Category: Historical Fiction

Blog Tour/Feature Post and Book Review: The Codebreaker’s Secret by Sara Ackerman

Hi everyone!

Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for THE CODEBREAKER’S SECRET by Sara Ackerman on this HTP Books Summer 2022 Historical Fiction Blog Tour.

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

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Book Summary

Dual-timeline historical fiction for fans of Chanel Cleeton and Beatriz Williams, THE CODEBREAKER’S SECRET is a story of codebreaking, secrets, murder, romance and longing.

1943 HONOLULU

Cryptanalysist Isabel Cooper manuevers herself into a job at Station Hypo after the attack on Pearl Harbor, determined to make a difference in the war effort and defeat the Japanese Army by breaking their coded transmissions. When the only other female codebreaker at the station goes missing, Isabel suspects it has something to do with Operation Vengeance, which took out a major enemy target, but she can’t prove it. And with the pilot she thought she was falling for reassigned to a different front, Isabel walks away from it all.

1965 MAUNA KEA BEACH HOTEL

Rookie journalist Lucy Medeiras has her foot in the door for her dream job when she lands the assignment to cover the grand opening of Rockefeller’s new hotel–the most expensive ever built. The week of celebrations is attended by celebrities and politicians, but Lucy gets off on the wrong foot with a cranky experienced reporter from New York named Matteo Russi. When a high-profile guest goes missing, and the ensuing search uncovers a decades-old skeleton in the lava fields, the story gets interesting, and Lucy teams up with Matteo to look into it. Something in Matteo’s memory leads them on a hunt that involves a senatorial candidate, old codes from WWII, and Matteo’s old flame, a woman named Isabel.

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/59040904-the-codebreaker-s-secret?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=ZKdjJFJ2u6&rank=1

THE CODEBREAKER’S SECRET

Author: Sara Ackerman

ISBN: 9780778386452

Publication Date: August 2, 2022

Publisher: MIRA Books

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My Book Review

RATING: 4 out of 5 Stars

THE CODEBREAKER’S SECRET by Sara Ackerman is an engaging historical fiction/mystery story told in the two intertwining timelines of 1943 and 1965 and both beautifully depicted on the lush Hawaiian Islands. This is a standalone story filled with intrigue, murder, and HEA love.

In 1943, Isabel “Izzy” Cooper has finally realized her dream to work as a codebreaker in Hawaii to avenge her brother’s death when Pearl Harbor was attacked. She meets her brother’s best-friend and pilot, Mateo Russi and as the two share their stories of her brother, they begin to get closer, but Russi has secrets of his own.

In 1965, Luana “Lu” Freitas lands her first big assignment covering the grand opening of Louis Roosevelt’s Mauna Kea Beach Hotel. Lu meets the famous Time magazine photographer, Mateo Russi who give her publishing advice as they become friends. When a famous singer goes missing and is believed dead, Lu and Russi begin to uncover secrets which have ties all the way back to Izzy and her codebreaking during WWII.

I enjoyed both timelines in this story and the mystery conclusion which tied them both together. Izzy and Lu are both strong, intelligent female lead characters. Russi is a man who has been shaped by loss and the war and I loved that he ultimately found peace and his HEA. All the characters were fully fleshed and believable. The plot starts a bit slow, but it does pick up and pulls you in so you cannot put the book down. The author does an amazing job of painting word pictures of Hawaii and the culture which makes for another layer to the story. The WWII history and the descriptions of the codebreaking failures and successes were interesting, also.

This is an intriguing historical fiction read with mystery and romance included.

***

Excerpt

2

THE CODEBREAKER

Washington, DC, September 1942

There was perhaps no more tedious work in the world. Sitting at a desk all day staring at numbers or letters and looking for patterns. Taking notes and making charts. Thinking until your brain ached. For days and weeks and years on end. The extreme concentration drove some to the bottle, others to madness, and yet others to a quiet greatness that less than ten people in the world might ever know about. You might work for a year on cracking a particular code, only to have nothing to show for it but a tic in your eye and a boil on the back of your thigh. Failure was a given. Accept that and you’d won half the battle.

Isabel sat at her desk staring at a page full of rows and columns of five-letter groups that made no sense whatsoever on this side of the world. But on the other side, in Tokyo where the messages originated, she knew that Japanese officials were discussing war plans. War plans that were on this paper. As her eyes scanned the page, she felt the familiar scratching at the subconscious that meant she was close to seeing some kind of pattern. A prick of excitement traveled up her spine.

Suddenly, a hand waved up and down in front of her face, rudely pulling her out of her thoughts. “Isabel, you gotta put a lid on that noise. No one else can do their jobs,” said Lieutenant Rawlings, her new boss.

She forced a smile. “Sorry, sir, most of the time I’m not aware that I’m doing it. I’m—”

“That may be the case but try harder. I don’t want to lose you.”

Isabel had a tendency to hum during her moments of deepest focus, which had gotten her in trouble with her supervisors over the past year and a half while at Main Navy. In fact, she’d been transferred on more than one occasion due to the distracting nature of it. She’d worked hard to stop it, but when she went into that otherworldly state of mind, where everything slid away and the images moved around in her head of their own accord, the humming kicked back in. It would be like asking her not to breathe.

Lately, the whole team had reached a level of frustration that had turned the air in the room sour. Though they’d had success with the old Red machine, this complex supercipher seemed impossible to break. Faith was draining fast.

With her dress plastered to her back, and sucking on the second salt tablet of the day, Isabel put her head down, scribbling notes on her giant piece of paper. September in Washington burned hotter than a brick oven. Thoughts of her brother, Walt, kept interfering with her ability to stay on task. He would have turned twenty-five years old today. Would have been flying around somewhere in the Pacific about now, shooting down enemy planes, and hooting and hollering when he landed his plane full of bullet holes on the flattop. Walt loved nothing more than the thrill of the chase. Every time she thought of him, a lump formed in her throat and she had to fight back the tears. No one had ever, or ever would, love her more than Walt had.

More than anything, Isabel wanted to get to Hawai‘i and see the spot where his plane plunged into the ocean. To learn more about his final days and hear the story straight from the mouths of his buddies. As if that would somehow make her feel better. She rubbed her eyes. For now, she was stuck here in this hellhole of a building, either sweltering or shivering, depending on what time of year it was.

At 1130, her friend Nora waltzed in from a break, looking as though she’d swallowed the cat. Nora had a way of knowing things before everyone else, and Isabel was lucky enough to be stationed at the desk next to hers.

“Spill the beans, lady,” Isabel said quietly.

Nora glanced around the room, dramatically. “Later.”

Most of the team was still out to lunch, save for a couple of girls across the room, and Rawlings behind the glass in his office.

“No one’s even here, tell me now.”

Nora came over and sat on Isabel’s desk, legs crossed. She picked up a manila folder and began fanning herself, then leaned in. “I’ve heard from a very good source that the brass are tossing around names for the lucky—or unlucky, depending on how you look at it—crypto being sent to Pearl.”

Station Hypo at Pearl Harbor was one of the two main codebreaking units in the Pacific. Nora knew how badly Isabel wanted to be there.

Isabel perked up. “Whose names are being tossed?”

“That, I don’t know.”

“Should I remind Rawlings to remind Feinstein that I’m interested?”

“Absolutely not.”

“It couldn’t hurt, could it?” Isabel said.

“Sorry, love, but those men would just as soon send a polar bear to Hawai‘i as a woman,” Nora said.

“You seem to forget that one of the best codebreakers around is female. And the only reason most of our bosses know anything is because she taught them,” Isabel said, speaking softly. This was the kind of talk that could get you moved to the basement. And Isabel did not do well in basements.

“Neither of us is Agnes Driscoll, so just get it out of your head. And even Agnes is not in Hawai‘i,” Nora whispered.

“There has to be a way.”

“Maybe if you dug up a cache of Japanese codebooks. Or said yes to Captain Smythe,” Nora said with a wink.

Nora and Isabel were a study in opposites. Her short red bob had been curled under and sprayed into place, her lips painted fire-engine red. She had a new man on her arm every weekend and walked around in a cloud of French lilac perfume that permeated their entire floor.

“I have no interest in Captain Smythe,” Isabel said.

Hal Smythe was as dull as they came. At least as far as Isabel was concerned. Intelligent and handsome, but sorely lacking any charisma and the ability to make her laugh—one of her main prerequisites in a man. She had no time to waste on uninteresting men. Or men in general, for that matter. There were codes to be cracked and enemies to be defeated.

“Well, then, you’d better pull off something big,” Nora said.

3

THE CELLAR

Indiana, March 1925

Five-year-old Isabel Cooper had just discovered a fuzzy caterpillar in her backyard, and was bent over inspecting its black-and-yellow pattern when a wall of black blotted the sun from the sky. Always a perceptive child, she looked to the source of the darkness. Clouds had bunched and gathered on the far horizon, the color of gunmetal and cinder and ash. Wind swirled her hair in circles. Isabel ran inside as fast as her scrawny legs would carry her.

“Walter, come look! Something weird is happening to the sky,” she yelled, letting the screen door bang behind her.

Walter had just returned home from school, and was standing in the kitchen with two fistfuls of popcorn and more in his mouth. Mom had gone to the grocery store, and Pa worked late every day at the plant, so it was just the two of them home.

Walter wiped his hands on his worn overalls and followed his sister outside. From a young age, Isabel discovered that Walt, three years older, would do just about anything his younger sister asked. By all accounts he was not your average older brother. He never teased, included her on his ramblings in the woods and never shied to put an arm around her when she needed it. Outside, the wind had picked up considerably, bending the old red oak sideways.

Walt stumbled past her and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, gaping. “Jiminy Christmas!”

Daytime had become night.

“What?” Isabel asked.

“Some kind of bad storm a-brewing. Where’s Lady?” Walt asked, looking around.

Their dog, Lady, had been lounging under the tree when Isabel ran inside, but was now nowhere to be seen. “I don’t know.”

“We better get into the shelter. I don’t like the looks of this.”

“I need Lady.”

The air had been as still as a morning lake, but suddenly a distant boom shook the sky. Moisture collected on their skin, dampening Isabel’s shirt.

“Lady!” they cried.

But Lady didn’t appear.

Walt held up his arm. “See this? My hair is standing up darn near straight. We gotta get under.”

Isabel looked at her arms, which felt tingly and strange. Instead of following her brother to the storm cellar, she ran to the other side of the house.

“Lady!” she yelled again, with a kind of wild desperation that tore at the inside of her throat.

A moment later, Walt scooped her up and tucked her under his arm. “Sorry, but we can’t wait anymore. She’ll have to fend for herself.”

Isabel kicked and punched at the air as they moved toward the cellar. “Put me down!”

Walt ignored her and kept running. His skin was sticky, his breath ragged. They had only used the cellar a couple times for storms, but on occasion Isabel helped her mother change out food supplies. The place gave her the creeps.

“What about Mom? We have to wait for her,” she said.

“Mom will know where to find us.”

In the distance, an eerie whistle rose from the earth. Seconds later, the wind picked up again, this time blowing the tree in the other direction. From the clouds, an ink black thing stuck out below. Walt yanked open the door, threw Isabel inside and fumbled around in the dark for a moment before finding the light. Roots crawled through cracks in the brick walls. They went down the steep stairs, Isabel’s face wet with tears and snot.

“Come, sit with me,” Walt said, pulling her against him on the old bench Pa had built.

Warmth flowed out of him like honey, and she instantly felt better. But then she thought about Lady and her mother, who were out there somewhere. Her whole body started shaking. Soon, a rumble sent vibrations through the wall and into Isabel’s teeth. Too scared to cry, she dug her fingers into Walt’s arm and hung on for dear life. Suddenly, a frantic scratching came from above.

Isabel jumped up, but Walt stopped her. “You stay down here.”

Walt climbed to the top and opened the door. The wind took it and slammed it down hard. A loud barking ensued, and Walt fought with the door again, finally managing to get it open and bring Lady inside. The air possessed a ferocity Isabel had never seen before.

Lady immediately ran down the steps and started licking Isabel’s arms and legs, and spinning in circles at her feet. Isabel hugged the big dog with all her might, burying her face in Lady’s long golden fur. When Walt came back down, the three of them huddled together as a roar louder than a barreling freight train filled their ears. Soon, Lady began panting.

Walt squeezed Isabel’s hand. “It’s okay, we’re safe down here.”

He had to yell to be heard. And then the light went out. Darkness filled every crack and crevice. The earth groaned. The door above rattled so fiercely that she was sure it would fly off at any moment. All Isabel could think about was her mother out there somewhere in this tempest. Soon, her lungs were having a hard time taking air in.

“I can’t breathe,” she finally said.

“It’s just nerves. They act up in times like these.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I had it happen before.”

She took his word for it, because it was hard to talk above the noise of the storm, and because Walt always knew what he was talking about. Then, directly overhead, they heard a sky-splitting crack and a thundering boom. The cellar door sounded ready to cave. Isabel and Walt and Lady moved to the crawl space under the steps. The three of them barely fit, even with Lady in her lap. Lady kissed the tears from Isabel’s face.

Finally, the noise began to recede. When there was no longer any storm sounds, Walt went up the steps with Isabel close behind. He pushed but nothing happened. Pushed again. Still nothing.

“Something must have fallen on it,” he said.

“I have to pee.”

“You’re going to have to wait.”

“I can’t wait.”

Walt banged away on the door with no luck. “Then I guess you have to go in your pants. Sorry, sis.”

Isabel began to grow sure that this was where they would live out the rest of their short lives. That no one had survived the apocalypse outside and they would be left to rot with the earthworms, roots growing through their bodies until they’d been reduced to dirt. Her whole body trembled as Walt spoke consoling words and rubbed her back.

“They’ll find us soon, don’t you fret.”

Lady licked her hand, but Isabel was beyond words, shivering and gulping for air. Every now and then Walt went up to try to push the doors again, but each time, nothing happened. She vowed to herself that she would never, ever be trapped underground again. She’d take her chances with a twister over being entombed any day.

It was more than an hour before someone came to get them. An hour of dark thoughts and silence. In the distance they heard voices, and eventually a pounding on the cellar door. “Are you three in there? It’s Pa,” said a voice.

“Pa!” they both cried.

“We got a big tree down on the door up here. Hang tight, I’ll get you out soon.”

When the doors finally opened, a blinding light shone in. Pa reached his hand in and pulled them out, wrapping them in the biggest hug they’d ever had. Never mind that the old truck was upside down and one side of the house missing.

“Where’s your mother?” Pa said.

“She went to the store,” Walt said.

Pa’s face dropped clear to the ground. “Which store did she say she was goin’ to?”

“She didn’t say, but she left just as soon as I got home from school,” Walt said.

Only half listening, Isabel spun around in disbelief at the chaos of branches and splintered wood and car parts and things that didn’t belong in the yard. Sink. Baby carriage. Bookshelf. It appeared as though the edge of the tornado had gone right over their place, leaving half the house intact, and obliterating the rest.

“Son, stay here with your sister. And stay out of the house until I get back. It might be unstable,” Pa said, running off to his car.

“Mom will be okay, won’t she? The store is safe, isn’t it?” Isabel asked.

“Sure she will. Pa will be back with her soon,” Walt said.

They wandered around the yard, dazed. This far out on the country road, the nearest neighbor, old Mr. Owens, was a mile away. Drained, Isabel sat down and pulled Lady in for a hug. Pa didn’t return for a long time, and when he did, they could tell right away that something was wrong. His eyes were rimmed in red, like he had been crying. And Pa never cried.

“Kids, your mom isn’t coming back.”

That was the first time Isabel Cooper lost the most important person in her life.

Excerpted from The Codebreaker’s Secret by Sara Ackerman. Copyright © 2022 by Sara Ackerman. Published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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Author Bio

Sara Ackerman is a USA TODAY bestselling author who writes books about love and life, and all of their messy and beautiful imperfections. She believes that the light is just as important as the dark, and that the world is in need of uplifting stories. Born and raised in Hawaii, she studied journalism and later earned graduate degrees in psychology and Chinese medicine. She blames Hawaii for her addiction to writing, and sees no end to its untapped stories

Social Media Links

Author Website: https://www.ackermanbooks.com/ 

Facebook: @ackermanbooks

Twitter: @AckermanBooks

Instagram: @saraackermanbooks

Purchase Links

BookShop.org

Harlequin

Barnes & Noble

Amazon

Books-A-Million

Powell’s

Book Tour/Feature Post and Book Review: The Shadow of the Mole by Bob Van Laerhoven

Hi, everyone!

Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for THE SHADOW OF THE MOLE by Bob Van Laerhoven on this Black Coffee Book Tour.

Below you will find an 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

1916, Bois de Bolante, France. The battles in the trenches are raging fiercer than ever. In a deserted mineshaft, French sappeurs discover an unconscious man, and nickname him The Mole.

Claiming he has lost his memory, The Mole is convinced that he’s dead, and that an Other has taken his place. The military brass considers him a deserter, but front physician and psychiatrist-in-training Michel Denis suspects that his patient’s odd behavior is stemming from shellshock, and tries to save him from the firing squad.

The mystery deepens when The Mole begins to write a story in écriture automatique that takes place in Vienna, with Dr. Josef Breuer, Freud’s teacher, in the leading role. Traumatized by the recent loss of an arm, Denis becomes obsessed with him, and is prepared to do everything he can to unravel the patient’s secret.

Set against the staggering backdrop of the First World War, The Shadow Of The Mole is a thrilling tableau of loss, frustration, anger, madness, secrets and budding love. The most urgent question in this extraordinary story is: when, how, and why reality shifts into delusion?

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/60422637-the-shadow-of-the-mole?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=Oitac44BjW&rank=1

The Shadow of the Mole

By Bob Van Laerhoven

  • Genre:  Literary fiction; historical fiction
  • Print length: 422 pages
  • Age range: This is an adult book
  • Trigger warnings: Realistic wartime violence and death
  • Goodreads Rating: 4.5 *

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My Book Review

RATING: 4 out of 5 Stars

THE SHADOW OF THE MOLE by Bob Van Laerhoven is a dark and intriguing historical fiction/mystery set in France during WWI featuring a man found with amnesia and the young psychiatrist who wants to uncover his identity.

As the French tunnel beneath the German lines in the Argonne during WWI, a group of diggers discover an unconscious man in a connecting abandoned mining shaft. He is taken to the hospital at the front and when he wakes up, he claims he has no memory. The staff refer to him as “The Mole”.

Michel Denis is a young psychiatrist who volunteered to work at the front and in an explosion loses his arm. He continues to help as much as possible and he becomes intrigued with the man brought in from the tunnel called The Mole. He is determined to uncover his identity and discover how he ended up in the tunnel. The Mole asks for paper and pen and writes his story, but what is the truth?

This story is an intriguing look at the psychological impact of war on the psyche. Everyone in this story deal with the horrors of war but continue to have a grain of hope for the future. I feel this is more literary fiction with the continual psychiatric analysis of The Mole, his writing, and Michel’s thoughts on the self. That is not a negative criticism, just a heads up to readers who are looking for more of a genre style historical mystery. The settings are descriptive and the emotions palpable in both the story as told by Michel in present day and The Mole’s writing of his life. An interesting read.

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Excerpt

Part I

Prologue 

 
’      ’, they murmured, with their heads bowed, a prayer to La Sainte Vierge1. Their voices were soft and solemn, like when they were chil‐ dren. In the shadows, their lanterns sparked the dust into a golden mist, as they hacked their way into the earth. 

Jean Dumoulin used to hum softly but melodically during his work in the tunnels. His fellow diggers had nicknamed him ‘the canary’. Of late, he had taken to murmuring the bawdiest beer hall songs he knew, for the frankly insane reason that his regiment, the 13th French Infantry, had received the audacious orders to dig tunnels under the German tunnels at the spot that everybody in the Argonne-region called Fille Morte2. 

That day, February 26, 1916, Jean Dumoulin had turned to inventing his own songs. Faced with the threat of German tunnels above him, he sang only in his mind. Dumoulin liked to surprise himself with whatever words came to him. The words made him feel different: not a twenty-six-year-old French soldier clawing away in near darkness, but more like a classic Greek poet, posing with a lyre on a mountain top overlooking a shimmering sea. 

3

Dumoulin was crooning Ma bouche sera un enfer de douceur/tu crias ton armée de douleur3, while he used his pick-axe to clear the rubble around the entrance of an old mine gallery they had discovered. He pondered which verse would come next: ton amour armé or ton amour blindé?4 

It was then he saw the body lying in the gallery. From time to time, when they were grubbing in the earth, a shovel would uncover a half-buried body. They couldn’t always tell if the stiff was German or French. Often, all that was left was a rotten lump of meat. In spite of the stench and their revulsion, the sappers would try to identify it. Who else would do so? They thought of all the missing men and their anxious relatives and loved ones and they searched the body for anything that could lead to its identification. 

“Nom de Dieu,” Dumoulin hissed over his shoulder to his companion Guillaume. “Another stiff. Hope this one doesn’t break in half like the other one.” Neither had actually seen the mummified corpse of a miner, perished years ago in the coal mines, who was said to have cracked in half when tunnel diggers brought it to the surface, but the story was legendary and if you denied it, you were just a cynic. 

Cursing under his breath, Jean moved forward. When his hands touched the body, he jerked away as though someone had stabbed him. 

4

Chapter One 

So softly treads the night. 

Standing behind my right shoulder. No breath reaches my skin. 

5

Chapter Two 

‘ ‘, at the horizon. The Meurisson Valley, home to the field hospital which served the whole region, lay in Bois de Bolante, a low-lying part of the great Argonne woods. Dr Michel Denis walked there through the trenches. The recovery area was crudely constructed – a semi-underground complex harboring medical provisions, ammunition and food storage, bathhouses and a sickbay. Like everyone else who worked there, Denis was curious about the infamous ‘Mole’, and he wanted a closer look. The sappers digging tunnels under the German lines had found the unconscious man, dressed in civvies, in the tunnel of an old charcoal burner. A day later, the man was still unconscious. 

In the sickbay, Denis went to the patient’s bed and studied his facial features. Wide ears, a somewhat beaked nose and jowly cheeks, perhaps Semitic. Denis guessed The Mole’s age at about forty-five. Baggy blue skin under the eyes. As he made these observations, Denis came closer and now he stood at the bedside. Startled, he glanced at where his own right arm, severed by a piece of shrapnel, should have been. Involuntarily, he was reaching out with his phantom limb to touch the man’s left leg. All at once, a hail of shells 

6

The Shadow Of The Mole 

passed over, as though the memory of that shrapnel had provoked the Germans at the north side of the Meurisson Valley. The shells drummed the basement walls with their deafening low thunder. Denis pictured the men in the icy trenches at the front, frantically seeking shelter. Since February 12th, after heavy snowfall, a light thaw had set in. It drenched the trenches with cold, gurgling mud, and inundated the mine corridors, used to infiltrate enemy territory, with melted ice: sluggish, foul-reeking, and copper-coloured. 

An explosion shook the basement. Denis looked around him. Rumour had it that the Germans, being technically advanced, had electric lighting in their shelters. The French hospital had to make do with candle lanterns. As a result, bizarre shadows waved on the walls in a slow, undulating rhythm. No wonder the wounded called the hospital le pot de chambre de la France. At the moment, the chamber pot of France was a dazzling phantasmagoria of shapes chasing each other on the walls and the floor. Light and darkness played on The Mole’s face. 

In the shadows, the man opened his eyes.

***

About the Author

Bob van Laerhoven is a Belgian writer and traveller whose work has been translated into most European languages, as well as Russian and Chinese.

He made his debut as a novelist in 1985 with “Nachtspel – Night Game.” He quickly became known for his colorful, kaleidoscopic novels in which the fate of the individual is closely related to broad social transformations. His style slowly evolved in his later novels to embrace more personal themes while continuing to branch out into the world at large. International flair has become his trademark.

As a travel writer he has explored conflicts and trouble-spots across the globe from the early 1990s to 2004. Echoes of his experiences on the road also trickle through in his novels. During the Bosnian war, Van Laerhoven spent part of 1992 in the besieged city of Sarajevo. Three years later he was working for MSF – Doctors without frontiers – in the Bosnian city of Tuzla during the NATO bombings.

All these experiences contribute to Bob Van Laerhoven’s rich and commendable oeuvre, as the versatile author of novels, travel stories, theatre pieces, biographies, non-fiction, letters, columns, articles…

His work has received many accolades.

  • The Hercule Poirot Prize for best crime-novel of the year with “De Wraak van Baudelaire – Baudelaire’s Revenge”
  • Also for Baudelaire’s Revenge, the USA BEST BOOK AWARD 2014 in the category Fiction: mystery/suspense.
  • “Dangerous Obsessions” was voted “best short story collection of 2015 in The San Diego Book Review.
  • “Heart Fever” was one of the five finalists – and the only non-American author – of the Silver Falchion Award 2018 in the category “short stories collections.”
  • “Return to Hiroshima”, was listed in the top ten of international crime novels in 2018 in the British quality review blog “MurderMayhem&More”
  • “Alejandro’s Lie” was named the best political thriller of 2021 by BestThrillers.com

Social Media Links

Website: https://www.bobvanlaerhoven.be/en

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/bob.vanlaerhoven/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/bobvanlaerhoven

Purchase Link

http://mybook.to/ShadowOfTheMole

Blog Tour/Feature Post and Book Review: The Librarian Spy by Madeline Martin

Hi, everyone!

Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for THE LIBRARIAN SPY: A Novel of World War II by Madeline Martin on this HTP Books Summer 2022 Historical Fiction 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

From the New York Times bestselling author of The Last Bookshop in London comes a moving new novel inspired by the true history of America’s library spies of World War II.

Ava thought her job as a librarian at the Library of Congress would mean a quiet, routine existence. But an unexpected offer from the US military has brought her to Lisbon with a new mission: posing as a librarian while working undercover as a spy gathering intelligence.

Meanwhile, in occupied France, Elaine has begun an apprenticeship at a printing press run by members of the Resistance. It’s a job usually reserved for men, but in the war, those rules have been forgotten. Yet she knows that the Nazis are searching for the press and its printer in order to silence them.

As the battle in Europe rages, Ava and Elaine find themselves connecting through coded messages and discovering hope in the face of war.

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/58787295-the-librarian-spy?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=VNeCPKaWp8&rank=1

The Librarian Spy

Author: Madeline Martin

ISBN: 9781335427465

Publication Date: July 26, 2022

Publisher: Hanover Square Press

***

My Book Review

RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars

THE LIBRARIAN SPY: A Novel of World War II by Madeline Martin is an emotional historical fiction story featuring two young women, one American and one French during WWII who understand the power of the written word during a world gone mad. The author does not shy away from the sacrifice, tragedy, and horror of the war, so keep the tissues close.

Ava loves her job in the Rare Books department in the Library of Congress. Fluent in English, French and German, she is offered a position by the US military in the Lisbon embassy gathering periodicals, copying them to microfilm and sending them back to Washington D.C. to be disseminated. With her brother in the Army, she feels a duty to help in any way she is able.

In Lyon, France, Elaine discovers her husband has been keeping a secret from her. She has fought with him to allow her to help the Resistance. When he is arrested, she learns the truth. Elaine is willing to do anything to help so she is taught how to use the printing presses that put out the truth of their occupation. Rigid curfews, starvation rations and the possibility of arrest, imprisonment, deportation, and death are ever present.

The two cross paths through Elaine’s paper as she asks for help in a coded message to assist a Jewish mother and child escape. Ava feels for the refugees and after not being able to help an older man she becomes fond of; she is determined to assist this mother and child. Amongst all the loss and death, Ava and Elaine’s stories become intertwined.

I loved this book! Both Elaine and Ava understood the importance of what they were doing even with the terrible loss of friends and family during a horrific time in history. All the characters in this story were realistically portrayed and believable. Ms. Martin did an excellent job of integrating true stories of the horrors perpetrated by Klaus Barbie and his atrocities in Lyon against innocents and the Resistance, the Allied and Nazi covert spies in Portugal and America’s shame in ignoring the plight of the Jewish refugees. For all the HEA moments at the end of this story, there are realistic scenes of the horrors of war depicted in this book.

I highly recommend this WWII historical fiction!

***

Excerpt

April 1943

Washington, DC

There was nothing Ava Harper loved more than the smell of old books. The musty scent of aging paper and stale ink took one on a journey through candlelit rooms of manors set amid verdant hills or ancient castles with turrets that stretched up to the vast, unknown heavens. These were tomes once cradled in the spread palms of forefathers, pored over by scholars, devoured by students with a rapacious appetite for learning. In those fragrant, yellowed pages were stories of the past and eternal knowledge.

It was a fortunate thing indeed she was offered a job in the Rare Book Room at the Library of Congress where the archaic aroma of history was forever present.

She strode through the middle of three arches to where the neat rows of tables ran parallel to one another and carefully gathered a stack of rare books in her arms. They were different sizes and weights, their covers worn and pages uneven at the edges, and yet somehow the pile seemed to fit together like the perfect puzzle. Regardless of the patron who left them after having requested far more than was necessary for an afternoon’s perusal.

Their eyes were bigger than their brains. It was what her brother, Daniel, had once proclaimed after Ava groused about the common phenomena—one she herself had been guilty of—when he was home on leave.

Ever since, the phrase ran through her thoughts on each encounter of an abandoned collection. Not that it was the fault of the patron. The philosophical greats of old wouldn’t be able to glean that much information in an afternoon. But she liked the expression regardless and how it always made her recall Daniel’s laughing gaze as he said it.

They’d both inherited their mother’s moss green eyes, though Ava’s never managed to achieve that same sparkle of mirth so characteristic of her older brother.

A glance at her watch confirmed it was almost noon. A knot tightened in her stomach as she recalled her brief chat with Mr. MacLeish earlier that day. A meeting with the Librarian of Congress was no regular occurrence, especially when it was followed by the scrawl of an address on a slip of paper and the promise of a new opportunity that would suit her.

Whatever it was, she doubted it would fit her better than her position in the Rare Book Room. She absorbed lessons from these ancient texts, which she squeezed out at whim to aid patrons unearth sought-after information. What could possibly appeal to her more?

Ava approached the last table at the right and gently closed La Maison Reglée, the worn leather cover smooth as butter beneath her fingertips. The seventeenth century book was one of the many gastronomic texts donated from the Katherine Golden Bitting collection. She had been a marvel of a woman who utilized her knowledge in her roles at the Department of Agriculture and the American Canners Association.

Every book had a story and Ava was their keeper. To leave her place there would be like abandoning children.

Robert floated in on his pretentious cloud and surveyed the room with a critical eye. She clicked off the light lest she be subjected to the sardonic flattening of her coworker’s lips.

He held out his hand for La Maison Reglée, a look of irritation flickering over his face.

“I’ll put it away.” Ava hugged it to her chest. After all, he didn’t even read French. He couldn’t appreciate it as she did.

She returned the tome to its collection, the family reunited once more, and left the opulence of the library. The crisp spring DC air embraced her as she caught the streetcar toward the address printed in the Librarian of Congress’s own hand.

Ava arrived at 2430 E Street, NW ten minutes before her appointment, which turned out to be beneficial considering the hoops she had to jump through to enter. A stern man, whose expression did not alter through their exchange, confronted her at a guardhouse upon entry. Apparently, he had no more understanding of the meeting than she.

Once finally allowed in, she followed a path toward a large white-columned building.

Ava snapped the lid on her overactive imagination lest it get the better of her—which it often did—and forced herself onward. After being led through an open entryway and down a hall, she was left to sit in an office possessing no more than a desk and two hardbacked wooden chairs. They made the seats in the Rare Book Room seem comfortable by comparison. Clearly it was a place made only for interviews.

But for what?

Ava glanced at her watch. Whoever she was supposed to meet was ten minutes late. A pang of regret resonated through her at having left her book sitting on her dresser at home.

She had only recently started Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca and was immediately drawn in to the thrill of a young woman swept into an unexpected romance. Ava’s bookmark rested temptingly upon the newly married couple’s entrance to Manderley, the estate in Cornwall.

The door to the office flew open and a man whisked in wearing a gray, efficient Victory suit—single breasted with narrow lapels and absent any cuffs or pocket flaps—fashioned with as little fabric as was possible. He settled behind the desk. “I’m Charles Edmunds, secretary to General William Donovan. You’re Ava Harper?”

The only name familiar of the three was her own. “I am.”

He opened a file, sifted through a few papers, and handed her a stack. “Sign these.”

“What are they?” She skimmed over them and was met with legal jargon.

“Confidentiality agreements.”

“I won’t sign anything I don’t read fully.” She lifted the pile.

The text was drier than the content of some of the more lackluster rare books at the Library of Congress. Regardless, she scoured every word while Mr. Edmunds glared irritably at her, as if he could will her to sign with his eyes. He couldn’t, of course. She waited ten minutes for his arrival; he could wait while she saw what she was getting herself into.

Everything indicated she would not share what was discussed in the room about her potential job opportunity. It was nothing all too damning and so she signed, much to the great, exhaling impatience of Mr. Edmunds.

“You speak German and French.” He peered at her over a pair of black-rimmed glasses, his brown eyes probing.

“My father was something of a linguist. I couldn’t help but pick them up.” A visceral ache stabbed at her chest as a memory flitted through her mind from years ago—her father switching to German in his excitement for an upcoming trip with her mother for their twenty-year anniversary. That trip. The one from which her parents had never returned.

“And you’ve worked with photographing microfilm.” Mr. Edmunds lifted his brows.

A frown of uncertainty tugged at her lips. When she first started at the Library of Congress, her duties had been more in the area of archival than a typical librarian role as she microfilmed a series of old newspapers that time was slowly eroding. “I have, yes.”

“Your government needs you,” he stated in a matter-of-fact manner that broached no argument. “You are invited to join the Office of Strategic Services—the OSS—under the information gathering program called the Interdepartmental Committee for the Acquisition of Foreign Publications.”

Her mind spun around to make sense of what he’d just said, but her mouth flew open to offer its own knee-jerk opinion. “That’s quite the mouthful.”

“IDC for short,” he replied without hesitation or humor. “It’s a covert operation obtaining information from newspapers and texts in neutral territories to help us gather intel on the Nazis.”

“Would I require training?” she asked, unsure how knowing German equipped her to spy on them.

“You have all the training you need as I understand it.”

He began to reassemble the file in front of him. “You would go to Lisbon.”

“In Portugal?”

He paused. “It is the only Lisbon of which I am aware, yes.”

No doubt she would have to get there by plane. A shiver threatened to squeeze down her spine, but she repressed it. “Why am I being recommended for this?”

“Your ability to speak French and German.” Mr. Edmunds held up his forefinger. “You know how to use microfilm.” He ticked off another finger. “Fred Kilgour recommends your keen intellect.” There went another finger.

That was a name she recognized.

She aided Fred the prior year when he was microfilming foreign publications for the Harvard University Library. After the months she’d spent doing as much for the Library of Congress, the process had been easy to share, and he had been a quick learner.

“And you’re pretty.” Mr. Edmunds sat back in his chair, the final point made.

The compliment was as unwarranted in such a setting as it was unwelcome. “What does my appearance have to do with any of this?”

He lifted a shoulder. “Beauties like yourself can get what they want when they want it. Except when you scowl like that.” He nodded his chin up. “You should smile more, Dollface.”

That was about enough.

“I did not graduate top of my class from Pratt and obtain a much sought-after position at the Library of Congress to be called ‘Dollface.’” She pushed up to standing.

“And you’ve got steel in that spine, Miss Harper.” Mr. Edmunds ticked the last finger.

She opened her mouth to retort, but he continued. “We need this information so we best know how to fight the  Krauts. The sooner we have these details, the sooner this war can be over.”

She remained where she stood to listen a little longer. No doubt he knew she would.

“You have a brother,” he went on. “Daniel Harper, staff sergeant of C Company in Second Battalion, 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment, in the 101st Airborne Division.”

The Airborne Division. Her brother had run toward the fear of airplanes despite her swearing off them.

“That’s correct,” she said tightly. Daniel would never have been in the Army were it not for her. He would be an engineer, the way he’d always wanted.

Mr. Edmunds took off his glasses and met her gaze with his small, naked eyes. “Don’t you want him to come home sooner?”

It was a dirty question meant to slice deep.

And it worked.

The longer the war continued, the greater Daniel’s risk of being killed or wounded. 

She’d done everything she could to offer aid. When the ration was only voluntary, she had complied long before it became law. She gave blood every few months, as soon as she was cleared to do so again. Rather than dance and drink at the Elk Club like her roommates, Ava spent all her spare time in the Production Corps with the Red Cross, repairing uniforms, rolling bandages, and doing whatever was asked of her to help their men abroad.

She even wore red lipstick on a regular basis, springing for the costly tube of Elizabeth Arden’s Victory Red, the civilian counterpart to the Montezuma Red servicewomen were issued. Ruby lips were a derisive biting of the thumb at Hitler’s war on made-up women. And she would do anything to bite her thumb at that tyrant. 

Likely Mr. Edmunds was aware of all this.

“You will be doing genuine work in Lisbon that can help bring your brother and all our boys home.” Mr. Edmunds got to his feet and held out his hand, a salesman with a silver tongue, ready to seal the deal. “Are you in?”

Ava looked at his hand. His fingers were stubby and thick, his nails short and well-manicured.

“I would have to go on an airplane, I’m assuming.”

“You wouldn’t have to jump out.” He winked.

Her greatest fear realized.

But Daniel had done far more for her.

It was a single plane ride to get to Lisbon. One measly takeoff and landing with a lot of airtime in between. The bottoms of her feet tingled, and a nauseous swirl dipped in her belly.

This was by far the least she could do to help him as well as every other US service member. Not just the men, but also the women whose roles were often equally as dangerous.

She lifted her chin, leveling her own stare right back. “Don’t ever call me ‘Dollface’ again.”

“You got it, Miss Harper,” he replied.

She extended her hand toward him and clasped his with a firm grip, the way her father had taught  her. “I’m in.”

He grinned. “Welcome aboard.”

***

Author Bio

Madeline Martin is a New York Times and international bestselling author of historical fiction novels and historical romance. She lives in sunny Florida with her two daughters, two incredibly spoiled cats and a husband so wonderful he’s been dubbed Mr. Awesome. She is a die-hard history lover who will happily lose herself in research any day. When she’s not writing, researching or ‘moming’, you can find her spending time with her family at Disney or sneaking a couple spoonfuls of Nutella while laughing over cat videos. She also loves travel, attributing her fascination with history to having spent most of her childhood as an Army brat in Germany.

Social Media Links

Author Website

Twitter: @MadelineMMartin 

Facebook: @MadelineMartinAuthor

 Instagram: @madelinemmartin

Goodreads

Purchase Links

San Marco Books, Signed Copies for Preorders!

Story & Song Books, Signed Copies for Preorders!

BookShop.org

Harlequin 

Barnes & Noble

Amazon

Books-A-Million

Book Review: The Nurse’s Secret by Amanda Skenandore

RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars

THE NURSE’S SECRET by Amanda Skenandore is a historical fiction novel with romantic elements featuring a young female protagonist set in 1880’s New York City’s Bellevue Hospital. This is a standalone novel with great characters, a bit of sweet romance and a suspense murder mystery plot intertwined throughout.

New York City’s Bellevue Hospital is the first hospital in the U.S. to initiate a nursing school based on the principles of Florence Nightingale. The young ladies must be of high moral character, educated and from upper class homes. There is a strict code of decorum, discipline and work ethic that must be followed to remain in the program. Una Kelly is none of these things. Una is a con artist, pickpocket and thief who is found at the scene of a murder, arrested, and then escapes. She cons her way into the nursing program with the help of a friend to hide from the police.

With the help of her roommate, Una finds she is capable of pulling off this deception and even finds she is good with the patients. A young doctor in training is interested in the unique nurse probationer, but Una is afraid to admit she is not who she seems. But when a woman from her past shows up and threatens Una’s ruse, she is killed in the same method as the man Una is accused of killing.

Una knows someone is killing in Bellevue and it is like the murder she is accused of. She sets a trap, but she may end up the victim of this serial killer.

I loved this book and all the characters. Una is street smart and thick skinned due to her upbringing, but she also knows how to use her natural intelligence to get along in her ruse and she begins to really care about her patients. Una’s gradual change in caring for her roommate, Dru and the step-by-step acceptance of her friendship really emphasized her emotional changes. The sweet romantic elements worked to also show a side of Una where she is slightly vulnerable. I felt all the secondary characters were fully fleshed and believable for the historical period. The descriptions of 1880 New York display the research involved in this story along with all the historical medical treatments and techniques for both doctors and nurses. The suspense plot of this story is paced well throughout and has a believable ending.

I highly recommend this engaging historical fiction!

***

About the Author

I’m lucky. I come from a family of diehard scientists—the kind who tell jokes about irrational numbers and use the Vulcan salute instead of waving goodbye. But there was always room in our house for the arts too. My sisters—one a conservation biologist, the other an astrophysicist—paint and play the flute. My father, a physicist, is also a movie buff. My mother, a mathematician, dabbles in everything from theater to stained glass. Me, I’m an infection prevention nurse. But first and foremost I’m a writer. Even when my pen is still, my mind is aflight with stories.

I’m lucky. I come from a family of readers. Books filled our shelves and trips to the library were routine. Even though I struggled with dyslexia and was slow to learn, my parents insisted I not give up. Now, I don’t read fast but I read often and wide—fantasy, scifi, paranormal romance, YA, literary, and of course, historical fiction.

I’m lucky. I married a man of great character and enduring flexibility. When I told him at thirty I wanted to quit my job and try to be a author, he said go for it. When I’d gone five years without selling a book or finding an agent, he said try a little longer.

I’m lucky. I finally found an agent, the wonderful Michael Carr, and sold my book, along with three others yet to be published, to Kensington Publishing.

My husband and I live in Las Vegas, NV with our pet turtle, Lenore.

Social Media Links

Website: https://www.amandaskenandore.com/

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

Twitter: https://twitter.com/ARShenandoah

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/16747144.Amanda_Skenandore

Friday Feature Author Interview #1 with Elise Cooper: The German Wife by Kelly Rimmer

Book Description

Berlin, Germany, 1930—When the Nazis rise to power, Sofie von Meyer Rhodes and her academic husband benefit from the military ambitions of Germany’s newly elected chancellor when Jürgen is offered a high-level position in their burgeoning rocket program. Although they fiercely oppose Hitler’s radical views, and joining his ranks is unthinkable, it soon becomes clear that if Jürgen does not accept the job, their income will be taken away. Then their children. And then their lives.

Huntsville, Alabama, 1950—Twenty years later, Jürgen is one of many German scientists pardoned and granted a position in America’s space program. For Sofie, this is a chance to leave the horrors of her past behind. But when rumors about the Rhodes family’s affiliation with the Nazi party spread among her new American neighbors, idle gossip turns to bitter rage, and the act of violence that results tears apart a family and leaves the community wondering—is it an act of vengeance or justice?

***

Elise’s Thoughts

The German Wife by Kelly Rimmer has a unique perspective.  It delves into forgiveness, family bonds, choices made, both good/evil, right/wrong, prejudice, and relationships during the 1930s and 1950s. The story shows the deep flaws and frailty of Germans living under Nazi rule.

The novel is inspired by the true story of Operation Paperclip: a controversial secret US intelligence program that employed former Nazi scientists after WWII and had them live together with their American counterparts.

There are alternating timelines, settings, and narrations.  The story begins in Berlin during the 1930s where Sofie von Meyer Rhodes and her academic husband benefit from the military ambitions of Germany’s newly elected chancellor, Hitler. Jürgen Rhodes is offered a high-level position in their burgeoning rocket program. Although they fiercely oppose Hitler’s radical views, it soon becomes clear that if Jürgen does not accept the job, their income, their children, and their lives will be taken away.

Sofie and Jurgen beloved Jewish friend, Mayim lives with them at the beginning of the Nazi regime. But as the years pass, they know that Mayim must leave because Jews are no longer accepted. Through Mayim’s eyes readers get a glimpse into the Nazi atrocities, how many Germans were sleeper Anti-Semites who came out of the woodwork after Hitlers’ rise to power, and how the Jews try to flee to different countries to escape the prejudice, threats, and killings.

The other setting in the 1930s is El Paso Texas where the Davies family is struggling to survive on their farm. Between the depression and the terrible drought Lizzie realizes her dream of staying and becoming a farmer is no longer a reality. Her brother Henry enlists to fight the Germans during WWII and she marries Calvin, her best friend. But theirs is a marriage of convenience with no intimacy whatsoever.

Twenty years later, during the 1950s in Huntsville Alabama Jürgen is brought from Germany to America along with other German scientists to help America start their space program.  This is where Operation Paperclip comes into play. Many of these scientists are Nazis, worked in the SS, and ran labor camps, yet, had their German past in Germany completely wiped and became thriving American citizens. He is eventually joined by Sophie and their two youngest children. But they must struggle with their past as many Germans are not always welcome in Huntsville. Lizzie and Sophie’s life interconnect when Calvin and Jürgen, both scientists, work together on the rocket program. Both Lizzie and her brother Henry, who suffers from PTSD after seeing the Nazi atrocities, are hostile to the Rhodes family. The story shows what happens when resentment, prejudice, rage, and acts of violence along with denial come together.

This is an emotionally complex plot that shows how hate can fester, grow, and destroy people’s lives. This thought-provoking novel delves into choices people make because of obligation, fear, force, or a willingness to turn a blind eye. It is a riveting tale of morality and how far someone will go to be able to live their lives, both figuratively and literally.

***

Author’s Interview

Elise Cooper: How did you get the idea for the story?

Kelly Rimmer: I live in Australia, about an hour and a half from the Parks Radio and Telescope Observatory. They had a festival in 2019 to commemorate the role the Parks played with the moon landing. They relayed communication and telemetry signals to NASA, providing coverage for when the Apollo spaceship was on the Australian side of the Earth. While I was there, I visited an exhibit about the US space program.  I saw how there was a line that said how German and US scientists worked together starting in 1950 in Huntsville Alabama to help the space program. I was determined to learn how that could happen and wanted to know about Operation Paperclip.

EC: Can people learn from fiction?

KR: For me, that is fiction’s superpower.  People can learn about themselves.  Even though it is an escape people can learn about the world. The power is that people can learn facts and spur people’s reactions unlike other medias.

EC:  How would you describe Sophie?

KR:  Readers should be uncomfortable with all the choices she made. I don’t think she and her husband made good choices.  She has lived quite a privileged life.  She does not want to make waves even when she hears her friend Lydia speaking of her other friend Mayim in anti-Semitic terms. Over time, she does evolve.

EC:  How would you describe Jurgen?

KR:  He is deeply flawed. His career trajectory follows Wernher Von Braun exactly.  Although the character is from my imagination, not his career. He sees his role as protecting and sheltering his family.  He never resisted, sabotaged, or tried to help the laborers.  I do not intend for readers to like him. Realistically, people made the choices not to speak up.  He is even more extreme than Sophie in not helping others. He represented those scientists who knew that in the wrong hands, which is Hitler’s regime, that the rockets would not be used for space, but as weapons.

EC:  The plight of the Jews was mentioned in this book?

KR:  There was Kristallnacht, the Jews who had their whole lives destroyed, and were killed.  Sophie became a bystander to one of the most atrocious events in human history.  It does not start with Auschwitz, but the small acts of aggression and hatred. The Jews were blamed for WWI and the economic conditions of the times. Everything was the Jews fault long before the persecution started.

EC:  What was Mayim’s role?

KR:  I wanted the book to be about friendship.  Her and Sophie loved and accepted one another. They adore one another.  I wanted to so how ordinary citizens can become part of these acts of history by not speaking out. The bigger picture does really matter.

EC:  There were three couples that represented different views: Jurgen and Sophie, Claudia and Klaus, Lydia, and Karl.  Please explain.

KR: Lydia and Karl were not open about their Anti-Semitism in the early days of the Nazi regime. I put in this book quote, “The Nazis didn’t make people like Lydia and Karl anti-Semitic.  They only uncovered what already existed.” They very quickly got swept up in the Nazi party agenda. Jurgen and Sophie are reasonable people who do feel guilty because they are complicit.  Claudia and Klaus did take a stand refusing to join the Nazi Party. It cost them, but they had dignity. Lydia/Karl were pure Nazis, Jurgen/Sophie were reluctant Nazis, and Claudia /Karl were not Nazis.

EC:  What about the role of Lizzie and Henry?

KR:  I wanted to write about the intersection of a small town in America with the German families living in WWII.  2019 was the end of a three-year drought in Australia.  Everything was covered in dust, wary and draining.  It was hard on people mentally who feel completely powerless.  When I looked at the timing of when all would meet in Huntsville, I decided to have these characters living through the Texas dust bowl.  They are very devoted to their families.  Lizzie has seen the War through Henry’s eyes who was a veteran.

EC: What do you want readers to get out of the book?

KR:  I was told by a reviewer: “Hate is taught, and empathy is a skill.” This is exactly what the book is about. It could happen again. My characters lived day to day and did not try to see where things were headed. Small day to day choices does matter.  It matters to speak up when things were wrong. It troubles me that the US rocket program achieved something amazing, going to the moon.  But it was built on Jewish lives. The moon landing does not happen if there was not Mittelwerk, a German labor camp. I hope people delve into the history after reading this novel.

EC:  Next book?

KR:  It is about women in the British Special Operations Executive, a secretive organization. It is set in France and Britain in the early 1940s.  Hopefully, it will be out next year. They did so many heroic feats.

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: Evita and Me by Erika Rummel

Hi, everyone!

Today I am sharing my Feature Post for EVTIA AND ME by Erika Rummel on this Virtual Author Book Tour.

Below you will find a book description, an exclusive excerpt, an about the author section, the author’s social media links and a Rafflecopter giveaway. Enjoy!

***

Book Description

Evita Peron’s jewels are missing. Only three people know that they are in a vault in the Swiss Alps; Evita’s corrupt and brutal brother Juan, her bodyguard Pierre, and a teenaged girl Mona, her newest protegee. What happens if two of them team up?

Like Eva herself, Mona comes from a broken family and has to make her own way. Perhaps that’s why the two women feel close. Evita is at the pinnacle of success but already in the grip of a fatal illness. We see her life through the eyes of Mona and Pierre, two people she trusts — and who betray her in the end. Or can theft and murder be justified?

A story of love, adventure, and murder.

***

Excerpt

[Juancito, Evita’s thuggish brother, shows Mona the underbelly of Buenos Aires.]

We were passing through the narrow streets of the Boca. Juancito slowed down and stopped at the back of a two-story house painted mustard yellow. The lower part of the wall was solid like a bunker. The second floor had a row of tall windows. Two of them had balconies with old-fashioned ornamental railings, the one in the middle was a Juliet balcony. The house had a look of decay and abandonment about it. The iron railings were rusty, and the wooden shutters on some of the windows had come off and were stacked against the balcony railings. We walked around to the front of the building. The entrance was lit up by a garish sign with a palm tree and a hula dancer and the word “Bar” flicking on and off. Inside, the place was dimly lit and quiet. It smelled of old carpet. A band was playing Latino music and a small dance floor, but no one was dancing. The little tables surrounding the empty oval were occupied by single girls or girls in pairs sipping drinks and playing cards, waiting – for customers, I assume…

[Mona is right. It’s a brothel, and Juanito takes her and one of the “girls” upstairs. They don’t get far.]

We heard a truck pulling into the yard. Doors slammed, a rough voice barked a command.

“A police raid!” the girl said.

“Get her out,” Juancito said pointing to me. “I’ll talk to them.”

The whore took me by the hand like a little girl, leading me down the hallway. There was a window at the end of it, overlooking the parking lot. It was the window with the Juliet balcony I’d seen earlier. Juancito’s car was below. The girl pushed up the sash of the window, wangled a leg over the sill, and dropped down to the ledge outside. She did it so smoothly that I suspected it was a practiced routine.

“Come on,” she said in a hard, impatient voice, and I climbed up and let myself down on the other side, standing next to her. She took stock of the situation. We were only a little distance from the nearest window, which had a regular, wide balcony. She climbed up on the railing, steadied herself against the wall, and jumped across to the larger balcony with the agility of a trapeze artist. She stood still for a moment, then took one of the shutters that had come off the French doors and were leaning against the wall. She shoved it across to the Juliette balcony where I was standing, making a narrow bridge between the railings.

She whispered another “Come on”, and I tried not to think, not to be afraid of falling, as I climbed up on the plank spanning the two balconies. I didn’t look down, I shimmied across on my hands and knees. I could feel my nylons snagging on the slats and ripping. The girl reached for me and pulled, making me land hard on the other side and scraping my knee. We could hear another commando shout and the voices of people coming out of the bar, but we couldn’t see anything. It was all happening around the corner, on the front side of the building.

The whore forced open the balcony door. We passed through a shadowy room, stepped into the corridor, and sneaked down the stairs to a backdoor opening up into an alley. I breathed relief until I saw that the alley dead-ended on one side, barred by a chain-link fence. We could have climbed it, but it was lit up by a streetlight. Too risky, the whore said. They’ll spot us. We couldn’t sneak out on the side that wasn’t gated because that’s where the cops were. We’d run directly into their arms.  So we sat on the ground with our backs pressed against the wall, knees drawn up tight to stay in the shadow of the eaves as much as possible. The alley was strewn with broken crates, rags, bottles, and the rotting remains of food. Directly under the streetlamp, in the cone of light on the ground was a seething mass of flying and crawling insects, the largest beetles I had ever seen. We heard more shouting and commotion around the corner. A cop appeared at the mouth of the alley and shone a flashlight our way. The jig was up. He pointed his gun at us.

“What have we got here?” he said, closing in and looming over us.

After that, everything happened too fast for my understanding. I saw the flash of a knife, I heard him scream. A slit opened up along his thigh. He staggered back and dropped to his knees, cursing, as we scrambled up, ran to the other end of the alley and clambered over the fence. We dropped down on the other side and ran out to the parking lot. Juancito’s car was close by.

“Get down,” the girl said, and we slid under the car on our bellies and stayed there, lying very still.

The guy she slashed had probably gone for reinforcement. We heard the cops coming out of the bar, rough voices, boots hitting the pavement. From our vantage point we couldn’t see the men. Someone approached the car. He stopped right beside it, and I recognized Juancito’s polished shoes.

A few moments later, a pair of scuffed boots appeared beside Juancito’s shoes.

“I don’t carry much cash,” Juancito said to the man in boots. “I’ll get something to you tomorrow morning.”

“I don’t take bribes,” the man said.

“Of course you don’t take bribes, che, I know that,” Juanito said pleasantly. I didn’t know he could sound that way, as if he was really nice and considerate. “But one of your men has been stabbed. He deserves compensation. I’ll get the money to you.”

A charged silence hung in the air. Nothing further was said, but there was no need for words. They understood each other.

The heels of Solara’s boots clicked together in a salute.

***

About Erika Rummel

Award winning author, Erika Rummel is the author of more than a dozen non-fiction books and seven novels. Her seventh novel, ‘Evita and Me’ is being published on May 24, 2022.

She won the Random House Creative Writing Award (2011) for a chapter from ‘The Effects of Isolation on the Brain’ and The Colorado Independent Publishers’ Association’ Award for Best Historical Novel, in 2018. She is the recipient of a Getty Fellowship and the Killam Award.

Erika grew up in Vienna, emigrated to Canada and obtained a PhD from the University of Toronto. She taught at Wilfrid Laurier and U of Toronto.  She divides her time between Toronto and Los Angeles and has lived in Argentina, Romania, and Bulgaria.

Social Media Links

Erika’s Website: http://www.erikarummel.com/
Erika’s Blog: http://rummelsincrediblestories.blogspot.ca/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/historycracks

Purchase Links

Amazon
DX Varos Publishing

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RAFFLECOPTER GIVEAWAY

This giveaway is for 2 print copies and is open to Canada and the U.S. only. This giveaway ends on July 23, 2022 midnight, pacific time.  Entries accepted via Rafflecopter only.

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