Alexandra Wolfe's Blog, page 25

May 27, 2019

Book Haul #I’velostcount

Just look what arrived today, not one book, but two, Books that I feel like I order years ago.


TWISTED by steve Cavanagh, yes, the book everyone and their mother has been talking about. Though, sadly, it’s not an Eddie Flynn book. But then again, this one will say whether or not Cavanagh can move on from his earlier series, and do a stand alone, and still have great plotting  and unique characters. This one has had me intrigued since it was announced and, so far, I’ve manage to avoid reading any reviews, so, wish me luck.


BEFORE YOU READ THIS BOOK

I WANT YOU TO KNOW THREE THINGS:


1. The police are looking to charge me with murder.

2. No one knows who I am. Or how I did it.

3. If you think you’ve found me. I’m coming for you next.


After you’ve read this book, you’ll know: the truth is far more twisted…


The second book that arrived is AND FIRE CAME DOWN by Emma Viskic, which is the sequel to Resurrection Bay, a novel I thoroughly enjoyed with it’s great plotting and quirky cast of characters. I’m hoping book 2 offers up more of the same, and then some.


A SILENT SCREAM


The woman can only sign two words: help… family. And then she is gone – a body lying dead in the street.


A TOWN READY TO BURN


Caleb’s search for her killer takes him back to his hometown of Resurrection Bay. Centuries of racism have left it simmering with violent tensions, and this summer the bush is as dry as tinder. All it will take is one spark.


WHAT CAN CALEB SAVE FROM THE FIRE?


He is determined to pursue justice at all costs. But everything he loves is in this town. And what if the truth means his world going up in flames?


I am so looking forward to reading both of these. And you? What books do you have next in line up to read?

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Published on May 27, 2019 10:55

May 25, 2019

Cooking up a Storm

Well, maybe I don’t quite cook up a storm, though I have been known to create chaos in the kitchen, but this coming summer I hope to be trying out a lot more new recipes thanks to the amazing Nadiya Hussain—winner of the sixth season of the BBC’s The Great British Bake Off in 2015.


I’m not sure if I’ll be able to match her skill or master the art of using dried chillies in everything, but I’m looking to shake up our diet, a little bit, and try something new. I’ll keep you posted on how it goes.


DETAILS

Title: Nadiya’s Family Favourites

Author: Nadiya Hussain

Publisher: Michael Joseph (Feb. 26 2019)

ISBN: 978-0241348994


This cookbook shows you how to create the perfect dishes to complement the moments we all love, from days out with friends to big get-togethers and lazy weekends at home, as well as simple and satisfying solutions for busy weeknights and speedy show-stoppers for impromptu guests.

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Published on May 25, 2019 06:00

May 24, 2019

A Duck Family Outing!

I’ve been running a lot of errands today, but along with me, the traffic, my bus, and a couple of thoughtful Guys, a duck taking her family for a walkabout (to who knows where) stopped us all in our tracks.


It took the 2 Guys 3-4 minutes to usher Mama Duck and her brood across the busy road. But all made it safely to the other side. Where she went after that, I don’t know, as I had to catch the bus, but at least I got a photo.

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Published on May 24, 2019 14:26

May 23, 2019

Welcome | Bienvenue

Hi there and welcome to my new spot in cyberspace:


Excuse me while I dust off the furniture and find you a chair.


As you can see, nothing much has changed, other than the actual web address. Everything’s still here. All my posts arrived safely, as did all your comments. The only thing that seems to have been lost in transit—or is that, translation?—is people’s post ‘likes’. Which, apparently, is just one of those things I’ll have to live with. It also means I no longer have my top post counts, but hey, I can live with that.


The important thing is, everything else arrived here safely, hopefully, along with you, Dear Reader!

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Published on May 23, 2019 13:55

May 22, 2019

Top 5 “Unputdownable” Reads!

Yes, yes, I know, it was Tuesday yesterday and I posted my review instead, as Monday was a day off here, and I forgot to post the review on Monday because I thought it was Sunday, and now, here we are, and it’s Wednesday already and I’m thinking where did half the week go? DOH!


Anyway, you should all know the drill by now, Top 5 Tuesday is hosted by Shanah over at the Bionic Book Worm, so I’m hoping she’ll forgive my tardy post this week.


First up on my list is the easy choice:


#1 THE CITY OF BRASS by S. A. Chakraborty — an outstanding debut from someone who will be a go-to author even if she writes her grocery list on the back of a napkin, I am so there. Chakraborty’s world-building is second to none, as are her terrific cast of characters. Dara, Ali and yes, Nahri and the city of Daevabad. I so want to live there, or at the very least, be able to do a Disney visit, by flying carpet of course!


#2. THE KINGDOM OF COPPER by S. A. Chakraborty — Oh, come on, you should have known this would be number two after raving over how much I enjoyed The City Of Brass. And then, finding out this installment was even better, if that’s at all possible. Believe me, two of the best books I’ve read in decades.


#3. GLASS HOUSES by Louise Penny — the queen of crime fiction, well, okay, so says me. I am hooked on this series and following these characters, through thick and thin, through murder and mayhem. We’ve seen it all unfold from the ever fertile, and devious mind of Penny, as she has build the village of Three Pines into, well, a cottage-industry of excellent storytelling, and writing. Glass Houses is no exception and, in fact, scored a 10 /10 rating from me, I felt it was that good!


#4. RESURRECTION BAY by Emma Viskic — I ended up reading this one in its entirety in one long page-turning day. I got so into what Caleb and Frankie were up to, I just couldn’t put it down. This really was a surprise, and enjoyable read and Viskic gave us some unusual and very believable characters to care about.


#5. THE LOST MAN by Jane Harper — This is Harper’s third book, but a standalone, that thoroughly captivated me. Not just her descriptions of what it’s like to live in the outback, and all that that entails, but her characters were solid, believable, and I got engrossed in the mystery of what happened to Cameron. All those dirty little family secrets. Riveting.


So there you have it, five books I was literally unable to put down once I started reading, most of them either being read in a single day, or at most, over a two-day two-sitting period.


And you, what books have you been unable to put down? Let me know in the comments.

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Published on May 22, 2019 11:59

May 21, 2019

Book Review: The Candle And The Flame

DETAILS

Title: THE CANDLE AND THE FLAME

Author: Nafiza Azad

Publisher: Scholastic Press

ISBN: 9781338306040

Genre: YA Fantasy


BACK COVER BLURB

Fatima lives in the city of Noor, a thriving stop along the Silk Road. There the music of myriad languages fills the air, and people of all faiths weave their lives together. However, the city bears scars of its recent past, when the chaotic tribe of Shayateen djinn slaughtered its entire population—except for Fatima and two other humans. Now ruled by a new maharajah, Noor is protected from the Shayateen by the Ifrit, djinn of order and reason, and by their commander, Zulfikar.


But when one of the most potent of the Ifrit dies, Fatima is changed in ways she cannot fathom, ways that scare even those who love her. Oud in hand, Fatima is drawn into the intrigues of the maharajah and his sister, the affairs of Zulfikar and the djinn, and the dangers of a magical battlefield.



WHAT I THOUGHT

Let’s start off by saying that the world-building in THE CANDLE AND THE FLAME is immersive, and if you are familiar with other reads in this vein then you will already be familiar with the background. And you need to be, because there is a lot to take in, in Azad’s world of Noor, a city set along the legendary Silk Road, in another time and place.


Azad’s world, we are told, is a multicultural landscape. But we never really see the truth of this, which is a shame. Like the professed intricate politics—which never fully manifests—we only get snatches and glimpses of what could or might be there, hidden beneath and behind Azad’s words. It never really comes to the forfront. Not in force, and not the way I hoped, as with other reads along similar lines to this one.


Just like the flimsy characters, who we see only in passing. As the story is told in a very frustrating 3rd person present. And while there are many characters—and I mean, there are a lot—along with our MC: Fatima. We never really get to know them beyond a superficial level.


This is due to an utter lack of emotion and therefore, any depth to all these myriad characters with similar sounding names.


We hear what they are saying, we see what they see. But at no point, despite all the pain and hardship, love and joy, there’s no emotional resonance.


It’s one thing to be told a character is in pain, or in love, and that they are feeling excited or in agony. But if the author doesn’t make us feel these emotions, we really cannot connect on any level with the characters.


As a result, THE CANDLE AND THE FLAME comes across as flat because of this lack of emotional depth. It’s a real shame given all the right ingredients are present—amazing female friendships, the portrayal of strong women, diversity, magical Djinn for crying out loud—but they’re just not exploited or given consequence. Even the love angle between Fatima and Zulfikar came across as insta-love and contrived.


I really wanted to love this book but, in the end, it never quite lived up to expectations—for me at least. That isn’t to say you might not enjoy it, but truly, if you want some depth to your story and your characters, go jump into S.A. Chakraborty’s world of the Djinn.


For a debut, this one was just okay.


Rating: 6.5

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Published on May 21, 2019 06:00

May 20, 2019

Kicking back on the couch!

It’s a Bank Holiday Monday here, today. Believe it or not, it is, in fact, Queen Victoria’s birthday, which is still a holiday in Canada. Though here in Québec, they call it Patriot’s Day. Not that anyone cares what it’s called, another day off, is another day off, right? Unfortunately, it’s overcast, drizzling, and the shops are, generally, closed. So what do you do?


We’ve been kicking back on the couch binge-watching ESCAPE TO THE CHATEAU, in which an English couple have bought a 45 roomed chateau in the Loire valley, and are up to their eyeballs in debt trying to restore it. It’s fun watching Dick and Angel breathe new life back into this 150 year-old gorgeous building. And who wouldn’t want to buy this place, complete with it’s own moat!


Anyway, normal service will resume tomorrow, with a book review.


See you all then, au revior!

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Published on May 20, 2019 11:09

May 18, 2019

Montreal ComicCon 2019

We finally booked our tickets for the Montreal ComicCon—for the weekend of July 5 to 7. And I can’t wait, as the line up of guests for this year is amazing:



William Shatner — Star Trek
Lana Parrilla — Once Upon A Time
Eliza Taylor — The 100
Tom Welling — Smallville / Lucifer
Michael Rosenbaum — Smallville
Alan Tudyk — Firefly / Star Wars
Ray Park — Star Wars
Anson Mount — Inhumans / Star Trek: Discovery
Ethan Peck — Star Trek: Discovery
James Phelps — Harry Potter
Oliver Phelps — Harry Potter

We’ve seen William Shatner a couple of times at previous Cons, so if there are any scheduling conflicts I’m sorry, Bill, but we’ll take a pass. Especially as we’re all fired up to see Lana Parrilla—the Evil Queen from Once Upon A Time—and Eliza Taylor—Clarke Griffin from The 100. We know it’s important to remember, that we might not get to see everyone, so we always make sure we pick beforehand and schedule accordingly.


As experienced ComicCon goers, we know what to expect, and it’s always chaotic dashing from one Guest to another, with only 10-15 minutes (if you’re lucky) in which to get to a different floor/room, and squeeze in a trip to the bathroom at the same time with hundreds of other Con-goers. We’ve learnt where the best bathrooms are on every floor.


Con Survival tips include wearing as little as possible, carrying as little as possible, or if anything, making sure it’s the bare minimum. And always having plenty of change, your phone, one credit card, and a bottle of water. You can always refill at every pit-stop between events. The important thing is to make sure we hydrate constantly, because of the heat, and eat a hearty breakfast at the hotel before getting to the Con—that one is a given.


Now all I have to do is be patient enough to wait for July to come around, and hope our star guests don’t cancel in the meantime. And yes, we’ve had that happen to us before now when Matt Smith—Doctor Who Number 11—couldn’t make it last minute.


Fingers crossed!


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Published on May 18, 2019 08:17

April 29, 2019

Stone • Cold • Dead

PART ONE

DRY CHOKING HEAT. She hated it. It burned into her brain and body, as well as her eyes, despite wearing protective goggles from the midday sun’s glare overhead. The grit was everywhere, even in her damn underwear.


CIA Agent, Karen Stone, crouched down in the tight confines behind the huge boulder leaning in against the solid safety listening to the Special Forces team leader, Sergeant Johnny ‘Jack’ Daniels, whisper instructions to the rest of the group. Simmons spread out the tactical data across his knees as others peered in over shoulders, scanning the topography on the aerial and hi-res shots.


Stone wasn’t a part of their team. Just an observer. An unofficial, official observer. She had supplied the Intel and, as such, had come along for the ride, which was the official line— confirm the kill for the Agency. That was the supposition. At least, as far as the craggy-faced Sergeant Daniels was concerned. But she had her orders, other orders, outside of Daniels’ mandate. If these guys couldn’t bring Abu Musab al-Zarqawi down, then she had to. It was up to her to pull the trigger and make the kill.



If they could get close enough that was. Otherwise a couple of QRT Hornet Pave Low Helicopters would be called in as a last resort, and attempt to blow up the side of the mountain in the hope of penetrating the caves Zarqawi and his men were currently hiding in.


Easier said than done.


Squatting there in her sand-filled issue kit, sipping from the depleted water canteen, Stone contemplated the next couple of hours. How it might all go down. It wasn’t looking good. They hadn’t even made good time. The idiots had done the drop too far away, and the terrain was a killer. And, to top it all off, they still hadn’t had final confirmation from SitCom that the data was, in fact, accurate. The bastard Zarqawi could have easily pulled out the previous night.


With the initial Intel that had come from her and the sources she’d been working with for months, they had finally pinpointed the general whereabouts of Abu Musab al-Zarqawi’s camp. It was hidden a few clicks up in the valley. But this was one hell of a valley. The ridges either side were a three-in-one incline of rubble and boulders of deadly terrain. A trigger-happy sniper’s paradise. And every minute they loitered out in the middle of the day, they—and not the intended target—were the sitting ducks. She felt the skin prickle in the centre of her shoulders and it wasn’t just from the sweat that formed there, soaking her shirt never mind her flack-jacket, but with the sense of anticipation that came with every kill-mission.


Instinct told her something wasn’t quite right, though.


Stone stoppered the canteen and slipped it back onto her webbing, securing the clasp. She couldn’t afford to loose one damn drip of the precious liquid out here. She gave a cursory glance around the small group of various specialists, rubbing a finger over the bridge of her nose, a headache forming behind her eyes.


They were all good men. Ten in all, eleven people including her. Was it enough? She didn’t think so. But it would have to do. They didn’t have definitive count of numbers that they would be going up against, but hell, she had pulled off worse in similar circumstances. They just needed to get close enough, make visual contact he was there and well; she would take care of business.


This would be her fifteenth take down.


Fifteen sanctioned murders of various terrorist scumbags.


Pulling up her issue hard-hat, Stone ran long-fingers through her short-cropped sandy coloured hair. She wore the same issue kit as the rest, indistinguishable, except that hers bore no insignia.


Everything was ingrained with sand and grit. She even tasted it in her mouth. God how she hated being here, back in Iraq. Again. She was getting too old for this shit. But the thought of a desk job shuffling papers or, at best, doing analytical work, stuck in her gut.


Retirement? Agents didn’t retire. They died in the field. Usually young and gung-ho. Well, she wasn’t young anymore but gung-ho?


Yes. She admitted it to herself. She had become reckless. Times changed. She had changed. Changed the minute she had watched Louisa die in her arms, with a hole in her stomach you could have driven a four-ton truck through. A stomach-wound the worst kind of wound. Wound? Shit! The minute the shell had torn through Louisa it had been a death sentence. Louisa had known it too. Dying in agony, slowly bleeding out.


In that moment of Louisa’s death, in the minute when the world stopped turning and went dark, Stone had felt her heart shrivel up and die.


Stone, cold, dead.


She had become gung-ho then. In the months after Louisa’s death she had taken on two assignments. Quick, easy, deadly. She’d executed them to perfection. She’d wanted more but Deputy Director Peters had cut her short, put her back on this one, following the trail once again. Which was fine by her, she would happily eat dust for breakfast to get Zarqawi. And it showed.


‘Have you got a fucking death wish, Stone?’ Deputy Director had asked her at one point, just before being dispatched for this takedown. She hadn’t answered him because, in truth, she didn’t know. He’d still sent her anyway knowing she was the best and their only choice. She knew the target, knew the terrain, knew the risks and was the best specialist for the task. And more. She was now expendable and she knew it.


With a grim smile, she thought it would be ironic if it were a woman who took down Zarqawi.


Impatient, Stone moved over to the other side of the boulder, while judiciously scanning the area for any hint of movement. They had to make it at least two more clicks up the side, before sunset, to be in position to go in under cover of the falling light. It was going to be a tough one. They all knew there would be casualties. Hopefully all on the enemy’s side, and not theirs. But Karen knew otherwise. Knew even if these guys were the best and did their jobs. They still had to flush the rat out of the cave, otherwise—.


It didn’t bear thinking about. A standoff or worse, a prolonged firefight could spell disaster for them.


Daniels shifted his considerable bulk, as the team prepped for the final hike. He squatted, while eying the square-jawed Stone out the corner of his eye. Watching the agent scouting the terrain up ahead. He knew why she was there. He wasn’t green or wet behind the ears on his first assignment. He knew the score. He was also well aware of the ruggedly good-looking Agent’s growing reputation. A top agent who was now considered a risk. The last mission she’d been on that he knew about, hadn’t ended well. Four dead, including her partner.


‘Watch your back.’ The Colonel’s words echoed in his mind.


Shit! He didn’t need this. A wild agent hell bent on revenge, and with a death wish. He wanted the kill to go down clean. Fat chance of that happening. He didn’t mind being stuck with the caliber of agent like Stone, even if she were a woman, but the minute she put his team or the mission in jeopardy, he’d shoot her in the foot himself if he had too.


“Stone?”


Stone turned to face Daniels.


“Ready.” Was all she said eyeing the well-armed group. She, herself, armed with her service issue M9 9 mm Beret pistol and the M25 sniper’s rifle she had acquired, now slung over one shoulder. And, unburdened by the backpacks the others laboured under, had the greater mobility.


‘Just get in there and kill the bastard.’ The Deputy Director’s words echoed in Stone’s mind. That was her intent. It had been one of Zarqawi’s teams that had fired the mortar at almost point blank range, directly at Louisa. This wasn’t just about taking down another scumbag; it was about revenge and the settling of a score. Over a year’s worth of work leading to this day, this moment.


She could taste it, metallic and bitter in her mouth: Payback.

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Published on April 29, 2019 12:11

April 27, 2019

Deception Point: Prologue

THE SNOW IS GENTLY FALLING almost in slow-motion. Thick, fat super clusters seem suspended in the air before his eyes. He blinks. White light stabs at the back of his eyes. He loses focus and stumbles forward through the snow, a hand reaching out to grasp empty air. Blinking rapidly, he regains his vision and staggers toward the black shape in front of him. His car. Fumbling in his overcoat pocket for his keys, he makes it to the luxury sedan. And leaning against the door for support, manages to insert his key and unlocks the door. The migraine is getting worse. He knows he shouldn’t drive. Knows it’s asking for trouble. But the fear gnawing at his innards has him turning over the engine and putting the car into drive, windscreen wipers on full, furiously batting at the thick snow outside.



Lights. Lights, I need lights.


He flicks on full beam, which does little to illuminate the ink-black darkness in the cul-de-sac. For a moment he panics.


What the hell am I doing? His hands start to shake. He blinks back tears. Grabbing the steering wheel, he leans his head against it trying to regain his composure. Images flash through his brain ignited by flares of red. If he doesn’t get moving soon, he’ll be trapped there. In the car. A target. A sitting duck.


Tabernak! Fear as thick as the snow makes the decision for him. He pulls out from the curb onto a road that’s slick, the tires losing their grip. The car swerves. He points the front end down the street towards the brightly lit main road up ahead, heading back into the city, and safety.


Flooring it, the car careens across the tarmac. He wrestles with the steering to keep the car in the midpoint of the deserted road and without indicating, sideswipes the corner out onto the main road—deserted at 3 in the morning—and fishtails it before the tires find their grip. And with full-beam still being swallowed up before him, he guns the sedan down the highway towards the orange glow of the city, off in the distance.


The steady flash of orange, strobing, the overhead lighting making him nauseous. Acrid bile bites the back of a dry throat as he tries to swallow. The pounding thrum in his ears adding to his disorientation, making him close his eye for a second, fighting for control in a losing battle. It’s a dangerous second and lapse of concentration. The car drifts off to the right.


Realising just in time, he pulls the sedan back into what’s left of the tracks he’s following, which are quickly filling up with snow.


Just a few kilometres more, he tells himself, hang in there.


But the illusion of safety is as transient as the glow from the city, at night, lighting up the sky in an orange fire.


A bonfire to his stupidity. To his vanity. To think he could pull this off. To play the game unscathed, and get away with it. The audacity and the hubris. He only had himself to blame. No one else. He was a fool, a fool to believe he was smart enough, clever enough to walk into hell and get out alive, unharmed. And now, what he had done, would almost certainly be his own undoing. And the undoing of everything he had ever worked for. Events had been set in motion. Events he could no longer control.


A life had been taken.


The moment forever etched and seared into his brain. The deafening crack of the 9 mm as the bullet left the chamber and shattered it’s way through skin, bone, and brains. Splattered across a darkened windshield. That awful silence that followed. The resonant ringing inside his head, and the burnt smell of cordite. And the scream that he realised was his own.


Squeezing the steering wheel, eyes closed, gasping for breath at the memory, white lightning lit up his brain. A searing pain akin to that of a bullet passing through his own skull, shattering his sanity. All thought vapourised in a single instant.


The snowplough was on the wrong side of the road, coming towards him. A thundering demon come to take his soul.


It was his last thought as he yanked at the steering wheel in desperation to avoid a fatal head-on collision.


The sedan hit the median, metal grinding into metal, as it bounced, rolled and careened into the concrete bulk of the Montmorency underpass.


Paul Jutra hung in a moment between light and darkness, life and death.

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Published on April 27, 2019 09:07

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