others in their band for comfort when the deed was done. Finally, the last mare, with her foal by her side, entered the trap. Mindy sensed she had done so with full knowledge that her family had already been captured, and that by joining them, they would be reassured, knowing that she and her foal were still together.“I know of them. I’ve seen them at roundups.” “I know them from Fred’s,” Antonia said. “They’re regulars.”Before Mindy had a chance to question her, Randy Johnson rose from the stool and came to their table, smiling. “Hi, I recognize you. You’re Antonia, and you’re Mindy, correct? I’m Randy Johnson.”They made eye contact, and Mindy knew immediately she would be in trouble if she wasn’t careful. His smile was mesmerizing, and she smiled back at him for the first time—there had been nothing to smile about at the roundup where their paths had formerly crossed. He was slender but muscular, and she wondered what he’d look like with his shirt off. That uncharacteristic fantasy embarrassed her, and she knew she was flushing. “Do you want to join us?” Antonia asked, sliding over, ever the coquette. Randy slid in next to her across from Mindy, whose hands were folded on the table in front of her. She watched him move, taking in the view.“I don’t want to interrupt your breakfast,” he said just as Mindy’s pie arrived. “You’re not interrupting breakfast, at least not for Mindy,” Antonia said, laughing.“No way! I ordered pie, too,” he said, smiling. “Baker’s has the best pie,” Mindy said.There was a pause in the conversation.“So you know each other from protests?” Antonia asked, trying to get her shy friend to talk to Randy. “We’ve been at the same ones. They’re not exactly social events, so I never felt right about approaching you until now,” he answered, looking right at Mindy. “How do you know each other?” It was Mindy’s turn to ask, getting the feeling they were up to something, like maybe Antonia was matchmaking.“Like I said, we’ve run into each other when I’m doing inspections,” Antonia said, keeping it vague.The waitress brought his pie and coffee over. “What kind is it?” Mindy asked. “Cherry. Is there any other?” “You ordered my favorite pie,” Mindy said, giggling.They high-fived, and Antonia rolled her eyeballs at their corniness. Randy couldn’t take his eyes off Mindy. During the protests, his passion for the plight of the wild horses must have clouded his vision, because although he’d found her attractive then, sitting across from her now, he decided she was beautiful. Her blond hair streaked with honey was pulled into a ponytail, and tendrils had worked their way out of the holder, framing her face. Deep blue eyes rimmed with long lashes crinkled at the corners when she smiled. A spattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks were evidence of her life in the sun. A broad-brimmed straw hat on the seat next to her proclaimed the feeble attempt she’d made at staying out of the sun. “I think we’d better get married,” he said seriously, trying not to allow his attraction for her to be too blatant, and failing. It was just easier to tease.“My grandfather will be thrilled. He thinks twenty-six is over the hill.” “We are over the hill,” Antonia said, laughing.“Twenty-six is the perfect age for a woman,” Randy said earnestly. “How do you figure?” Antonia asked, challenging him.“A woman at twenty-six knows what she wants out of life and is on the path to finding it.”“Oh, is that right! Well, it’s news to me,” Antonia said.They ate and talked and laughed for the next ten minutes. He had an endearing habit of holding his hands tightly in front of him so he didn’t gesture. Wanting to tell him to just go for it and talk all he wanted with his hands, Mindy wondered if someone had teased him about it. “Why do you keep grabbing your hand?” Antonia asked. She pointed to his hands when he gave her a questioning look. “You keep grabbing your hand like it’s going to fly off and do something reprehensible. I talk with my hands, too, as you might have noticed.”“I teach, so I’m trying not to do this,” he said, waving his hands all over, and the women laughed again. “No, just go for it,” Mindy encouraged. “It’s fine.” “I lecture three times a week over at the college, and my students tell me the hand talking is very distracting.” “Oh,” Mindy said, “I guess when you said you taught, I thought that it was elementary school. Little kids wouldn’t mind your hands.” “Yeah. They loved it when I taught third grade for a year while I went to grad school. The big kids aren’t as kind.” “I don’t try to control mine,” Antonia said, flipping her hair. “It unnerves most people, and I get the upper hand.” Mindy guffawed, nodding her head in agreement. “It scares the heck out of me when you’re ticked off about something. Your Latina comes to the surface.”The guy Randy had been sitting with at the counter finally got off his phone and came over to their booth. “Meet Ken Crofoot,” Randy said to Mindy. Ken Crofoot was definitely another breath-taker, Mindy decided. Comparable in build to Randy, there the similarity ended. Where Randy had the clean-cut good looks of a California guy, this man was dark with shoulder-length curly black hair, which he’d tucked behind his ears, and flashing blue eyes. His hands, arms and neck were covered with tattoos, and he had on an array of beautiful silver rings and bracelets. “Nice to meet you,” he said to Mindy, smiling pleasantly. Then he grinned a big, white-tooth grin at Antonia, and Mindy noticed that her friend was actually acting demure, smiling back at Ken.“Sorry about that racket. I’ll be outside, Randy,” he said, still smiling at the women. “It was nice seeing you.”“I’ll catch up with you in a few,” Randy said. “Same time, same place.” Ken nodded knowingly. When he walked off toward the exit, the trio went back to talking like old friends until a scuffle up at the front of the café got their attention. Randy stood up to see what was going on, grasping the edge of the table.“Fred Rough just pulled a gun on Ken,” Randy said, debating whether he should run to his friend’s aid. Mindy hesitated when a scream rang out—he’s got a gun! When the yelling got louder, Randy motioned to Mindy and Antonia. “Get under the table.” Not waiting for her to react, he pushed Antonia down then reached for Mindy and shoved her under. Patrons screamed, glass breaking as shots rang out, the sound of footsteps pounding as people ran past their table.“I’ve got to see if Ken’s hurt,” he said, leaving them under the booth. They waited through the melee, and soon the sounds of sirens could be heard from the police barracks down the street. Randy ran back to them, frantic. “Are you okay?” he asked, holding out his hand. “I’m okay, but the floor under that table is disgusting,” Antonia said, letting him pull her from under the table while brushing off her jeans.“I am, too,” Mindy said, then frantically pointed to the front of the building. “But there’s someone on the ground.” “What the hell is going on?” Antonia asked, huddling with Mindy. “I have no idea,” Mindy said. “Someone shooting a gun in town on a Saturday morning? No way.” A family with crying children ran past them to leave out the back. “Let’s get out of here,” Randy said, pale, pushing them toward the back exit. “What happened?” Antonia asked. 
He put his arms out in a gathering position like he was trying to protect them. “I’ll tell you outside.” 
Excerpt from Running with Horses by Suzanne JenkinsIncluded in Love Under Fire

★ Love Romantic Suspense? ★Get these 21 brand new novels, never before published, in one boxed set!Pre-order nowLove Under Fire Nook ★ Apple ★ Kobo 

Why I failed to catch sight of her face is a mystery to me now

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“Oh mon Dieu!” cried the nurse, as she came out to the top of the stairs under the massive portico. Gaping at me in astonishment, she clapped a hand over her head till the white cotton cap nearly flew off. Up to this moment she had been chatting, in quick, hushed tones, with a slender girl whose hair was covered. It was tucked into a red beret, which was tilted, a bit whimsically, over her forehead. Meanwhile I slogged laboriously toward the base of the stairs. Once there I stopped for a breath, then pricked up my ears—but unfortunately, I could barely catch a word. And even if I could, what I managed to remember of my high school French was such that I could barely make sense of it. At any other time I would have taken note of the elegant architecture of the Château de Bénouville. After all, it was built in the style of Greek temples, with an intention to express grandeur. And of course I would have taken note of that girl. From afar all I noticed, besides a sketchy impression of her figure, was that she hugged the nurse and handed her something, some large bundle wrapped in burlap and tied, in a disorderly manner, several times over with a thick rope. Then she streaked across my path, mounted her bike, and took off, waving. A moment later, her farewell cry had faded into the distance. “Au Revoir...” Why I failed to catch sight of her face is a mystery to me now. Perhaps it was because of a ray of morning sun, which slanted at that moment into my eyes, or else—because of exhaustion. I hated having to wince, which made everything around me seem a bit warped. Determined not to limp, I could now advance almost without aching. But the burden I carried kept pressing me down, and the first steps up the stairs were the most difficult. Cold drops of sweat formed on my forehead. Some of them started running down my face and into my eyes, stinging them. I dragged myself up, somehow, with Ed laden on my back, his arms slung limply over my shoulders, his blood oozing around my neck. 
Lenny in Marriage before Death

★ Love romantic suspense? Find your thrill ★The complete series:Still Life with Memories
Volume V: Marriage before DeathAudible: US ★ UK ★ FR ★ DEAudiobook: Amazon US ★ Amazon UK ★ iTunesPaperback: Amazon ★ Barnes&Noble

"The story of how they survived such horrors is extraordinary. Also extraordinary is the author's deep and gorgeous writing, interweaving desperation with descriptions of 'beautiful light streaming from high-arched, stained glass windows, rattling in the duel between the German artillery and ours.'" 
-  J.A. Schneider, author of suspense and psychological thrillers

Love, and Loss and Family

LISTENERAurora Dawn
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The White PianoStill Life with Memories, Book 2By: Uvi PoznanskyNarrated by: David Kudler


Love, and Loss and Family Overall  ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
    5 out of 5 starsPerformance  ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
    5 out of 5 starsStory  ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
    5 out of 5 starsReviewed: 09-16-18For fans of the series, this is actually the chronological last story in the series, told from the point of view of Ben, Lenny and Natasha's son. Like all of the stories in the series, The White Piano is lovingly and sensitively told, sometimes painful to read, as the details of a troubled family often are and completely captivating.
Each of the characters - Ben, Anita, Natasha and Lenny - are deeply flawed and broken whether through illness, upbringing or disillusionment, but they all love fiercely and, in the end, that love sees them through to the tragic, but ultimately inevitable completion of Natasha and Lenny's romance.
I can't say this is my favourite of the five stories. In fact, it's much too sad for that, but it is still beautiful, like the white piano that acts as it's centre piece; neglected and unplayed at the end but still capable of beautiful things.
If you haven't read Still Life with Memories, do it now, but leave this book till last. It's the perfect end, all the more so when you've experienced the joy and magic of Lenny and Natasha's love in it's younger, purer form. 

New release by @suzannejenkins3: Esmeralda's Happy Time for Lost Hikers

Title: Esmerlda's Happy Time Cabin For Lost Hikers Author: Suzanne Jankins Genre: Romance, Suspense 

Add to your TBR - Goodreads 



Kelly and Jeff Fairchild live a charmed life in their renovated Victorian mansion in the Jersey suburbs. Wall Street traders with a golden touch, they plan their vacations with the same detail and finesse used with their deals on Wall Street. 
The next big outing is a hiking trip on an island in the Canadian Muskoka. Everything is perfection, from the brand name of their hiking boots to their silk long johns. Nothing can go wrong, right? 

Amazon USAmazon UK Amazon CAAmazon AU


They’d been married for five perfectly lovely years and had five perfect notebooks of five fabulous vacations lined up on a special shelf in the den. Professionally framed photographs of the vacations covered the den walls. A sailing trip around the Pacific, a Mediterranean cruise, a hike across the Sahara Desert—all memorialized in sepia.   Summer was over and fabulous hiking weather had arrived. September was perfect for the trip: cooler temperatures, no black flies or mosquitoes, kids off the trails and back in school. Their vacations started the day after Labor Day. They used the three extra days to pack and load up their luxury SUV with everything they would need. Taking a leisurely two days to get to Gravenhurst, they stopped along the way to sightsee. Friends Vic and Sandra Pease in Syracuse had invited them for dinner when they heard about this year’s trip.“Why in God’s name hike Muskoka? You’ll have to go in circles to avoid water. If you must go to Canada, Vancouver or Banff would be better.”“Oh, I disagree,” Jeff said. “It’s beautiful up there. And remote. We don’t want to compete for space with a lot of athletes. We want to take our time and enjoy the scenery. You should come up with us sometime.” The friend shrugged his shoulders and laughed. “Nope, we’ll stay here and have a meal ready for you. My hiking days are over.” Kelly was secretly anxious about the conversation. Her relationship with Jeff, the way they challenged each other to do more and take risks, was to her liking. She didn’t want to get complacent. The friend and his wife, people Jeff had gone to college with, were both overweight with bad teeth and had a house full of kids with runny noses and smart mouths. When they finally left for the hotel, Kelly let out a sigh of relief. “Promise me you never want to live that way.” Jeff looked over at her and took her hand. “I promise. I was almost afraid to eat in that dining room. Jesus, the noise!” He shook his head. “Not to worry. I love our life the way it is.” He leaned over with his eyes still on the road and puckered up. The next morning at the hotel, they walked down to the dining room together. It was just after seven, and they were going to catch the seven forty-five ferry to Moon River at the trailhead to begin their hike. They ate eggs and bacon in silence, drinking coffee, when Jeff’s stomach made an audible complaint. “That was weird!” They looked at each other, concerned. The start of a trip was not a good time to get stomach issues. “Maybe I’d better excuse myself.” He got up and left her with the packs. She drank her coffee, looking out the window at Lake Muskoka. She loved it up here. If they didn’t have to work, this was where she’d really like to be. It was up north. Kelly had been born and raised in Michigan, and memories of trips to the northern half of the Lower Peninsula with her family had instilled a love of piney woods and sandy roads. She took a deep breath and smiled. All would be well. That was until Jeff came back, looking pale and shaky.“Oh, you look uncomfortable,” she said, concerned.“That’s an understatement,” he said. “I just had a stomachache that almost made me pass out.”“Oh no, Jeff. Are you okay to go on?” She fought the urge to look at her watch, but the ferry was leaving in twenty minutes whether they were on it or not. “Yes, absolutely. There’s a bathroom on the boat. Do you have toilet paper in your pack?” he asked, whispering. She nodded her head. Would it come to that? Three years before, they’d gotten sick on a canoe trip while paddling through the Maine woods. Please, not that. It was the only time a trip hadn’t come off perfectly for them. An aberration, for sure. They dragged their packs to the cash register, helped each other get them on their backs and walked slowly to the ferry. “This is a nightmare.” It was so unlike Jeff to complain or say anything negative that Kelly started to worry.“It’s no problem to move everything up a day, honey. All it will take is access to a printer and a few phone calls.” But he was determined. “No. We’ve looked forward to this for the past twelve damn months. A little stomach bug isn’t going to hold me back.” She shrugged her shoulders, wondering why his stubbornness always came out at the worst possible times. It certainly wasn’t going to be fun for her if he was miserable for a week. And what if he got sick while they were out? There was no way to contact anyone. “Don’t get mad, but I have to ask one more time. Are you sure?” She saw him hesitate just a bit.“I’m sure. Let’s go.” They got on the ferry and paid for their tickets. Her mind playing tricks on her, she thought she saw Jeff struggling under the weight of his pack. They went to seats in the open air and took their packs off. They had a two-hour boat ride ahead of them; surely, he’d start feeling better after whatever it was he’d eaten that morning worked through his system. The only problem was his throat started to hurt halfway through the cruise. He dug through his kit, found a lozenge, and discreetly popped it into his mouth. In minutes, Kelly looked at him, frowning. “Are you sucking on menthol? What’s going on?” He tried to blow it off, waving her away. “It’s nothing. Just a tickle.” Concern growing, the last thing she needed was to be stranded on a remote island with bears and rattlesnakes and a sick husband. She reached out and put her hand on his forehead. “You’re burning up!” she exclaimed. “Maybe we’d better go back.” While he protested, she turned to dig in her own kit and get some aspirin tablets out.“This’ll run its course,” he said, trying not to moan. Before Kelly could get a bottle of water to him so he could swallow the pills, he bolted to the men’s restroom. “Oh no. This isn’t good,” she said out loud. Glancing out the window, the sun was up, but the sky was overcast. The projected forecast was sunny and clear for the next ten days. The bathroom door opened and her husband came out, more pale than before, only to turn around and go back in. Knowing his mind was made up, no amount of nagging would convince him to go back to the hotel. Their relationship was based on history—history that once Jeff was on a mission, there would be no turning back regardless of the circumstances. He was even afraid to drink water. Finally feeling safely empty, he ventured out, weak and shaky, but looking embarrassed. It was a good sign.“I was about to get an officer to go in and make sure you were okay.”“I’m better now,” he said. “I think it was Vic and Sandra’s spaghetti and meatballs.”“From Monday night? Doesn’t food poisoning usually show up quickly?” Kelly asked, doubtful.“I felt bad yesterday, but didn’t want to ruin the day for you,” Jeff replied. “I got the feeling you were holding back, too.” She had been, but not for the reason he thought. “You should have said something, Jeff.” “Well, I feel better, so no harm done. And we’ll be at the starting spot of our fabulous hike in less than twenty minutes! Are you getting excited?” He hugged her in a one-arm hug while they stood at the rails, looking out over the water. “I think it’s going to be a really good hike.” She smiled up at him, some of the former enthusiasm coming through again. Two perfect people going on their perfectly planned vacation.






Suzanne Jenkins writes page-turning contemporary romance, mystery, and women's fiction with passionately gripping characters that stay with readers long after they turn the last page.  The Detroit Detective Stories, beginning with The Greeks of Beaubien Street, are a reflection of American fantasy with historical reality. Pam of Babylon books consistently rank in the Top 100 Best Sellers in American Drama with over 1,000,000 downloads. Esmeralda’s Happy Time Cabin for Lost Hikers is her sixty-fifth book. For more about Suzanne, go to
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New release by @suzannejenkins3: Esmeralda's Happy Time for Lose Hikers

Title: Esmerlda's Happy Time Cabin For Lost Hikers Author: Suzanne Jankins Genre: Romance, Suspense 

Add to your TBR - Goodreads 



Kelly and Jeff Fairchild live a charmed life in their renovated Victorian mansion in the Jersey suburbs. Wall Street traders with a golden touch, they plan their vacations with the same detail and finesse used with their deals on Wall Street. 
The next big outing is a hiking trip on an island in the Canadian Muskoka. Everything is perfection, from the brand name of their hiking boots to their silk long johns. Nothing can go wrong, right? 

Amazon USAmazon UK Amazon CAAmazon AU


They’d been married for five perfectly lovely years and had five perfect notebooks of five fabulous vacations lined up on a special shelf in the den. Professionally framed photographs of the vacations covered the den walls. A sailing trip around the Pacific, a Mediterranean cruise, a hike across the Sahara Desert—all memorialized in sepia.   Summer was over and fabulous hiking weather had arrived. September was perfect for the trip: cooler temperatures, no black flies or mosquitoes, kids off the trails and back in school. Their vacations started the day after Labor Day. They used the three extra days to pack and load up their luxury SUV with everything they would need. Taking a leisurely two days to get to Gravenhurst, they stopped along the way to sightsee. Friends Vic and Sandra Pease in Syracuse had invited them for dinner when they heard about this year’s trip.“Why in God’s name hike Muskoka? You’ll have to go in circles to avoid water. If you must go to Canada, Vancouver or Banff would be better.”“Oh, I disagree,” Jeff said. “It’s beautiful up there. And remote. We don’t want to compete for space with a lot of athletes. We want to take our time and enjoy the scenery. You should come up with us sometime.” The friend shrugged his shoulders and laughed. “Nope, we’ll stay here and have a meal ready for you. My hiking days are over.” Kelly was secretly anxious about the conversation. Her relationship with Jeff, the way they challenged each other to do more and take risks, was to her liking. She didn’t want to get complacent. The friend and his wife, people Jeff had gone to college with, were both overweight with bad teeth and had a house full of kids with runny noses and smart mouths. When they finally left for the hotel, Kelly let out a sigh of relief. “Promise me you never want to live that way.” Jeff looked over at her and took her hand. “I promise. I was almost afraid to eat in that dining room. Jesus, the noise!” He shook his head. “Not to worry. I love our life the way it is.” He leaned over with his eyes still on the road and puckered up. The next morning at the hotel, they walked down to the dining room together. It was just after seven, and they were going to catch the seven forty-five ferry to Moon River at the trailhead to begin their hike. They ate eggs and bacon in silence, drinking coffee, when Jeff’s stomach made an audible complaint. “That was weird!” They looked at each other, concerned. The start of a trip was not a good time to get stomach issues. “Maybe I’d better excuse myself.” He got up and left her with the packs. She drank her coffee, looking out the window at Lake Muskoka. She loved it up here. If they didn’t have to work, this was where she’d really like to be. It was up north. Kelly had been born and raised in Michigan, and memories of trips to the northern half of the Lower Peninsula with her family had instilled a love of piney woods and sandy roads. She took a deep breath and smiled. All would be well. That was until Jeff came back, looking pale and shaky.“Oh, you look uncomfortable,” she said, concerned.“That’s an understatement,” he said. “I just had a stomachache that almost made me pass out.”“Oh no, Jeff. Are you okay to go on?” She fought the urge to look at her watch, but the ferry was leaving in twenty minutes whether they were on it or not. “Yes, absolutely. There’s a bathroom on the boat. Do you have toilet paper in your pack?” he asked, whispering. She nodded her head. Would it come to that? Three years before, they’d gotten sick on a canoe trip while paddling through the Maine woods. Please, not that. It was the only time a trip hadn’t come off perfectly for them. An aberration, for sure. They dragged their packs to the cash register, helped each other get them on their backs and walked slowly to the ferry. “This is a nightmare.” It was so unlike Jeff to complain or say anything negative that Kelly started to worry.“It’s no problem to move everything up a day, honey. All it will take is access to a printer and a few phone calls.” But he was determined. “No. We’ve looked forward to this for the past twelve damn months. A little stomach bug isn’t going to hold me back.” She shrugged her shoulders, wondering why his stubbornness always came out at the worst possible times. It certainly wasn’t going to be fun for her if he was miserable for a week. And what if he got sick while they were out? There was no way to contact anyone. “Don’t get mad, but I have to ask one more time. Are you sure?” She saw him hesitate just a bit.“I’m sure. Let’s go.” They got on the ferry and paid for their tickets. Her mind playing tricks on her, she thought she saw Jeff struggling under the weight of his pack. They went to seats in the open air and took their packs off. They had a two-hour boat ride ahead of them; surely, he’d start feeling better after whatever it was he’d eaten that morning worked through his system. The only problem was his throat started to hurt halfway through the cruise. He dug through his kit, found a lozenge, and discreetly popped it into his mouth. In minutes, Kelly looked at him, frowning. “Are you sucking on menthol? What’s going on?” He tried to blow it off, waving her away. “It’s nothing. Just a tickle.” Concern growing, the last thing she needed was to be stranded on a remote island with bears and rattlesnakes and a sick husband. She reached out and put her hand on his forehead. “You’re burning up!” she exclaimed. “Maybe we’d better go back.” While he protested, she turned to dig in her own kit and get some aspirin tablets out.“This’ll run its course,” he said, trying not to moan. Before Kelly could get a bottle of water to him so he could swallow the pills, he bolted to the men’s restroom. “Oh no. This isn’t good,” she said out loud. Glancing out the window, the sun was up, but the sky was overcast. The projected forecast was sunny and clear for the next ten days. The bathroom door opened and her husband came out, more pale than before, only to turn around and go back in. Knowing his mind was made up, no amount of nagging would convince him to go back to the hotel. Their relationship was based on history—history that once Jeff was on a mission, there would be no turning back regardless of the circumstances. He was even afraid to drink water. Finally feeling safely empty, he ventured out, weak and shaky, but looking embarrassed. It was a good sign.“I was about to get an officer to go in and make sure you were okay.”“I’m better now,” he said. “I think it was Vic and Sandra’s spaghetti and meatballs.”“From Monday night? Doesn’t food poisoning usually show up quickly?” Kelly asked, doubtful.“I felt bad yesterday, but didn’t want to ruin the day for you,” Jeff replied. “I got the feeling you were holding back, too.” She had been, but not for the reason he thought. “You should have said something, Jeff.” “Well, I feel better, so no harm done. And we’ll be at the starting spot of our fabulous hike in less than twenty minutes! Are you getting excited?” He hugged her in a one-arm hug while they stood at the rails, looking out over the water. “I think it’s going to be a really good hike.” She smiled up at him, some of the former enthusiasm coming through again. Two perfect people going on their perfectly planned vacation.






Suzanne Jenkins writes page-turning contemporary romance, mystery, and women's fiction with passionately gripping characters that stay with readers long after they turn the last page.  The Detroit Detective Stories, beginning with The Greeks of Beaubien Street, are a reflection of American fantasy with historical reality. Pam of Babylon books consistently rank in the Top 100 Best Sellers in American Drama with over 1,000,000 downloads. Esmeralda’s Happy Time Cabin for Lost Hikers is her sixty-fifth book. For more about Suzanne, go to
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I enjoyed this love story

A short and sweet review for my WWII romantic suspense novel, Dancing with Air:

4.0 out of 5 stars Dancing with AirByGaroldine Waggoneron September 21, 2018Format: Kindle EditionVerified Purchase I enjoyed this love story. I enjoyed especially the love between the main characters. Seeing this carried into older years was touching.

We pass

By my father, Zeev Kachel
We pass by each other without speaking, dumblyWe look at each other—blindlyLoneliness crying out of our eyesBut we keep on, silently.Each one of us carrying a load Each one suffering, utterly slowedEach one going on, down this road
See there, a couple just passed in embrace.We used to walk this way, do you still remember?You looked forward to my coming.In the midst of spring blossom, here's the sorrow of fall.And the recognition that it's all over.Today, between us came a wall.Now, never to return, life has allBut passed. That is fall.No one to shake a hand, no one to give a nod.You and me, through this isolation we plod.It's fall: all flawed.

HomeFREE Kindle ★ Nook ★ Apple ★ Kobo  Google Play ★ SmashwordsAudible: US ★ UK ★ FR ★ DEAudiobook: Amazon US ★ Amazon UKPaperback: Amazon ★ Barnes&Noble
"This radiant book is an exploration of the bond between a daughter and father and the book overflows with some of the most eloquent poetic moments in print. HOME is an invitation, a very personal one, and should not be passed over."  - Grady Harp, Hall of Fame Reviewer

Great follow up to the first book

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The White PianoStill Life with Memories, Book 2By: Uvi PoznanskyNarrated by: David Kudler





Great follow up to the first book Overall  ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
    5 out of 5 starsPerformance  ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
    5 out of 5 starsStory  ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
    5 out of 5 starsReviewed: 09-21-18I was given this free review copy audio book at my request and have voluntarily left this review.

So, I think this was a great follow up to book 1. As with the first book, you still get the same sort of feels from the human condition story of this disfunctional family. This time, though, it is very interesting to see things from a different perspective this time. You learn new things on some situations you heard about in book 1. I found myself examining my opinion of things in book 1 with the new information from this book. A book that makes you think, are worth trying, if you ask me.

Historical fiction with a modern twist: interviewed by Samantha Wilcoxson

Samantha Wilcoxson is an acclaimed historical fiction writer. I am honored that she invited me to talk with her about my series, The David Chronicles (historical fiction with a modern twist.)  Her first question to me was, "Tell us about The David Chronicles?" To which I said, "My books are about the story of David in a way you have never heard it before: from the king himself, telling the unofficial version, the one he never allowed his court scribes to recount--" 

Want to know more? Read the full interview here.