Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for THE ACCIDENTALSPY by David Gardner on this Partners In Crime Book Tour.
Below you will find a book description, my book review, an excerpt from the book and the author’s bio and social media links. Enjoy!
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Book Description
Harvey Hudson is an emotionally scarred, fifty-six-year-old history professor who has lost his job, his wife and his self-respect. In desperation, Harvey takes a high-tech job for which he is totally unqualified.
So he outsources it to India.
Then Harvey discovers that a Russian intelligence agency owns the outsourcing company and are using him to launch a cyberattack on the U.S. petroleum industry.
Harvey now finds himself in a world of trouble with the Russians and the FBI, and he has fallen in love with the woman from New Delhi who’s doing the job he’s outsourced—who might be a Russian agent.
Genre: Humorous Thriller with Literary Pretensions Published by: Encircle Publications, LLC Publication Date: November 2, 2022 Number of Pages: 274 ISBN: 9781645994206
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My Book Review
RATING: 4 out of 5 Stars
THE ACCIDENTAL SPY by David Gardner is a satire of a spy thriller novel with a bumbling college professor who loses his job, marriage and life savings and yet manages to outwit Russian spies, foil their plot and win the girl. This standalone is a humorous story with moments of suspense, moments of heroism and moments of “Really?”.
Harvey Hudson is a fifty-six-year-old man who begins this story down and out with little self-esteem left after the college he taught at closes and his wife divorces him after running through his life savings. He is left with a pity job from an old high school flame as a technical writer by day and a pizza delivery man by night. When he “outsources” his day job on the sly to India, he meets Amaya. But there is more to this chance pairing then meets the eye and Harvey is about to learn more than he ever wanted to about Russian spies, FBI handlers and international espionage.
Harvey is an anti-hero you come to care for over the course of this life-changing adventure. The plot is unique and while it only occasionally feels fast paced with action and suspense, this is more Harvey’s story of transition and triumph over his past even with all the crazy espionage antics. I was sucked into Harvey’s story and pleasantly surprised at the unique twists, his wry wit and my hope for his ultimate triumph all along the way.
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Excerpt
Accidental Spy: “Some poor jerk dragged into a world of trouble.”
Harvey Hudson
Chapter 1: Bunny Ears
Summer, 2019
Harvey Hudson released the steering wheel and swatted at the blue balloon (“Congrats! You Did It!”) that was banging against the back of his head.
What was the ‘It’ for? Someone earned a law degree? Pulled off a bank heist? Successfully underwent potty training? All three?
One day before turning fifty-six, and here he was, delivering balloons. How had he let this happen to him?
He chewed on the last of the Skittles he’d swiped from a bulky candy basket attached to a red balloon shaped like a birthday cake. Too many sweets for some spoiled kid. He was doing the pudgy brat a favor. The Snickers bar was tempting. Maybe later.
Harvey reached across the front seat, grabbed a handful of candy bars from the Skittle-less basket ($149), and dropped them into its modest neighbor ($39). He often shifted candy from larger baskets to lesser ones. He thought of himself as the Robin Hood of balloon-delivery individuals.
He’d had just $87 in the bank a few weeks ago when he’d shambled past a help-wanted sign in the front window of the Rapid Rabbit Balloon Service. He paused and reread the sign. “Part-time Delivery Person Needed. Become a Rapid Rabbit!” Yeah, what the hell. He hurried inside before he came to his senses. He would have taken any gig—balloon-delivery specialist, male stripper, or get-away driver for a grizzled bank robber.
With his part-time job delivering balloons and his full-time work as a beginning technical writer, Harvey could just stay afloat. His ex-wife had cleaned him out.
He double-parked on a smart street of brick-front homes on Boston’s Beacon Hill. Hesitating, he clamped the hated bunny ears over his head and attached the spongy red nose. Sighing, he grabbed the $149 basket and, head down, ambled up the walkway and rang the bell. The balloon bobbed overhead, taunting him.
The woman who opened the door was a slim and pretty brunette in her fifties. She had a narrow face and large, dark eyes.
She was his boss at his day job.
Also his high school sweetheart.
Harvey wanted to disappear into the ground.
Margo took a step back. “Oh.”
Harvey pulled off the bulbous red nose and stuffed it into his shirt pocket. “Uh…this is where you live?”
Margo shook her head. “I’m here with my daughter for a birthday party.”
Harvey shifted from one foot to the other. “I’m…um…delivering balloons just for tonight to help out a buddy who had two wisdom teeth pulled this morning, a professor who lost his job the same time I did.”
Margo blinked twice.
“A sociologist,” Harvey added.
Margo gripped the edge of the door.
“Named Fred,” Harvey said.
Margo nodded.
“The guy took the job in desperation because he’s broke, recently divorced, and down on his luck,” Harvey said and realized he was describing himself.
He handed the basket to Margo.
Did she believe him? Probably not. Did the company have a rule against moonlighting? He’d soon find out.
Margo poked around inside the basket. “There’s too much candy in here.”
“At least there aren’t any Skittles.”
Margo selected a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup. “I’ve moved tomorrow’s team meeting up to 10:00 A.M. Did you get my email?”
Harvey nodded.
Was that her way of telling him that moonlighters don’t get fired? He hoped so. He was pathetically unqualified as a technical writer, and his job was in jeopardy.
Harvey hated meetings. Sometimes he thought the software engineers asked him questions he couldn’t answer just to see him squirm. Many were kids in their twenties, making double his salary.
And he hated lying to Margo. At least he could be honest about one small thing. “Actually, this is my night gig. I’ve had it for a few weeks.”
Margo unwrapped the Reese’s, nipped off a corner, chewed and said, “Is that why I caught you asleep at your desk yesterday?”
No, it’s because the job is so goddamn boring. He shook his head. “I wasn’t sleeping. I have the habit of relaxing and closing my eyes whenever I’m searching for the perfect way to convey a particularly difficult concept to our worthy customers.”
“And snoring?”
Margo was smiling now. That same cute smile from high school. He remembered it from the time they’d sneaked a first kiss in the back row of calculus class. The girl he’d loved and lost.
She set the basket down and pulled a twenty from the side pocket of her slacks. “Um…would you…uh…accept a tip?”
“No.”
She shoved the bill into his shirt pocket. “Yes, you will.”
Harvey shifted his weight to his left foot. A liar doesn’t deserve a $20 tip. At most, a few dimes and nickels, couch-cushion change.
Margo finished the peanut butter cup in silence.
He didn’t quite know what to say now.
Yes, he did know. He should tell her the truth.
He’d outsourced his job to India.
Was that illegal? Probably not. But highly unethical. Would she protect him after he’d confessed? Unlikely, which meant he would lose his job. But living a lie was exhausting and just plain wrong. She’d hired him and trusted him. She deserved better. He cleared his throat, once, twice, a third time. “Margo, there’s something I have to tell you. It seems I—“
“Is that the balloon guy?” a young woman called from inside the house.
“That’s my daughter,” Margo said and picked up the basket. A blue balloon bobbed on a string attached to the handle. “I’ll be right back.”
Harvey stood at the open door, trying to think of some way to soften his upcoming confession. Or maybe just blurt it out and get it over with?
“Happy birthday, Dad!”
The daughter’s voice again from inside.
“Candy and a kid’s balloon again this year! Are you trying to tell me something?”
The daughter laughed.
Harvey recognized the man’s voice.
Tucker Aldrich was the CEO of the company where Harvey worked. He was also Margo’s ex-husband and a first-class dickhead.
So, it meant the balloon and candy basket were for Tucker and not some child. Harvey was sorry he’d passed on the Snickers bar.
The hell with telling the truth.
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Author Bio
David Gardner grew up on a Wisconsin dairy farm, served in Army Special Forces and earned a Ph.D. in French from the University of Wisconsin. He has taught college and worked as a reporter and in the computer industry.
He lives in Massachusetts with his wife, Nancy, also a writer. He hikes, bikes, messes with astrophotography and plays the keyboard with no discernible talent whatsoever.
Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for THE LIPSTICK BUREAU by Michelle Gable on this Graydon House Books blog tour.
Below you will find an author Q&A, 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!
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Author Q&A
Q: How did you learn about Barbara Lauwers? How did you come to discover this piece of history?
I don’t remember when or how I first heard about Barbara, she was just in my file of “interesting people to eventually write about” when it came time for book #6. Most likely, she was in a listicle along the lines of “fascinating women from history you don’t know about.” Whatever the case, she made my file because of her intriguing role in the OSS (precursor to the CIA) and the misinformation campaigns she participated in. The website https://www.psywarrior.com/ has photographs of many of their campaigns, and that sucked me right in.
Q: Why do you believe there continues to be a fascination for writers exploring and writing WWII novels for readers? Why are readers so interested?
I think people are drawn to WWII stories because there are so many different countries and continents involved, and therefore thousands of angles. For Americans in particular, though we were involved in the war, it was not fought on our shores, so I think there’s a yearning to know what it was like to live with war on a more day-to-day basis. 100 million were deployed and there are millions of stories of ordinary people showing heroism when facing the worst.
Q: Many women were part of the OSS. Did they experience sexism?
The sexism was outrageous! Many of the quotes I included in the book were actually said. Like Niki (the Barbara character) being told to sew her travel documents into her girdle, and the trainers telling the women not to mess this up.
When I started out in corporate America in the late 90s, sexism was rampant enough that we more or less accepted it as part of our jobs. I can only imagine (and tried to do this in the book!) how much worse it was in the 40s, amidst the stress of war, when men were away from their families.
Q: Did many women join these groups to escape difficult marriages?
It’s possible! Many husbands were sent to fight, so I think a lot of women wanted to contribute. Stateside, women were being asked to chip in and many unmarried women viewed it as a more interesting way to help versus working in a missile factory or something along those lines.
Q: What specifically stood out in the time and place of Rome during WWII?
Rome is my favorite city so I was excited to set another book there! I also found it a fascinating time…after the city was liberated from the Nazis, and before the war was over. Also the fact Italy changed alliances partway through the war, and half the country was still under Axis control, heightened the tensions in the city, and people were extremely suspicious, all around.
Q: What challenged you about writing THE LIPSTICK BUREAU?
I try very hard to keep as close to real facts as possible, building fiction around the truth. This can be very limiting, and so it’s always a challenge for me to remember I’m telling a story, not writing a biography. It’s a big reason I changed Barbara’s name–so I could go a little more “rogue.”
A smaller challenge was finding out what was happening in Niki’s hometown in Czechoslovakia during the war. As in the novel, no news was getting out. Also, I use a lot of first-hand accounts and government records in my research, and many of these were destroyed in the war. Not that I can read Czech, but I’ve definitely had records translated in the past.
Q: Which character do you most relate to and why?
There was no character I related to outright, but I appreciated Niki’s gumption and how she wanted to prove herself on her own terms.
Q: What are you hoping readers will come away with after they’ve read THE LIPSTICK BUREAU?
As always, I want people to get swept up in the story but also learn something new along the way.
Q: What research did you do to bring the history to life in this fiction?
Anything I could get my hands on. Several OSS women wrote memoirs, and I read these, along with interviews, biographies of the major OSS players, and thousands of internal memos and documents (some of which are included in the novel), including all of Allen Dulles’s wartime intelligence reports (this was pretty boring!) I read the Stars & Stripes newspapers published during this time (fun fact: my dad wrote for Stars & Stripes in Vietnam), among other things. My favorite was a biography of Saul Steinberg (the inspiration for Ezra) by Deirdre Bair.
Q: How do you think this conversation into the use of misinformation plays in today’s politics?
In real life as in the novel, the OSS used Hitler’s own rules for propaganda/misinformation when creating theirs. There were three key strategies: 1) the disinformation must be easy to comprehend (not too highbrow), 2) it must be addressed to the masses (NOT the intellectuals), and 3) it should hit on emotions, not logic or fact. These are very effective strategies, as we’ve seen, and it’s been reported that Trump has also specifically followed Hitler’s rulebook for spreading disinformation. The OSS folks were the “good guys” and would say they were doing this for a greater purpose (e.g. ending the war), and the ends justify the means. And maybe it does, but perhaps Trump believes the same thing?
Q: What are you working on next?
A book set in the 1960s Jet Set, about a failed San Francisco debutante who becomes assistant to beloved society photographer Slim Aarons as a way to social climb her way to a rich husband, but is instead drawn into the complicated inner circle of young Palm Beach socialites, and to the star at its center, heiress and rising fashion designer Lilly Pulitzer.
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About the Book
Inspired by a real-life female spy, a WWII-set novel about a woman challenging convention and boundaries to help win a war, no matter the cost.
1944, Rome. Newlywed Niki Novotná is recruited by a new American spy agency to establish a secret branch in Italy’s capital. One of the OSS’s few female operatives abroad and multilingual, she’s tasked with crafting fake stories and distributing propaganda to lower the morale of enemy soldiers.
Despite limited resources, Niki and a scrappy team of artists, forgers and others—now nicknamed The Lipstick Bureau—find success, forming a bond amid the cobblestoned streets and storied villas of the newly liberated city. But her work is also a way to escape devastating truths about the family she left behind in Czechoslovakia and a future with her controlling American husband.
As the war drags on and the pressure intensifies, Niki begins to question the rules she’s been instructed to follow, and a colleague unexpectedly captures her heart. But one step out of line, one mistake, could mean life or death…
The Lipstick Bureau : A Novel Inspired by a Real-Life Female Spy
Michelle Gable
On Sale Date: December 27, 2022
9781525811470
Trade Paperback
$16.99 USD
464 pages
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My Mini Book Review
RATING: 3 out of 5 Stars
THE LIPSTICK BUREAU by Michelle Gable is a historical fiction story loosely based on a real female spy during WWII working for the fledgling OSS (Office of Strategic Services) later to become the CIA.
I loved the premise and the extensive historical research, but the characters never hooked me emotionally, the writing at times seemed disjointed and the pace was slow. I really wish the characters had been more developed and intrigued me as much as the plot regarding U.S. political propaganda developed and distributed during the war to undermine the Nazi Party and Hitler.
I feel I would have enjoyed this story much more if it had been an actual biography of the fictionalized main characters. The history and information surrounding the OSS and Department of Morale Operations was the reason I continued reading this book to the end.
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Excerpt
NIKI
May 1989
Washington, DC
Niki’s stomach flip-flops, and there’s a wild fluttering in her chest. You’re fine, she tells herself. In this buzzing, glittering room of some three hundred, she’s unlikely to encounter anyone she knows. Not that she’d recognize them if she did. It’s been almost forty-five years.
“Jeez, what a turnout,” her daughter, Andrea, says as Niki takes several short inhales, trying to wrangle her breath. “Did you know this many people would show up?”
“I had no idea what to expect,” Niki answers, and this much is true. When the invitation arrived three months ago, she’d almost pitched it straight into the trash.
You are invited
to a Black-Tie Dinner
Honoring
The Ladies of the O.S.S.
The ladies of the OSS. A deceptively quaint title, like a neighborhood bridge club, or a collection of wives whose given names are not important.
“You should go,” Niki’s husband had said when she showed him the thick, ecru cardstock with its ornate engraving. “Relive your war days.”
“Manfred,” Niki had replied sternly. “Nobody wants to relive those.”
Though he’d convinced Niki to accept the invitation, it hadn’t been the hardest sell. Manfred was ill—dying, in fact, of latestage lung cancer—and Niki figured the tick mark beside “yes” was merely a way to delay a no.
The week before the event, Manfred was weaker than ever, and Niki saw her chance to back out. “I’ll just skip it,” she’d said. “This is for the best. You’d be bored out of your skull, and no one I worked with will even be there!”
“Zuska,” Manfred said, using her old pet name. As always, he’d known what his wife was up to. “I want you to go. Take Andrea. She could use a night out. It’d be like a holiday for her.”
“I don’t know…” Niki demurred. Their daughter did hate to cook, and no doubt longed for a break from her two extremely pert teenagers.
“You can’t refuse,” Manfred said. “What if this ends up qualifying as my dying wish?” It was a joke, but what could Niki possibly say to that?
Now she regrets having shown Manfred the invitation and is discomfited by the scene. Niki feels naked, exposed, as though she’s wearing a transparent blouse instead of a black sparkly top with double shoulder pads.
“Do you think you’ll spot anyone you know?” Andrea asks as they wend their way through the tables, scanning for number eighteen. Every Czech native considers eighteen an auspicious number, so maybe this is a positive sign.
“It’s unlikely,” Niki says. “The dinner is honoring women, and I mostly worked with men.” Most of whom are now dead, she does not add.
Soon enough, mother and daughter find their table, and exchange greetings with the two women already seated. Niki squints at their badges and notes they worked in different theaters of operation. Onstage is a podium, behind it a screen emblazoned with O.S.S. Beneath the letters is a gold spade encircled in black.
“What a beautiful outfit!” says one of their tablemates in a tight Texas twang.
“Thank you.” Niki blushes lightly, smoothing her billowy, bright green chiffon skirt.
“You’re the prettiest one in the place,” Andrea whispers as they sit.
“What a load of shit,” Niki spits back. In this room, it’s sequins and diamonds and fur for miles. She pats Andrea’s hand. “But thank you for the compliment.” And thank God for Manfred, who’d raised their girl to treat her mother so well.
Manfred. Niki feels a quake somewhere deep. She is losing him. She’s been losing him for a long time, and maybe this is the reason she came tonight. Those three letters on-screen call up—rather, exhume—a swarm of emotions, not all of them good. But they also offer a strange kind of hope, a reminder that Niki’s survived loss before, and this old body of hers has lived more than one life.
MICHELLE GABLE is the New York Times bestselling author of A Paris Apartment, I’ll See You in Paris, The Book of Summer, and The Summer I Met Jack. She attended the College of William & Mary and spent twenty years working in finance before becoming a full-time writer. She grew up in San Diego and lives in Cardiff-by-the-Sea, California.
Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for PETS OF PARK AVENUE (Paws in the City Book #2) by Stefanie London on this HTP Books Fall 2022 Women’s Fiction Blog Tour.
Below you will find an author Q&A, a book summary, my book review, an excerpt from the book and the author’s bio and social media links. Enjoy!
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Author Q&A
How do you come up with your themes?
I’m not sure that I consciously determine themes for my stories, but more that they tend to emerge as I’m writing the first draft. I’m an intuitive writer, which means the only way for me to really get to know the characters and the plot is to put my fingers on the keyboard and let the story flow. This means I don’t always know exactly how a story is going to turn out until it’s done, and I usually have an “aha!” moment about 75% through where I finally understand the core elements of the book. Then the rounds of revisions are often dedicated to make those themes and elements shine as much as possible.
What is the attraction to writing/reading about women’s friendships?
I’m blessed to have many amazing women in my own life, and I think female relationships of all kinds are super important. It saddened me for a long time to see women get pitted against one another in television and movies, and I’ve always wanted to write the kind of books that lift women up rather than tear them down. It’s not to say every woman I write is sunshine and roses, though! But I strongly believe in showing female relationships as honest, complex, and supportive. One of the best things about writing the Paws in the City series is all the different female friendships and sister relationships… after writing the adorable animal side characters, of course!
Which comes first: characters or plot?
It depends on the project. Sometimes I have an idea for a story concept that pops into my head and then I think about the characters who might end up in that situation. This was the case for The Dachshund Wears Prada, where I had the idea for a woman who ends up being an assistant to a very pampered pooch, and then Theo and Isla came to me later.
But sometimes the characters come first, especially for later books in a series where I’ve “met” the characters in an earlier book but don’t always know what their story is yet. Those characters tend to become very real in my head and then I need to think about a story that would suit their personality and the kind of development arc I would like them to have.
Have you ever been writing a novel and realized the theme is very much like something you’ve experienced?
I write from the heart, so on some level I think all my books have a theming element that is close to some emotion or experience I’ve had myself. When it comes to writing fiction, I try to make those elements bigger and more interesting than real life, but at the core I have experienced a lot of the same doubts, fears and insecurities as all my characters.
For example, I’ve written about characters who’ve struggled for acceptance (whether internal or external), characters who’ve felt lonely or who’ve moved away from their families, who’ve been afraid to bet on themselves or to take risks. I’ve written about grief, about being a plus size woman, about the pressures of having a creative career, about learning to find your voice in the world… these are all things close to my heart and my own experience.
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Book Summary
The perfect romcom for dog lovers! Pets of Park Avenue is the story of a self-confessed hot mess who learns that life is more fun when things don’t go according to plan.
What do you do when The One is also the one who broke your heart?
Self-proclaimed hot mess Scout Myers is determined to prove she’s finally got her act together. Raised by grandparents who saw her as her wayward mother’s wayward daughter, Scout’s used to being written off. So when the opportunity for a promotion arises at Paws in the City, the talent agency where she works, Scout is desperate to rise to the occasion. With shared custody of her little sister also on the line, Scout can’t afford a single mistake…like suddenly needing a canine stand-in for an important photoshoot. Luckily (or not) she knows the owner of the perfect pup replacement: the estranged husband she walked out on years ago.
On the surface, it appears Lane Halliday’s life has been blissfully drama free without Scout, but she suspects her handsome-as-ever not-quite-ex-husband doth protest too much. Working together even feels like old times—except for all that lingering, unresolved tension. But Scout’s not sure she’s ready to confront the reasons she left Lane, and when their plans to finalize the divorce become very real, Scout starts to wonder whether second chances might be worth a little hot mess.
PETS OF PARK AVENUE (Paws in the City Book #2) by Stefanie London is a heartwarming second chance romance/women’s fiction. This second book in the Paws in the City series starts where The DachshundWears Prada left off with the focus this time on Scout and her self-proclaimed hot mess life. The second chance romance in this book can be read as a standalone, but all the connections between characters and pets is more enjoyable if you read book #1 first.
Scout Myers is making the most of her chance to help her best friend, Isla, make Paws in the City a success. She and her baby sister were taken in by her grandparents, but her grandparents saw her as wayward as her mother had been and kicked her out to protect her sister. It has been a five-year separation with only monthly visitation, but she is determined to prove she is mature enough to have her sister move in with her now that her grandparents are moving to California.
At a pet photo shot Scout oversees one of Paws in the City’s stars, but when the dogs go wild, Scout is left in need of a temporary replacement for another engagement. She knows just where she can find an identical Bichon Frise. It happens to live with her not quite ex-husband, Lane Halliday.
Can the truth and forgiveness be the keys to a possible second chance with the person you could never forget?
I loved this second Paws in the City romance as much as the first. I at first found Scout to be the hot mess she believed herself to be, but the more you learn about her background and treatment from her mother and grandparents, it is amazing that she is as caring and loving as she is. The mistakes made when they first married were believable for the young couple and it was wonderful to see them come back together with a more mature and open understanding. Ms. London’s writing is funny, heartfelt, and emotional in all the right places. All the pets in the series are adorable and I love them, too.
I highly recommend this second chance romance, both Paws in the City books to date and I am looking forward to the next book in the series!
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Excerpt
Scout Myers could think of several good reasons to be on all fours with her ass in the air, but pandering to the world’s most disagreeable cat was not one of them. Isaac Mewton—and yes, that was his real name—was a Scottish fold with the sweetest face you’d ever see. Unfortunately, despite the adorable camera-ready mug, the cat had the same disposition as those grumpy old Muppets who liked to sit on a balcony and heckle people for sport.
And Scout loved animals. One of the best things about her job at Paws in the City, New York’s premiere pet social media and talent agency, was getting to be around furry critters all day long.
Isaac Mewton, however, was officially on her shit list.
“I can see something shiny back there.” His owner pointed. “We can’t carry on without his favorite toy. He won’t sit still.”
Scout gritted her teeth and wedged her hand between the wall and a white IKEA bookcase. Cringing, she prayed none of New York’s finest creepy crawlies were hiding back there and wriggled her fingers.
“Come on,” she muttered. “Where are you?”
Eventually her fingertips brushed something hard and plastic. That had to be it. How the cat had managed to bat his toy so hard it lodged itself into such a small space was incomprehensible. Almost as incomprehensible as this client’s expectations. Seriously, how were they supposed to turn her precious kitty into a star if it wouldn’t even sit still for a headshot?
“Got it!” Her hand—and the toy—popped mercifully free.
“Great, now can we get on with it?” The client looked at Scout like this was all her fault. “I have an appointment to get to.”
Paws in the City wasn’t only Scout’s workplace; it was the brainchild of her best friend and the lifeline Scout had needed when her life couldn’t sink any lower. She came into work every day striving to do the best job possible, both for herself and her boss.
That meant pasting on a can-do smile, even when she wanted to launch a cat toy at someone’s head.
“Why don’t you get him to play with it?” Scout said, handing over the hard plastic ring, which was clear and suspended with glitter. “He might be more receptive if it comes from you.”
The woman crouched in front of the cat and attempted to engage him with the toy. But he immediately batted it across the room, where it slammed into the wall and bounced onto the floor.
The photographer, who had shown a level of patience that should make her a shoo-in for sainthood, raised an eyebrow. This was going nowhere. Isaac Mewton sat on a velvet pouf with an artfully arranged bookshelf behind him that Scout and the photographer had prepared for his portrait, staring down everyone in the room like an angry king.
It was time to try something new. Scout retrieved a feather toy from their stash in the office. She needed to get these photos done now. Isla was due back in less than five minutes and they hadn’t gotten a single decent shot of the cat.
Let’s be real, what client would want to work with such a demanding, fussy model anyway?
Still, Scout didn’t want it to look like she didn’t have things under control.
“He doesn’t like those.” The cat’s owner shook her head and pointed at the feather toy. “It won’t work.”
“Well, we’ve tried all the toys you brought with you, so maybe a Hail Mary is exactly what we need,” Scout replied tightly, her smile turning brittle. Lord give her strength to deal with this woman! The cat was a pain, sure, but animals were animals. They couldn’t be blamed for their behavior. Their human counterparts on the other hand…
Click!
Isaac Mewton had gone still, his eyes on the new toy, and the photographer seized the moment to start snapping. Scout moved the feather in gentle sweeping motions, and the cat’s eyes followed with intense focus. He raised one paw and batted at it, ignoring the steady click, click, click of the camera.
So much for him not liking it.
Scout shoved the snarky inner comment to one side and focused on getting the cat to engage so they could wrap up the meeting as quickly as possible. Next to her, the owner huffed in annoyance as though she couldn’t believe her darling Isaac had proven her wrong.
When they were done and the woman and her cat had left the Paws in the City office, Scout’s shoulders sagged in relief. She was a people—and an animal—person at heart, but she had a pet peeve, no pun intended, about entitlement. Call it a leftover from her childhood. Her mother’s legacy was little more than a collection of emotional scars and personal quirks, but she had taught Scout one very important lesson.
Nobody owed her anything. Whatever she wanted in life, she would have to earn it.
“Are all your clients like that?” the photographer asked as she packed up her equipment. “The woman seemed to think her cat was royalty.”
Scout shook her head. “Most clients are lovely and happy to have our assistance. But there’s always the rare few who think they’re superstar material, without being willing to put in the work.”
“How long have you been open now? Only a few months, right?”
“Six months.” Scout couldn’t help her beaming smile. It might not be her business, but she was damn proud to be part of it. “And we’ve already signed over twenty clients.”
“Including Miss Pain in the Rear and her angry feline overlord?”
“We’ve had several requests for cats lately, and he was by far the cutest we’ve seen.” Scout sighed. “Let’s hope he’s in a better mood when it comes time to front up for a paying job.”
Paws in the City represented clients with four (and six) legs. They provided social media coaching to the humans running the accounts, worked on brand strategy and generally acted as a go-between in brokering sponsorship deals and other types of opportunities. They also booked animal talent for commercial shoots, both of the print and television variety. Every day was different. Scout managed the operational parts of the
job, like booking appointments, supervising headshots, fielding media enquiries and consulting with the freelancers, such as photographers and grooming specialists. Plus any other random bits and bobs, like making sure they hadn’t run out of dog treats or pods for their coffee machine.
Isla always said their mission was to make the internet a happier, furrier place, and Scout loved that sentiment.
A few minutes after Scout bid the photographer farewell, the front door swung open. Though cute, their office wasn’t much bigger than a postage stamp, so Scout’s desk was situated in the waiting area and therefore doubled as their reception desk.
Isla breezed in, a wool coat slung over one arm and her long dark hair bouncing around her shoulders in soft curls. She was dressed in a pale blue blouse, fitted black pants and a killer pair of silver stilettos—a much fancier outfit than what she usually wore in the office. Black, though it was one of Scout’s favorite colors, was not the best when working with their furry clients.
But Isla had been at an important networking event today, so there was no need to worry about dog fur.
“Those shoes,” Scout gasped. “Wow!”
“They’re gorgeous, but they’ve been killing me all day.” She dropped onto one of the pink velvet seats lining the far wall and kicked off the shoes, groaning in relief.
“That’s a rookie move,” Scout replied. “Now your feet are going to puff up and you won’t be able to get them back on.”
“I don’t care if I have to meet Theo barefoot tonight, there’s no way I was keeping them on a second longer than necessary.”
“Hmm, barefoot to a white-tablecloth restaurant. Classy.”
Isla grinned. “Theo loves me as I am, blisters and all.”
It was true. Scout wasn’t sure she’d ever seen a man so in love.
Not even on your own wedding day?
Scout shoved the unpleasant reminder to one side. The last thing she needed right now was for her mood to take a dive, thinking about inconvenient things like the fact that she was still married.
Or that she hadn’t seen her husband in five years.
***
Author Bio
Stefanie London is a USA Today Bestselling author of contemporary romance. Her books have been called “genuinely entertaining and memorable” by Booklist, and her writing praised as “elegant, descriptive and delectable” by RT Magazine.
Originally from Australia, she now lives in Toronto with her very own hero and is doing her best to travel the world. She frequently indulges her passions for lipstick, good coffee, books and anything zombie related.
Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review on this blog tour for COMING HOME (A Woodland Park Firefighters Romance Book #1) by Shelley Shepard Gray. This is one of my favorite inspirational/Amish series authors, but this book series is a sweet contemporary romance series and yet just as wonderful as all her other inspirational/Amish books.
Below you will find a book description, 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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Book Description
When three army veterans become volunteer firefighters in small-town Colorado, one’s high school romance is rekindled in this sweet romance by bestselling author Shelley Shepard Gray
In Woodland Park, a small town nestled in the foothills of Pikes Peak, Anderson Kelly and Chelsea Davis were once the high school “it” couple—the star quarterback & prom king and the valedictorian & cheerleader. They broke up when Anderson joined the army and one poor decision at a fraternity party changed Chelsea’s life. Now, she works long shifts in a senior center to support her eight-year-old son, Jack.
After multiple tours in Afghanistan, Anderson has changed, too—he is physically scarred but mentally strong and eager to remain of service, he decides to move back to Woodland Park and become a firefighter.
Anderson and Chelsea steer clear of each other to avoid reopening old wounds, until they are forced to reconnect through the senior center and the embers of their love start to flare once more.
When Chelsea and Jack are involved in a dangerous collision on Ute Pass, Anderson realizes that he’s ready to risk everything—even his heart—for one more chance with Chelsea.
COMING HOME (A Woodland Park Firefighters Romance Book #1) by Shelley Shepard Gray is the first book in a wonderful new sweet contemporary romance series featuring a heartwarming second chance romance. Ms. Gray is one of my favorite inspirational/Amish authors, but this series is straight sweet contemporary romance, and I loved this story as much as all her other books.
Chelsea Davis is a small-town single mom and works at the local senior center as an assistant activities’ director. She attended college after high school after a bad break-up with her high school sweetheart who left for the service. Young, inexperienced, and trying to fit in she made a drunken mistake at a frat party, but she would never call what came from that night a mistake, but a blessing, her son, Jack. Now, nine years later, Jack is getting older, and her friends want her to start dating again.
Anderson Kelly left for the service right after high school and wanted to fit in, so he listened to male friends and broke it off with Chelsea before he left. After several tours in Afghanistan, he is back as a firefighter/paramedic working for Woodland Park’s fire department, but he is scarred inside and out.
Chelsea and Anderson have steered clear of each other since Anderson’s return, but when they begin to bump into each other around town, they both realize those old feelings at not as dead as they believed or wished. With the help of a little boy, some meddling seniors and family, Anderson and Chelsea begin to see they future they are now ready for this second time around.
I loved these characters! They are portrayed realistically with all the fears and mistakes many of us make and Ms. Gray takes the reader through their emotional journey of maturing, understanding, forgiveness, and reuniting. This romance is what I call a cozy romance because there are no sex scenes, just plenty of emotion. The story not only has the H/h going through emotional upheaval, but the elderly neighbor’s problems with her adult children is a believable subplot also. Every character in this small town was fully fleshed and could walk right off the page.
This is a lovely second chance romance and I am happy that the author plans to return to the Firefighters of Woodland Park for more stories.
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Excerpt
Chelsea’s back was to the main entrance of Granger’s but it didn’t stop the fresh burst of cold air from sinking into her skin. She was starting to wish she’d chosen a thicker sweater for her night out with Mallory and Kaylee.
Granger’s Last Stand wasn’t the only option in Woodland Park for burgers, wings, and beer, but it was hands down everyone’s favorite spot. Located on the main drag through town, the restaurant had been expanded multiple times over the last twenty years. Now it boasted indoor, patio, and rooftop dining. Local bands played all summer and from time to time in the winter high school and college kids played acoustic guitar near the fireplace.
Tonight, since there was still a chill in the air, most everyone was inside. A couple of people were keeping the old jukebox playing and the buzz from the crowd provided the rest of the noise.
After eight hours of working at the Woodland Park Senior Center, Chelsea was ready to relax and catch up with her two best friends. “Mal, you never finished telling us about the couple who came into the boutique today,” she said.
The petite brunette shrugged. “It wasn’t all that notable . . . beyond the fact that the husband sat on the pink velvet chair by the door while his wife spent almost a thousand dollars on end-of-season fleece!”
“To be fair, that stuff adds up,” Kaylee said. “Last time I bought a Patagonia jacket, I paid three hundred.”
“Are you still wearing it, Kay?”
Kaylee picked up the sleeve of her jacket that was draped over her chair. “Obviously.”
“Well, there you go.”
Chelsea hid her smile by taking another sip of wine. The conversation was nothing new. Kaylee liked to carp about the prices at Mallory’s store but always managed to stop by to drool over every new shipment of high-end ski, apres-ski, and mountain gear. Since Chelsea couldn’t afford any of it, she enjoyed simply listening and being supportive. “Well, that’s great. I’m glad they stopped in.”
“Me, too,” Mallory said with a smile. “They were on their way to Cripple Creek to gamble. I hope they come in again before they head back to Kansas City.”
“I’m really happy for you. Congrats.” Chelsea knew that sales like that kept Mallory’s spirits up, especially in the spring. A lot of folks were still paying off Christmas bills in March, so the shop suffered a lot of slow days until the weather warmed up and she began selling biking and hiking gear.
“Thanks.” Mallory smiled again, but she kept glancing past Chelsea’s shoulder.
“What’s going on behind me? Am I boring you?” she teased.
“I think she’s having a hard time concentrating because the hotties from the fire station just blew in,” Kaylee said. “Who can blame her though? It’s hardly fair that five guys can look so good.”
Chelsea’s stomach sank. Of course the firefighters had to show up. It was the first night in ages that she’d gone out instead of hurrying home to Jack.
Not even pretending to look anywhere else, Mallory murmured, “That Mark Oldum is dreamy.”
“So is Chip,” Kaylee said. “I met him at the gas station a couple of weeks ago.”
Oh brother. “How do you know those guys’ names?” Chelsea asked her friends. “I didn’t know you hung out with firefighters.”
“I don’t, which is the problem,” Kaylee joked. “And, just for the record, I don’t know all of their names. Just one or two. And I know because I asked Wendy up at the bar.” Flipping her hair over her shoulder, she asked, “Why all the questions? I didn’t think you were interested in dating. Or have you finally changed your mind?”
“It would be great if you did start going out,” Mallory said. “All you do is work and go home.”
“No, that’s not all I do. I have Jack, remember? He keeps me plenty busy.”
“I get that, but I think it’s time you started doing more for yourself. Jack’s almost nine, you know,” Mallory added.
“Ha-ha, I know.”
“Then you also know that he’s going to want to start doing more things with his friends instead of just his mom, right?”
“I know that, too.” But she also hated to think about it. When had he gotten so big, anyway?
Kaylee sighed. “If you know all that . . . isn’t it time you started dating?”
“I’ve dated,” she protested. Though, to be fair, she hadn’t dated very much. She’d promised herself years ago to always put her little boy’s needs ahead of her own. And, though he probably wouldn’t mind if she dated occasionally, she never wanted to risk hurting him.
Or maybe she was simply afraid to risk hurting her heart again.
Anxious to push the attention elsewhere, she smiled at Mallory. “Who are you looking at now?”
“I’m trying to find where Mark went. I lost him in the crowd. I tell you what, half the station must be here.”
Chelsea tried not to tense but it was next to impossible. Whenever she was someplace there was a chance of seeing Anderson Kelly, she couldn’t help it. “What do the other guys look like?”
Shelley Shepard Gray is a NYT and USA Today bestselling author. She’s published over a hundred novels and has over a million books in print. She currently lives in northern Ohio and writes full time.
Shelley lives just an hour from Holmes County, where many of her Amish-themed novels are set. She currently writes contemporary romance and Amish fiction for a variety of publishers. When not spending time with her family or writing, she can usually be found walking her two dachshunds on one of the many trails in the Cleveland area.
She also bakes a lot, loves coconut cream pie, and will hardly ever pull weeds, mow the yard, or drive in the snow.
Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for HERO HATERS by Ken MacQueen on this Partners In Crime Book Tour.
Below you will find a book description, my book review an excerpt from the book, the author’s bio and social media links, and a Kingsumo giveaway. Enjoy!
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Book Description
He seeks redemption, others want revenge
Jake Ockham had a dream job, vetting nominees for the Sedgewick Medallion-the nation’s highest civilian award for heroism. His own scarred hands are an indelible reminder of the single mother he failed to pull from a raging house fire; her face haunts him still. Obligations drag him back to his hometown to edit the family newspaper but attempts to embrace small-town life, and the hot new doctor, are thwarted by unknown forces. The heroes Jake vetted go missing and he becomes the prime suspect in the disappearances. Aided by resourceful friends, Jake follows a twisted trail to the Dark Web, where a shadowy group is forcing the kidnapped medalists to perform deadly acts of valor to amuse twisted subscribers to its website. To save his heroes, Jake must swallow his fears and become one himself…or die in the attempt.
Genre: Adult Thriller Published by: The Wild Rose Press, Inc Publication Date: October 2022 Number of Pages: 366 ISBN: 9781509243853 (ISBN10: 1509243852)
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My Book Review
RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars
HERO HATERS by Ken MacQueen is an exciting thriller that was impossible to put down! The Dark Web has a new pay per view site where a man who hates “heroes” makes kidnapped proclaimed heroes perform heroic acts for their lives. Make time for this one because it will keep you turning the pages. I believe this is the author’s first thriller and I hope it is not his last.
Jake Ockham works as a journalist on his family’s small-town paper and on the side investigates people nominated for the Sedgewick Medallion which is the nation’s highest civilian award for acts of heroism. Jake, himself was nominated many years previously, but never felt himself a hero because while he saved the son from a raging house fire, the mother perished right before his and the surviving daughter’s eyes.
As Jake tries to impress the new and beautiful doctor in his small town, he finds himself becoming not the hero, but the villain in the eyes of law enforcement as Medallion winners go missing. With the help of his college roommate, Erik who is a brilliant cyber investigator, the friends follow a twisted path on the Dark Web and Jake must face a shadow man while also facing his own fears in an attempt to become a hero once again or die trying.
Twisted, scary and dark and yet also completely believable. The back and forth between the different characters about what makes a hero and who should be considered one is very thought provoking. Jake is a flawed and yet likable main character, and the antagonists are truly evil. I loved this fast-paced plot, and it just became more and more intense as it reached the climax. Absolutely riveting thriller with great characters.
I highly recommend this thriller and cannot wait to see what Mr. MacQueen writes next!
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Excerpt
Prologue
Spokane, Washington, August 2019
Local hero Anderson Wise can’t remember the last time he paid for a drink at Sharkey’s.
Nor can he remember an embarrassing assortment of the women who selflessly shared their affection, post-Sharkey’s.
As for that last blurry night at the gin mill, he wished to hell he’d stayed home.
The bar’s owner, Sharon Key, hence Sharkey’s, took joy in chumming the waters on Wise’s behalf for a regular catch of what she called “Hero Worshippers.”
She saw getting him laid as partial repayment for saving her eleven-year-old grandson Toby’s life some eighteen months back.
A disaffected dad, high on crystal meth, stormed into Toby’s classroom to take issue with his kid’s latest report card. He showed his displeasure by shot-gunning the teacher, then reloaded and asked all A-students to identify themselves. Being A-students, they dutifully raised their hands, Toby among them.
As the high-as-a-kite shooter herded the high achievers to the front of the class, Wise, the school custodian, charged into the room armed with a multipurpose dry-chemical fire extinguisher. He blasted the shooter with a white cloud of monoammonium phosphate, to minimal effect, then slammed the gun out of his hands. It discharged into the floor sending several pellets into Wise’s left foot. Thoroughly pissed, Wise ended the drama by pile-driving the extinguisher into the shooter’s face.
Sharon Key, a widow in her early sixties, subsequently replaced the beer signs and dart board with blow-ups of the laudatory press Wise earned during the tragic aftermath. The front of the next day’s local paper held pride of place. It carried a photo of Wise, extinguisher in hand, under the headline: Greater Tragedy Averted as Hero Janitor Extinguishes Threat. The story contained a pull quote in large font which Wise came to regret: “ ‘It’s a versatile extinguisher,’ the modest 30-year-old explained, ‘good for class A, B and C fires—and meth-heads’.”
Said famous extinguisher now guards the top-shelf booze behind Sharkey’s oak-and-brass bar.
New stories were added to Sharkey’s wall five months back after Wise was awarded, with much publicity, the Sedgewick Trust Sacrifice Medallion— one of the most prestigious recognitions of heroism that American civilians can receive.
Wise’s liver and a lower part of his anatomy took a renewed pounding in the weeks thereafter. So much so he declared a moratorium on visits to Sharkey’s for reasons of self-preservation.
He was back in the saddle a month now, but his attendance was spotty. “This hero stuff,” he confided to Key one night, while slumped in his chair. “Maybe it’s too much of a good thing?”
“Ya think?” Key muttered as she took inventory of that night’s limited offerings.
It wasn’t just the women. Men often bought him drinks too, happy to bask in the reflected glory of a proven manly man.
Two weeks ago, some weedy academic from back east interviewed him at Sharkey’s and staked him to an alcohol-fueled dinner at the city’s best chop house. The brainy one expected Wise to opine on such things as “neo-Darwinian rules for altruism.”
Asked him if he’d been motivated by “a kinship bond” with anyone in the room?
Er, no.
Wondered if Wise knew that a disproportionate number of risk takers are working-class males?
Nope, sorry.
And had he calculated in the moment that a heroic display of “good genes” would make him a desirable mating partner?
Cripes. Really?
“Don’t know what I was thinking,” Wise said, swirling a glass of something called Amarone, a wine so amazing angels must have crushed the grapes with their tiny, perfect feet. “Heard a gun blast, grabbed the fire extinguisher off the wall. Saw the dead teacher, all those kids, and a nut with a shotgun. Did what anybody would do. I spent three years in the army after high school, mostly in the motor pool. Much as I hated basic training, maybe some of it stuck. Who knows?”
The academic gave a condescending smile and called for the bill, his hypothesis apparently confirmed.
Wise fled to the restaurant toilet and took notes on the back of his pay slip. Back home, he Googled the hell out of studies on “extreme altruist stimuli,” on “empirical perspectives on the duty to rescue,” and after many false starts, on theories of “Byronic and Lilithian Heroes.”
He kinda got the concept of “desirable mating partner”, but he was pretty sure his dick didn’t lead him into that classroom. Did it?
While not a reflective guy, Wise had to admit it was creepy to reap the fleshy benefits of his few seconds of glory while his dreams were haunted by visions of teacher Adah Summerhill slumped over her desk, blood pooled beneath her. So much blood. With the shooter sprawled unconscious, Wise gently lifted Adah’s head.
She had no pulse and her eyes, once so vibrant and expressive, were as empty as an open grave. She’d always been nice, and totally out of his league.
So, here he was, back at Sharkey’s, mind made up.
Key arrived at his “courting table” and set down his Jack and ginger ale.
“Gave my notice at the school,” he told her. “Getting outta here for a while. Got that Sedgewick money to spend. Someplace they don’t know me. Mexico, maybe.
Or Costa Rica.”
Key patted his hand. “Knew this was coming, Andy.
You banged every eligible female in town, pretty much.
And some who shoulda been out of bounds. I’m amazed the Tourist Bureau doesn’t list you as a top-ten attraction, up there with the botanical gardens.”
“All I want, Shar, is to be liked for me, not for something I did because I happened to be in the wrong place at the right time. Or is that the other way ’round?”
“Hey, you’re a good-looking guy. Still got that shaggy blond baseball player thing going for ya.
Might’ve taken a run at you myself if my hips weren’t shot.” She patted his cheek. “Made you blush. Now don’t turn into a beach bum down there. Always thought you aimed too low, mopping floors and washing windows for the school board. Time to stretch—”
She craned her neck toward the door after it opened with a bang. “My, my, here’s one for the road. She was in earlier, asking after you.” Key aimed a nod at the door and whispered, “Don’t strain anything.” And headed to the bar.
Wise looked up and…sweet Jesus.
Early twenties, he guessed. His eyes roamed from strappy sandals, up a long expanse of tanned bare legs to a glittering silver dress that started perilously high-thigh and ended well below exposed shoulders. The ripe promise of youth was on full display, like she’d dipped her bounteous curves in liquid lamé.
She drew every eye in the place as she undulated to his table. Full red lips, high cheekbones, chestnut hair piled high. Up close now, her gimlet eyes were at once innocent and knowing, like a debauched choirgirl.
“Hi, hero.” Her voice was low and sultry, as he knew it would be. She remained on her feet, hands on the table, leaning low to full effect. “When you finish that drink, I really want to see your medal.”
**** He remembered her mixing drinks back at his apartment while he retrieved his medallion from the sock drawer in his bedroom. He remembered her running a sensuous thumb over the bas-relief portrait of Philip Sedgewick as she read aloud the inscription: “The most sublime act is to set another before you.”
That wondrous voice lingering over “sublime act,”
like it was lifted from the Kama Sutra.
And like too many times, post-Sharkey’s, damned if he could remember her name—that evil bitch. He awoke, bouncing in the back of a van, hands and legs cuffed to rings set in the floor. A broken-glass headache served notice of every bump in the road.
Another lost night at Sharkey’s.
Wise had a dreadful feeling he’d never be back.
Chapter One Aberdeen, Washington, July, one month earlier Jake Ockham was one kilometer in, one kilometer to go and already in a world of pain. Lungs, legs and palms, always the damned palms, screaming enough already.
He’d whaled away on his Concept II rowing machine for thirty minutes, building up to this. Stripped off the sweatshirt after ten minutes, the t-shirt after twenty-five. Down now to running shoes and gym shorts, his torso gleaming with sweat despite the morning chill.
He’d rested after a thirty-minute warm-up to gulp water and to consider the need to reinforce the pilings under the creaky wooden deck before it dumped him and the ergometer into the Wishkah River below. Might leave it in the river mud if it came to that.
Full race mode now, one kilometer in, another to go.
The erg’s computer showed the need to pick up the pace to break the six-minute barrier, something he’d regularly shattered a decade ago during his university rowing days.
Thrust with the legs, throw back the shoulders, arms ripping back the handle. Return to the catch and repeat.
Five hundred meters to go. Eyes fixed on a duck touching down on the river, looking anywhere but the screen.
Two hundred and fifty meters. Faster. Harder. Don’t lose the technique.
Fifty meters. You can do this.
A final piston thrust of legs, shoulders, arms and…six minutes, thirteen seconds.
“Fuck!” His roar startled the duck into flight.
He slumped over the machine, gasping for air, ripping at the Velcro tabs of his gloves, throwing them on the deck in disgust. Hated those damned gloves, so essential these days.
Head bowed, he heard the cabin’s door rasp open.
“Such language.” Clara Nufeld, his aunt, and technically his boss as publisher of the Grays Harbor Independent, leaned against the doorframe.
He didn’t look up. “Don’t bother knocking. Make yourself at home.”
“I did, and I am. Got a couple of things to show you.
Right up your alley. Might be pieces for next week’s issue.”
She was lean and tall, in tight jeans and a faded Nirvana sweatshirt, her spiked white hair cut short. At sixty-four, she still turned heads. Jake knew her age to the day, Clara being his mother’s identical twin. Connie, his late mother, fell to breast cancer at age forty-five.
So much of his mother in Clara. So much that when Jake finished high school and rode his rowing scholarship east to Pittsburgh’s Carnegie Mellon University, his father, Roger Ockham, moved his accounting business to Bend, Oregon. Said it was for the golfing, but Jake suspected the sight of his late wife’s twin was a constant reminder of his loss.
Connie and Clara, fresh out of university, worked for their father at the Independent, Clara on the advertising side, Connie as a reporter.
They took the helm of the paper after Derwin Nufeld—their dad, Jake’s grandfather—collapsed and died mid-way through crafting a fiery editorial on a mule-headed decision to pull The Catcher in the Rye from the high school library.
After Connie’s death, Clara did double duty as editor and publisher until she succeeded six months ago in luring Jake home to Washington State from Pittsburgh to take over as editor-in-chief.
This five-room stilt home, Clara’s former cottage on the tidal Wishkah, was his signing bonus.
One of the dwindling numbers of real estate ads in the Independent would describe the cabin something like: “A cozy oasis on the Wishkah, surrounded by nature and just minutes from the city. Fish from your deck while contemplating the possibilities for this prime riverfront property. A bit of TLC gets you a rustic getaway while you make plans for your dream home.”
After years in urban Pittsburgh, he awoke now to bird chatter and the sights and scents of the moody, muddy Wishkah—its current pulled, as he was pulled, to the infinite Pacific.
Jake gathered his shirts and gloves and cringed at a sniff-test of his underarms. “I’ll keep my distance.” He waved Clara inside. “What’s up my alley?”
She waved two dummy pages, the ads already laid out, plenty of blank space for him and his skeleton staff to fill with stories and photos.
Jake was still adjusting to small-town journalism, covering at least one earnest service club luncheon every week, puffy profiles of local businesses, check presentations, city council and school board meetings.
And jamming in as many names as possible. He’d done some summer reporting for the weekly during his high school years, but rowing had occupied most of his time.
Clara handed off a page proof with a boxed advert already laid out. “A new doctor is taking over old Doc Wilson’s practice, thank God. I swear the last medical journal that old man read was on the efficacy of leeches and bloodletting.”
Jake nodded. Worth a story for sure. A few words from Wilson about passing the scalpel to a new generation, then focus on Dr. Christina Doctorow. No hardship there.
The ad for her family practice included her photo.
Rather than the cliché white coat and stethoscope she wore hiking shorts and a flannel shirt with rolled sleeves, thick dark hair in a ponytail, a daypack hanging off a shoulder. A husky at her side gazed up adoringly.
Smart dog.
Jake put her at early thirties, his age more or less. He nodded approval. “Sporty. A fine addition to the Grays Harbor gene pool.”
“The woman’s a firecracker. Spent ten minutes haggling down the price. I finally caved. Said I’ll bump this up to a half-page, but you owe me a free checkup.”
“Seriously?”
“What she said, too. Also asked ‘Is that ethical?’ I said, ‘darling, I’m in advertising. You want ethics, deal with my nephew on the editorial side.’ “
Jake laughed. “Pretty good at bloodletting herself.
What else you got?”
“This is so up your alley.” She handed him a classified ad page-proof. “You being an expert.”
Jake slumped onto a kitchen chair. “On what?”
She tapped a one-column boxed ad in the lower left, “Heroes.”
“Not hardly.”
He looked closer and reared back. The heading read: “For Sale. Rare Sedgewick Sacrifice Medallion. $100 OBO.”
There was a thumbnail photo of the medal’s obverse, showing the craggy face of Philip Sedgewick, a leading member of the long-dead school of industrialist robber barons. He’d amassed a fortune in textile mills, newspapers, and exploitive labor practices. Awash in cash he came to philanthropy late in life. Like others in this elite group—Carnegie, Mellon, Rockefeller, Vanderbilt, et al—their names and reputation-burnishing generosity live beyond the grave.
Sedgewick, at his wife’s urging, chose to celebrate extraordinary acts of heroism. He used eight of his many millions—an enormous sum in 1901—to endow a family trust to award exceptional heroism with the Sacrifice Medallion and needs-based financial assistance. Over the past one hundred twenty years, the trust awarded some eleven thousand medallions, an inspiring legacy of courage, and yes, sacrifice.
The grainy photo in the classified ad was too small to read the inscription under Sedgewick’s stern visage, but Jake knew it well. It was a quotation by the English poet William Blake: “The most sublime act is to set another before you.”
Below the photo was a post office box address, and “mail inquiries only.”
Jake shook his head. “This is nuts. The price is insanely low, insulting really. The medallions are kinda priceless.”
“I wondered about that,” Clara said. “The ad cost fifty dollars so not much of a profit.”
“The rare few that get to auction can fetch in the thousands. We try to buy them back, prefer that to having them land up in the hands of the undeserving.”
Clara cocked an eyebrow. “We?”
Jake shrugged. “I still do the occasional freelance investigations for Sedgewick. The thing is, there’s never a good reason to sell these. Either the recipient is dead broke, or dead without relatives to inherit it. Or it’s stolen.”
“Or,” Clara said, resting a hand on Jake’s shoulder, “the hero feels undeserving.”
He flinched. “Was there a photo of the medal’s back? It’d have the recipient’s name and the reason it was awarded.”
“Don’t even know who placed the ad. Arrived in the mail: a photo, the ad copy, and a fifty-dollar bill. No return address but the post office box.”
“Pull the ad, Clara. I’ll buy it and return the money.
There’s a story here, something’s not right.”
Clara toyed with her car keys. “I feel bad sometimes, guilting you back. Do you miss it, your old life back in Pittsburgh?”
His pause was barely discernable. “Great to be back in the old hometown.”
“Great to earn half the salary you did in the big city?
Great to prop up the family business? Great to be stuck with your old aunt?”
“Aunt doesn’t cover it. I was twelve when Mom passed. You stepped up for Dad and me.”
She looked like she was about to say something, then shook her head and flashed an enigmatic smile. “A topic for another day. Gotta run.”
She leaned across the table, took his hands in hers, running her thumbs lightly over his scarred palms. She raised his hands to her lips for a kiss, then turned for the door.
Excerpt from Hero Haters by Ken MacQueen. Copyright 2022 by Ken MacQueen. Reproduced with permission from Ken MacQueen. All rights reserved.
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Author Bio
Before turning to fiction, Ken MacQueen spent 15 years as Vancouver bureau chief for Maclean’s, Canada’s newsmagazine, winning multiple National Magazine Awards and nominations. He traveled the world writing features and breaking news for the magazine, and previously for two national news agencies. Naturally, he had to make Jake Ockham, his hero, a reporter, albeit a reluctant one. MacQueen also covered nine Olympic Games and drew Jake’s athletic prowess from tracking elite rowers in training and on podiums in Athens, Beijing and London. He and his wife divide their time between Vancouver, and British Columbia’s Sunshine Coast.
Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for BE YOUR EVERYTHING (The D’Angelos Book #2) by Catherine Bybee.
Below you will find a book description, 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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Book Description
From New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Catherine Bybee comes a romance about childhood friends who marry in Vegas and embark on a wild ride to find their happily ever after.
With two protective older brothers and a traditional Catholic Italian mother, it’s surprising that Chloe D’Angelo can manage a date without someone in the family naysaying her romantic choice. And Dante Mancuso…oh, no. Her brother’s best friend is not a dating-app right swipe.
But when they are left unsupervised on a late night in Vegas, all of that changes. Add in a Vegas wedding chapel and a couple of “I dos” and Chloe wakes up with a ring on her finger and a hangover. Dating Dante was always a secret desire, but marriage? The rift that this news would cause in her family has the both of them keeping their nuptials to themselves as they scramble to undo their Vegas mistake.
Dante knew the rules: Chloe was off limits. Only he can’t stop once his mind starts to believe she might be his forever. Just as their attraction deepens, Chloe flees to Bali, desperate to clear her head.
All Dante has to do is keep her brothers from killing him and convince her that they are meant for each other. But first, Dante has to find her.
BE YOUR EVERYTHING (The D’Angelos Book #2) by Catherine Bybee is another wonderful contemporary romance about members of the D’Angelo family who are a traditional Italian family. This story features Chloe who is the baby of the family and her brother’s best-friend, Dante. While this is the second book in the series, you can easily read it as a standalone, but you will love this family so much, I know you will want to go back and read the first book When It Falls Apart.
Chloe D’Angelo loves working at her family’s restaurant, but she has bigger dreams. Her dream trip to Bali must wait until after her oldest brother’s wedding. The entire bridal party is off for a Las Vegas weekend to celebrate before the wedding. Chloe has always had a crush on her middle brother’s best friend and now in Vegas, she is ready to show Dante what he has been missing by avoiding her as they grew up together.
Dante Mancuso is like a third brother to the D’Angelo brothers. While growing up, he was known as a player, and he has kept the reputation even as he works in Italy and only returns to visit his family and the D’Angelo’s. Now, home for the wedding and looking to set up a branch of his business at home, Dante is finding Chloe difficult to resist even as he knows he is breaking the brothers’ code of not dating their sister.
But crazy things happen in Las Vegas and Dante goes all in and he and Chloe run into a Vegas wedding chapel. The next morning, they know they are going to cause family upheaval, so they decide to keep the marriage a secret. As their attraction grows, Chloe flees to Bali and Dante is going to have to prove to her they are meant to be together.
I loved this story and the entire series to-date is entertaining and fun. I lived in an Italian neighborhood for many years and the traditions and family bonds are very accurately portrayed in this series. From the nonnas keeping an eye on everyone and the close-knit families and Sunday mass, these stories take me back to this neighborhood. Chloe and Dante are fully drawn characters and their relationship is believable and the sex scenes were not gratuitous. All the characters are realistic and make me want to be a member of their family and community. This book has everything I am looking for in a contemporary romance and I did not want it to end.
I highly recommend this contemporary romance, this series, and this author!
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Excerpt
“Go! I don’t want to see any of you back here until Monday.”
Chloe stood outside the back door of their home in Little Italy, surrounded by both her brothers and her soon-to-be sister-in-law. They all had small suitcases at their feet as the Uber van pulled up to take them to the airport.
Mari, their mother, had a hand on Francesca’s shoulder as they saw the bachelor/bachelorette party off.
“Mama, are you absolutely certain?” Luca, the husband-to-be, her over-worried oldest brother, couldn’t stop the concern that crossed his face anymore than he could the love he had in his eyes for the woman at his side.
He and Brooke were the real deal. Head over heels, all in . . . completely lost in each other.
Chloe couldn’t be happier for them.
They needed Vega. Boy, did they need two nights in Vegas.
“I ran this restaurant before you were born and after with all three of you jumping around. I have it, Luca. Go. Just don’t get married. Wait until you come back for that.”
“What about babies?” Gio, the middle child and smart-ass in the family, asked.
“That you can do,” Mari said with a wink.
Brooke knelt to Franny’s level and gave the eight-year-old a kiss. “Listen to your nonna.”
There were hugs and waves as Giovanni, or Gio, as he was more often called, shoved all the suitcases into the back of the van.
Gio took the front seat as the rest of them climbed into the back.
“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” Luca said to his brother. “Busiest time of the year.”
“It is not. That’s in the summer,” Chloe argued. It was the last week of November. The family restaurant was fully staffed and ran like a well-oiled machine, even with three of their employees out at the same time. “It’s going to be nothing but family and friends, celebrations and ceremonies from here on out. This is the last chance for you two to let loose until it’s all over.” Chloe reminded them.
“You mean until after Christmas,” Gio said.
“Right.” They weren’t taking their honeymoon until after Christmas. After they returned a week into the new year, then it would be Chloe’s turn to get out of town. Her long-awaited tickets to Bali were burning a hole in her pocket.
This was her last opportunity to cut loose until it was all over as well.
Chloe watched their family home disappear from sight. It was a four-story building with the family restaurant on the bottom floor. The second story was the family home where they’d all grown up, and the third floor was where LUca, Brooke, and Franny now lived. On the very top was what used to be guest quarters but now was the bachelor pad that Gio took over. Secretly, Chloe was hoping Gio would find Mrs. Right and move on himself so she could occupy the upstairs apartment as her own space. She loved her mother, but living with her was getting old. As an Italian, Chloe wasn’t going anywhere until she married, that’s just the way things were done in her culture.
“Franny is going to be okay, right?” Brooke asked Luca as they settled in for the short ride to the airport.
Chloe rolled her eyes.
Francesca, Luca’s daughter from his first unfortunate marriage, was probably already elbow-deep in gelato and milking Mari for all the attention and goodies a nonna could give her.
“She’ll be fine,” Luca said, kissing Brooke’s forehead.
The ride to the airport took less than ten minutes, a perk when you lived in San Diego and everything was close.
Getting through security and waiting in the airport would take longer than the actual flight to Vegas, but it beats a long drive across the California desert any day of the week.
“Thanks again for inviting Mayson to join you guys,” Brooke said to Gio and Luca.
“He’s a friend of yours. He’s a friend of ours.”
“Besides, we need even numbers,” Chloe added. As she said that, she saw Salena waving them over to her side before they entered the TSA line.
“Vegas, baby!” Salena all but yelled for everyone to heard.
Chloe tossed her arms around one of her dearest friends for a hug. They’d known each other before braces and periods. As ride-and-die friends went, Salena was someone Chloe could count on to be there.
“We could have picked you up,” Gio said.
Salena, who lived in Little Italy as well, shrugged. “It’s okay. I had JOey take me.”
“Joey? Do I know Joey?”
She waved a hand. “Flavor of the month.”
Gio narrowed his eyes. “You’re worse than me.”
“No one is worse than you,” Chloe and Salena said in unison.
The three of them fell in line behind Luca and Brooke, who were arm in arm and whispering in each other’s ears.
“They do know that we have separate rooms, right?” Chloe asked her brother.
“Yes.”
“I don’t think that’s going to matter,” Salena added.
“Divide and conquer. Once everyone arrives, we have dinner, pull straws on who is in charge for the night, and go to our separate clubs.” Gio lowered his voice. “We’ll give them tomorrow afternoon to knock it out.”
Chloe laughed. “We may never see them again.”
Salena nudged Chloe’s shoulder as they inched their way up the line. “Is Dante flying directly from Italy?’
Just hearing Dante’s name had Chloe standing taller. Gio’s best friend, and the one boy that had always been “off-limits” for oh so many reasons, was the cause of many sleepless nights.
The man only grew more beautiful with every year that passed.
And he knew it.
And the women knew it.
All the women!
“He’s already in the States. New York, He’ll be in Vegas about an hour after we land.”
Salena nudged Chloe again with a grin once Gio turned around.
Stop. Chloe mouthed the word without sound.
Once they moved through security, they found their gate for the forty-five-minutes wait to board the plane.
Salena and Chloe sat with their luggage while the others went to find coffee and water for the flight.
“Are you prepared for a weekend with Dante?” Salena asked once they were alone.
Chloe shook her head. “Listen to you. It was a high school crush.”
Salena laughed. “I’m pretty sure it started in fifth grade and never ended.”
“He’s lived in Italy for the better part of five years.”
“And every time he comes home, you forget how to speak.”
“That’s not true.”
Salena glared.
Okay, it was a little bit true. “I did better last year.” It helped that she stayed out of his orbit that time around and he was only home for a month.
“How long is he staying this time?”
“No idea,” Chloe said. Her cell phone pinged, grabbing her attention.
She opened her messages inside a dating app she’d been on for a few weeks.
“Who is that?” Salena asked, looking over her shoulder.
Chloe glanced at the image on her screen, the one she’d swiped right on. He was thirty, no kids. Worked somewhere in La Jolla. “His name is Eric. We’ve been texting for a few days.”
“He’s cute.”
“I thought so.”
His text came through, asking what she was doing. She started typing.
“Have you met him yet?”
Chloe shook her head, finished her message about the bachelorette party in Vegas.
“Are you going to?”
Three dots indicated he was typing.
:Only if he asks.” As progressive as she was, she found it necessary for the man to take the first steps.
“You know . . . if you stack the desk with dates while Dante is in town, it might be easier to be around the man.”
Salena had a point.
Chloe’s phone buzzed.
How about meeting for coffee when you get back? Wednesday enough time for you to sleep off the hangover?
Chloe showed the message to Salena.
“Say yes.”
Her friend was right. Chloe needed all the help she could get when Dante was home. If her attention was elsewhere, maybe he’d lose his appeal.
She agreed to coffee with Eric on Wednesday and told him she’d get in touch when she returned.
“I have a feeling this weekend is going to be one for the record books,” Salena said as she watched more passengers arrive for their flight.
“It’s likely the one and only time I’ll be in Vegas with both my brothers.”
“Considering how they’ve helicoptered you since your papa passed, that’s not a bad thing.”
She’d been seventeen when their father died. Luca became the head of the family while he had a one-year-old and a failing marriage. What a crappy couple of years that had been. Now, things are looking up. For all of them.
She’d finished her college classes and earned her business degree. But instead of working for someone else, she wanted to do something on her own. She blamed her family for that. Yes, she waited tables at their restaurant and, honestly, liked the job. But what she loved more than anything was teaching yoga. Her trip to Bali was supposed to happen the year the world shut down, and it was only now that time and the world’s health were giving her the opportunity to go. She knew, somehow, that the trip was going to guide her to whatever her path was going to be. Maybe she’d start her own studio or her own online channel. Brooke had a boatload of knowledge about marketing and was on board with helping her start up. Financially, Chloe had banked nearly everything she’d earned from the first day she started working and was more ready than most to begin her future.
Her father, in all his wisdom, had taken out a life insurance policy that their mother had divided and put into investment plans for each of them. Luca immediately put everything in his name to his daughter. Giovanni was itching to invest in a vineyard. The resident sommelier wanted to spend time in Tuscany as much as she wanted to spend time in Bali. So, while they did pull shifts waiting tables, doing what had to be done to make the family restaurant run, it wasn’t their lifelong ambition. Well, Luca was the chef, and that was his life’s choice . . . and she and Gio were thankful for it.
“They promised not to act like big brothers in Vegas,” Chloe said.
“Yeah, well, they aren’t going to the same strip clubs we are.”
The image of her brothers holding a hand over her eyes made her smile. “Thank God for that.
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About the Author
Catherine is a #1 Wall Street Journal, Amazon, and Indie Reader bestselling author. In addition, her books have also graced The New York Times and USA Today bestsellers lists. In total she has written thirty-six beloved books that have collectively sold more than 10 million copies and have been translated into more than twenty languages.
Raised in Washington State, Bybee moved to Southern California in the hope of becoming a movie star. After growing bored with waiting tables, she returned to school and became a registered nurse, spending most of her career in urban emergency rooms. She now writes full time and has penned the Not Quite series, The Weekday Brides series, the Most Likely To series, and the First Wives series. Learn more about Catherine and her books at www.catherinebybee.com
