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!
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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.
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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.
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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.
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.
Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for THE GERMAN WIFE by Kelly Rimmer on the HTP Books Summer 2022 Historical Fiction Blog 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
The enmity between two women from opposing sides of the war culminates in a shocking event as anti-German sentiment sweeps America, when the aristocratic wife of a German scientist must face the social isolation, hostility and violence leveled against her and her family when they’re forced to relocate to Alabama in the aftermath of WWII. For fans of Beatriz Wiliams, Pam Jenoff, and Kristin Harmel.
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?
THE GERMAN WIFE by Kelly Rimmer is a thought-provoking and emotional historical fiction story featuring two women, one American and one German, and the choices they made leading up to and during World War II. While the focus is on the German wife and her family, the American woman’s story is entwined throughout the two timelines twenty years apart.
The story begins in Berlin in the 1930’s as the Nazis rise to power following Sofie von Myer Rhodes, her husband Jurgen and their children. Jurgen is offered a position in the fledgling rocket program of the new regime. Although both oppose the radical views of the Reich, he must accept or lose his income and even the lives of his family. As each new atrocity occurs, they must pretend and bend or die as their two attempts at escape have been exposed.
At the same time in a small Texas town, Lizzie, her brother, and parents are losing their farm to the dust bowl years during the Depression. When their parents die, Lizzie and henry move to El Paso to scrape by until Lizzie meets a widower who is a scientist and marries her. Lizzie assumes the role of housewife and Henry goes off to war.
Then in the 1950’s timeline the United States government wants the German rocket technology and moves many scientists and chemists to the United States. The people of Huntsville, Alabama are wary and even hostile to the influx of German speaking families who they still consider to be Nazis. Sophie and Lizzie’s families are on a collision course of violence with the community wondering if it was an act of vengeance or justice.
I read this book all in one sitting even as some portions were emotionally difficult to read. It is an extremely well researched look into these families lives and circumstances. I have read many history books, factual and fictional on this time-period and this story, I felt was as unbiased as it could be for the subject matter. I knew about the government bringing over German scientists, but I never really considered the ramifications of their mixing into American communities where veterans and surviving families may live. When you are younger, you believe you would never do anything against your moral code, but as you get older you have family, friendships and ties that make you hope you will never be put in that type of situation to choose. This is an emotionally complex tale that shows how hate can grow, spread and destroy whether by choice, obligation or force.
I highly recommend this historical fiction book!
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Excerpt
1
Sofie
Huntsville, Alabama 1950
“WAKE UP, GISELA,” I MURMURED, GENTLY SHAKing my daughter awake. “It’s time to see Papa.”
After the better part of a day on a stuffy, hot bus, I was so tired my eyes were burning, my skin gritty with dried sweat from head to toe. I had one sleeping child on my lap and the other leaning into me as she sprawled across the seat. After three long weeks of boats and trains and buses, my long journey from Berlin to Alabama was finally at an end.
My youngest daughter had always been smaller than her peers, her body round and soft, with a head of auburn hair like mine, and my husband’s bright blue eyes. Over the last few months, a sudden growth spurt transformed her. She was now taller than me. The childhood softness had stretched right out of her, leaving her rail thin and lanky.
Gisela stirred, then slowly pushed herself to a sitting position. Her eyes scanned along the aisle of the bus as if she were reorienting herself. Finally, cautiously, she turned to look out the window.
“Mama. It really doesn’t look like much…”
We were driving down a wide main street lined with small stores and restaurants. So far, Huntsville looked about as I’d expected it would—neat, tidy…segregated.
Minnie’s Salon. Whites Only.
Seamstress for Colored.
Ada’s Café. The Best Pancakes in Town. Whites ONLY!
When I decided to make the journey to join my husband in America, segregation was one of a million worries I consciously put off for later. Now, faced with the stark reality of it, I dreaded the discussions I’d be having with my children once we had enough rest for productive conversation. They needed to understand exactly why those signs sent ice through my veins.
“Papa did tell us that this is a small town, remember?” I said gently. “There are only fifteen thousand people in Huntsville and it will be very different from Berlin, but we can build a good life here. And most importantly, we’ll be together again.”
“Not all of us,” Gisela muttered.
“No, not all of us,” I conceded quietly. Loss was like a shadow to me. Every now and again, I’d get distracted and I’d forget it was there. Then I’d turn around and feel the shock of it all over again. It was the same for my children, especially for Gisela. Every year of her life had been impacted by the horrors of war, or by grief and change.
I couldn’t dwell on that—not now. I was about to see my husband for the first time in almost five years and I was every bit as anxious as I was excited. I had second-guessed my decision to join him in the United States a million or more times since I shepherded the children onto that first bus in Berlin, bound for the port in Hamburg where we boarded the cross-Atlantic steamship.
I looked down at my son. Felix woke when I shook his sister, but was still sitting on my lap, pale and silent. He had a head of sandy curls and his father’s curious mind. Until now, they’d never been on the same continent.
The first thing I noticed was that Jürgen looked different. It was almost summer and warm out, but he was wearing a light blue suit with a white shirt and a dark blue bow tie. Back home, he never wore a suit that color and he never would have opted for a bow tie. And instead of his customary silver-framed glasses, he was wearing a pair with thick black plastic frames. They were modern and suited him. Of course he had new glasses—five years had passed. Why was I so bothered by those frames?
I couldn’t blame him if he reinvented himself, but what if this new version of Jürgen didn’t love me, or was someone I couldn’t continue to love?
He took a step forward as we shuffled off the bus but didn’t even manage a second before Gisela ran to him and threw her arms around his neck.
“Treasure,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “You’ve grown up so much.”
There was a faint but noticeable American twang in his German words, which was as jarring as the new glasses.
Jürgen’s gaze settled on Felix, who was holding my hand with a grip so tight my fingers throbbed. I felt anxious for both children but I was scared for Felix. We’d moved halfway across the world to a country I feared would be wary of us at best, maybe even hostile toward us. For Gisela and me, a reunion with Jürgen was enough reason to take that risk. But Felix was nervous around strangers at the best of times, and he knew his father only through anecdotes and photographs.
“Felix,” Jürgen said, keeping one arm around Gisela as he started to walk toward us. I could see that he was trying to remain composed, but his eyes shone. “Son…”
Felix gave a whimper of alarm and hid behind my legs.
“Give him time,” I said quietly, reaching behind myself to touch Felix’s hair. “He’s tired and this is a lot to take in.”
“He looks just like—” Jürgen’s voice broke. I knew the struggle well. It hurt to name our grief, but it was important to do so anyway. Our son Georg should have been twenty years old, living out the best days of his life. Instead, he was another casualty of a war that the world would never make sense of. But I came to realize that Georg would always be a part of our family, and every time I found the strength to speak his name, he was brought to life, at least in my memories.
“I know,” I said. “Felix looks just like Georg.” It was fitting that I’d chosen Georg for Felix’s middle name, a nod to the brother he’d never know.
Jürgen raised his gaze to mine and I saw the depth of my grief reflected in his. No one would ever understand my loss like he did.
I realized that our years apart meant unfathomable changes in the world and in each of us, but my connection with Jürgen would never change. It already survived the impossible. At this thought, I rushed to close the distance between us.
Gisela was gently shuffled to the side and Jürgen’s arms were finally around me again. I thought I’d be dignified and cautious when we reunited, but the minute we touched, my eyes filled with tears as relief and joy washed over me in cascading waves.
I was on the wrong side of the world in a country I did not trust, but I was also back in Jürgen’s arms, and I was instantly at home.
“My God,” Jürgen whispered roughly, his body trembling against mine. “You are a sight for sore eyes, Sofie von Meyer Rhodes.”
“Promise me you’ll never let me go again.”
Jürgen was a scientist—endlessly literal, at least under normal circumstances. Once upon a time, he’d have pointed out all the reasons why such a promise could not be made in good faith—but now his arms contracted around me and he whispered into my hair, “It would kill me to do so, Sofie. If there’s one thing I want for the rest of my life, it’s to spend every day of it with you.”
“Many of our neighbors are Germans—most have just arrived in Huntsville in the last few weeks or months, so you will all be settling in together. There’s a party for us tomorrow at the base where I work, so you’ll meet most of them then,” Jürgen told me as he drove us through the town in his sleek black 1949 Ford. He glanced at the children in the rearview mirror, his expression one of wonder, as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. “You’ll like it here, I promise.”
We’d be living in a leafy, quiet suburb called Maple Hill, on a small block the Americans nicknamed “Sauerkraut Hill” because it was now home to a cluster of German families. I translated the street signs for the children and they chuckled at the unfamiliar style. Our new street, Beetle Avenue, amused Gisela the most.
“Is there an insect plague we should worry about?” she chuckled.
“I really hope so,” Felix whispered, so quietly I had to strain to hear him. “I like beetles.”
As Jürgen pulled the car into the driveway, I couldn’t help but compare the simple house to the palatial homes I’d grown up in. This was a single-story dwelling, with a small porch leading to the front door, one window on either side. The house was clad in horizontal paneling, its white paint peeling. There were garden beds in front of the house, but they were overgrown with weeds. There was no lawn to speak of, only patchy grass in places, and the concrete path from the road to the porch was cracked and uneven.
I felt Jürgen’s eyes on my face as I stared out through the windshield, taking it all in.
“It needs a little work,” he conceded, suddenly uncertain. “It’s been so busy since I moved here, I haven’t had time to make it nice for you the way I hoped.”
“It’s perfect,” I said. I could easily picture the house with a fresh coat of paint, gardens bursting to life, Gisela and Felix running around, happy and safe and free as they made friends with the neighborhood children.
Just then, a woman emerged from the house to the left of ours, wearing a dress not unlike mine, her long hair in a thick braid, just like mine.
“Welcome, neighbors!” she called in German, beaming.
“This is Claudia Schmidt,” Jürgen said quietly as he reached to open his car door. “She’s married to Klaus, a chemical engineer. Klaus has been at Fort Bliss with me for a few years, but Claudia arrived from Frankfurt a few days ago.”
Sudden, sickening anxiety washed over me.
“Did you know him—”
“No,” Jürgen interrupted me, reading my distress. “He worked in a plant at Frankfurt and our paths never crossed. We will talk later, I promise,” he said, dropping his voice as he nodded toward the children. I reluctantly nodded, as my heart continued to race.
There was so much Jürgen and I needed to discuss, including just how he came to be a free man in America. Phone calls from Europe to America were not available to the general public, so Jürgen and I planned the move via letters—a slow-motion, careful conversation that took almost two years to finalize. We assumed everything we wrote down would be read by a government official, so I hadn’t asked and he hadn’t offered an explanation about how this unlikely arrangement in America came to be.
I couldn’t get answers yet, not with the children in earshot, so it would have to be enough reassurance for me to know our neighbors were probably not privy to the worst aspects of our past.
Jürgen left the car and walked over to greet Claudia, and I climbed out my side. As I walked around the car to follow him, I noticed a man walking along the opposite side of the street, watching us. He was tall and broad, and dressed in a nondescript, light brown uniform that was at least a size or two too small. I offered him a wave, assuming him to be a German neighbor, but he scoffed and shook his head in disgust and looked away.
I’d been prepared for some hostility, but the man’s reaction stung more than I’d expected it to. I took a breath, calming myself. One unfriendly pedestrian was not going to ruin my first day in our new home—my first day reunited with Jürgen—so I forced a bright smile and rounded the car to meet Claudia.
“I’m Sofie.”
She nodded enthusiastically. “Since we arrived last week, you are all I’ve heard about from your husband! He has been so excited for you to come.”
“I sure have.” Jürgen grinned.
“Are you and the children coming to the party tomorrow?” Claudia asked.
“We are,” I said, and she beamed again. I liked her immediately. It was a relief to think I might have a friend to help me navigate our new life.
“Us too,” Claudia said, but then her face fell a little and she pressed her palms against her abdomen, as if soothing a tender stomach. “I am so nervous. I know two English words—hello and soda.”
“That’s a start,” I offered, laughing softly.
“I’ve only met a few of the other wives, but they’re all in the same boat. How on earth is this party going to work? Will we have to stay by our husbands’ sides so they can translate for us?”
“I speak English,” I told her. I was fluent as a child, taking lessons with British nannies, then honing my skills on business trips with my parents. Into my adulthood, I grew rusty from lack of speaking it, but the influx of American soldiers in Berlin after the war gave me endless opportunities for practice. Claudia’s expression lifted again and now she clapped her hands in front of her chest.
“You can help us learn.”
“Do you have children? I want Gisela and Felix to learn as quickly as they can. Perhaps we could do some lessons all together.”
“Three,” she told me. “They are inside watching television.”
“You have a television?” I said, eyebrows lifting.
“We have a television too,” Jürgen told us. “I bought it as a housewarming gift for you all.” Gisela gasped, and he laughed and extended his hand to her. I wasn’t surprised when she immediately tugged him toward the front door. She’d long dreamed of owning a television set, but such a luxury was out of reach for us in Berlin.
I waved goodbye to Claudia and followed my family, but I was distracted, thinking about the look of disgust in the eyes of that passing man.
Kelly Rimmer is the worldwide, New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of Before I Let You Go, The Things We Cannot Say, and Truths I Never Told You. She lives in rural Australia with her husband, two children and fantastically naughty dogs, Sully and Basil. Her novels have been translated into more than twenty languages. Please visit her at https://www.kellyrimmer.com/
Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for WHEN IT FALLSAPART (The D’Angelos Book #1) by Catherine Bybee on this Montlake Blog Tour.
Below you will find an author Q&A, a book summary, my book review, an excerpt from the book, an about the author section, the author’s social media links and a Rafflecopter giveaway. Good luck on the giveaway and enjoy!
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Author Q&A
Interview with Catherine Bybee
For anyone wondering the plot of your newest release, you give a great sneak peek with the title—When it Falls Apart. What is “falling apart” in this novel?
All the threads that hold my heroine, Brooke, together are crumbling down around her. When it Falls Apart begins with Brooke’s romantic relationship crashing and burning. At the same time, in a different state, her father is circling the drain in the ICU. And for the cherry on the top of her “falling apart life”, Brooke has found herself demoted at work. In short, everything in Brooke’s life is dissolving around her.
Like all of your books, When it Falls Apart has a beautiful romance, however, there is a rawness about Brooke’s story. How was writing this novel different from your others?
If you read my notes both in the front and the back of this novel, you’ll soon realize that the story was very personal to me. Rawness comes from experience. The relationship Brooke has with her father is hauntingly familiar to me and my dad. The emotions that the heroine experienced when taking care of him were easy for me to grasp onto and write about. Sadly, the love story with Luca was completely made up and I didn’t have the support of a strong Italian family to help deal with the struggles, but I digress.
Relationships with a parent who wasn’t there for you growing up are messy. When that parent ages and needs their child, sometimes that help comes with a bucketload of resentment, even if the child wishes they could stop those ugly feelings from creeping up on them. And THAT is the rawness you speak of.
Books, TV shows, and movies oftentimes glamorize what it means to care for a loved one. However, in When it Falls Apart you don’t sugar-coat anything about caregiving and the toll it takes on a person. How do you think readers who have been in similar situations will be affected by this story?
Justified. Validated. Accepted.
It’s a hard job taking care of an elderly family member. And if there aren’t other siblings to help, or won’t help, it’s made even more difficult. It’s difficult, gritty, dirty work that only has a bad ending…eventually. What I do hope my readers take away is that they’re not alone. That the struggle is very real and that if they don’t find balance (which is almost impossible at times) they will burn out completely and not be fit to help at all. I hope my readers are empowered to set boundaries and balance, so they come out on the other side of caring for an elderly loved one whole themselves.
Brooke gets virtually no support from her significant other, which has her reevaluating their relationship. She realizes she has settled and has to make some hard decisions. Do you think this happens too many times to women in real life?
100% Yes! There is a song by Taylor Swift with a line that says, and I’m paraphrasing here, I can be what you want for the weekend. But often that weekend ends up being a relationship that women hold on to or are convinced they can’t live without. Often it takes a huge shake-up to remove yourself from that situation. But once you’re away from the day to day dysfunctional relationship, the easier it is to see the dysfunction.
After her breakup and move, Brooke is not looking for a relationship. In fact, she tells her best friend: “I haven’t wiped off my smeared mascara from Marshall yet, the last thing I want is to jump into anything else.” Her crying over a man lasts all about two minutes when she meets Luca. Tell us about him.
Hmmm, Luca… he is the kind of man who doesn’t want a place on Brooke’s dance card…he wants to rip it up.
Luca is wired to help the people in his life. Brooke becomes a part of his inner circle simply by moving into the family building where he sees her every day.
Now, if Luca had flat out asked Brooke on a date, she would have run the other way…so no, he doesn’t go about it that way. He simply shows up and does not leave. Not when things get tough, or messy…or when his own past peeks its head in. Luca is a man who is right there at Brooke’s side without question or censor on why she does the things she does. His support and validation of her feelings is the part she was missing. Add in the hunky Italian single father and “Mamma Mia!”
At first, Luca is not thrilled that Brooke is renting a room in his family’s building. What changes his mind about her?
Her strength and vulnerability. I know that sounds contradicting, but some of the strongest women I know have a big vulnerable spot in their life that if you know them well enough, you see. The biggest smiles often hide the deepest pain. Luca sees her struggle and dedication to helping her elderly father and since family is first on Luca’s list, she passes his unconscious test.
Luca’s family, the D’Angelo’s, are incredibly close and share everything from ownership of the family restaurant to helping care for Luca’s daughter Franny. How is this different from Brooke’s relationship with her family?
Brooke doesn’t have that family. She has a father who abandoned her as a little girl that she carved out a relationship as an adult, and now she’s charged with caring for. Even her previous romantic relationship didn’t support her unconditionally the way the D’Angelo’s do for each other. She’s rather dumbfounded when they start treating her like family. It’s a wonderful thing to watch happen.
San Diego’s Little Italy plays a huge part in the story. The community, language, and food are in full display. Tell us about your own experiences in your adopted city.
I love Little Italy, the food, the pace… the people. There are many places in San Diego that are overrun with the college scene, San Diego is a college town. But Little Italy is more family friendly. Very touristy, but there isn’t a day you don’t see locals hanging out. I go to the farmer’s market often. Pick up authentic Italian ingredients for my own home cooking. I try new restaurants and take all my friends there when they are visiting from out of town. Not to mention it was the closest thing to the “real Italy” that I could go during the travel restrictions. So why not write about it and tell the world of this small island within San Diego that shouldn’t be missed?
There are two more siblings in the D’Angelo family. Where will you be taking readers next with the series?
Chloe is a yogi. Think Bali!
And Giovanni loves wine… think Tuscany, Italy.
I cannot wait to show you what I have in store for these two!
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Book Summary
Brooke Turner has always had a complicated relationship with her father. But when his health takes a turn for the worse, she drops everything to care for him. He’s her dad, after all, and he needs her. What Brooke doesn’t anticipate is the unraveling of her long-term relationship and a cross-country move to San Diego’s Little Italy.
Luca D’Angelo is the oldest of three children and a single father to a young daughter. When his mother rents the top floor of their house to Brooke, he’s angry. Who is this beautiful stranger with no ties to the neighborhood? Can she be trusted in such close proximity to his family?
As Luca learns of Brooke’s difficult journey with her ailing father, his heart softens. And Brooke, who witnesses Luca’s struggle as a single parent, develops feelings for him, too. But when it all falls apart, will love heal their wounded hearts?
WHEN IT FALLS APART (The D’Angelo’s Book #1) by Catherine Bybee is the first book in a new contemporary romance series featuring the very tight knit Italian D’Angelo family who own and live above their restaurant in the enchanting setting of Little Italy in San Diego, California. Each book will feature one of the D’Angelo siblings and their HEA romances.
Brooke Turner has an on-line marketing career which works well with her partner who is a travel blogger as they travel more than they are home. Brooke receives a call from the hospital that her father is very sick and needs surgery. She just got him back on his feet after a lengthy recovery from a stroke and now she needs to leave again. This blows up Brooke’s relationship even though Brooke’s father was never much of a father, she still feels responsible to help him since he has no one else.
Luca D’Angelo is the eldest son of three children and a single father to a young daughter. Since the death of his father, he runs the family restaurant with the help of his mother, brother, and sister who all work there and live above the restaurant. When his mother talks to Brooke when she visits the restaurant and discovers she is looking for a place to rent, Luca’s mother rents the top floor apartment to Brooke. At first Luca is worried about this stranger living in the family building, but he soon learns of Brooke’s difficult life and current problems with her father and only wants to help.
They develop feelings for each other, and Brooke loves Franny, Luca’s daughter. They want to take it slow, but in Little Italy everyone knows everyone else’s business and the nonnas are always looking to match their loved ones. When Luca’s ex-wife shows up, will their fragile romance survive, or will it all fall apart?
This is one of those stories that pulls you right in and keeps you there until the HEA. Brooke is an amazing person despite her terrible upbringing. She is loving and always giving to her own detriment many times. Luca is the handsome Italian single dad whose momma raised him right and he is a chef. Who wouldn’t fall for that? The entire family, neighbors and secondary characters are brought to life with realistic and difficult situations that many of us have or will face in the future. The H/h in this story face each situation with maturity and open communication. I loved Luca, Brooke and Franny and the entire D’Angelo family.
I highly recommend this wonderful romance and I cannot wait for the next in the series!
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Excerpt
“Oh my God, Carmen. He was standing at his car first thing this morning. Like ‘hop in, bella, let’s get stuff done today.’ Who does that?”
Brooke had picked up the phone as soon as Luca was off in search of a dump guy.
“We’re talking about the single, hot, Italian dad, right?”
Brooke rolled her eyes. “Yes. Luca.”
“Oy, oy, oy.”
“Stop it. I need advice. And I need it before he gets back.”
Carmen stopped teasing. “You don’t need advice. You need to relax. He sounds like one of the good ones. Let it happen.”
“Let it happen,” she mocked. “I don’t ‘let’ things happen. It happens to me and it’s never good.”
“You didn’t used to be such a pessimist.”
“Once upon a time the glass was half full. Not these days.”
“Okay, Debbie Downer. You want my advice . . . here it is. Keep doing whatever it is you’re doing.”
“I’m not doing anything. Zero effort.”
“Really?” Carmen didn’t sound convinced. “Makeup . . . a nice dress?”
Brooke hesitated. “Maybe . . . a little last night, but that was it.”
Carmen chuckled.
“Carmen!”
“Sorry. Okay . . . any red flags?”
Brooke thought about that. “He loved his ex-wife.”
“That’s a red flag?”
“I guess not.”
“Is he good to his mom?”
Brooke looked back on the dinner the night before. “To the whole family. He takes being the oldest brother quite seriously.”
“And his daughter?”
All Brooke could do was smile. “Great dad. We should all be so lucky.”
“He’s Italian, does he smoke?”
“No.”
“A lot of Italians smoke,” Carmen pointed out.
“In Italy. The San Diego variety are less in that wheelhouse.”
“That’s good.” Carmen sighed. “I don’t know what to tell you, Brooke. How does he kiss?”
“He hasn’t kissed me,” Brooke nearly yelled.
“Now then . . . we have a problem.”
“There hasn’t been . . . I don’t even know if—”
“Stop right there. He did not drive your sorry ass all the way to Upland to do grunt work all day if he wasn’t interested in kissing you, bellllaaa. More than that, you want him to.”
Brooke closed her eyes, and even in her own head she couldn’t convince herself that Carmen was wrong.
“Let it happen. You deserve some happiness, Brooke.”
The van with the air conditioning repair guy pulled into the driveway.
“I gotta go.”
“I want a kissing update the next time we talk,” Carmen teased.
“Love you,” Brooke said with a laugh.
“Back at ya, boo.”
She hung up.
Her best friend was such a dork.
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About the Author
New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author Catherine Bybee has written twenty-eight books that have collectively sold more than five million copies and have been translated into more than eighteen 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.
Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for THE LOST ANDFOUND GIRL by Maisey Yates on the HTP 2022 Summer Reads 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!
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Book Summary
The small Oregon town of Pear Blossom welcomes the return of its prodigal daughter Ruby McKee. Found abandoned as a baby by the McKee family, Ruby is the unofficial town mascot, but when she and her adoptive sisters start investigating the true circumstances around her discovery, it soon becomes clear that this small town is hiding the biggest, and darkest, of secrets. A raw, powerful exploration of the lengths people go to protect their loved ones, for fans of Lori Wilde and Carolyn Brown.
Ruby McKee is a miracle.
It’s a miracle she survived, abandoned as a newborn baby. A miracle that she was found by the McKee sisters. Her discovery allowed the community of Pear Blossom, Oregon, broken by a devastating crime, to heal. Since then, Ruby has lived a charmed life. But she can’t let go of the need to know why she was abandoned, and she’s tired of not having answers.
Dahlia McKee knows it’s not right to resent Ruby for being special. But uncovering the truth about sister Ruby’s origins could allow Dahlia to carve her own place in Pear Blossom history… if she’s brave enough to follow her heart.
Widowed sister Lydia McKee doesn’t have time for Ruby’s what if’s – when Lydia’s right now is so, so hard. Her husband’s best friend Chase might be offering to share some of the load, but can Lydia ever trust her instincts around him?
Marianne Martin is glad that her youngest sister is back in town, but balancing Ruby’s crusade with the way her own life is imploding is turning into a bigger chore than she imagined. Especially when Ruby starts overturning secrets about the past that Marianne has spent a lifetime trying to pretend don’t exist.
And when the truth about Ruby’s miraculous origins, and the crime from long ago, turn out to be connected in ways no one could have expected, will the McKee sisters band together, or fall apart?
THE LOST AND FOUND GIRL by Maisey Yates is a women’s fiction story with romantic elements featuring four sisters in small town Pear Blossom, Oregon, and the emotional upheaval in all their lives a quest for truth sets in motion. This standalone story is not the usual contemporary cowboy romance I have read from this author previously.
Ruby McKee, the miracle baby, has returned from her travels all over Europe to accept the job offer from the historical society in her small hometown. While Ruby has always been interested in history, her sister, Dahlia is determined to revitalize their town’s print paper. Marianne has the perfect marriage and her own small business, but she is having difficulty connecting to her moody teenage daughter. Lydia is the sister they are all worried about. She has two young children and has lost her husband to ALS and her sisters have not seen her grieve.
As they are all reunited, they must navigate their past sibling relationships and secrets which could rip them apart or bring them closer together to survive any truth no matter how difficult.
This is an intriguing look into adult sibling relationships and the men they love, intertwined with two cold case mysteries. I was not sure where the story was going at first, but once I had the people and storylines sorted, it became a story I found difficult to put down. The climax was a complete surprise that I did not see coming, but it was realistic and sad. Even with all the revelations, Ms. Yates was able to bring the sisters to a believable ending.
This is both a thought provoking and entertaining women’s fiction story.
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Excerpt
one
Ruby
Only two truly remarkable things had ever happened in the small town of Pear Blossom, Oregon. The first occurred in 1999, when Caitlin Groves disappeared one fall evening on her way home from her boyfriend’s family orchard.
The second was in 2000, when newborn Ruby McKee was discovered on Sentinel Bridge, the day before Christmas Eve.
It wasn’t as if Pear Blossom hadn’t had excitement before then. There was the introduction of pear orchards—an event which ultimately determined the town’s name—in the late 1800s. Outlaws who lay in wait to rob the mail coaches, and wolves and mountain lions who made meals of the farmers’ animals. The introduction of the railroad, electricity and a particularly active society of suffragettes, when women were lobbying for the right to vote.
But all of that blended into the broader context of history, not entirely dissimilar to the goings-on of every town in every part of the world, as men fought to tame a wild land and the land rose up and fought back.
Caitlin’s disappearance and Ruby’s appearance felt both specific and personal, and had scarred and healed—if Ruby took the proclamations of various citizens too literally, which she really tried not to do—the community.
Mostly, as Ruby got out of the car she’d hired at the airport and stood in front of Sentinel Bridge with a suitcase in one hand, she marveled at how idyllic and the same it all seemed.
The bridge itself was battered from the years. The wood dark and marred, but sturdy as ever. A white circle with a white 1917, denoting the year of its construction, was stenciled in the top center of the bridge, just above the tunnel that led to the other side, a pinhole of light visible in the darkness across the way.
It was only open to foot traffic now, with a road curving wide around it and carrying cars to the other side a different way. For years, Sentinel Bridge was closed, and it wasn’t until a community outreach and education effort in the mid nineties that it was reopened for people to walk on.
Ruby could have had the driver take her a different route.
But she wanted to cross the bridge.
“Are you sure you want me to leave you here?” her driver asked.
She’d told him when she’d gotten into his car that she was from here originally, and he’d still spent the drive explaining local landmarks to her, so she wasn’t all that surprised he didn’t trust her directive to leave her in the middle of nowhere.
He was the kind of man who just knew best.
They’d just driven through the town proper. All brick—red and white and yellow—the sidewalks lined with trees whose leaves matched as early fall took hold. It was early, and the town had still been sleepy, most of the shops closed. There had been a runner or two out, an older man—Tom Swenson—walking his dog. But otherwise it had been empty. Still, it bore more marks of civilization than where they stood now.
The bridge was nearly engulfed in trees, some of which were evergreen, others beginning to show rusted hints of autumn around the edges. A golden shaft of light cut over the treetops, bathing the front of the bridge in a warm glow, illuminating the long wooden walk—where the road ended—that led to the covered portion, but shrouding the entrance in darkness.
She could see what the man in the car saw. Something abandoned and eerie and disquieting.
But Ruby only saw the road home.
“It’s fine,” she said.
She did not explain that her parents’ farm was just up the road, and she walked this way all the time.
That it was only a quarter of a mile from where she’d been found as a baby.
She had to cross the bridge nearly every day when she was in town, so she didn’t always think of it. But some days, days like this after she’d been away awhile, she had a strange, hushed feeling in her heart, like she was about to pay homage at a grave.
“If you’re sure.” His tone clearly said she shouldn’t be, but he still took her easy wave as his invitation to go.
Ruby turned away from the retreating car and smiled, wrapping both hands around the handle of her battered brown suitcase. It wasn’t weathered from her own use. She’d picked it up at a charity shop in York, England, because she’d thought it had a good aesthetic and it was just small enough to be a carry-on, but wasn’t like one of those black wheeled things that everyone else had.
She’d cursed while she’d lugged it through Heathrow and Newark and Denver, then finally Medford. Those wheely bags that were not unique at all had seemed more attractive each time her shoulders and arms throbbed from carrying the very lovely suitcase.
Ruby’s love of history was oftentimes not practical.
But it didn’t matter now. The ache in her arms had faded and she was nearly home.
Her parents would have come to pick her up from the airport but Ruby had swapped her flight in Denver to an earlier one so she didn’t have to hang around for half the day. It had just meant getting up and rushing out of the airport adjacent hotel she’d stayed in for only a couple of hours. Her Newark flight had gotten in at eleven thirty the night before and by the time she’d collected her bags, gotten to the hotel and stumbled into bed, it had been nearly one in the morning.
Then she’d been up again at three for the five o’clock flight into Medford, which had set her back on the ground around the time she’d taken off. Which had made her feel gritty and exhausted and wholly uncertain of the time. She’d passed through so many time zones nothing felt real.
She waved the driver off and took the first step forward. She paused at the entry to the bridge. She looked back over her shoulder at the bright sunshine around her and then took a step forward into the darkness. Light came up through the cracks between the wood on the ground and the walls. At the center of the bridge, there were two windows with no glass that looked out over the river below. It was by those windows that she’d been found.
She walked briskly through the bridge and then stopped. In spite of herself. She often walked on this bridge and never felt a thing. She rarely felt inclined to ponder the night that she was found. If she got ridiculous about that too often, then she would never get anything done. After all, she had to cross this bridge to get home.
But she was moving back to town, not just returning for a visit, and it felt right to mark the occasion with a stop at the place of her salvation. She paused for a moment, right at the spot between the two openings that looked out on the water.
She had been placed just there. Down on the ground. Wrapped in a blanket, but still so desperately tiny and alone.
She had always thought about the moment when her sisters had picked her up and brought her back to their parents. It was the moment that came before that she had a hard time with. The one where someone—it had to have been her birth mother—had set her down there, leaving her to fate. To die if she died, or live if she was found. And thankfully she’d been found, but there had been no way for the person who had set her there to know that would happen.
It had gotten below freezing that night.
If Marianne, Lydia and Dahlia hadn’t come walking through from the Christmas play rehearsal, then…
She didn’t cry. But a strange sort of hollowness spread out in her chest.
But she ignored it and decided to press on toward home. She walked through the darkness of the bridge, watching as the light, the exit loomed larger.
And once she was outside, she could breathe. Because it didn’t matter what had happened there. What mattered was every step she had taken thereafter. What mattered was this road back home.
She walked up the gravel-covered road, kicking rocks out of her way as she went. It was delightfully cold, the crisp morning a reminder of exactly why she loved Pear Blossom. It was completely silent out here except for the odd braying of a donkey and chirping birds. She looked down at the view below, at the way the mist hung over the pear trees in the orchard. The way it created a ring around the mountain, the proud peak standing out above it. A blanket of green and gold, rimmed with misty rose.
She breathed in deep and kept on walking, relishing the silence, relishing the sense of home.
She had spent the last four years studying history. Mostly abroad. She had engaged in every exchange program she could, because what was the point of studying history if you limited yourself to a country that was as young as the United States and to a coast as new as the West Coast.
She could remember the awe that she’d experienced walking on streets that were more than just a couple of hundred years old. The immense breadth of time that she had felt. And she had… Well, she had hoped that she would find answers somewhere. Because she had always believed that the answers to what ails you in the present could be found somewhere in the past.
And she’d explored the past. Thoroughly. Many different facets of it. And along the way, she done a bit of exploring of herself.
After all, that was half the reason she’d left. To try and figure out who she was outside of this place where everyone knew her, and her story.
Though, when she got close to people, it didn’t take long for them to discover her story. It was, after all, in the news.
Of course, she always found it interesting who discovered it on their own. Because that was revealing.
Who googled their friends.
Ruby obviously googled her friends, but that was because of her own background and experience. If those same friends had an equally salacious background, then it was forgivable.
But if they were boring, then she found it deeply suspicious that they engaged in such activities.
She came over a slight rise in the road and before her was the McKee family farm. It had been in the McKee family for generations. And Ruby felt a profound sense of connection to it. It might not be her legacy by blood, but that had never mattered to the McKees, and it didn’t matter to her either. This town was part of who she was.
And maybe that was why no matter how she had searched elsewhere, she was drawn back here.
Dana Groves, her old mentor, had called her six months ago to tell her an archivist position was being created in the historical society with some newly allocated funds, and had offered the job to Ruby.
Ruby loved Pear Blossom, but she’d also felt like it was really important for her to go out in the world and see what else existed.
It was easy for her to be in Pear Blossom. People here loved her.
It had been a fascinating experience to go to a place where that wasn’t automatically the case. Of course, she hadn’t stayed in one place very long. After going to the University of Washington, she had gotten involved in different study abroad programs, and she had moved between them as often as she could. Studying in Italy, France, Spain, coming to the States briefly for her graduation ceremony in May, and then going back overseas to spend a few months in England, finishing up some elective study programs.
But then, she’d found that instructive too. Being in a constant state of meeting new people. And for a while, the sheer differentness of it all had fed her in a way that had quieted that restlessness. She had been learning. Learning and experiencing and… Well, part of her had wondered if her first job needed to be away from home. To continue her education.
But then six months ago her sister’s husband had died.
And Dana’s offer of a job in Pear Blosson after she finished her degree had suddenly seemed like fate. Because Ruby had to come and try to make things better for Lydia.
Marianne and Dahlia were worried about Lydia, who had retreated into herself and had barely shed a single tear.
She’s acting just like our parents. No fuss, no muss. No crying over spilled milk or dead husbands.
Clearly miserable, in other words.
And Ruby knew she was needed.
One thing about being saved, about being spared from death, was the certainty you were spared for a reason.
Ruby had been saved by her sisters. And if they ever needed her…
Maisey Yates is a New York Times bestselling author of over one hundred romance novels. Whether she’s writing strong, hard working cowboys, dissolute princes or multigenerational family stories, she loves getting lost in fictional worlds. An avid knitter with a dangerous yarn addiction and an aversion to housework, Maisey lives with her husband and three kids in rural Oregon. Check out her website, maiseyyates.com or find her on Facebook.
Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for SHADOW OF THEGYPSY by Shelly Frome on this Virtual Author Book Tour.
Below you will find a book description, my book review
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Book Description
A nemesis out of the past suddenly returns, forcing Josh Bartlett to come to terms with his true identity.
Josh Bartlett had figured all the angles, changed his name, holed up as a small-town features writer in the seclusion of the Blue Ridge. Only a few weeks more and he’d begin anew, return to the Litchfield Hills of Connecticut and Molly (if she’d have him) and, at long last, live a normal life. After all, it was a matter of record that Zharko had been deported well over a year ago. The shadowy form Josh had glimpsed yesterday at the lake was only that—a hazy shadow under the eaves of the activities building. It stood to reason his old nemesis was still ensconced overseas in Bucharest or thereabouts well out of the way. And no matter where he was, he wouldn’t travel thousands of miles to track Josh down. Surely that couldn’t be, not now, not after all this.
SHADOW OF THE GYPSY by Shelly Frome is a suspenseful crime mystery with family drama and a little romance all thrown into the mix of an intriguing read.
Josh is hiding from his past working on a small-town weekly paper. In the mysterious beginning of this story, the reader learns of his dysfunctional upbringing and the blonde girl he dreams about that he hopes to return to soon. But his past catches up to him, even though he has changed his name. He learns he was tricked into a debt to the man he is hiding from, the gypsy, Zharko.
I felt the first few chapters were confusing, but once the pieces of Josh’s past begin to unfold, the story began to pull me in. Josh and all the other characters are all fully fleshed and interesting. They are on a good vs. evil spectrum that has very few shades of gray. Just like his nefarious characters, the author also gives the landscape an atmospheric feel of foreboding. The story moves at an ever-increasing pace and yet I never felt as if I knew what would be reveled or what was about to happen right up to the climax. Mr. Frome has a unique style which in this novel gives the story a noir feeling to this crime mystery and so much more.
I recommend this unique mash-up crime mystery.
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Excerpt
Slipping away from the patio, keeping low like he did as a kid in the Connecticut hills playing Indian scout, Josh skirted the bushes, circled behind the low-lying activities building, and hunkered down by the near side of the visitors’ parking lot. He got behind the tailgate of a red Chevy pickup and glanced around the edge of the truck bed. Then, in practically no time, he spotted him.
At first, he wasn’t absolutely sure. After all, the figure was still almost a hundred yards away blurred by the shimmering sunlight. The guy could be on the grounds crew. He could be the driver of the pickup. After all, there were countless wiry workmen in denim for hire in these parts, especially now that spring had arrived.
With his mind revving like crazy, he reminded himself that his old nemesis had been booted out of the country. Josh had, in fact, recently flown back to New England once or twice to make sure, to touch base with his estranged mother and, most of all, to see Molly, his erstwhile childhood sweetheart. He’d been harboring thoughts of dropping his cover, starting over and living a normal life. That is, if he still had a chance with her and their relationship wasn’t a lingering fantasy. If he could hold out a bit longer to make sure.
Yet, as the figure pivoted and headed back in Josh’s direction, it was no use. He noted the black denim, shiny cowboy boots, and red blouse protruding from an open Levi jacket. If nothing else, the twisted, sparkling earring gave him away. That and the furtive way he scurried around, trying to get a bead on the whereabouts of his quarry. His thin, chiseled face and high cheekbones were also a dead giveaway, though it had been a few years since Josh had actually laid eyes on him.
As a youngster, gazing out the window of his mother’s cabin in the woods, he’d frequently caught sight of the gypsy van and that thickset, baldheaded companion called Vlad. And once, surreptitiously catching snatches of dialogue as he berated his mother in that awkward speech pattern of his: “Your boy still tractable for sure, tell me true? He is like well-behaved dog? . . . Day is coming when he will be useful. Not now but maybe soon because feds hounding me worse than ever ”
But Josh had it on the highest authority that Zharko had been deported. Threats of Zharko finding him useful had abated over the years, except in nightmares now and then, and hopes and daydreams of becoming free and clear had taken their place.
But now, Zharko Vadja was close by and Ackerman was waiting impatiently.
He remained hunkered down and, though he needed to get a move on, again found himself sifting through his memory bank, desperately trying to put this in some perspective. It was during that foray to touch base– to see how Molly was doing and learning she was teaching second grade at that very same elementary school they’d both attended before he’d been shipped off. But underneath Molly Hunter’s ingenuous veneer, trying not to dwell on his shortcomings, there was that same dubious background; the way his mother had treated her over a Christmas present, plus his mother Irina’s animosity toward Molly and her ilk.
There was also his name change leading to his affable mask as good ol’ Josh Bartlet. Which led to that troublesome exchange as she revealed she’d had another offer of marriage.
***
About Shelly Frome
Award winning author, Shelly Frome is a member of Mystery Writers of America, a professor of dramatic arts emeritus at the University of Connecticut, a former professional actor, a writer of crime novels, cozy mystery novels, and books on theater and film. He is also a features writer for Gannett Media’s Black Mountain News. His fiction includes Sun Dance for Andy Horn, Lilac Moon, Twilight of theDrifter, Tinseltown Riff, Murder Run, Moon Games and The Secluded Village Murders.
Among his works of non-fiction are The Actors Studio and texts on the art and craft of screenwriting and writing for the stage. Miranda and the D-Day Caper was his last foray into the world of crime and the amateur sleuth, until now. He lives in Black Mountain, North Carolina.
Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for TOXIC SOUP by R.R. Rowley on this Partners in Crime Virtual Book Tour.
Below you will find a book description, my book review, and excerpt from the book, the author’s bio and social media links and a Rafflecopter giveaway. Enjoy and good luck on the giveaway!
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Book Description
The Poisoning Must End
Toxic waste at the Hanford Nuclear Reservation has been poisoning the environment, human beings, and wildlife for more than six decades. When her brother dies a horrible death at Hanford, Casey Long, a kayaker and windsurfer by day and bartender by night in the Columbia River Gorge, Oregon/Washington, swears to put an end to the upriver contamination. But, how can she possibly take on the entrenched fortress of a facility?
After she confides in Little Bear, a bitter Native American fisherman, they contrive a dangerous plan. Joined by a peculiar mishmash of collaborators, they risk everything to save the environment and achieve justice for all injured parties, past and present.
Genre: Environmental Thriller Published by: The Wild Rose Press Publication Date: April 11, 2022 Number of Pages: 272 ISBN: 1509241167 (ISBN-13: 978-1509241163)
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My Book Review
RATING: 4 out of 5 Stars
TOXIC SOUP by R.R. Rowley is an environmental thriller set in the area around the Columbia River Gorge with a protagonist on the path of revenge for the death of her brother.
The Hanford Nuclear Reservation has been slowly poisoning the environment in the Pacific Northwest for over six decades. The government has the facility locked down, but the volatile waste is unstable and continually escapes in the air and water. Casey Long receives a life-changing call that her brother and only sibling has died in a terrible accident while he is working on the nuclear waste site on the border between Oregon and Washington. Casey is devastated and after seeing her brother’s remains and the treatment of the men in charge she must deal with at Hanford, she decides she will not rest until she has revenge for her brother.
The once easy going and friendly bartender devises a plan for revenge. She cannot get into Hanford, but she can get to the men in charge. With the help of one of her roommates, her lover, an ex-con bar regular and Little Bear, a Native American fisherman who also hates the facility and its poison, she looks for justice for her brother and hopes to bring to light the environmental nightmare that the facility is to the area.
I enjoyed the scenic descriptions of the area and the watersport scenes that Casey and her roommates enjoyed in the beginning of the story. I felt the author did a lot of research and was able to intertwine it seamlessly throughout the story to get the ominous human and wildlife environmental foreboding into the story without being just an info dump. The plot moves at a steady pace throughout much of the story with the predicted climax, but with a tragic twist ending. As much as this thriller is an environmental wake-up call, it is also a tragic story of revenge. Casey changes into a person that you can feel sadness and sympathy for, but I lost my empathy for her. The secondary characters are interesting and unique, but none are able to or attempt to change Casey’s path of revenge.
I found this environmental thriller intriguing and sad, but well worth the read.
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Excerpt
When the abandoned reactor sites came into view, they swung their kayaks into a backwater eddy. Spooked ducks sprang into flight in front of them. Boats gliding, they studied the depth of the water, avoiding the chance of running aground. Before them, some sickly grasses appeared at the edge of the river. Was this it? Casey paddled closer, excitement rising. Pointing to a spot upon the bank, she called to Rex, “See that? See that? Is water trickling out of the ground over there?”
He removed his sunglasses and squinted. “You’re right. There is a wet spot over there.”
Straggly, yellowed grasses drooped away from the seeping water. They moved even closer to get a better view. A foam rose from the trickle of liquid and spread to a nasty orange and pink gunk smeared over exposed rocks. “I see it!” Rex cried out, a jolt of fear zapping through him. “Radioactivity!” he screamed, quickly backstroking. “You’ve got your evidence. Let’s get out of here! I don’t want to be anywhere near that stuff.”
She had her proof. Toxicity flowed into the river. How many other places existed? Perhaps beneath the water, the contamination was much worse. Untouchable Hanford is getting away with whatever they want. Something needed to be done, but what? Something not only for Charley but for the birds, the fish, and all the little creatures suffering at the hand of man’s dereliction of duty. She knew what she had to do.
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Author Bio
R R Rowley has lived coast to coast in the USA, in London, UK, and has spent many years on his farm in Grenada, West Indies. He has owned and operated several companies and was involved in start-ups. Currently, he resides in the Cascade Mountains of Washington State.
