Avonna

Friday Feature Author Interview with Elise Cooper: Inside Threat by Matthew Quirk

Book Description

Assume the worst. Code Black.

The day that every secret service agent trains for has arrived. The White House has been breached; the President forced to flee to a massive doomsday bunker outside DC to defend against whatever comes next. Only the most trusted agents and officials are allowed in with him—those dedicated to keeping the government intact at all costs.

Among these is Erik Hill, who has given his life to the Secret Service. They are his purpose and his family, and his impressive record has made him a hero among them. Despite his growing disillusionment from seeing Washington corruption up close, Erik can’t ignore years of instincts honed on the job. The government is under attack, and no one is better equipped to face down the threat than he is.

The evidence leads him to a conspiracy at the highest levels of power, with the attack orchestrated by some of the very individuals now locked in with him. As the killers strike inside the bunker, it will take everything Erik Hill has to save his people, himself, and his country.

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Elise’s Thoughts

Inside Threat by Matthew Quirk is a political thriller that will remind readers of Vince Flynn’s Transfer of Power and David Baldacci’s characters Sean King and Michelle Maxwell, retired Secret Service Agents. The plot has secrets, lies, and betrayals with the readers not knowing who the bad guys are and who are the good guys.

The book begins with an attack on the White House, obvious that it has been breached. The President, his wife, the most trusted officials, and the best Secret Service Agents move to a secure underground facility known as Raven Rock. Most impressive is how Quirk drew a simplified version of this complex. It is a facility 700 feet under a mountain near Camp David.

Secret Service Agents Eric Hill and Amber Cody, soon discover the threat is locked inside with them. Communications have been cut, exits sabotaged, and bodies piling up. Hill and Cody must use their skills and instincts to determine who can be trusted. Are the perpetrators the officials, or those in the Army, or the Secret Service? Both know they must do whatever it takes to protect the institution they have been sworn to serve and protect.

Given the current events, this concept of a threat to the government from within is very scary. Wondering who is a friend and who is a foe has readers taking the dangerous journey with Hill and Cody. The many twists will keep people reading, not wanting to put the book down. The Q&A below comes from notes from a conversation with Quirk that has been condensed.

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Author Interview

Elise Cooper: How did you get the idea?

Matthew Quirk: I try to strike a balance between a conspiracy shadow behind certain powers, while adding hope, realism, and not feeding into the cynicism. The premise has what would happen if a President came under attack? I played with these questions for the readers to think about. What is the drive behind someone going against the office they are protecting? Are they protecting a larger value by taking matters into their own hands? Is going rogue part of the problem or solving the problem? Who can be trusted? This is my go at a Die Hard or Seven Days in May story with a bit of Agatha Christie thrown in.

EC: Was the President based on anyone?

MQ: This is an interesting time for politics, with such a high temperature. I try in writing a plot to be non-partisan. Some readers of my books have diametrically opposed views. They find corollaries of what is currently happening. For them, the story will often confirm their views of how they perceive Washington DC. For instance, if there is a crooked President in the book, each side thinks the President is part of the other side. For me, it is interesting that I can write these political thrillers in an incredibly polarized time and still have them appeal broadly.

EC: How would you describe President Kline?

MQ: Some think he is paranoid, elitist, aloof, but others think he is caring and protective. One of the mysteries of the book is, can the President be trusted to defend the Constitution?

EC: What is real in the book?

MQ: “Yankee White,” a special background investigation, basically a clearance, required of anyone who will hold the President’s life in their hands such as a chef, helicopter pilot, and a doctor. There is this distinct circle of people that would single handedly be able to kill the President.

The saying “shut up and color,” which is military slang for “do your job and follow orders.” This was one of the themes of the book because what if doing the right thing and following orders are at odds.

My friend had written an entire book on Raven Rock, the bunker 700 feet under a mountain near Camp David. I tried to find a bunch of imagery. In the beginning of the book, I drew a simplified layout of the architectural buildings and tunnels. I wanted the reader to follow along with the action I did take some liberties to streamline things, but everything in the book comes from real life.

The Presidential Emergency Action Documents, which are documents that can be invoked by the President. No one knows what is in them. The President could possibly create martial law, suspend Congress, nationalize industries, and ignore the Constitution.

EC: Do you think Secret Service Agents can be flies on the wall?

MQ: I have this book quote, they “can see everything and see nothing.” I did talk to Secret Service people for the book. Their job is to protect the person and yet they are seeing Washington politics up close. They still do their job, which is protecting the office. Even if it someone they do not respect they are still willing to protect them, even to the point of sacrificing their life. This is very honorable.

EC: How would you describe the Secret Service Agent Eric Hill?

MQ: Direct, a straight talker, protective, has a slight temper, loyal and suspicious. Because of his backstory he is disillusioned.

EC: How would you describe the rookie Secret Service Agent Amber Cody?

MQ: Tough, smart, stubborn, enthusiastic, disciplined, and feels she needs to prove herself to be brave.

EC: There is a book quote about the Secret Service that reminds me of those in the military. Please explain.

MQ: You are referring to this book quote, “The Service was in many ways closer than family. Agents spent more time with each other than they did with their wives and husbands and kids. They gave everything to the job, including their lives… They lived together, ate together, counted off endless hours driving through the sticks, standing in the rain, staked out in cars, and holed up in hotels.” Many of them are former military. Talking to the real-life Secret Service Agents gave me this impression. They are so dedicated. It is like a military brotherhood.

EC: A movie or TV show being made?

MQ: Yes, we just announced that Chernin Entertainment has optioned the book for a feature film. I’m really excited to be working with them. The Night Agent has been renewed for season two with the plan to be out in 2024.

EC: Your next book?

MQ: It’s early, so this could change, but the premise is that an actress who always plays tough characters and is well trained in weapons and martial arts has her friend gone missing. While looking for them, she is drawn into the world of espionage and diplomacy. To save her friend and survive she needs to become as tough as the characters she plays on TV.

THANK YOU!!

***

BIO: Elise Cooper has written book reviews and interviewed best-selling authors since 2009. Her reviews have covered several different genres, including thrillers, mysteries, women’s fiction, romance and cozy mysteries. An avid reader, she engages authors to discuss their works, and to focus on the descriptions of their characters and the plot. While not writing reviews, Elise loves to watch baseball and visit the ocean in Southern California, with her dog and husband.

Book Tour/Feature Post and Book Review: Reckoning by Baron Birtcher

RECKONING

by Baron Birtcher

September 4 – 29, 2023 Virtual Book Tour

Hi, everyone!

Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for RECKONING by Baron Birtcher on this Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tour.

Below you will find a book synopsis, my book review, an excerpt from the book, the author bio and social media links. Enjoy!

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Book Synopsis

Ty Dawson is a small-town sheriff with big-city problems, in this riveting crime thriller from the award-winning author of Fistful of Rain.

As lawman, rancher, and Korean War veteran, Ty Dawson has his share of problems in the southern Oregon county he calls home. Despite how rural it is, Meriwether can’t keep modernity at bay. The 1970s have changed the United States—and Meriwether won’t be spared.

A standoff looms when the US Fish & Wildlife Service seeks to separate longtime cattleman KC Sheridan from his water supply—ensuring the death of his livestock. If that’s not enough trouble, a Portland detective is found dead in a fly-fishing resort cabin. Though the Portland police, including the victim’s own partner, are eager to write off the tragedy as a suicide, Ty has his own thoughts on the matter—as well as evidence that points to murder. His suspicions soon mire him in a swamp of corruption that threatens nearly everyone around him. Turns out that greed and evil are contagious—and they take down men both great and small . . .

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/123226006-reckoning?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=36Qh6a5Bzl&rank=1

Reckoning

Genre: Neo-western crime thriller
Published by: Open Road Integrated Media
Publication Date: June 2023
Number of Pages: 300
ISBN: 978-1-5040-8280-8
Series: Sheriff Ty Dawson Series, #3

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My Book Review

RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars

RECKONING (Ty Dawson Mysteries Book #3) by Baron Birtcher is a twisted suspenseful thriller/historical mystery/police procedural mash-up featuring a rural county Oregon sheriff and rancher set the late 1970’s that kept me reading well into the night. This is the third book in the Ty Dawson series, but I was able to easily read it as a standalone.

Sheriff Ty Dawson is a Korean war veteran, rancher, and rural Meriweather County sheriff in southern Oregon. Ty gets called out to an elderly neighbor’s ranch belonging to KC Sheridan and his wife when the US Fish & Wildlife Service fences off the longtime water supply for his cattle. Sheridan’s wife’s brother lost his ranch to the government and is now instigating his militia friends to make a stand to save KC’s ranch.

At the same time, a Portland detective is found dead in a resort cabin. His partner and the chief of police in Portland all want the death classified as a suicide and the case closed. Ty and the medical examiner know he was murdered, and he is willing to fight against the PPD to discover the truth.

Ty and his deputies work to keep the standoff at the Sheridan ranch from escalating, while also following leads in the murdered detective case. Ty is determined to find the truth, but it will cost him.

I love Ty Dawson and now want to go back and read the first two books in the series. He loves his wife and daughter, still has nightmares from his time in Korea, and has a strong sense of justice that must be satisfied. Set in the late 1970’s, historical references, significant events and lack of current technology are all intertwined throughout the story without slowing the pace. The two investigations are intricately plotted and perfectly paced. I was surprised to learn how the two investigations are tied together at the climax of this story. Greed, political corruption, drugs, and prostitution are all in abundance in this investigation with plenty of twists that keep you guessing. This is a new to me author that I am very happy to have found.

I highly recommend this addition to the series, and I am looking forward to reading more Ty Dawson books in the future.

***

Excerpt

Prelude:

A TRANSITIVE NIGHTFALL

NO CHILD IS brought into this world with any knowledge of true evil. This they learn over the passage of time. In my experience as a Sheriff, and as a rancher, I have found this precept to be true.

Time passes nevertheless, even if it passes slowly. Here in rural southern Oregon, sometimes it seemed as if it hadn’t moved at all, advancing without touching Meriwether County, except with glancing blows.

That is, until the day it caught up with us all, and came down like a goddamn hammer.

CHAPTER ONE

ORDINARILY, AUTUMN IN Meriwether County would come in hard and sudden, like a stone hurled through a window. But this year it snuck in slow and mild, lingered there deceitfully while we waited for the axe to come down.

The sky that morning was turquoise, empty of clouds, the altitude strung with elongated V’s of migrating geese and a single contrail that resembled a surgical scar, the narrows between the high valley walls opening onto a broad vista of rangeland some distance below. I had expected ice patches to have formed on the pavement overnight, but the weather had remained stubbornly dry, even as temperatures closed in on the low thirties. I tipped open the wind-wing and let the chill air blow through the cab of my pickup as I stretched, and drank off the last dregs of coffee I had brought for the long southward drive from the town of Meridian.

I had received a phone call at home the night before from an unusually distressed KC Sheridan. I had known KC for as long as I can remember, a pragmatic and taciturn cattleman whose family history in the area dated back to the late 1800s, much like that of my own. Three generations of Sheridans had stretched fence wire, planted feed-grass and run rough stock across deeded ranchland that measured its acreage in the tens of thousands, and whose boundaries straddled two separate counties, one of which was my jurisdiction.

But the decade of the ’70s thus far had not been any kinder or gentler to cowboys than to anyone else, and KC and his wife, Irene, had found themselves increasingly subject to the fulminations and intimidation of both local and federal government. While the Sheridan ranch had once numbered itself among a dozen privately held agricultural properties in the region, KC now found himself surrounded on three sides by a federally designated wildlife refuge that had swollen to encompass well over three hundred square miles; a bird sanctuary originally conceived under the auspices of President Theodore Roosevelt’s white house. All of which would have been perfectly fine and acceptable to the Sheridan family, given the understanding that the scarce water supply that ultimately fed into the bird sanctuary belonged to the Sheridans by legal covenant, as it had for nearly a century.

I turned off the paved two-lane and onto a gravel service road, headed in the direction of the ridgeline where KC sat silhouetted against the bright backdrop of clear sky, mounted astride his chestnut roping horse. KC climbed out of the saddle as I parked a short distance away, switched off the ignition and stepped down from my truck. KC trailed the horse behind him as he moved in my direction, took off his hat and ran a forearm across his brow, then pressed it back onto his head. His hair and his eyes shared a similar shade of gunmetal grey, and the hardscrabble nature of his existence as a rancher had been recorded in the deep lines of his face.

“What the hell am I supposed to do about these goings-on, Sheriff?” KC asked, and cocked his brim in the general direction of a reservoir that was the size of a small mountain lake. Two men wearing construction hardhats were surveying a line on the near shore where a third man studied a roll of blueprints he had unfurled across the hood of his work truck.

“Is that who I think it is?” I asked.

“They aim to fence off my water. My cows won’t last a week in this weather.”

“Have you talked to them, KC?”

He nodded.

“’Bout as useful as standing in a bucket and trying to lift yourself up by the handle. It’s the reason I finally called you, Ty. I didn’t know what else to do.”

The vein on KC’s temple palpitated as he cut his eyes toward the foothills and spat.

“I’ll have a word with them,” I said. “You wait here.”

A wintry wind had begun to blow down from the pass, pushing channels through the dry grass and the sweet scents of juniper and scrub pine. A harrier swept down out of a cluster of black oaks and made a series of low passes across the flats.

I averted my eyes as the sun glinted off the US Department of Fish & Wildlife shield affixed to the driver side door of a government-issue Chevy Suburban. The man studying the blueprints didn’t bother to lift his head or look at me as I stepped up beside him.

“Care to tell me why you and your men are trespassing on private ranch land?” I asked.

The man sighed, scrutinizing me over the frames of a pair of steel-rimmed reading glasses. He had a face that put me in mind of an apple carving, and a physique that resembled a burlap sack filled with claw hammers.

“Who the hell are you now?” he asked.

“Ty Dawson, Sheriff of Meriwether County. That’s the name of the county you’re standing in.”

He took off his reading glasses and slipped them into his shirt pocket, hitched a work boot onto the Suburban’s bumper and offered me an approximation of a smile.

“Well, Sheriff, I’m with Fish and Wildlife—that’s an agency of the federal government, as I’m sure you’re aware—and I have a work order that says I’m supposed to put up a fence. And that’s exactly what me and my crew are doing here.”

I gestured upslope, where KC Sheridan stood watching us, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“You’re on that man’s private property,” I said.

The government man made no move to acknowledge KC.

“I don’t split hairs over those types of details, Sheriff. The work order I’ve got lays out the metes and bounds of the line, and me and my crew just install the fence where it says to. It ain’t brain surgery.”

“Scoot over and let me have a look at that site map.”

“I oughtta radio this in.”

“You do whatever you think you need to,” I said. “But do it while I’m looking at your map.”

He lifted his chin and looked as though he was conducting a dialogue with himself, then finally stepped to one side. I studied the blueprint for a few moments, looked out across the rock-studded range and got my bearings.

“Looks to me like the boundary line for the bird refuge is at least a hundred yards to the other side of this reservoir,” I said. “Your map is mismarked.”

“The agency doesn’t mismark maps, Sheriff.”

“They sure as hell mismarked this one. You need to stop your work until this gets sorted out.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“Care to repeat that? There’s clearly been a mistake.”

“No mistake. You need to step away, Sheriff.”

“Let me explain something to you,” I said, removing my sunglasses. “It’s the law in the State of Oregon that the water that comes up on Mr. Sheridan’s property belongs to Mr. Sheridan. Period. If you fence off his reservoir—especially this late in the season—you’re not only stealing his water, you’re murdering his herd.”

The agency man lifted his foot off the bumper, set his feet wide and faced off with me. He slid both hands into the back pockets of his canvas overalls and rocked back on his heels.

“Now it’s my turn to try to explain something to you, Sheriff: I been given a job to do, and I intend to do it. If you don’t walk away right this minute and leave me to it, I will be forced to radio this in. Long and the short of it is, the guys who will come out here after me will have badges, too. And their badges are bigger than yours.”

“I won’t allow you to trespass onto private property, steal this man’s water and kill his livestock.”

He glanced at his two crewmen staking the line then turned his attention back to me.

“You going to arrest us?” he asked.

“What is it with you agency people? Why is it that your first inclination is to slam the pedal all the way to the floor?”

“When me and the boys come back out here, it won’t just be the three of us no more.”

“I’m finished talking about this,” I said. “Pack up your gear and go.”

I could feel his eyes boring holes into the back of my head as I picked my way back up the incline where Sheridan stood waiting for me.

“I can tell by your stride that you had the same kind of dialogue experience I had with that fella,” KC said.

“Bureaucrats with hardhats.”

“I ain’t no cupcake, Dawson. But, you know that those sonsabitches have been tweaking my nose for years.”

“Those men are part of a federal agency, KC, make no mistake. If you’re not careful, they’ll try to roll right over the top of you.”

“What do you call what they’re doing right now? I don’t intend to lay down for it.”

“I’m not saying you should.”

“What, then?”

“Get on the phone and call Judge Yates up in Salem,” I said. “Ask him if he can slap an injunction on these clowns until we get it sorted out.”

Sheridan’s horse pinned back his ears and began to shuffle his forelegs, responding to the tone our conversation had taken. KC calmed the animal with a caress of its neck, dipped into the pocket of his wool coat, snapped off a few pieces of carrot and fed it to the gelding from the flat of his palm.

“I’ll do it, Ty, but I swear to god—”

“KC, you call me before you do anything else, you understand?”

***

Author Bio

Baron R Birtcher is the LA TIMES and IMBA BESTSELLING author of the hardboiled Mike Travis series (Roadhouse Blues, Ruby Tuesday, Angels Fall, and Hard Latitudes), the award-winning Ty Dawson series (South California Purples, Fistful Of Rain, and Reckoning), as well as the critically-lauded stand-alone, RAIN DOGS.

Baron is a five-time winner of the SILVER FALCHION AWARD, and the WINNER of 2018’s Killer Nashville READERS CHOICE AWARD, as well as 2019’s BEST BOOK OF THE YEAR for Fistful Of Rain.

He has also had the honor of having been named a finalist for the NERO AWARD, the LEFTY AWARD, the FOREWORD INDIE AWARD, the 2016 BEST BOOK AWARD, the Pacific Northwest’s regional SPOTTED OWL AWARD, and the CLAYMORE AWARD.

Social Media Links

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/BaronRBirtcher/

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/books/reckoning-by-baron-birtcher

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/974486.Baron_R_Birtcher

Purchase Links

Blog Tour/Feature Post and Book Review: Remember Me by Mary Balogh

Hi, everyone!

Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for REMEMBER ME (Ravenswood Book #2) by Mary Balogh on this Berkley Blog Tour.

Below you will find and about the book section, my book review, an excerpt from the book, an about the author section and the author’s social media links. Enjoy!

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About the Book

Philippa, elder daughter of the Earl of Stratton, grew up eagerly anticipating a glittering debut and a brilliant marriage. Then her brother caught their father out in a clandestine affair and denounced him publicly. The whole family was disgraced, and Philippa’s hopes grew dim, then were fully shattered when she overheard the dashing, handsome Marquess of Roath viciously insult her upon learning of her father’s identity. Only years later does Philippa find the courage to go to London at last to meet the ton. She is an instant success and enjoys a close friendship with the granddaughter of a duke. Only one man can spoil everything for her, but surely he will not be in London this year.

The Duke of Wilby is nearing death and has tasked his grandson and heir, Lucas Arden, Marquess of Roath, with marrying and producing a son before it is too late. Lucas, who usually shuns London, goes there early in the Season in the hope of finding an eligible bride before his grandparents come and find one for him. He is instantly attracted to his sister’s new friend, until that young lady asks a simple question: “Remember me?” And suddenly he does remember her, as well as the reason why the daughter of the Earl of Stratton is the one woman he can never marry—even if his heart tells him she is the only woman he wants.

Unfortunately for Philippa and Lucas, the autocratic duke and his duchess have other ideas and believe them to be perfect for each other. They will simply not take no for an answer. Telling Philippa the full truth is the hardest thing Lucas has ever faced, and the discovery of it will change them both before they discover the healing power of love.

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/62802757-remember-me?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=mNbJnaBeq5&rank=1

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My Book Review

RATING: 4 out of 5 Stars

REMEMBER ME (Ravenswood Book #2) by Mary Balogh is an enchanting Regency historical romance. This is the second book in the Ravenswood series, and it can be read as a standalone, but to get Phillipa’s entire backstory, I suggest you read book #1, Remember Love first.

Lady Phillipa “Pippa” Ware grew up eagerly awaiting her first London season until the public disgrace of her family. After overhearing the handsome Marquess of Roath calling her “soiled goods” when he visited a neighbor, she refused to go to London and isolated herself on her family’s estate.

Four years later, with the encouragement of her brother who is now the Earl, she leaves for her first season in London.

Lucas Arden, Marquess of Roath has been tasked by his grandfather the Duke of Wilby, who is elderly and not well, to find a bride and produce an heir. When he attends his first ton event, he is attracted to his sister’s new friend. When he asks to be introduced, he learns Lady Phillipa overheard his long-ago hurtful words spoken to his friend. Pippa wants to know why he said those words, but Lucas has a terrible secret of his own which involves her dead father that he never wanted to share.

His grandparents like Pippa and believe she would be the perfect match for Lucas, but can they overcome their pasts and discover the healing power of love?

This is another entertaining historical romance from Ms. Balogh. The characters are fully developed, and the dialogue is witty. There is a lot of family interaction and at times, I wish it was more focused on the hero of heroine’s love story. The sex scene was between an experienced man and a virgin which is expected for the time, but it also seemed a bit one sided in execution which I do not expect in a romance written today. Lucas’s grandparents are wonderful characters in this story with a beautiful love story of their own.

Overall, another emotional addition to the Ravenswood series and I am looking forward to following the other Ware family members as they meet their HEA mates.

***

Excerpt

Voices hummed all around them and glass and china clinked as the other guests feasted upon the sumptuous tea set out before them. Spoons scraped upon dishes of fruit trifle. Philippa glanced down at her plate and was surprised to see that the cucumber sandwich had disappeared. She even had the taste of it in her mouth.

But would this tea, to which she had looked forward with such eager anticipation, never be over? She felt as though she were suffocating. The room seemed unnaturally stuffy.

“I have just realized to my shame that I have not yet spoken with at least one third of our guests,” Jenny said as she set her napkin down on the table. “I was so absorbed in my conversation with Pippa before you arrived, Luc, that I neglected everyone else. And I kept you from mingling too, Pippa, though I know you have very few acquaintances in London and came here to make some. I do apologize.”

“We can put your first concern to rest without further delay, Jenny,” Sir Gerald said, getting to his feet. “I see your wheeled chair in the corner here beside the mantel. Let me get you into it, and we will move about together from table to table, greeting people we have not already spoken with.”

He was fetching the chair as he spoke. He bent over his cousin and, with what was obviously practiced ease, lifted her into it.

“That is kind of you, Gerald,” Jenny said. “But now I am abandoning Pippa after begging her to stay with me. Luc, will you be so good as to give her your company until everyone begins to move about again?”

“It will be my pleasure,” he said while Philippa smiled and her heart thumped uncomfortably and she felt robbed of breath.

The Marquess of Roath was on his feet, moving his chair out of the way so the wheeled chair could pass behind it, and bending to tuck the hem of his sister’s dress about her ankles so it would not catch beneath a wheel.

When he sat down again, he did not move his chair back to where it had been. It was now closer to Philippa than before. She was aware again of the voices around them, seeming to enclose them in a cocoon of silence, which neither of them broke for a few moments. Their eyes met. His were brown, but not very dark. There were hints of green in them. He opened his mouth to speak, but she forestalled him. She had learned something in the last seven or eight months, since Devlin’s return home from the wars. She had learned the importance of speaking truth rather than suppressing it and living with the illusion that all would be well in her world if only she kept quiet about what was not well.

“Remember me?” she said.

* * * * *

The sound of many voices talking at once had grown louder as more of the guests finished eating. A few had risen from their places and were moving about to talk with fellow guests at other tables. Lady Philippa Ware had spoken quietly. Lucas was not quite sure he had heard her correctly.

But all through tea, while the four of them had chatted amiably and shared family anecdotes and laughed over them—his and Jenny’s and Gerald’s on the one hand, Lady Philippa’s on the other—he had been dragging up a distant memory from that place in the mind where one stuffs away gaffes one would dearly love to obliterate altogether if only it were possible. It was a memory from four or five years ago of going to spend Easter with James Rutledge, a friend from his Oxford years. James lived with his parents and siblings somewhere close to the village of…Boscombe? Lucas thought that was the name. It was in Hampshire anyway. When he had accepted the invitation, he had had no idea that the Earl of Stratton lived at Ravenswood Hall, a mere stone’s throw from the village. He had discovered it within a day or two of his arrival, however. James had taken him—because he had thought it would amuse Lucas—to watch a crowd of his neighbors practice maypole dancing in someone’s large barn, or what was supposedly a barn. It had clearly not seen either animals or hay for many a year, if ever.

Lady Philippa was not going to speak again, it seemed, until he did. But her eyes—those large, very blue eyes—did not waver from his own. And though she had spoken quietly, she had also spoken quite distinctly. He did not need to have her repeat the words.

Remember me?

“Have we met before, Lady Philippa?” he asked. But he had the ghastly feeling that they had.

Excerpted from Remember Me by Mary Balogh Copyright © 2023 by Mary Balogh. Excerpted by permission of Berkley. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

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About the Author

Mary Balogh has written more than one hundred historical novels and novellas, more than forty of which have been New York Times bestsellers. They include the Bedwyn saga, the Simply quartet, the Huxtable quintet, the seven-part Survivors’ Club series, and the Westcott series.

Social Media Links

Website: https://marybalogh.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorMaryBalogh/

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/mary-balogh

Friday Feature Author Interview with Elise Cooper: Girls and Their Horses by Eliza Jane Brazier

Book Description

When the nouveau riche Parker family moves to an exclusive community in the heart of Southern California, they believe it’s their chance at a fresh start. Heather Parker is determined to give her daughters the life she never had—starting with horses.

She signs them up for riding lessons at Rancho Santa Fe Equestrian, where horses are a lifestyle. Heather becomes a “Barn Mom,” part of a group of wealthy women who hang at the stables, drink wine, and prepare their daughters for competition.

It’s not long before the Parker family is fully enmeshed in the horse world—from mean girl cliques to barn romances and dark secrets. With the end of summer horse show fast approaching, the pressure is on, and these mothers will stop at nothing to give their daughters everything they deserve.

Before the summer is over, lies will turn lethal, accidents will happen, and someone will end up dead.

***

Elise’s Thoughts

Girls and Their Horses by Eliza Jane Brazier is more than just a book about horses. Readers should think about sports travel teams and stage mothers. Those parents who try to put their own dreams on their children and push them to succeed, even when the dream does not seem realistic. The book explores the world of competitive horse jumping, with overbearing mothers who push their children to compete, toxic coaches, and mean girls.

The story opens with a suspicious death at a horse show. Throughout the book readers are trying to figure out who has been killed since the author does not reveal the victim until late in the story. This adds to the suspense along with other accidents that put some of the girls in danger.

Besides the murder there is also bullying. One of the families, the Parkers, have joined the Rancho Santa Fe Equestrian Center, to make a fresh start. They left their Texas home because the youngest daughter, Maple, was constantly being bullied. Besides Maple, readers get the perspective of her sister Piper, her mom Heather, and some of the other families, Vera, and Pamela. While all appear superficial at the beginning of the book as readers get to know the characters they begin to like and dislike them.

Then there are the men in the story. Kieran, the owner of the center and the head trainer appears to only care about his prestige. Douglas works with the horses and is involved with some of the female characters. The father of Piper and Maple, Jeff, is only concerned about making money.

Anyone who has never read Brazier should start with this book. It is a fabulous story involving smoldering tension, manipulation, poisonous female friendships, and wealthy power dynamics, a depiction on the elite world of teen horse competitions.

***

Author Interview

Elise Cooper: Are you a horse person?

Eliza Jane Brazier: I live ten minutes from Rancho Santa Fe. I worked in the horse industry for several years as a working student, a rider in a training program, and a riding instructor. I would observe the different dynamics between parents and children, which is what was the original spark for this book. There were some incidents where a mom wanted to pass her dream of riding horses to her child.

EC: Do you think in the beginning of the book the characters appeared superficial?

EJB: My characters might have presented themselves that way. I want to write my characters taking a journey. In the beginning of the book as in most cases when someone first meets a person that person can appear superficial. It is only after the reader gets to know them, spending more time with them, they see the characters reveal themselves in a natural way.

EC: How would you describe Mable?

EJB: Bullied, which affected her. She went along to get along. Very anxious, jealous, with an attitude of woe is me. She idolizes her mom, is jealous of her sister Piper, and feels unlikeable.

EC: You describe the bullying affect?

EJB: Yes. Bullies tease, push people around, and humiliate them. By complaining or showing fear the bullies are energized. I was bullied. The scene in the book happened to me, where someone pulled me down by my hair and threw me on the ground. I wanted to show how a parent feels powerless and helpless in those type of situations. The bullying motivated Heather, Maple’s mom, because she really wants to help her child, but does not know how.

EC: How would describe Piper?

EJB: She is a go-getter, a problem solver, lonely, and tried to hide her feelings about horses.

EC: How about Heather?

EJB: She wants good things for her children and is very supportive. She does not see herself as a good mom. Heather is affected by being abandoned as a child. She has not dealt with her past and is not happy in her marriage. By marrying Jeff, Heather thought she would be safe and secure with him, someone to count on. They never had any romance or love in the relationship. Her focus is on making her children happy instead of making herself happy. Heather has lost herself as a person.

EC: What about Heather’s relationship with her daughters?

EJB: She can be pushy and controlling. Eventually she realizes this and tries to back down. Her journey is the backbone of the whole book. The premise is a mom’s influence over their children and how they should yield it. No parent should be completely hands off yet should not be domineering. The other mom, Pamela, lets her daughter Vida do whatever she wants and then there is Heather, who tries to figure out where she is as a parent.

EC: How would you describe Vida and her relationship with her mom?

EJB: A bully, self-centered, devious, basically a complete mean girl. Her mom Pamela related more to Maple than Vida.

EC: Can you explain why the mother quote?

EJB: You are referring to this one. “You would worry and torment and impact your kids for the rest of their lives. They would blame you for everything. They would blame you for nothing.” I have eight brothers and sisters, with thirty nieces and nephews. I get to observe many different dynamics between parents and their children. As people get older, they realize it is not about a right or wrong decision, but which decision will be the least harmful. With parenting the consequences are huge and somewhat scary because it affects someone’s life. The characters in the book have a complicated relationship with their parents.

EC: How would you describe Kieran, the owner of the Equestrian?

EJB: He thought himself of G-d, is obsessed, narcissist, manipulative, controlling, and intimidating. All that mattered to him are the horses.

EC: He abused humans, but did he also abuse horses?

EJB: Many readers who are not familiar with horses might think he abused them. ACE is a commonly used horse tranquilizer, which he gave the horse Commotion. It is something commonly used. It is administered to calm a horse, especially after an injury. ACE is a mild sedative. This does not mask a horse’s injury.

EC: Douglas played an important role in the story?

EJB: He was confident, patient, sensitive, passionate, and charming. But he was also desperate to be loved.

EC: What was the role of the horses?

EJB: They are beautiful and smart, powerful, and can help someone. I put in this book quote, “Anyone that did not believe in magic, had never written a horse.” The horse Commotion brought Piper out of her shell, but also created jealousy among the girls. Through Commotion everyone projected their dreams. Maybe Douglas and Piper appreciated the horse as a separate being, but they also wanted to see how they can achieve their dreams through the horse. Both looked on the horse as a friend.

EC: What about any movies/TV shows?

EJB: There is something in the works.

EC: Next book?

EJB: I went into a different direction. It is about a guy and gal who meet on an overnight sleeper train going from Florence to Paris. They have a flirtation, but he disappears. Both are contract killers. It has murder, romance, and adventure. It should be out the end of the summer next year.

THANK YOU!!

***

Blog Tour/Feature Post and Mini Book Review: The Paris Agent by Kelly Rimmer

Hi, everyone!

Today I am sharing a Feature Post and Book Review for THE PARIS AGENT by Kelly Rimmer on this HTP Books Summer 2023 Blog Tour.

Below you will find an about the book section, my mini book review, an excerpt from the book, an about the author section, and the author’s social media links. Enjoy!

***

About the Book

For fans of fast-paced historical thrillers like Our Woman in Moscow and The Rose Code, Rimmer’s brilliant new novel follows three female SOE operatives as their lives intersect in occupied France, and the double agent who controls their fate.

Twenty-five years after the end of the war, an aging Marcel Augustin is reflecting on his life during those perilous, exhilarating years as a British SOE operative in occupied France—in particular the agent who saved his life during a mission gone wrong, whose real name he never knew, nor whether she survived the war. Piqued by her father’s memories, Marcel’s daughter Charlotte begins a search for answers that resurrects the unrest and uncertainty from that period of his life. What follows is the story of Eloise, Josie and Virginia, three otherwise ordinary, average women whose lives intersect in 1943 when they’re called up by the SOE for deployment in France. Taking enormous risks to support the allied troops with very little information or resources, the three women have no idea they’re at the mercy of a double agent within their ranks who’s causing chaos within the French circuits, whose efforts will affect the outcome of their lives.

As Charlotte’s search for answers continues, new suspicions are raised about the identity of the double agent, with unsettling clues pointing to her father, and more mysteries are unearthed from the last days of the war about the eventual fates of Eloise, Josie and Virginia.

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/62197599-the-paris-agent?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=HchHqA89Xk&rank=1

The Paris Agent : A World War II Mystery

Kelly Rimmer

9781525826689

Trade Paperback

$18.99 USD

368 pages

***

My Mini Book Review

RATING: 4 out of 5 Stars

THE PARIS AGENT by Kelly Rimmer is a moving historical fiction novel written with dual intertwining timelines; one set during WWII in France following two female SOE operatives and the other set in 1970 England with a survivor trying to uncover the mystery surrounding their betrayals and deaths. This is a story that pulled me in emotionally and made it impossible to stop reading. Make sure you have the tissues handy for the ending.

This story is extensively researched and believable. The author makes you feel the emotional suspense and distress of the SOE operatives while they are in France. That these young women volunteered and were sent into occupied territory during WWII with only months of training and no guarantee they would return alive demonstrates their strength, bravery, and belief in freedom. The second story line follows a father and daughter duo looking for answers twenty-five years after WWII to fill in questions the father still has after a brain injury while with the SOE in France, but many of the documents are still classified. The two storylines come together is an emotional climax that is gut-wrenching and uncomfortable.

I highly recommend this historical fiction novel featuring strong women caught up in the horrors of war and the long-lasting emotional ripples that flow through their families.

***

Excerpt

Prologue

ELOISE

Germany

October, 1944

Perhaps at first glance, we might have looked like ordinary passengers: four women in civilian clothes, sitting in pairs facing one another, the private carriage of the passenger train illuminated by the golden light of a cloudless late-summer sunrise. Only upon closer inspection would a passerby have seen the handcuffs that secured us, our wrists resting at our sides, between us not because we meant to hide them but because we were exhausted, and they were too heavy to rest on our bony thighs. Only at a second glance would they have noticed the emaciated frames or the clothes that didn’t quite fit, or the scars and healing wounds each of us bore after months of torture and imprisonment.

I was handcuffed to a petite woman I knew first as Chloe, although in recent weeks, we had finally shared our real names with one another. It was entirely possible that she was the best friend I’d ever known—not that there was much competition for that title, given friendship had never come easy to me. Two British women, Mary and Wendy, sat opposite us. They had trained together, as Chloe and I had trained together, and like us, they had been “lucky enough” to recently find themselves imprisoned together too. Mary and Wendy appeared just as shell-shocked as Chloe and I were by the events of that morning.

As our captors had reminded us often since our arrests, we were plainclothes assassins and as such, not even entitled to the basic protections of the Geneva Convention. So why on earth had we been allowed the luxury of a shower that morning, and why had we been given clean civilian clothes to wear after months in the filthy outfits we’d been wearing since our capture? Why were they transporting us by passenger train, and in a luxurious private carriage, no less? This wasn’t my first time transferring between prisons since my capture. I knew from bitter personal experience that the usual travel arrangement was, at best, the crowded, stuffy back end of a covered truck or at worst, a putrid, overcrowded boxcar.

But this carriage was modern and spacious, comfortable and relaxed. The leather seats were soft beneath me and the air was clean and light in a way I’d forgotten air should be after months confined to filthy cells.

“This could be a good sign,” I whispered suddenly. Chloe eyed me warily, but my optimism was picking up steam now, and I turned to face her as I thought aloud. “I bet Baker Street has negotiated better conditions for us! Maybe this transfer is a step toward our release. Maybe that’s why…” I nodded toward our only companions in the carriage, seated on the other side of the aisle. “Maybe that’s why she’s here. Could it be that she’s been told to keep us safe and comfortable?”

Chloe and I had had little to do with the secretary at Karlsruhe Prison, but I had seen her in the hallway outside of our cell many times, always scurrying after the terrifyingly hostile warden. It made little sense for a secretary to accompany us on a transfer, but there she was, dressed in her typical tweed suit, her blond hair constrained in a thick bun at the back of her skull. The secretary sat facing against the direction of travel, opposite the two armed guards who earlier had marched me and Chloe onto the covered truck at the prison, then from the covered truck onto the platform to join the train. The men had not introduced themselves, but like all agents with the British Special Operations Executive, I’d spent weeks memorizing German uniforms and insignias. I knew at a glance that these were low-ranking Sicherheitsdienst officers—members of the SD. The Nazi intelligence agency.

The secretary spoke to the guards, her voice low but her tone playful. She held a suitcase on her lap, and she winked as she tapped it. The men both brightened, surprised smiles transforming their stern expressions, then she theatrically popped the suitcase lid to reveal a shockingly generous bounty of thick slices of sausages and chunks of cheese, a large loaf of sliced rye bread and…was that butter? The scent of the food flooded the carriage as the secretary and the guards used the suitcase as a table for their breakfast.

It was far too much food for three people but I knew they’d never share it with us. My stomach rumbled violently, but after months surviving on scant prison rations, I was desperate enough that I felt lucky to be in the mere presence of such a feast.

“I heard the announcement as we came onto the carriage— this train goes to Strasbourg, doesn’t it? Do you have any idea what’s waiting for us there? This is all a bit…” Wendy paused, gnawing her lip anxiously. “None of it makes sense. Why are they treating us so well?”

“This is the Strasbourg train,” Chloe confirmed cautiously. There was a subtle undertone to those words—something hesitant, concerned. I frowned, watching her closely, but just then the secretary leaned toward the aisle. She spoke to us in rapid German and pointed to the suitcase in her lap.

Had we done something wrong? More German words but it may as well have been Latin to me, because I spoke only French and English. Just then, the secretary huffed impatiently and pushed the suitcase onto the empty seat beside her as she stood. She held a plate toward me, and when I stared at it blankly, she waved impatiently toward Chloe and spoke again in German.

“What…”

“She wants you to take it,” Chloe translated for me, and I took the plate with my one free hand, bewildered. Chloe passed it to Wendy, and so on, until we all held plates in our hands. The secretary then passed us fat slices of sausage and cheese and several slices of bread each. Soon, our plates were filled with the food, each of us holding a meal likely more plentiful than we’d experienced since our arrival in France.

“She’s toying with us,” Mary whispered urgently. “She’ll take it back. She won’t let us eat it so don’t get your hopes up.”

I nodded subtly—I’d assumed the same. And so, I tried to ignore the treasure sitting right beneath my nose. I tried not to notice how garlicky and rich that sausage smelled, how creamy the cheese looked, or how the butter was so thick on the bread that it might also have been cheese. I told myself the increasing pangs in my stomach were just part of the torture and the smartest thing I could do was to ignore them altogether, but the longer I held the plate, the harder it was to refocus my mind on anything but the pain in my stomach and the feast in my hands that would bring instant and lasting relief.

When all the remaining food had been divided between us prisoners, the secretary waved impatiently toward the plates on our laps, then motioned toward her mouth.

“Eat!” she said, in impatient but heavily accented English.

Chloe and I exchanged shocked glances. Conditions in Karlsruhe Prison were not the worst we’d seen since our respective captures, but even so, we’d been hungry for so long. The starvation was worse for Chloe than me. She had a particularly sensitive constitution and ate a narrow range of foods in order to avoid gastric distress. Since our reunion at the prison, we’d developed a system of sharing our rations so she could avoid the foods which made her ill but even so, she remained so thin I had sometimes worried I’d wake up one morning to find she’d died in her sleep.

“What can you eat?” I asked her urgently.

She looked at our plates then blurted, “Sausage. I’ll eat the sausage.”

For the next ten minutes we prisoners fell into silence except for the occasional, muffled moan of pleasure and relief as we devoured the food. I was trying to find the perfect compromise between shoving it all into my mouth as fast as I could in case the secretary changed her mind and savoring every bite with the respect a meal like that commanded. By the time my plate was empty and my surroundings came back to me, the guards and the secretary were having a lovely time, laughing amongst themselves and chatting as if they didn’t have a care in the world.

For a long while, we prisoners traveled in silence, holding our plates on our laps at first, then after Wendy set the precedent, lifting them to our mouths to lick them clean. Still, the guards chatted and laughed and if I judged their tones correctly, even flirted with the secretary? It gradually dawned on me that they were paying us very little attention.

“How far is Strasbourg? Does anyone know?” I asked. Wendy and Mary shook their heads as they shrugged, but Chloe informed me it was hundreds of miles. Her shoulders had slumped again despite the gift of the food, and I nudged her gently and offered a soft smile. “We have a long journey ahead. Good. That means we have time for a pleasant chat while our bellies are full.”

By unspoken agreement, we didn’t discuss our work with the Special Operations Executive (SOE). It was obvious to me that each of the other women had been badly beaten at some point—Wendy was missing a front tooth, Mary held her left hand at an odd angle as if a fractured wrist had healed badly, and Chloe… God, even if she hadn’t explained to me already, I’d have known just looking at her that Chloe had been to hell and back. It seemed safe to assume we had all been interrogated literally almost to death at some point, but there was still too much at stake to risk giving away anything the Germans had not gleaned from us already. So instead of talking about our work or our peculiar circumstances on that train, we talked as though we weren’t wearing handcuffs. As though we weren’t on our way to, at the very best, some slightly less horrific form of imprisonment.

We acted as though we were two sets of friends on a casual jaunt through the countryside. We talked about interesting features outside our window—the lush green trees in the tall forests, the cultivated patches of farmland, the charming facades of cottages and apartments on the streets outside. Mary cooed over a group of adorable children walking to school, and Wendy talked about little shops we passed in the picturesque villages. Chloe shared longing descriptions of the foods she missed the most—fresh fruit and crisp vegetables, eggs cooked all manner of ways, herbs and spices and salt. I lamented my various aches and pains and soon everyone joined in and we talked as if we were elderly people reflecting on the cruelty of aging, not four twenty-somethings who had been viciously, repeatedly beaten by hateful men.

I felt the warmth of the sunshine on my face through the window of the carriage and closed my eyes, reveling in the simple pleasures of fresh air and warm skin and the company of the best friend I’d ever known. I even let myself think about the secretary and that picnic, and feel the relief that I was, for the first time in months, in the company of a stranger who had shown kindness toward me. I’d almost forgotten that was something people did for one another.

I’d never been an especially cheerful sort of woman and I’d never been an optimist, but those past months had forced me to stare long and hard at the worst aspects of the human condition and I’d come to accept a certain hopelessness even when it came to my own future. But on that train, bathed in early morning sunlight and basking in a full stomach and pleasant company, my spirits lifted until they soared toward something like hope.

For the first time in months, I even let myself dream that I’d survive to embrace my son Hughie again. Maybe, even after all I’d seen and done, the world could still be good. Maybe, even after everything, I could find reason to have faith.

***

About the Author

Kelly Rimmer is the worldwide, New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of The German Wife, The Warsaw Orphan, and The Things We Cannot Say. She lives in rural Australia with her husband, two children and fantastically naughty dogs, Sully and Basil. Her novels have been translated into more than twenty languages.

Social Media Links

Author website: https://www.kellyrimmer.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Kellymrimmer/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/KelRimmerWrites

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/kelrimmerwrites/

Purchase Links

Bookshop.org: https://bookshop.org/p/books/the-paris-agent-kelly-rimmer/18794141?ean=9781525826689

B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-paris-agent-kelly-rimmer/1143459526?ean=9781525826689

Books A Million: https://www.booksamillion.com/p/Paris-Agent/Kelly-Rimmer/9781525826689

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Paris-Agent-Kelly-Rimmer/dp/1525826689

Blog Tour/Feature Post and Book Review: Famous in a Small Town by Viola Shipman

Hi, everyone!

Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for FAMOUS IN A SMALL TOWN by Viola Shipman on this HTP Books Summer 2023 Blog Tour.

Below you will find a book summary, my book review, an excerpt from the book, and the author’s bio and social media links. Enjoy!

***

Book Summary

Fried Green Tomatoes meets Midnight at the Blackbird Café in USA Today bestselling author Viola Shipman’s FAMOUS IN A SMALL TOWN, a heartwarming story about intergenerational friendship and self-discovery, set in beautiful Northern Michigan.

In 1958, 15-year-old Mary Jackson became the first woman ever crowned The Cherry Pit Spittin’ Champion of Good Hart, Michigan, landing her in the Guinness Book of World Records, and earning her the nickname Cherry Mary. Nearly 80 years old at the story’s start, Mary runs The Very Cherry General Store, a business that has been passed through three generations of women in the family. While there is no female next of kin, Mary believes the fourth is fated to arrive, as predicted by “Fata Morgana,” a Lake Michigan mirage of four women walking side by side.

Becky Thatcher (yes, like the Mark Twain character), an Assistant Principal from St. Louis, has just broken up with her long-term boyfriend and heads to Good Hart for a healing girl’s trip with her best friend. When Becky drunkenly spits a cherry pit an impressive distance, Mary urges her to enter the upcoming contest, and wonders if Becky could be the woman she’s been waiting for.

Bursting with memorable characters and small-town lore, FAMOUS IN A SMALL TOWN is a magical story about the family you’re born with, and the one you choose.

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/62197591-famous-in-a-small-town?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=DazqmI3wX4&rank=3

Famous in a Small Town

Author: Viola Shipman

Publisher: Graydon House

Paperback Original

ISBN 978-1525804854

Price: $18.99

***

My Book Review

RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars

FAMOUS IN A SMALL TOWN by Viola Shipman is a wonderful women’s fiction story with romantic elements that is full of Michigan summertime vacation nostalgia, generational family drama, the bonds of friendship, and the discovery and belief in the power of women all delivered with a cherry on top. This is the perfect summertime read, especially if you are a fan of all things tart cherry.

Mary Jackson became “Cherry Mary” as a girl of fifteen when she won the cherry pit spitting distance contest in her small hometown of Good Hart, not only beating all the men, but also obtaining the Guinness World Record. Sixty-five years later, she is now eighty years old, still undefeated and runs her family’s Very Cherry General Store and waits for the girl she was told in her visions would come to carry on.

Becky Thatcher has turned forty and feels stuck in a monotonous life, with nothing to show for it. She and her best friend, “Q” take off for a vacation in Good Hart to relive the fun childhood holidays she remembers with her grandparents. When Becky spits a cherry pit, Mary witnesses the record breaker and believes Becky is the girl she has been waiting for. While not the vacation she was expecting, Becky works under Mary’s wing and soon discovers peace and beauty in the small town and the belief that Mary may be right, and this is where she is meant to be.

Enchanting, emotional, and memorable characters and landscapes are all present in this story. It is summertime memories, trips with grandparents, small town nostalgia all intertwined with everything tart cherry. The strength and power of women is a recurring theme throughout. The sweet romance is a relatively small subplot in this story, but it is relevant to both main characters. I feel this is the perfect summertime read and I loved it.

I highly recommend this very cherry women’s fiction!

***

Excerpt

THE LAKE EFFECT EXPRESS

August 1958

“Good News from Good Hart!”

by Shirley Ann Potter

It was the spit heard ’round the world!

Our town is still atwitter over the news that the daughter of Mr. Peter Jackson was crowned the 35th Annual Cherry Pit Spittin’ Champion of Leelanau and Emmet County last Saturday. Fifteen-year-old Mary Jackson, an Emmet County high-school sophomore, was not only the first woman—uh, girl—to win the contest, but her stone flew a Guinness Book of World Records–breaking distance of ninety-three feet six-and-a-half inches, shattering the previous record set by “Too Tall” Fred Jones in 1898 at the state’s very first Cherry Championship right here in Good Hart.

News of her accomplishment has flown farther than her cherry pit, with reporters from as far away as New York and London anointing our town sprite with the moniker “Cherry Mary.”

I caught up with Mary at the Very Cherry General Store—our beloved post office/grocery store/sandwich-

and-soda-shop run by Mary’s mother and grandmother—to see how she managed such a Herculean feat.

“My mom taught me to whistle when I was a kid (“A kid!” Don’t you just love that, readers?), and I had to be loud enough for her to hear me when she was down at the lake. I think that made my lips strong,” Mary says. “And I started eating sunflower seeds when I was fishing on the boat with my grandma. She taught me how to spit them without having the wind blow them back in the boat.”

Mary says she practiced for the contest by standing in the middle of M-119—the road that houses our beautiful Tunnel of Trees—and spitting stones into the wind when a storm was brewing on Lake Michigan.

“I knew if I could make it a far piece into the wind, I could do it when it was still.”

While her grandmother was “over the moon” for Mary’s feat, saying, “It’s about time,” Mr. Jackson says of his daughter’s accomplishment, “It’s certainly unusual for a girl, but Mary isn’t your average girl. Maybe all this got it out of her system, so to speak. I hope so for her sake.”

The plucky teenager seems nonplussed by the attention, despite seeing her face all over northern Michigan in the papers and the T-shirts featuring her face—cheeks puffed, stone leaving her mouth—and the words Cherry Mary in bright red over the image.

“A girl can do anything a man can,” Mary says in between retrieving mail, spreading mayonnaise on a tomato sandwich and twirling a cherry around in her mouth, before perfectly depositing the stone in a trash can across the room. “You just gotta believe you can. That’s the hard part. Harder than spitting any old pit.”

Mary seems ready to conquer the world, readers. Cheers, Cherry Mary! Our hometown heroine!

*******

BECKY

June 2023

“Okay, Benjie, would you like it if Ashley did this to you?”

He scrunches up his face to stave off tears and shakes his head. “No.”

“Well, it’s not a nice thing to do.”

I study Ashley’s hair, then take her face in my hands. “It’s going to be okay. Trust me?”

The little girl nods her head. I give her a hug.

I walk over to my desk and open the bottom drawer . There is a large jar of creamy peanut butter sitting next to a bag of mini Snickers. The peanut butter is for emergencies like this: removing gum from a little girls’ hair. The Snickers are for me after I’m finished with this life lesson.

“Well, I’m just glad neither of you are allergic to peanuts,” I say. “Allows me to do this.”

I cover the gum stuck in the back of Ashley’s pretty, long, blond hair and then look at her.

“I promise this works,” I say. “I’ve performed a lot of gum surgery.”

She nods. Her eyes are red from crying, her cheeks blotchy.

“Why did you do this, Benjie?” I ask the little boy seated in the chair before my desk.

He ducks his head sheepishly, his brown bangs falling into his eyes, and murmurs something into his chest.

“I didn’t catch that,” I say. “What did you say? Remember it’s okay to express your emotions.”

He looks at me, freckles twitching on his cheeks. “I can’t say,” he whispers.

“Yes, you can,” I say. “Don’t make this any worse than it already is.”

Benjie glances toward the door to ensure that it is closed. “Tyler Evans told me to do it or he’d punch me on the way home.”

Being a grade-school administrator is akin to being a detective: you have to work the perp to get the truth. Eventually—no matter the age—they break, especially when a verdict on punishment is waiting in the balance.

It’s the last day of school. Benjie does not want his summer to be ruined.

I lean down and slide the gum out of Ashley’s hair. I go to my sink, dampen a cloth and put some dish soap on it, return and clean the rest of the peanut butter off her locks. I move to a tall filing cabinet and retrieve a clean brush. The filing cabinet is filled with bags of sealed brushes and combs, toothbrushes and EpiPens, certificates and old laptops. I run the brush through her hair. I hold up a mirror for her to see the back of her head.

“See, good as new.”

“What do you say to Ashley, Benjie?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Do you accept his apology?”

Ashley shakes her head no. “You ruined the last day of school. You’re a big ol’ meanie.”

“Ashley,” I say, my tone sweet but authoritarian.

“I accept your apology,” she says.

“You’re free to go,” I say to her.

“But you’re still a big ol’ poop head,” she says, racing out of my office, bubblegum-free hair bouncing.

I actually have to clench my hands very hard to stifle a laugh.

Big ol’ poop head.

How many times a day would I—would any adult—like to scream that at someone?

“Are you telling my parents?” Benjie asks.

“I have to,” I say, “but I’ll tell them why you did it, and then I’ll have a talk with Tyler.”

“No!”

“I have to do that, too,” I explain. “And I’ll talk to his parents as well.”

He looks at me, his chin quivering.

“We have a zero-tolerance policy here for bullying,” I say. “Trust me, Tyler won’t do it again. You have to stand up to bullies. You have to show them the right way to do things. Otherwise, they never change.”

In addition to being a detective, an assistant principal is also akin to being the vice-president of the United States. Everyone knows your name, everyone knows you’ve achieved some level of status, but nobody really understands what the hell you do all day.

“I promise it will be okay,” I say. “Just promise me you won’t do it again. You’re a nice boy, Benjie. That’s a wonderful thing. Always remember that.”

“I promise.” He looks at me. “Can I go now?”

“One more thing. You know you aren’t supposed to bring gum to school.”

“I know. But one of the moms was handing it out before school.”

Mrs. Yates, I instantly know. She wants to be the cool mom. She’s Room Mom for 2A, and, Mrs. Trimbley, the Room Mom for 2B, told me that competing with her this year was like being a contestant in Squid Game.

Benjie continues. “It’s Bubble Yum. My favorite. My mom won’t let me have it because it’s bad for my teeth.”

Benjie opens his mouth and smiles. He resembles a jack-o’-lantern. He’s missing teeth here and there, willy-nilly, black holes where baby teeth once lived and adult teeth will soon reside.

Too late, I want to say to Benjie, but he won’t get my humor. Only my best friend, Q, understands it, and my grandparents who made me this way.

I think of how much I loved chewing gum as a kid.

“Do you have any more?”

“Am I going to get in trouble again?”

“No,” I say with a laugh.

He reaches into the pocket of his little jeans and hands me a piece of grape Bubble Yum.

My favorite.

“Do you know what my teacher used to say when I’d sneak gum into class?”

“You snuck gum into class?”

He stares at me with more admiration than if Albert Pujols from the St. Louis Cardinals suddenly appeared with an autographed baseball.

“I did,” I say. “It was about the only bad thing I ever did. My teacher used to hold out her hand in front of my desk and ask, ‘Did you bring enough gum to share with the whole class?’”

“Did you?” Benjie asks, wild-eyed.

“No,” I say. “That was the whole point. She wanted to embarrass me. And it always worked. Teachers just liked to say that.”

I take the gum from Benjie. “This is just between us, okay?”

He giggles and nods.

I pop the gum into my mouth. It’s even more insanely sweet and sugary and tastes even better than I remember. My taste buds explode. I chew, Benjie watching me with grand amusement, and then—looking out my window to make sure the coast is clear—blow a big bubble. A massive bubble, in fact. It expands until it’s the size of a small balloon. Benjie continues to watch me in silence as a child today might do today trying to figure out how to use a rotary phone. After a few moments, the flavor subsides.

“Want to learn a trick?” I ask.

“Yeah!”

“If you ever get caught chewing gum, don’t stick it in a nice girl’s hair or swallow it. Learn to do this.” I narrow my lips as if I’m going to whistle, puff my cheeks and spit my gum into the air as if Michael Jordan were draining a game-winning three-pointer as time expired. The purple gum arcs into the air and deposits directly into a trash can next to a low-slung sofa ten feet across my office.

Benjie pumps his fist and lifts his hand to high-five me.

“Where did you learn to do that?” he asks.

“Sunday school,” I wink. “My grandma taught me.”

***

Author Bio

VIOLA SHIPMAN is the pen name for internationally bestselling LGBTQIA author Wade Rouse. Wade is the author of fifteen books, which have been translated into 21 languages and sold over a million copies around the world. Wade chose his grandmother’s name, Viola Shipman, as a pen name to honor the working poor Ozarks seamstress whose sacrifices changed his family’s life and whose memory inspires his fiction. Wade’s books have been selected multiple times as Must-Reads by NBC’s Today Show, Michigan Notable Books of the Year and Indie Next Picks. He lives in Michigan and California, and hosts Wine & Words with Wade, A Literary Happy Hour, every Thursday.

Social Media Links

Author Website

Twitter: @Viola_Shipman

Facebook: Author Viola Shipman

Instagram: @Viola_Shipman

Goodreads

Purchase Links

HarperCollins: https://www.harpercollins.com/products/famous-in-a-small-town-viola-shipman?variant=40980279459874

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/famous-in-a-small-town-viola-shipman/1142722523

BookShop: https://bookshop.org/p/books/the-champion-of-good-hart-viola-shipman/18794129?ean=9781525804854

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1525804855/keywords=fiction?tag=harpercollinsus-20