Latest Posts Latest PostsDan Brown Deception Point September 20, 2021A shocking scientific discovery. A conspiracy of staggering brilliance. A thriller unlike any you’ve ever read…. When a NASA satellite discovers an astonishingly rare object buried deep in the Arctic ice, the floundering space agency proclaims a much-needed victory—a victory with profound implications for NASA policy and the impending presidential election. To verify the authenticity of the find, the White House calls upon the skills of intelligence analyst Rachel Sexton. Accompanied by a team of experts, including the charismatic scholar Michael Tolland, Rachel travels to the Arctic and uncovers the unthinkable: evidence of scientific trickery—a bold deception that threatens to plunge the world into controversy. But before she can warn the President, Rachel and Michael are ambushed by a deadly team of assassins. Fleeing for their lives across a desolate and lethal landscape, their only hope for survival is to discover who is behind this masterful plot. The truth, they will learn, is the most shocking deception of all. So here comes another disappointment from the guy who wrote Digital Fortress. Why was I not intrigued? The faxes. The 2000’s references like pagers and people not being available due to them being left behind. Why are they still around in the US even in 2021? Mobile phones aren’t superior to pagers across the board, but the ability to go straight into a voice or text conversation with the party who’s trying to contact you is a definite plus. Pagers, on the other hand, are still around because there are a few advantages they’ve got over phones, even now. Pagers generally don’t interfere with things – certain places will ban phones because of that risk, be it sensitive medical equipment (although that concern seems to be less common these days) or hazards in the area – for instance, it’s possible to get intrinsically safe pagers for use in hazardous areas such as petrochemical plants, where there’s a risk that other electronic devices could detonate explosive or flammable vapours. Pagers don’t transmit information – although I’ve never worked in such a place myself, I know of several areas where mobile phones and tablets are banned due to concerns about them being used as a way of leaking information to the outside world. No such concerns with a pager. https://www.quora.com/What-happened-to-pagers Eh, that aside, I’m seeing a format to these books. The heroine is super smart. The guy who falls for her is bookish but still lets her shine. A lot of technical babble, easily researchable by a 2 min Google search. The one that got to me was “how to identify whether a rock is a meteor” section of the book. Corky gave a casual shrug. “We simply use a petrographic polarizing microscope, an x‑ray fluorescence spectrometer, a neutron activation analyzer, or an induction‑coupled plasma spectrometer to measure ferromagnetic ratios.” https://deceptionpoint.bib.bz/22 I did a little laugh at that. There’s others but this was perhaps the one that stood out to me the most. The plot was so so, rock found assumed to be meteor, political intrigue, backstabbing, sexual scandals, rock is not actually a meteor, more scandal avoided, girl kisses boy. Oh, and loads of talk about Global Warming which was the “IT” subject of the 2001-2005 period (it still is now but back then it could win you the election) It’s a “meh” book. OK to entertain you for about an hour until the technicalities bore you to death with 530 pages of densely packed meteor information and scandals that even Clinton would deem juicy. “Let’s leave the science to the scientists, shall we?” https://deceptionpoint.bib.bz/22 Yes, I agree, let’s do that.... Turnover and Die – Tegan MaherSeptember 19, 2021As the owner of the town’s best diner and Blissful Bites, it’s most popular bakery, Dee knew the ins and outs of managing food service deliveries in a small town. More importantly, she knew all the local food sources, because that’s what she served in her restaurant. She’d inherited a struggling greasy spoon (emphasis on greasy) when her aunt had been murdered, and in the six months since had managed to turn it into a great place to get good food. She’d also helped me open up Mercy Lodge, which is where it all began, so to speak. Seven months before, I’d been at a crossroads. I was freshly divorced, and not only had I lost a husband, but all of our friends in Florida, where we’d lived, had been his friends first. Buying the lodge was the best bad decision I’d ever made, and I wouldn’t change anything if I could. When a beloved elder of the culinary community turns up dead at a cooking competition, it’s up to Toni and her new circle of friends to solve the mystery before an innocent woman goes to prison! Turnover and Die After 5 or so chapters of talks about renovations and brownies, the story does seem to pick up a little “We need to follow up on that suspect list.” “First, we have to finish breakfast. I don’t think there’s anything we can do before then, anyway.” Nope, wrong, 5 more chapters of inane banter and chatting and love-building and I’ve realised I’m in a bored-housewife murder mystery list and that’s probably why I’m now trying not to yawn as I’m waiting for something to happen. This is not a fast-paced book at all. And there’s so much mundane crap going on that I really don’t care if they do or don’t solve the murder. Between investigations, they have time to go into a culinary contest.. idiot. He thinks he’s God’s gift to baking, but I’ve got some news for him. Sausage doesn’t go in coffeecake. Just ignore him. If you keep cooking like you did yesterday, you’re good to go. Remember, in these things, it’s not necessarily critical to come out on top in the beginning. Just don’t come in at the bottom. You’ll have plenty of time to show what you’ve got, but you’ve got to make it past the initial cullings first.” I’m so close to the finish but I can’t get myself to keep the interest going. This is a DNF 1/5 ... Emptiness and Joyful Freedom by GREG GOODE and TOMAS SANDER September 13, 2021The pinnacle of Buddhism’s understanding of reality is the emptiness of all things. Exploring reality towards the realization of emptiness is shockingly radical. It uncovers an exhilarating freedom with nowhere to stand, while engendering a loving joy that engages the world. This path-breaking book employs the emptiness teachings in a fresh, innovative way. Goode and Sander don’t rely solely on historical models and meditations. Instead, they have created over eighty original meditations on the emptiness of the self, issues in everyday life, and spiritual paths. These meditations are guided both by Buddhist insights and cutting-edge Western tools of inquiry, such as positive psychology, neuroscience, linguistic philosophy, deconstruction, and scepticism. The result is a set of liberating and usable tools for Buddhists and non-Buddhists alike. The goal of this book is to introduce the reader to “emptiness,” which is the pinnacle of Buddhist understanding of reality. To realize something as empty means to realize that it does not exist in the solid, self-contained way that we attribute to it. This insight about how things exist often seems abstract or inconsequential at first, but it is surprisingly profound. It can entirely transform how we experience ourselves and our place in the world. I liked this book that provides a no-nonsense approach to the teaching of Buddhism in the 21st century. The reasoning and the goals are presented just as the book starts, telling you what you will be getting out of reading the 300 pages that follow. First, you’ll receive several intuitive, no-nonsense ways to think about yourself and life that can help reduce suffering. The reduction of suffering applies to everything – from everyday office politics all the way to the existential anxieties surrounding our certain death. Experiencing your own self in a less exaggerated, distorted way will help you feel a joy that can’t be found in the luxury stores on Fifth Avenue. This joy is a precious jewel that can’t be purchased at Tiffany’s. You’ll be able to learn something genuinely new from these teachings which can dramatically enrich your life experience. Another benefit from understanding the emptiness of the self is freedom. When you understand yourself as empty, you don’t feel as though you have a fixed nature. You are freed up for the infinite possibilities of personal exploration, growth and transformation. This may sound paradoxical. “So, how can I grow if I am an illusion?” What is an illusion is the self as we usually conceive it. The illusion is the self as a unique, solid, substantive entity. This self does not exist. By doing the meditations in this book you will experience this with the same clarity you see now that the sun doesn’t truly “rise.” While I was captivated in the first chapter, my enthusiasm began to fade to not necessarily zero but to “empty”. The Western and Eastern philosophies get analysed and compared and while no official winner is out, the audience still feels like they know a little bit more about Buddhist mantras and approaches. The thinkers drawn on include Sextus Empiricus, Heidegger, Quine, Wittgenstein and Derrida. Their use here might well help to break down barriers for those without any philosophical background, and help them recognise some of the ways that these philosophers do actually address practical issues. At time this book feels like a self-help book, far too often offering bland and repetitious assurances that practising emptiness teachings will make you feel good and help you live your life happily. In my opinion, their discourse that emptiness is not nihilistic fell on deaf ears and it felt that I was reading the script to BoJack Horseman. Nothing really matters, nothing is really of essence, all passes. All in all, I was happy to put the book down and I don’t think I will pick it up again. It might be more helpful for my fellow philosophers. ABOUT THE AUTHORS GREG GOODE is a long-time student of Advaita-Vedanta, Buddhism and the Direct Path. He is the author of many articles on these topics, as well as the books entitled Nondualism in Western Philosophy, Standing As Awareness, and The Direct Path: A User Guide. Greg holds a doctorate in philosophy, and serves on the editorial board of the peer-reviewed journal Practical Philosophy: Journal of the American Practical Philosophers Association. TOMAS SANDER is a spiritual practitioner and teacher in New York. He has studied in the Tibetan Buddhist tradition and his approach is also influenced by the insights of positive psychology. Tomas grew up in Germany, holds a doctorate in mathematics and works as a research scientist at a computer company. He has published articles in the areas of mathematics, computer science and positive psychology.... From The Inferno (Firemen Do It Better Book 3) * Leah Sharelle September 12, 2021He looked to be about in his early to mid-thirties although I was never good at judging the age of a person so I could have been wrong. But it was his eyes and gorgeous face that held me captive. The brightest eyes glistened back at me, a colour so blue they resembled the waters of a lagoon I once saw in Florida. He had a chin that was strong and chiselled, a straight nose, and dark blond hair that was longer on the top and shaved on the sides. But it was his body that made my mouth go suddenly dry. Not that his looks weren’t drool-worthy, because they were, but damn, the way his wide shoulders and upper chest tapered into his waist… The tight shirt he wore didn’t hide his shredded physique in any way, the material clinging to every muscle, dip, and curve of his washboard abs. The rolled sleeves strained against his biceps, giving me plenty of visionary material for later on when I was alone. Because if I had one weakness, it was a man’s arms. Oh, and hands. Letting my eyes travel down his arms, I nearly orgasmed right there in the seat. Squeezing my legs together, I swallowed the hum of appreciation for them. Strong and large with long fingers, they had everything I dreamed about. And dreams were all I had because, at twenty-five, I was still a virgin. Blurb Chase Brennan’s life came crashing down on the fateful night his daughter was brutally taken from him. After following the wrong road for some time, the qualified firefighter, who had never given up that ‘the one’ was just around the corner and would one day find him, returned to the living. What he didn’t know was how she would appear in his life and just how fast and hard he would fall. Jamie Lawrence was the darling of the Australian tennis circuit. For years, she did as she was told, smiled when she had to, and played to win so her parents and coach could live the lifestyle they wanted. They didn’t care what she wanted or that she was unhappy playing the game she once loved. After a scary altercation that left her running for her life, Jamie hid her celebrity status and landed in a town where her happily ever after was waiting for her. Would her well-meant game of secrecy, pretending to be someone she wasn’t, lose her the man who made her heart beat faster with just one touch? Could their love survive the inferno and be ‘game, set, match’ in love? Damn, girl, why did you have to write a story that gripped me from the first chapter to the last? I was expecting a dreary, eye-roll, cringe-worthy shitty romance novel and instead I got an abusive coach nearly beating his star to death in the first chapter, a runaway girl in the second and a hunky but sensitive man in the remaining ones. This story is one for the ages! Yes please! More! The woman in front of me, now giving me her back, was the most beautiful creature I had ever laid eyes on. Even seated, I could see that her legs were toned and long, the denim jeans that looked painted on only highlighting her perfectly muscular limbs—I estimated her height to be close to five-eight or five-nine. Her simple aqua V-necked tee did nothing to hide the perfection of her body or her cleavage. The material stretched across her chest, the deep neckline giving me a hint of the two plump globes. I had the sudden urge to palm my thickening dick, which was up and happy—something he hadn’t been for a very long while. He immediately picks up on the fact that she’s in hiding and figures out her real name in like minutes. “On your rental agreement, you signed Barstowe with an e, but when you wrote down your name and number for me, you spelt it without an e. Seeing as though no one but me will see what you gave me, I suggest you go with an e on the end. Okay, hon? Oh, and maybe hide the sports duffel bag, too, since it proclaims you to be Jamie Lawrence. Someone might pick up on that,” Lake said gently. So her ruse was up. She gets a job at a nearby cafe and slowly starts to drizzle out the truth about her to Chase and his friends from the fire dept. Things get heated slowly but surely “It’s Chase. He won’t have sex with me. I mean, I think he wants to—we kiss a lot on his couch in front of the TV. Sometimes he puts on a movie and sometimes football is on, but so are our clothes. He has given me orgasms by grinding into me, and the night before last, he kissed my breasts, and then last night, he lifted my top and took his off so our chests were touching, but I want more than that, you know?” Yep, he’s a gentleman all right, waiting for the perfect time to take her virginity away. They engage in some sexy activities once that “issue” is out of the way and some of them did gross me out a little. I get that they’re new lovers and all, but sticking your finger in your girlfriend’s peachy area while she’s at work is kinda crass (and then proceeding to lick that area a bit more). I get that they weren’t actually seen anywhere but dammmn.. food hygiene rating of 0. Of course the sleazebag from the start of the book is not dead and will come look for his goose with the golden eggs. I just can’t comprehend why she didn’t go to the police and press charges immediately? She was acting in self-defence and the shiners he gave her would have been enough. I suppose victim mentality and the fright of possibly being investigated for murder but hey! Plot. Her family is a set of miserable c-words as well! Mum and Dad sold the house I bought with my winnings without a thought of where their daughter was and if she was okay. There had to be something to stop Colin from mentally abusing females. I prayed that the physical abuse wasn’t something he would do to someone else. My parents didn’t care, but surely others would. And yes, more dirty sex, more and more explicit “But fuck, baby, seeing you like this, your slender back arched up, your tits swaying seductively, and this perfect peach-shaped arse all dark pink with my handprint, I want nothing more than to slam my cock into you and hit that deep part of your pussy that will make us a baby.” Yeah, I noped out soon... Once Upon a Cowboy (Almost Royal Book 2) September 10, 2021Megan Perl went from beauty to beast when a car accident left her permanently scarred. Before, Megan was outgoing and vivacious, always with a man at her side. Now? She spends more time behind a camera than in front of it. She’s ready to turn her hobby into something more by offering photography sessions at the castle where she works. This year is dedicated to her career, not men. If only she wasn’t so crazy-attracted to the cowboy who’s renting the stable on the castle grounds… Jake Reardon is no stranger to tragedy. After a fall left his bride in a coma on their wedding day, he was forced to watch her slowly fade away in a hospital bed. Now, he finds himself in the unwelcome position of virgin widower. At Rosemont Castle, he can finally focus on establishing his career as a horse trainer. The only problem is that his new landlady makes him hotter than the Virginia sun. Sparks fly every time Jake and Megan cross paths, but there’s no way he’s going to lose his virginity with the woman who manages the property he’s leasing. As their attraction grows, though, so do their emotions. Jake carries his scars inside, but Megan has to wear hers for the world to see. Can love heal their wounds, or will it tear them apart? https://www.rachellacey.com/once-upon-a-cowboy.html I hate to say it but I do love romance books. Anything to do with hunky cowboys is bound to be interesting. Unfortunately Rachel Lacey is not Susan Elizabeth Phillips and this book is definitely not Honeymoon * Susan Elizabeth Phillips or Ain’t She Sweet * Susan Elizabeth Phillips. At least the main guy was hot. What really bugs me though about this book is how mellow it is. Not a whirlwind romance at all, it’s mostly he falls in love with her because she’s available and pretty. “Very much so,” he said, his eyes gleaming with a kind of heat that left little doubt as to the truth of his words. “It’s just…I haven’t dated since my wife, and I think it might not be a good idea for us to go there, you know, now that I’m living here.” “Right,” she said, nodding. “You’re definitely right. It could be tricky. And…maybe you’re not even ready.” “I might not be.” To save you a 200 page read, here’s the only interesting thing that happens between foster dogs and horse-talk. How a 28-year old cowboy lost his virginity “I’ll be gentle with you,” she whispered. “Baby, I don’t want gentle.” He lowered his hips, and his cock brushed against her. His eyes almost rolled back his head at that simple contact. He hoped he didn’t embarrass himself by coming before he even got inside her. But, after twenty-eight years of anticipation, he supposed he was entitled to be in a hurry. Carefully, he guided himself to her entrance, pausing there to meet her eyes, making sure she was ready. “The moment you’ve been waiting for.” She grinned up at him, her eyes gleaming in the reflection of the lamp. “Oh yeah.” He pushed slowly inside, groaning the whole way. It was impossibly better than he’d imagined, the feel of her hot and tight around him, gripping him from base to tip. “Fuuuuuck.” “Good?” she panted, arching her back so that their chests pressed together. “Good is such an inadequate word.” He withdrew and plunged back in, sending shockwaves of sensation through his body. And then he was pounding into her, hard and fast, completely overwhelmed by the need burning up his spine, filling his balls and tingling its way into his cock. Frantic, he reached between them and began to stroke her, desperate to make sure he didn’t run off and leave her at the finish line. “Oh God,” she moaned, moving beneath him, her tits bouncing with every thrust of his body into hers. “Yes, yes, oh fuck, yes.” He heard the words coming out of his mouth, and then Megan’s body clamped down on him, a sharp cry echoing on her lips as she started to come, taking him with her. “Oh yeah, baby, that’s it…yesssssss.” He groaned as release tore through him in hot waves that seemed to shake him from head to foot. His hips bucked against her as he came. Afterward, he dropped to the bed beside her, one arm thrown over his face, his whole body limp and shaking. “So, what did you think?” Megan asked, amusement lacing her tone. “Sorry, can’t talk because my brain just exploded.” She laughed, soft and throaty. “I thought that was a different part of your anatomy.” “Yeah, that too.” He rolled toward her, brushing away a lock of silky brown hair. “All kidding aside, that was amazing, and not just because it was my first time.” All in all, the book didn’t do anything for me, very slow pace and the characters were bland af. Hey, maybe it’s just me but I’ve read trashy novels with better character development than a 2D paper-model. About the Author Rachel Lacey is an award-winning contemporary romance author and semi-reformed travel junkie. She’s been climbed by a monkey on a mountain in Japan, gone scuba diving on the Great Barrier Reef, and camped out overnight in New York City for a chance to be an extra in a movie. These days, the majority of her adventures take place on the pages of the books she writes. She lives in warm and sunny North Carolina with her family and a variety of rescue pets. ... The Night of the Sciurus * Linda WatkinsSeptember 9, 2021A cautionary tale about the consequences of environmental pollution… They are part of our daily lives. We watch them from our kitchen windows and backyard decks as they scurry over the branches of our tall oak trees. We laugh at their antics as they furiously bury and unbury their precious acorns. Yes, they are part of our lives and, though, sometimes a nuisance, we generally enjoy and tolerate them. But what happens when something goes wrong? What happens if some outside force causes their DNA to explode, creating a whole new species? What happens when that species begins to distrust and fear humans? Brooke Davis, her daughter, Tessa, and their intrepid dog, Petey, are about to find out. The Night of the Sciurus, A Western Michigan Tale of Terror is a story of environmental horror by multi-award-winning and USA Today bestselling author, Linda Watkins. God, this was an awful book. Written from the POV of a cute and cuddly squirrel to tell you all about pollution and the dangers it carries to wildlife. However, fate was not kind to this little squirrel. Out of all of the puddles that littered the property, he chose the wrong one. The one he drank from was not left by the rain. No, this one was always there, water generated from an underground spring. Water that had once been clean and clear. But now, as it bubbled to the surface, it mixed with multiple pollutants and chemicals left behind when the old mill was shut down. As a result, by the time the water reached the surface, it was toxic. This squirrel then has a gene defect which he passes on to his litter causing an environmental collapse. This squirrel or one of his mates then bites a little girl who has to be rushed to the ER. The mother then continues her research to see what on Earth would have made the squirrel bite her daughter: effects of pollution on wild animals. I learned that chemicals called “endocrine disruptors,” heavy metals such as lead and PCBs, and additives like bisphenol A can alter the behavior of animals in the wild. Gazing out at the natural beauty of my backyard, the whole idea of mutant squirrels seemed ludicrous. However, the memory of the look on my daughter’s face after the squirrel attacked her and the pitiful form of my dog huddled in the closet were more than enough to convince me I had to pursue Super mom on the research path! The squirrels become more aggressive, bite her and her dog and she develops PTSD. Loads of articles pop up about nasty squirrels. She stops her investigation eventually and decides to focus on domestic bliss, but it still plagued by Facebook-Mom thoughts: But what would happen if somehow dogs became affected by pollution in a manner similar to what happened to the squirrels? Would the next generation of kids be denied ever knowing the rare beauty of unconditional love? God, I couldn’t wait to put this book down. What a pile of poop.... World’s Scariest Places: HELLTOWN by Bates, JeremySeptember 8, 2021Tragedy matures you, ages you, makes you wiser, and thus more cynical. NO ONE LEAVES ALIVE Since the 1980s there have been numerous reports of occult activity and other possibly supernatural phenomenon within certain villages and townships of Summit County, Ohio – an area collectively known as Helltown. When a group of out-out-town friends investigating the legends are driven off the road by a mysterious hearse, their night of cheap thrills turns to chills as they begin to die one by one. Oh my, after the thrill ride that was Suicide Forest, I was really excited to read a “proper” Halloween novel. The cast are med students and satanists that live in a ill-reputed town at the edge of the world. What I really liked is that none of the characters are dumb. Well, except Jeff who decides to play Chicken in a car while high on cocaine with 3 other people’s lives at stake and when the car he’s in crashes, he gets paralised and one of the other girls gets knocked out. Jenny went cold. A traumatic brain injury. If it was indeed mild, she had nothing to worry about. But Steve had no way of knowing whether it was mild or not. It could very easily be moderate or severe. She could have intracranial hemorrhage or brain herniation, both of which could lead to disability or even death. She’d need a CT scan to determine the true extent of her injury. Noah and Austin, she noticed, had started working to get Jeff out of the BMW. Jenny said, “Go help them.” Alongside the teens (or young adults to be more precise), we follow the story of Beetle, an ex-military, who comes to Helltown’s only hotel to commit suicide after going AWOL. The book is so moody and dark and the scenes are so scary, so thank you Jeremy Bates for making this a read with plenty of breaks! The full moon hung in the black sky, a moldy white disc poking out from behind a smudge of dark clouds. It had started to rain, which had cleared away some of the fog, or at least thinned it, so he could see much of the forest stretching away below him. The premise of the story is pretty simple. A Satanist circle living in Helltown have a method of attracting new sacrifices by driving tourists off the path and killing the men and kidnapping the “does” (girls) to sexually abuse them before sacrificing them on an altar. They have a ringleader who is a proper serial killer and his brothers (mentally retarded) and mute and one of the neighbours. They’re all in for the sex and power plays. The “crop” this Halloween night is quite numerous – many men and pretty active women – all with strong wills and good heads on their shoulders – who think and make moves and mange to take some of the attackers out. One by one, they succumb to the evil forces. One is paralised and eaten by a snake alive. One is knocked out unconscious and is dreaming of his nana while he’s eaten alive by the second anaconda. One guy accidentally kills the neighbour’s kid and is then shot dead when the neighbour arrives. One manages to kill the neighbour but is subsequently killed in the scuffle afterwards. A girl manages to run into the woods and hide. Another one is captured and beaten. The last one tries to escape through a window but falls to the ground and both her legs break. And through it all, you’re reading thinking “OMG, what else could go wrong next? How can they escape? Will anyone survive? What’s the best survival strategy?” Now, however, Cherry was no longer in control. Now there were no rules, and that terrified her like nothing else, because if Earl or Cleavon or Floyd wanted to fuck her, they would fuck her, they would fuck her and take her virginity, and they would likely kill her when they were done and bury her body in a shallow hole somewhere. Earl burped and scratched his groin. He reached into the cooler next to his recliner, retrieved a fresh beer, and twisted off the cap. Judging by the empty bottles on the floor next to him, this was his fifth one. Cherry didn’t think that would be enough to get him drunk. It would probably take ten or twelve to get someone his size drunk, maybe more than that. So it wasn’t likely he was going to pass out any time soon. It wasn’t going to be that easy to escape. I loved how the author takes time to reflect on life in each of the victim’s last moments. These are young people with Yet now, drifting in the void, Jeff understood how foolish and naïve his worldview had been. Because life was never easy, not for anybody. It threw you curveballs much more devious than Bernie’s had ever been. Models were disfigured in freak accidents, millionaires lost their millions in bad investments, celebrities had their deepest secrets exposed in the tabloids. People like Jeff, who’d won the genetic lottery, lost the ability of their legs and were fed to grotesque-sized snakes. If Jeff could have, he would have laughed at the absurdity of it all, and by “all” he meant life. But he couldn’t, his lungs were just about crushed to nothing, and as the blackness of unconsciousness and death closed around him, these last thoughts faded from his mind, and he let himself float and be. The Satanic ring-leader, Spencer – has his own chapters – his early life and killings explained. He managed to avoid getting caught so far, but he’s made a few mistakes along the way – one of them was taking souvenirs from the victims – Polaroid pictures. Spencer, on the other hand, indulged more than anybody ever knew. During his time in LA he killed seven women, while over the next sixteen years he killed dozens more, experimenting with everything from necrophilia to cannibalism to human sacrifice. What kept him from getting caught, he believed, were two simple rules: he never killed anyone he knew, and he never killed anyone in or around Summit County. He gets caught when his wife accidentally knocks over an otoman which contained evidence of his killings and calls the police. But not before he manages to re-enact one last Black Mass in an abandoned church along with his brothers and in order to get rid of any trace – he chains the doors and locks them all inside to burn alive. When he gets home he is surprised to see the police waiting for him but instead of panicking, he manages to kill the cops, his “treacherous” wife and get out with his getaway cash. The tale keeps twisting and turning – the ex-army man saves the people from the burning church and ends up fighting them when he realises that they were killers in the middle of the act. One of the brothers escapes in the car and manages to drive to Spencer and kills him just as he was trying to escape with the money. The brother takes the money – which is more than he ever made in his life and disappears in the wide world. The ex-army man is declared a hero. The girl who escaped in the woods is found and hospitalised. The one that was the next sacrifice survives too, but the death count is huge. I LOVED IT! Solid 5/5 for horror and entertainment.... The Turning * Linda WatkinsSeptember 2, 2021God, or some other celestial force, had other things in mind for me, and my destiny and I collided on a warm summer day in the Year of Our Lord 1685. I kinda liked this short story of coming of age. Young girl from the village finds work with an elder woman, one that has many herbs and many books, some in Ancient Greek. Young girl from the village learns from the older one and finds out her strict Christian upbringing left a few things out. Why do you think your parents and your church keep boys and girls apart as long as they do? It’s because they know the power of carnal desire – of the joining of a man and a woman. They have told you that such desire is a sin and preach that the only reason for the joining is to produce babes. But they are wrong. Desire in itself is no sin. And neither is sating that desire. That is, as long as you know how to take care of yourself.” Maude, the young girl, soon finds love with another boy her age but something seems to go wrong when an old stranger with young, piercing eyes comes to visit Imelda, the old woman. Imelda tells Maude to stay clear of the old dude but hey, it’s all about breaking those boundaries. The Turning is more of a sexual and mental awakening of a young Puritan maid than it is about witchcraft. It’s OK but quite short and I soon realised why – there’s an entire series and I just happened to go to the first one. Maude is made to marry a local man who pays little interest in her and soon after her young one is born, the mysterious old man re-appears and starts the very easy process of seducing a bored housewife and teach her the ways of magic. Without another word, his pressed his fingers to my flesh and I could feel white-hot energy flowing from his hand into my mind. Incantations, old as the earth itself, began to tumble into my brain, one after another, until I thought my head would burst open like a ripe melon. The witch hunts intensify in nearby Salem and Maude starts running. Her husband is shot dead and soon after, the merry widow marries her one true love in a feast filled with singing and other wedding games. Soon she’s pregnant again and all this happiness does not seem to end (until the author throws a bit of a spanner into the works) They had burnt them. Burned my friends who were no more witches than their accusers were. Burned women who healed selflessly, who brought babies into the world safely, who nurtured and honored the land and its bounty. I sunk to the floor, tears streaming down my cheeks. How had everything we had worked for been destroyed in one day? What kind of God would do this to His people? The book ends on a little clifhanger with Sarah, the second child, possibly having inherited the witchy blood of her mother, after the old man turned her. They’re a happy family now, out in the open, husband knowing full well that his wife is a witch and still loving her. All in all, I kinda breezed through this book and nothing appeared to hold my interest too long. Forgettable fiction I call it but good for the 1h it entertained me. 2/5 Excerpt Later, I slipped from the bed and made my way to the kitchen where I brewed a cup of tea, stirring in a packet of the powder that would prevent a baby from quickening in my belly. The joining had been unsatisfying, almost clinical in nature. My husband, I feared, was not a passionate man. In fact, he called it his “duty” and strove to get it over with as quickly as possible. He did not kiss or cuddle me and, afterward, simply rolled over on his side and was instantly asleep. Sitting, now, in the cold kitchen, I relived in my mind the times Micah and I had joined, wishing that I had to power to call him to me so I could once again feel the warmth of his love. I stoked the fire, putting on another log. This sham of a marriage, I now believed, was God’s punishment for my sins. I was wed to a cold man and there would be no more passion in my life. Well, I will make the best of it, I told myself. The babe, Samuel, I will raise as my own. And, the farm is large and prosperous. Perhaps, I can convince Josiah to let me begin an herb garden from which I can produce recipes for elixirs and remedies as I did when apprenticed to Imelda. Yes, I will make the best of this life and know that I had once been blessed with a love the likes of which most people never experience. “Waaaaa … waaaaa” My thoughts were interrupted by Samuel’s cries. Quickly, I finished my tea, wrapped my shawl around me, and hastened to the bedroom. Lifting him from his crib, I walked back to the kitchen, cradling him in my arms, rocking him back and forth. Smiling down at the child, I knew I would extract a measure of pleasure from the life I had been cursed with. Samuel, this sweet babe, I would make my son.... Beirut Hellfire Society – Rawi HageAugust 28, 2021After his undertaker father’s death, laconic, Greek mythology– reading Pavlov is approached by a member of the mysterious Hellfire Society— an antireligious sect that, among many rebellious and often salacious activities, arranges secret burial for outcasts who have been denied last rites because of their religion or sexuality. Pavlov agrees to take up his father’s work for the society, and over the course of the novel acts as survivor- chronicler of his torn and fading community, bearing witness to both its enduring rituals and its inevitable decline. In Beirut Hellfire Society, award- winning author Rawi Hage— praised for his “fierce poetic originality” (Boston Globe) and “uncompromising vision” (Colm Tóibín)— asks: What, after all, can be preserved in the face of certain change and imminent death? The answer is at once propulsive, elegiac, outrageous, profane, and transcendent— and a profoundly moving meditation on what it means to live through war. They say ashes to ashes, but we say fire begets fire. May your fire join the grand luminosity of the ultimate fire, may your anonymity add to the greatness of the hidden, the truthful and the unknown. You, the father continued, were trapped, lost, ignored, dejected, but now you are found, and we release you back into your original abode. Happy are those rejected by the burial lots of the ignorant. The earth is winter and summer, spring and fall . . . We heard your call and we came. Beirut Hellfire Society is more a book of moments and observation than an active plot, and as such lost me at times, despite the promising premise. It focuses on an undertaker named Pavlov in 1978 Beirut, as war rages throughout the city and surrounding areas. Amidst all the carnage and daily death, Pavlov finds himself in the employment of a mysterious group known as the Hellfire Society. His job is to secretly give them their last burial and rites, as they would otherwise be denied due to their religion, sexuality, and other activities. What presents itself throughout the novel are questions about ritual and our choices in the face of death that surrounds our every day in a senseless and unyielding way. After a very promising start the book seems to go into a different format, presenting stories from people who Pavlov meets, all of them connected to the character of the Marquis – who is seen as a liberator and a person who calls for freedom in a time of war. I liked some of the mini stories like the one of the young wife with a lover in the army. Yes, I agreed to marry him even though he was older than me by thirty years. You see, I was young and beautiful and thought I needed someone to take care of me. Back then, I had long, straight dark hair and big eyes. After our marriage, after our first sexual encounter, I found my husband repulsive . . . and with time, when the excitement of the honeymoon and travel was over, the inconveniences of his old age started to surface. Soon I noticed his old skin, his aged-cheese breath, his legs full of pink and purple veins that extended from his flesh and crept onto the bedsheet and up onto my pillow, up the sides of the bed. He would touch me just as I was about to fall asleep, always sneaking up on me, never with any foreplay or playful teasing or a sweet word. He was inept and boring—a businessman with no charm, no humour, no character, really . . . no personality . . . A man with no qualities . . . He insisted on taking me to church every Sunday to mingle with other merchants’ wives. I was subjected to unrelenting boredom and disgust. We spent our lives going from one restaurant to another . . . Food and work were his existence. His joy was to meet a villager who could sell him fresh vegetables, or a fisherman who brought him a live catch wobbling and suffocating for lack of salt and sea. All he cared about was money, cars and food . . . Oh, the platitudes I endured . . . Boredom has always been undermining . . . But before I could leave him, I found out I was pregnant. By then we were fighting every day. Boredom had ruined me, and everything around me seemed dull and tasteless. When he sensed my dissatisfaction, he became jealous and abusive. I was trapped, with nowhere to go and no one to complain to but El-Marquis. The women though.. The author seems to have some pretty sexual fantasies. He talks about a young, nubile student who just needed to let loose before smoking and having sex while firing guns, about a prostitute who just wants Pavlov to give in to her, about the shocked woman who lost her entire family that let’s Pavlov bathe her and dances naked in his house only to then walk out of his life, to the young granddaughter who is a modern “Cool Girl” that smokes, drinks, goes out on the town in skimpy dresses and sunbathes topless on her balcony. Even the cousin he seems to detest gets a whole short chapter likening her to a hyena in heat as she has sex in a graveyard. It all left a bad taste in my mouth that sadly never felt like it truly left as I continued the novel and saw more and more depictions of women throughout. The girl stood beside him. She said, The dead are coming. The dead are coming, Pavlov repeated. But where do they go? To Hades, Pavlov said. Who is there in Hades? Pluto, Pavlov said. Is he nice? He likes to live in the underworld, Pavlov said. And where is God? Rima asked. There is no God, there are only humans who imagine the possibility of gods. When the music started, Pavlov went to the middle of the room and moved his feet. The dog joined him. He extended his arms to his little niece, and all three of them danced to the tune of the dead. I started tuning out towards the end. It was supposed to be what exactly? A humorous look on life from the perspective of an undertaker? Mythology mixed with reality to show how short life is and that we should engage in an endless orgy to see it to the end? A laugh in the face of death? Reminded me a bit of HAUNTED by CHUCK PALAHNIUK but without the amazing cruel deaths in between. I mean, no cannibalism 🙂 Joking This book is a solid 2/5... The Poor Relation * Susanna Bavin August 27, 2021Poor old love? Her heart beat an indignant tattoo. She felt like walloping young Mr Dearden round the ear. And she hadn’t been sighing – had she? Ah. Not sighs, but huffs of outrage. If only she could write her resignation and slap it on Mr Treadgold’s desk, right under his patronising nose. But Dadda worked upstairs, and the thought that Mr Treadgold would fetch him to drum sense into her was too humiliating for words. 1908, Manchester. Mary Maitland is an attractive and intelligent young woman determined to strike out on her own and earn a living. Finding work at a women’s employment agency, her creative talent is soon noticed and Mary begins writing articles for newspapers and magazines. But being of independent and progressive mind are troublesome traits when those you hold dear must constantly live up to the expectations of the well-to-do family to which they are linked. With increasing pressures from the powers that be, can Mary find the fine line between honouring her family and honouring herself? We mainly follow Mary during her journey, but we also get some glimpses of other characters POV once in a while, and that help us understand the overall of the story and the dynamics of the family and friendship relationships, as well as the differences in the various classes. And that was something I found very good because it gave me extra information that later made me understand the developments of the story. Mary bit down on a smile so she couldn’t grin like an idiot. She was about to strike off in a new direction, she really was – and she would make the most of whatever opportunities came her way. Now she had to confess at home where she had been and try to talk her parents round. Dadda wouldn’t be pleased. Neither would Lilian, not to start with, but if she could get Lilian on her side, that would go a long way towards smoothing things with Dadda. The characters were brilliantly written and their interaction as quite interesting and truly take us back in time with those dynamics. There were some characters that I absolutely loved since the very beginning, including Mary of course, they were the kind of people I would love to me, interesting, vibrant, concern about social aspects because of the people and not status, friendly, intelligent and concern about others. Then there were those that made me so mad, they reminded me of some family members and people in my past and that made them just are real as all the others, but it got my mind spinning with their futility. Then again it was the all point, and it was what made them different. ‘I’m not like Imogen. Your sister told me how she devoted her life to your care. I won’t be like that. I’ll be a good wife and mother, but I’m other things as well. I have my writing, as well as wanting to take an active interest in social reform.’ As I was reading, the book kept becoming more interesting with each page and each chapter, and I found myself not being able to put it down. Although it didn’t have a crazy busy pace, it did have one that was more calmer, except at certain action moments, and it certainly made me stay connected to each moment and wondering what would happen next. As ever Susanna Bavin’s grasp of history, geography and story telling weave a good tale. Just don’t sit down for a ‘quick coffee’ and expect to be away before tea!... My Father’s Rich Friend’s Secret Baby by Jamie Knight or a story about child grooming August 26, 2021This is Book 5 in the His Secret Baby series, which are based on theme and can be read alone but are best when binge-read altogether!1. My Father’s Best Friend’s Secret Baby My Dad’s Rival’s Secret Baby My Professor’s Secret Baby Single Mom’s Secret Baby My Father’s Rich Friend’s Secret Baby Blurb She’s way too young for me. But I want to possess her in every way possible. As a fortunate billionaire, I donate to a local church. One day I’m re-united with a friend there, from long ago. But it’s his curvy daughter who really catches my eye. I tell myself I can’t take her virginity. And to ignore my desire, but I can’t get her off my mind. I want her around me all the time, to dominate and control. So much so, that I call up my old pal, her dad. And I ask if she’d like a job working at my tech firm. He can’t find out what we’re really up to. When we’re on top of my desk behind my closed office door. Or else we’ll both have hell to pay. Soon, the risk at work and at church seems too high. But my c*ck – and my heart – can’t live without her. Especially when I find out she’s hiding a secret from me. Yes, she’s young enough to be my daughter. But she’s carrying a child of our own. And no obstacle could make me give up what belongs to me. My Father’s Rich Friend’s Secret Baby is a full-length steamy romance novel. It’s part of the His Secret Baby series, which are theme-based books that can be read on their own but are best binge-read all together. So I was laughing when I read the title and that’s a good a sign as any that I might laugh some more while reading it. From the author of their favourite aunt’s second niece and best friend’s of the mailman’s third cousin’s girlfriend comes a book with a content warning. Sugar daddy meets young virgin to seduce (read groom) into being his lover. Valeria is a young girl who is tempted by a sexy path in life. Strict parents (meaning rules like no dating ageing men). My strict parents would not approve of me being up this late, but neither would they approve of the thoughts I was having, so at this point, I didn’t think that one sin was any worse than the other. I might as well indulge in them all. She sets her eyes on a forbidden fruit (kinda low hanging if you know what I mean) and wants to play with (drum roll) her dad’s friend. Talk about daddy issues! But he was also as old as my father was. In fact, he had been my father’s good friend from the past, before I was born, and when my parents had had an altogether different life than they live now. The book starts getting slightly more gross as this 17 year old fantasises about being ravished by this old guy: But if he only knew how his friend, Alexander, looked at me, I had a feeling that they would not stay reunited friends for long. I knew Alexander wanted to rip my clothes off and bend me over and take my virginity. And I wanted to let him. I nearly puked in my mouth a little. Still, this was only page 2 so it was supposed to get better, no? Wrong! They met in a freaking church group and once he’s a trusted house guest, he just wanders around the house on his own until he reaches her bedroom where she’s … splayed open apparently. I mean what man in his right mind goes on to open a closed teenager’s room to see what they are doing (behind closed doors). Ofc she’s masturbating and this pervy old dude decides he wants to join in the fun with a virgin girl (who’s not yet legal!) Valeria kept moaning so strongly, without a care in the world, and I knew the moment I licked and twisted my tongue into her slit and stuck my thumb inside her puckered asshole that I wanted her virginity more than ever. Without a lot of prep, they get down to business on a freaking toilet (not the most sanitary of places) and he doesn’t use a condom. “I’m going to cum inside you right now and for the rest of our lives together.” The orgasm creeping over me was already set to be one like I had never had before. With the women I had entertained at my house before I had met Valeria, I always used condoms. But I had an insane desire to possess every raw, naked inch of Valeria. I always find it amusing how these virgins in these sexy books are able to perform sexual acts like pro, knowing how to move and where to put their hands in order to maximise their lover’s pleasure. My eyebrow never came down from the high spot it climbed to and after this pervy old guy came in the girl, he arranges with her dad a summer job where she will work for him (so … more like financial binding her) and she’s gonna have loads of “extra play time”. Valeria then starts feeling more like a woman as he reminisces about her “biggest crush, my father’s very rich friend”. Is she a gold digger? Perhaps I wasn’t a virgin anymore. I had let my biggest crush, my father’s very rich friend from back in the day, Alexander Foster, take me in the church bathroom the day before. It was like a crazy dream or fantasy She starts work for the creepy dude all while praying that her sinful ways won’t be punished. Good Lord, this is like a new girl coming out of the nunnery for the first time to get married. I look good… too good to be committing a sin. Oh Lord, forgive my thoughts. I’m just a young girl with yearning in her heart… you mustn’t punish me… Then they meet again and I felt a strong wave of revulsion reading how the old guy is basically fishing for compliments, admits on hiring her on a whim to be able to “see” her more often and how is this different from prostitution? “Aah, yes. The job. I just wanted an excuse to see you every day. You can’t blame an old man for that, can you?” I winked, tapping at my desk with precision. “I am never calling you old, Alexander. You move too agile for a man your age,” she whispered, biting her lower lip. “It’s good to know I didn’t disappoint,” I hungrily growled, sitting on my desk and edging closer to her chair. Valeria leaned closer to the desk too, with a blaze in her eyes and a pulse in her neck. She stood, then crawled onto my desk, slowly, like a tigress, ready to pounce and take her prey as she willed it. My cock sprang up and it hurt just seeing her come at me with that burning hunger. I stood up and went closer to her face, edging in while she licked her lips. He grows tired of her, once the novelty wears off and starts introducing more and more kinky things to their sex life, including some bondage and some light BDSM. They have a lot of sex, mostly unprotected and no surprise when a year later she finds out she’s pregnant just in time to turn him around and bind this sore loser to her. He asks her to marry him which she happily accepts – even though seconds earlier she was nearly finding a spine and deciding she wouldn’t stay with a man who only sought to pleasure himself in a relationship. Very icky book. Enjoy. https://www.nspcc.org.uk/what-is-child-abuse/types-of-abuse/grooming/ https://www.thinkuknow.co.uk/parents/articles/What-is-sexual-grooming/ Grooming https://www.survivorsuk.org/question/grooming/... The Girl on the Train * Paula Hawkins August 24, 2021I absolutely loved this book. I saw the movie years ago and it was always on my “To Read” list since but as things go, I can never pick up “hyped” books without feeling some sort of disappointment. This was the exception. The three women in the book are inter-connected by houses that look alike, by a train line, by their marriages and by their men and love or hate of children. The book should really have been called “The Drunk Ex on the Train”. Ever since I read Doctor Sleep by Stephen King I loved how authors can either make you sympathise or hate the protagonists who spend their lives in a drunken stupor. Meet Rachel. The Drunk Ex. The harassing, always pining for her lost husband, pitiful woman who is so consumed by the loss of her marriage she cannot see the way out of the bottom of the bottle. Her friend is letting her rent a room in her house – despite finding bottles and sometimes vomit on the stairs. Rachel didn’t tell her she was fired months ago for losing a client. Every morning she still commutes to London where she spends her “free” hours going around parks and drinking gin and tonic. In the evening she commutes back. Rachel is a dreamy drunk. She likes to fantasise about other people that she sees, think about their perfect lives and cry in shame at what her own has become. She has reasons to be sad. She’s been unable to conceive and her barreness has brought the bottle forward as a coping mechanism which in turn drove her husband away. This and the domestic violence. He accused her on multiple occasions of losing her memory after being drunk and attacking him with golf clubs and denting walls and brusing him. Soon after he demands a divorce and buys her out of their marital home only to soon move in with (unbeknownst to Rachel) pregnant mistress, Anna. “Rachel, it’s Anna.” Long pause. “I need to talk to you about the phone calls.” Another long pause—she’s talking to me and doing something else, multitasking, the way busy wives and mothers do, tidying up, loading the washing machine. “Look, I know you’re having a tough time,” she says, as though she has nothing to do with my pain, “but you can’t call us at night all the time.” Her tone is clipped, irritable. “It’s bad enough that you wake us when you call, but you wake Evie, too, and that’s just not acceptable. We’re struggling to get her tosleep through at the moment.” We’re struggling to get her to sleep through. We. Us. Our little family. With our problems and our routines. Fucking bitch. She’s a cuckoo, laying her egg in my nest. She has taken everything from me. She has taken everything and now she calls me to tell me that my distress is inconvenient for her? I finish the second can and make a start on the third. The blissful rush of alcohol hitting my bloodstream lasts only a few minutes, and then I feel sick. I’m going too fast, even for me, I need to slowdown; if I don’t slow down something bad is going to happen. I’m going to do something I will regret. I’m going to call her back, I’m going to tell her I don’t care about her and I don’t care about her family and I don’t care if her child never gets a goodnight’s sleep for the rest of its life. I’m going to tell her that the line he used with her—don’t expect me to be sane—he used it with me, too, when we were first together; he wrote it in a letter to me, declaring his undying passion. It’s not even his line: he stole it from Henry Miller. Everything she has is second hand. I want to know how that makes her feel. I want to call her back and ask her, What does it feel like, Anna, to live in my house, surrounded by the furniture I bought, to sleep in the bed that I shared with him for years, to feed your child at the kitchen table he fucked me on? I still find it extraordinary that they chose to stay there, in that house, in my house. I couldn’t believe it when he told me. I loved that house. I was the one who insisted we buy it, despite its location. I liked being down there on the tracks, I liked watching the trains go by, I enjoyed the sound of them, not the scream of an inner-city express but the old-fashioned trundling of ancient rolling stock. Tom told me, “It won’t always be like this, they’ll eventually upgrade the line and then it will be fast trains screaming past,” but I couldn’t believe it would ever actually happen. I would have stayed there, I would have bought him out if I’d had the money. I didn’t, though, and we couldn’t find a buyer at a decent price when we divorced, so instead he said he’d buy me out and stay on until he got the right price for it. But he never found the right buyer, instead he moved her in, and she loved the house like I did, and they decided to stay. She must be very secure in herself, I suppose, in them, for it not to bother her, to walk where another woman has walked before. She obviously doesn’t think of me as a threat. I think about Ted Hughes, moving Assia Wevill into the home he’d shared with Plath, of her wearing Sylvia’s clothes, brushing her hair with the same brush. I want to ring Anna up and remind her that Assia ended up with her head in the oven, just like Sylvia did. Rachel finds solace in watching a couple living two doors down from her old place having the life she’d always wanted. She’s young, sexy and petite. He’s handsome, tall and loves her like no-one else. They have coffee on the porch in the mornings and kiss before he goes to work. Meet Anna. She knew Tom was married and that his marriage was terrible. She felt ashamed on the surface that she was dating a married man, meeting him in a house that was empty to have steamy sexual encounters. In the depths of her soul, she wanted him, wanted to feel desired and loved enough that she would convince a married guy to be hers and hers alone. I miss work, but I also miss what work meant tome in my last year of gainful employment, when I met Tom. I miss being a mistress. I enjoyed it. I loved it, in fact. I never felt guilty. I pretended I did. I had to, with my married girlfriends, the ones who live in terror of the pert au pair or the pretty, funny girl in the office who can talk about football and spends half her life in the gym. I had to tell them that of course I felt terrible about it, of course I felt bad for his wife, I never meant for any of this to happen, we fell in love, what could we do? The truth is, I never felt bad for Rachel, even before I found out about her drinking and how difficult she was, how she was making his life a misery. She just wasn’t real to me, and anyway, I was enjoying myself too much. Being the other woman is a huge turn-on, there’s no point denying it: you’re the one he can’t help but betray his wife for, even though he loves her. That’s just how irresistible you are. When she falls pregnant, Tom steps up, leaving his abusive ex wife and takes her under his roof, marrying her and becoming the perfect father to their little daughter. But there’s always a black cloud. She’s in their previous marital home, still seeing his ex’s things everywhere but choosing to stay and make her own print on the property. The drunken calls from Rachel keep coming and when Rachel is caught in the house trying to get out with the baby in her arms, Anna loses it and wants Tom to handle her ex or she’ll call the police. Tom is always placating her, telling her all she needs to hear and she never questions him. He’s hers now, won fair and square in the game of love so she only needs to get rid of the dark drunk cloud which is named Rachel for her perfect life to be absolutely perfect. She even hires a nanny for a while but they can’t get along well and she feels happy when she quits to pursue other career interests. And then the paranoia came, that feeling I’ve had almost all the time I’ve lived in this house, of being watched. At first, I used to put it down to the trains. All those faceless bodies staring out of the windows, staring right across at us, it gave me the creeps. It was one of the many reasons why I didn’t want to move in here in the first place, but Tom wouldn’t leave. He said we’d lose money on the sale. At first the trains, and then Rachel. Rachel watching us, turning up on the street, calling us up all the time. And then even Megan, when she was herewith Evie: I always felt she had half an eye on me, as though she were assessing me, assessing my parenting, judging me for not being able to cope on my own. Ridiculous, I know. Then I think about that day when Rachel came to the house and took Evie, and my whole body goes cold and I think, I’m not being ridiculous at all. Met Meghan Her gallery shut down and she found herself bored as the housewife of a rich self-employed IT contractor. She feels trapped and watched as her jealous and controlling husband, Scott, keeps a close eye on her due to her previous transgressions. She gets a job as a nanny for Tom and Anna but it doesn’t last long as she doesn’t like babies and Scott keeps pushing for one of their own. Just let me go. Let me go. Let me breathe. So I can’t sleep, and I’m angry. I feel as though we’re having a fight already, even though the fight’s only in my imagination. And in my head, thoughts go round and round and round. I feel like I’m suffocating. When did this house become so bloody small? When did my life become so boring? Is this really what I wanted? I can’t remember. All I know is that a few months ago I was feeling better, and now I can’t think and I can’t sleep and I can’t draw and the urge to run is becoming overwhelming. At night when I lie awake I can hear it, quiet but unrelenting, undeniable: a whisper in my head, Slip away. When I close my eyes, my head is filled with images of past and future lives, the things I dreamed I wanted, the things I had and threw away. I can’t get comfortable, because every way I turn I run into dead ends: the closed gallery, the houses on this road, the stifling attentions of the tedious Pilates women, the track at the end of the garden with its trains, always taking someone else to somewhere else, reminding me over and over and over, a dozen times a day, that I’m staying put. I feel as though I’m going mad. And yet just a few months ago, I was feeling better, I was getting better. I was fine. I was sleeping. I didn’t live in fear of the nightmares. I could breathe. Yes, I still wanted to run away. Sometimes. But not every day. She starts therapy and there is where she meets Abdul, a brown and handsome man who becomes her new crush and she does everything she can to seduce him. All starts going wrong when Rachel, from her small snippets on the train, sees Meghan kissing another man. What follows is a suspenseful thriller which brings forward not just Meghan’s dead body but a net of entanglements between four people. Scott, the cuckooed husband, Tom and Anna, the harassed couple and Rachel – the ex who does not know how to help Scott without telling him she’d only been snooping in his life. They each have something to protect and are trying desperately to get their old lives back – from before this mess of a woman, in her stumbling incoherent rambles exposes the truth about what happened to Meghan. I loved this book because the narrator is completely unreliable. Her memory has black spots. Hypnosis cannot bring it back. She focuses on the wrong facts and in her mind is trying to prove Scott innocent and Abdul, the dark man she saw kissing Meghan, as the culprit – a jealous lover who would rather kill his beloved than share her with her ex. Rachel is so terrible at remembering things that she completely forgot she was the one beaten and abused during her marriage with Tom, that she was gaslit and lied to on a daily basis. Tom is an absolute villain but only revealed to be so in the last 2-3% of the book. Until then, there were some clues that something was odd with him – like his refusal to sell the house by the train tracks, him telling his new bride that his family hates her and never want to meet her because she stole him from Rachel and always going out with his friends for drinks (friends she hasn’t met or knows about). Anna figures out that Tom is cheating on her when he goes to the gym but leaves his gym bag at home and finds a second phone in the bag. The big reveal is who exactly Tom was cheating with and how Meghan really disappeared. All in all, a good book and I can’t wait to see what else this author brings out. PS, If you like tales of triangles, read: The Woman Before Me * Ruth Dugdall Book Review Robber Bride – Margaret Atwood ... Awakening * Lee Savino August 23, 2021Series: dark mafia romance I wasn’t capable of love. Not until I met Cora. My angel. I’ve claimed every inch of her body and I only want more. I’m a man who craves control, but her power over me is absolute. She holds my heart in her hands. She can never find out. The demons in this city want to destroy her. It’s my job to protect her innocence. Lock her safe in my high tower. But I’m the danger that she’s trying to escape. The ruthless man in her bed. A demon worse than all the others. One who cannot save her from himself. These days, every inch of her was scrutinized, first by her stylists, then by society when she went out on Marcus’s arm. The wife of a wealthy businessman must look the part. Especially if that man’s business had deep ties to the city’s criminal underworld. Marcus Ubeli, the ruler of New Olympus’ underworld. Her husband. When he stood by the window, he only saw his kingdom. His abject subjects scurrying far below. They saw only what he wanted them to see, an elegant businessman, handsome and shrewd, with a new and pretty wife. They applauded his philanthropy and patronized his legit businesses—and only half listened to the whispers about his dark dealings. Only the rich and ultra-powerful knew the truth about Marcus Ubeli. He had a representative on every shadowy street corner. Cops, judges and juries were in his pocket. Even the mayor owed him favors. This is definitely gritty and dark at times. Yet, it had to be in order to show the inner demons that these characters have. It fuels their motivations and allowed me, as the reader, to understand the stakes and also what makes these characters tick. I really am loving who these characters represent in mythology and knowing these characters a little more, like Cora and Marcus, it really makes the storyline sink its teeth in.... House of Thunder * Dean Koontz August 18, 2021Slowly and painfully recovering in a hospital room from the terrible accident that has left her with amnesia, a woman begins to solve the mysteries of her past, beginning with one stormy night of violence waged by four young men in a place called “House of Thunder”. The Shawnee Indians gave that one a name: ‘House of Thunder.’” “Thunder?” McGee asked. “Why?” “A subterranean stream enters the cave high in one corner and tumbles down a series of ledges. The sound of the falling water echoes off the limestone, so there’s a continuous rumbling in the place.” What a thrill ride this book has been! Susan suffers an accident that leaves her with a head injury. Upon waking in the hospital after being in a coma for a while, she finds herself mistrusting the doctors, the nurses and even her own senses. It felt like I was reading Pines (Wayward Pines #1) by Blake Crouch. What makes it even weirder, the woman starts seeing people around her that look like exact copies (down to the Boston accent) of people she’s put behind bars for the murder of her Uni boyfriend. Even when presented with evidence that the people she’d seen are patients or gainfully employed by the hospital, she can’t shake the feeling that they are the same people. But how is that possible since 15 years or so have passed since she’d last seen them and they don’t seem to have aged a bit. So where does that leave me? she wondered. With two look-alikes? The old doppelgänger theory again? If they are just a couple of doubles for Harch and Quince, were they cast up here by chance? Or is there a purpose to their arrival in this place, at this particular time? What sort of purpose? Is someone out to get me? And isn’t that a crazy thought, for God’s sake! Her physician is helping her in the recovery and is also trying to battle her malnutrition from the coma period and her amnesia. It also helps that he is charismatic, sexy and undoubtedly more interested in Susan than a doctor should be. Dr. McGee made his evening rounds shortly before dinnertime. He was wearing blue slacks, a red plaid shirt, a blue vee-neck sweater, and an open lab coat. Chest hairs, as black as those on his head, curled out of the open neck of his shirt. He was so slim and handsome that he looked as if he had stepped out of a men’s fashion advertisement in a slick magazine Things start getting even creepier when all four of the attackers are now present around her in the hospital, including two she knows for sure died in a car crash years ago. Ghosts? Ghouls? Mental breakdowns?. Impossible. Nightmare creatures. They were meant to inhabit only the land of sleep. But she was awake. And they were here. Real. I like the fact that the book did not go to be full on supernatural but instead toyed with the idea of brain damage. And I know what’s going through your mind right now, she thought. You’re thinking about my head injury, about the coma, about the possibility of minor brain damage that didn’t show up on any of your X rays or other tests, a tiny embolism, or perhaps an exceedingly small hemorrhage in a threadlike cerebral capillary. You’re wondering if I’ve received a brain injury that just, by sheerest chance, happens to affect that infinitesimal lump of gray tissue in which the memories of the House of Thunder are stored; you’re wondering if such an injury—a sand-grain blood clot or a minuscule, ruptured vessel—could cause those memories to become excessively vivid, resulting in my preoccupation with that one event in my life. Am I fixated on Jerry’s murder for the simple reason that some abnormal pressure in my brain is focusing my attention relentlessly upon the House of Thunder? Is that pressure causing me to fantasize new developments in that old nightmare? Is that nearly microscopic rotten spot in my head altering my perceptions so that I believe I see dead ringers for Harch and the others, when, in reality, neither Bill Richmond nor Peter Johnson nor the two orderlies bear any resemblance whatsoever to the quartet of fraternity brothers? Well, maybe that is what’s happening to me. But then again, maybe not. One minute, I think that is the explanation. The next minute, I know it must be something else altogether. They’re not dead ringers. They are dead ringers. They’re not the real Harch, Quince, Jellicoe, and Parker. They are the real Harch, Quince, Jellicoe, and Parker. I just don’t know. God help me, I just don’t know what’s happening to me, so dear Dr. McGee, I can’t blame you for your confusion and your doubts. She said, “I’m fully aware that my problem is most likely either psychological or the result of some organically rooted brain dysfunction related to the auto accident, or possibly not to the accident directly but to the effects of spending three weeks in a coma.” The brain is a marvellous thing. Hallucinations that may appear real conjured up by exposure to trauma, blockage and projecting all the way – due to damage to an optical nerve or the core memory areas. I was even thinking at one point that she is definitely self-inflicting some of the injuries she sustained during the “hauntings” or actually her body creating physical damage due to psychological causes (almost like stigmatas). I had a quick search and everything that Susan exhibits correlates to extreme trauma response. https://themighty.com/2018/02/physical-symptoms-trauma/ Clear evidence of an unnatural fixation, obsession, psychological illness or brain dysfunction, she thought. I say I don’t believe in elaborate fantasies. I say I don’t believe in the occult. And yet I believe these four are real, including the two who are dead. It makes no sense. When she finds some actual physical evidence left behind by the attacking ghosts, she starts to suspect that not all is as it seams in the hospital. She becomes convinced she is part of an experiment that would test her mental limits. But to what purpose and what gain? Henceforth, she wasn’t going to take any of the medications that she was given. For all she knew, these people were slowly poisoning her. Because she was a scientist, it naturally occurred to her that she might be the subject of an experiment. She might even have willingly agreed to take part in it. An experiment having to do with sensory manipulation or with mind control. There was sufficient precedent to inspire such a theory. In the 1960s and 1970s, some scientists had voluntarily subjected themselves to sensory deprivation experiments, settling into dark, warm, watery SD tanks for such extended lengths of time that they temporarily lost all touch with reality and began to hallucinate. Susan was sure she wasn’t hallucinating, but she wondered if the second floor of the hospital had been adapted for an experiment in mind control or brainwashing techniques. Brainwashing sounded like a good bet. Was that the kind of research the Milestone Corporation was engaged in? This reminded me of another great Dean Koontz classic where he talks about sensory deprivation chambers (The Door to December) and other experiments mainly relying on children (remember Stranger Things too?). Susan plans her escape and she seems shocked when things go too smoothly. She finds the hallways deserted, a car with the keys in the ignition and a town not far away from the hospital. The shock comes from wherever she turns she runs into the “ghosts” of her pasts. At the police station, in a house, in the local church. They manage to torture her a little and then drug her. The sexy doctor manages to save her from the upcoming rape just in time but it looks like Susan had given up hope and feels this is only another ploy to get her hopes up (I mean, why wouldn’t she. She’s been harassed, slapped, grabbed and groped by people dressed like ghosts for the fun of it and with no explanation). Well, apparently Dr. McGee is awesome with a gun, he loves our Susan and he’s incredibly good at spilling secrets. Milestone (according to McGee) had one primary goal: to develop an ultimate weapon—a particle beam, some new kind of laser, a new biological weapon, anything— which would in one way or another render nuclear weaponry not just obsolete but useless. The U.S. government had for some time been convinced that the Soviet Union was seeking nuclear superiority with the express intention of launching a first-strike attack the moment that such a monstrous tactic was likely to result in a clean, painless Soviet victory. But it hadn’t been possible, until recently, to sell the American public on the idea that rearmament was a desperate necessity. Therefore, in the middle Seventies, the President and the Secretary of Defense could see no hope except a miracle; a miracle weapon that would cancel out the Soviet arsenal and free mankind from the specter of an atomic holocaust. While it wasn’t possible to launch a massive arms buildup costing hundreds of billions of dollars, it was possible to secretly establish a new research facility, better funded than any had ever been before, and hope that American ingenuity would pull the country’s ass out of the fire. In a sense, Milestone became America’s last best hope. That’s one thing I never imagined – a spy camp! USA vs the Soviet Union playing in a high stakes weapons game and Susan has some pretty good inside knowledge from the company she was working at! They all tried to get her to crack and reveal the secrets but she’d been conditioned to forget everything if she was ever captured or drugged as part of her work contract. Pretty neat! The two of them barely escape alive as they are hit with betrayals on every corner and manage to escape from Russia to Turkey and then back home via an embassy. Dr McGee (Russian name is something hard to pronounce) stays with her and decides to become a security specialist in the US rather than a double agent (I do think he’s gonna be killed the moment he isn’t paying attention as he knows the names of “all” of the undercover agents coming from Milestone. So, Susan, enjoy those biceps while you can! Thrilling read, well done and researched for an 80’s book! PS: I kept on thinking – where’s the cameras in the hospital, why isn’t she snapping a pic with her phone of the dead heads on her toilet, why no alarms and secured doors (duh! 80s tech!)... Red Pottage by Mary Cholmondeley August 17, 2021Set in the Victorian age, Red Pottage is a novel of women’s lives and thoughts and strivings in a time period when women were not thought to have those. It is the story of two friends Hester and Rachel, who’ve known each other since childhood and glimpsed a compatible soul in the other. They are both smart and moral and modern in that they want their lives to have meaning. They communicate with each other and a few good, like-minded friends. They have to endure the stupidity and shallowness of others, some of which are their own family members. Rachel is a wealthy heiress who falls in love with the weak-willed Hugh Scarlett after he has broken off an affair with Lady Newhaven (which he does not originally realize has been discovered by her husband). Hester, a novelist, lives with her brother, the pompous vicar of the fictional village of Warpington. The book caused a scandal when it was first published due to its themes of adultery, the emancipation of women and its satire of the clergy. “I will break it off,” says Hugh Scarlett to himself. “Thank Heaven, not a soul has ever guessed it.” He thinks of the day he first met her, when he looked upon her as merely a pretty woman. He recalls their other days together, and the gradual building up between them of a fairy palace. He added a stone here, she a stone there — until suddenly it became a prison. Had he been tempter, or tempted? He cannot say. He wants only to be out of it. His infatuation has run its course. His judgment has been whirled — he tells himself it had been whirled, but had it really only been tweaked? — from its center. It performed its giddy orbit, and now the check-string has brought it back to the point from whence it had set out — namely, that she is merely a pretty woman. Yet nothing in life is simple. Lord Newhaven suspects — or more than suspects: for he introduces the modern equivalent of the duel! And Hugh has had a vision of hope for the future, in a sympathetic soul — in the eyes of Rachel West. I became completely engrossed in these characters and the moral quagmire of their time. Talk about a cross-section of society, we have the very wealthy and shallow, the very wealthy and titled, the rather poor and ordinary, the rather poor but exceptional, the finest kind of moral beacon in the guise of a bishop, and the very worst of a sniveling, narrow-mindedness in a clergyman. In truth, Cholmondeley makes it clear that where you are born or what profession you choose is not what determines your value in the least. “All the same, a man with one eye can see that women with money, or anything that makes them independent of us, don’t flatter us by their alacrity to marry us. They will make fools of themselves for love—none greater—and they will marry for love. But their different attitude towards us, their natural lords and masters, directly we are no longer necessary to them as stepping-stones to a home and a recognized position, revolts me. If you had taken my advice at the start, you would have made up to one among the mob of women who are dependent on marriage for their very existence. If a man goes into that herd he will not be refused. And if he is it does not matter. It is the blessed custom of piling everything on to the eldest son, and leaving the women of the family almost penniless, which provides half of us with wives without any trouble to ourselves. Whatever we are, they have got to take us. The average dancing young woman living in luxury in her father’s house is between the devil and the deep sea. We are frequently the devil; but it is not surprising that she can’t face the alternative—a poverty to which she was not brought up, and in which she has seen her old spinster aunts. But I suppose in your case you really want the money?” I felt the punishment did not fit the crime in the case of Hugh Scarlet. He is guilty of cuckolding a gentleman and, in the days when a duel was a matter of honor, he is called to a duel of a kind, but in my view much worse. In a book that is replete with the need for redemption, he desperately tries to find his so that he can measure up to Rachel West, the woman he comes to love. What I found especially moving is that Rachel, while a very decent person, is not a paragon of virtue herself, as she judges men too harshly based on one past experience. The time is certainly becoming short,” said Lord Newhaven. “He is right in saying there is only a week left. If it were not for the scandal for the boys, and if I thought he would really hold to the compact, I would meet him, but he won’t. He flinched when he drew lots. He won’t. He has courage enough to stand up in front of me for two minutes, and take his chance, but not to blow his own brains out. No. And if he knew what is in store for him if he does not, he would not have courage to face that either. Nor should I if I were in his shoes, poor devil. The first six foot of earth would be good enough for me. In fact there are a few characters who cannot be loved, they are just too horrid, but the three main characters are unerringly human and I felt greatly for each of them. Cholmondeley addresses many important themes in this work, not the least of them being the position of unmarried women in society and the struggle for independence they are forced to constantly battle. I felt her writing was reminiscent of George Eliot…and I do not compare anyone to George Eliot lightly. Hugh had made the discovery that love was a much overrated passion. He had always supposed so; but when he tired of Lady Newhaven he was sure of it. His experience was, after all, only the same as that which many men acquire by marriage, and hold unshaken through long and useful lives. But Hugh had not been able to keep the treasures of this early experience. It had been rendered worthless, perhaps rather contemptible by a later one—that of falling in love with Rachel, and the astonishing discovery that he was in love for the first time. He had sold his birthright for a mess of red pottage, as surely as any man or woman who marries for money or liking. He had not believed in his birthright, and holding it to be worthless, had given it to the first person who had offered him anything in exchange. I was bowled over by the brilliance of the author’s ironic wit. I laughed out loud in many places. But I was disappointed by the last third of the book, which lapses into melodrama. If the author had maintained her ironic distance to the end, the book would have been a masterpiece. Having set up the bizarre duel, she could have done better things with it. She also allowed her dislike of a certain type of clergyman to run away with her, hammering away at that theme longer than was necessary. Those are just my impressions on a first reading. The book merits another reading. About the author Mary Cholmondeley began writing with serious intent in her teens. She wrote in her journal in 1877, “What a pleasure and interest it would be to me in life to write books. I must strike out a line of some kind, and if I do not marry (for at best that is hardly likely, as I possess neither beauty nor charms) I should want some definite occupation, besides the home duties.” She placed initially some stories in The Graphic and elsewhere. Her first novel was The Danvers Jewels (1887), a detective story that won a small following. It appeared in the Temple Bar magazine published by Richard Bentley, after fellow novelist Rhoda Broughton had introduced her to George Bentley. It was followed by Sir Charles Danvers (1889), Diana Tempest (1893) and A Devotee (1897). Bentley paid £40 for The Danvers Jewels and £50 for Sir Charles Danvers, both in two volumes, but increased an offer of £250 for the three-volume Diana Tempest to £400, the first of her books to appear under her name.... Forbidden King (Princes of Avce Book 9) – Victoria PinderAugust 11, 2021He’s a rebellious crown prince who ignored his family’s good name, but now the clock is ticking and he’ll have to marry. Leopold Aussa, the future king of Avce, soon learns that his spoiled life of ignoring his family and indulging in models comes with its pitfalls. When finally he finds a respectable woman to marry who will make a good Queen, his past comes back to haunt him. Anna takes her job as future king Leopold’s secretary seriously; after all, it’s the one thing paying for her grandmother’s retirement. If she doesn’t want to risk her position, she’ll have to ignore the hot man with a good heart underneath all the rebellion, but that becomes harder to do when Leopold asks her to be his bride. There’s only one thing standing in their way…and he hasn’t told her yet what it is. But if Leopold’s old flame gets her way, his secret is about to become a royal scandal. Find out what happens in this modern day Pride and Prejudice meets Cinderella’s Ever After romance! Leo wanted one thing in his life… a choice. Leo is forced by his parents to abandon his wanton life and marry his secretary instead of a model. Because she’s.. hmm, .. her behaviour is above reproach. Yay for taking people at their face value and for parents forcing their kids to live their way! He’s no prize either, referring to the woman in his aid as a peasant.. In his almost thirty years, he’d never assumed once that his parents, his royal parents, would suggest a peasant. If he’d have thought they’d bend this much, he might have held out for love—or something like that. He asks her to marry him (half mouth) only because his parents are there. Know each other? True. Other than her dependability and timeliness where she was always where he needed her to be, he didn’t know much about Anna. This sounds like a disaster waiting to happen. There’s some chemistry and they do seem to get along bringing me to my original idea that if you put two hamsters in a cage together they’ll have sex eventually. “I’m pregnant.” She clutched her slender belly. Leo’s blood ran cold. How? He’d used protection every time as he never intended to father a child outside of his station. This was impossible. Condoms were effective, so he lifted his chin and met Francesca’s blue eyes that had tears still flowing down her high cheekbones. “Don’t lie. The trumpets you hear outside mean I’m getting married.” She grabbed his arm and pulled him closer. “I’m not lying. Wehey! Here’s the one night stand with a surprise for the newly-soon-to-be husband. Anna might not be a noble woman by birth, but as his wife, he’d honor her. In exchange she’d perform the day-to-day operations of life as a future queen with the polish of someone born for the job. She was always diligent in everything and he would help where he could. So this train-wreck of a man marries a decent woman while having a baby on the back-burner with someone else. This is ghetto -drama! All he wants is his status and his wife to do the wifely gracious things as long as he can live without facing the consequences of his actions. Meh, horrible romance story, so-so plot. 2/5... Stephen King – Later August 9, 2021My name is Jamie Conklin, and once upon a time I drew a Thanksgiving turkey that I thought was the absolute cat’s ass. Later—and not much later—I found out it was more like the stuff that comes out of the cat’s ass. Sometimes the truth really sucks. I think this is a horror story. Check it out. Gotta love a Stephen King story told by a young kid who has the “shine”. It was Danny in The Shining and Doctor Sleep and Jack in The Talisman and The Black House and Bev Marsh and the gang in IT . This book has been compared though with Joyland and The Colorado Kid due to the novella format and the short crime story within. I loved it! It got me hooked after the first few chapters and I knew I had to finish it as soon as possible. The Story The son of a struggling single mother, Jamie Conklin just wants an ordinary childhood. But Jamie is no ordinary child. Born with an unnatural ability his mom urges him to keep secret, Jamie can see what no one else can see and learn what no one else can learn. But the cost of using this ability is higher than Jamie can imagine as he discovers when an NYPD detective draws him into the pursuit of a killer who has threatened to strike from beyond the grave. LATER is Stephen King at his finest, a terrifying and touching story of innocence lost and the trials that test our sense of right and wrong. With echoes of King s classic novel It, LATER is a powerful, haunting, unforgettable exploration of what it takes to stand up to evil in all the faces it wears. Jamie Conklin can see dead people. And if that sounds a familiar concept it’s one the narrator himself points out in the first couple of pages ‘not like the Bruce Willis movie’. Of course, it IS to a degree, but with King’s take on it and taken to a (by his standards very short) novel length tale. Jamie cannot tell apart the dead from the living, they are not see through like the movies, but sometimes, because they wear the same things as when they died, it makes them easier to tell apart. Jamie’s mother knows her child is “special” a little bit – first by him pointing at a bike accident’s victim and describing his facial features and t-shirt even though the victim on the ground had been covered by a coat. Second, by correctly identifying where the next door’s neighbour’s wife had placed her valuable rings before she succumbed to a stroke which “drowned her thoughts in blood”. The mother is a believer but she urges Jamie to keep his talent hidden, as you never know who might take advantage of this. Her being the first and foremost user – when her source of revenue dies. Not in the circus type – but she does use her child’s powers to get her most productive client to tell the last epic tale in his series AFTER he had died so that her cut of the advance on the book would not have to be returned. It’s done out of desperation and out of fear of not being made homeless along with her kid. Jamie obliges and acts as a “voice” for the dead author, who happily obliges and tells his last story post-mortem. Is this intellectual theft? I would say profiteering off the dead. The mother then spends the next four months editing and writing a long novel to act like her author’s last book and publishes it under his name, the only concession to her talent and hard work made in the book’s dedicated to section. You would say things are smooth sailing from now, no? But then it wouldn’t be a Stephen King book. I loved that his mom has a female lover, that the female lover is a corrupt cop and that this woman is the one that uses the kid’s talent’s too in order not to get kicked out of the force and then later on to find Oxy pills and drugs for her addiction. The kid is stuck with a malevolent spirit after the first encounter and his former next door neighbour teaches him something to be able to overcome his fear of his apparition – the ritual of Chud which might be familiar to long term Stephen King fans. The kid binds this old entity to him and forces it to come to his bidding when called and even though he promises never to call upon it ever again, when faced with a revolver to his face and a crazed drugged woman at the other end, he finds himself asking for help from the old demon who comes and kills her and nearly takes Jamie along as well. It’s a story of willpower and triumph of good vs evil and amazing to read. ... Dirty Damsels (DotComGirls Series Book 1) * Peggy JaegerAugust 8, 2021What if Cynderella had a one-night stand with a man named Prince? When I first saw Cynderella all covered in soot in that sexy maid uniform, I knew I wanted to be her Prince. She’s a smart and savvy businesswoman who’s built her cleaning company from the ground up. But now that Dirty Damsels was booming, I’ve been hired to arrange a hostile takeover. But the temptation of having her was too much to ignore… We ended up spending one night together–a night neither of us will forget. Now, I want more. I need more. I want to spend every night, skin-on-skin, with my beautiful Ella. Problem is, when she finds out who I really am, she’ll never forgive me. When I’d first started cleaning as a profession, I’d always began with what I considered the dirtiest place in the home, the family bathroom. I’d work my way out to the bedrooms, then the kitchen, and save the main living areas for last. Even though I no longer did the actual heavy cleaning but managed the people who did, I still stuck to my old routine. With my hands gloved, my hair pulled back, and my iPod blasting in my ears, I started. Meet a cleaning lady (Maid in Manhattan anyone?) who cleans the penthouse of a super rich and super sexy guy. He was massive. At least six-three with shoulders so wide they blocked my view of the room behind him. Jet-black, military-style, close-cropped hair surrounded a face constructed of sharp angles and etched planes with a concrete-hard and square jaw. Thick eyebrows the same color as his hair framed two of the greenest eyes I’d ever seen. They mimicked jade crystals, freshly mined and polished. I would’ve bet cash his light gray suit was tailor-made because it hugged the width of his shoulders with sartorial precision and tapered down to a trim waist. Said boss then proceeds to sexually harass the maid, first telling her he enjoyed the view of her bent back scrubbing, then following her around the apartment and making innuendos. He moved like a panther across the rug, soundlessly stalking, as if playing with his prey, until he came to the opposite side of the bed. So if this guy was butt ugly, we’d have a creeper case. But just because he’s good looking, we have a blooming romance scenario! The man had an ass made for grabbing. Two perfect, round, and tight cheeks dipped from that narrow waist, leading downward to two thick and powerful thighs. Since his back was to me, he didn’t know my jaw hung open to my knees, while he burrowed under the comforter. The main heroine gets the hots and is ready to throw all professionalism down the drain in order to get some of that crunchy behind. The man this afternoon was the first one I’d met in a while who got my lustometer dial moving into the alive and kicking zone. Too bad I wouldn’t see him again. If we’d met under different circumstances, I knew I’d have abandoned my self-imposed sexual exile and gone after him, big time. Well, the romance kicks off and then you have the regular issues: step-sisters who are jealous, people who need money but don’t wanna work for it, people asking for monetary support either from this strong independent woman or from her strong, richer and more independent boyfriend. All is good when heroine goes no contact with her evil step sister and the boyfriend’s foundation takes over the absurd medical care costs (for the US at least) for Dolly and all is well and they get married. Damn, this was Maid in Manhattan all over. 2/5...
