I received a free copy of this book in exchange for a fair and honest review. All opinions are my own.
A mother must find a way of unlocking her past, saving her marriage and discovering the truth behind her daughters disappearances in author Lauri Schoenfeld’s “Little Owl”.
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The Synopsis
Adaline Rushner is a woman in pieces. Her daughters have gone missing, and although the authorities seem to have found their bodies, something still isn’t right. Her husband, Cache, can’t bear the pain and wants to move on, but Adaline can’t shake the feeling they’re still alive. She even starts seeing them in the house, though Cache does not. Adaline wonders whether this current tragedy has something to do with the misfortune and painful experiences she suffered in her own childhood, but her memories have gaps in them that she can’t quite close on her own.
After Adaline and Cache move to Salt Lake City, everything gets even stranger. Local cop Officer Abbott thinks Adaline’s distinctive owl necklace may somehow link to his own missing daughter. Adaline’s neighbor Maggie offers assistance and comfort, but Adaline suspects her of hiding other truths from her. Adaline tries to prepare for her girls’ eventual return while investigating her own past forgotten traumas, but a threatening message urges her to let the past stay forgotten. Can Adaline find the truth and save her marriage to Cache, or will the tangled web of memories from her past keep her from moving on?
Author Lauri Schoenfeld’s psychological thriller is a suspenseful tale of family trauma, discovering our inner strength, and understanding the power of forgiveness.
The Review
Wow. This was my first thought after reading this incredible thriller. The character growth was outstanding in this narrative. The heartbreak and tragic nature of the protagonist and her refusal to accept the loss of her daughters was such a natural and emotional reaction that any parent would likely be able to relate to in those circumstances. Her relationships and the twists and turns the narrative takes to force the readers to question if Adaline is truly having a break from reality due to the loss of her children, or if something far more sinister is afoot.
The thing that really drew me into this narrative was the atmosphere and theme of trust that the author played with. One thing I always look for in a thriller is if you can guess right away who the true “culprit” is, or if the story is so rich that you can’t make up your mind either way. This novel was definitely in the latter category, making me question everyone and truly shocking me several times over the narrative.
The Verdict
A haunting, shocking, and entertaining thriller, author Lauri Schoenfeld’s “Little Owl” is a must-read novel of 2021! Honestly, this book captured the same shock and wow factor that Dean Koontz’s “False Memory” did, not necessarily by shocking with the revelation but the actions and twists the narrative took readers in. The final revelation of what happened to these children and who is responsible will absolutely be a jaw-dropper of a revelation, and make this story really stand out! If you haven’t yet, be sure to grab your copy today!
Rating: 10/10
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About the Author
Lauri Schoenfeld currently resides in Utah with her husband, three kids, and dog, Jack Wyatt Wolverine. She’s a child abuse advocate, a Nancy Drew enthusiast, and is part cyborg. Teaching creative writing classes to her community is one of her favorite things to do when she’s not having long conversations with her characters. Visit her at www.laurischoenfeld.com
I received a free copy of this book in exchange for a fair and honest review. All opinions are my own.
A young man hoping to bring progress to his village finds himself forced to choose between fulfilling a long-cherished dream and the girl he loves in author Emme Gordon’s “Double Crosser”.
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The Synopsis
What if a young man sets out to bring progress and development to his village… at any cost?
Maverick businessman Krish Thomas decides to build a highway that passes through his village. To finance it, he launches a business, becomes a wheeler dealer, and makes a fortune.
And then, in alliance with a dubious political fixer, he plans to steal a billion dollars – from his own company… so he can keep his promise to a childhood friend!
What happens when a nosey detective pokes around into his shady deal making? And a double-crosser begins exposing the shenanigans?
Find out in this fast-paced action thriller ‘Double Crosser’!
With his entire business empire at stake and his very survival threatened, Krish is finally forced to choose between two options… a long-cherished dream, or the girl he loves.
In the end it looks as if Krish’s compromises will almost wreck his fortune – but will they let him pursue his dreams?
‘Double Crosser’ is a thrilling drama full of tension and action. A roller-coaster ride that will plunge you into an exhilarating world of high finance and deadly intrigue, rampant corruption as well as shining idealism.
“It’s about how far one will go, how much one is willing to give… to make a dream come true” – Sid Sinclair
“Fast paced. Never a dull moment. And what a stunning climax. Great story.” – Raj Ramanathan
“A page-turner that grips and will keep you awake late into the night.” – Charlene Cartier
Enter the fascinating universe of Krish, his friends and lover, his rivals and enemies.
A roller-coaster adventure in big finance, rampant corruption, and shining idealism. A stark choice between friendship and love. This action packed thriller will keep you on the edge of your seat!
Enjoy ‘Double Crosser’ today.
The Review
What an engaging and unique thriller! The author has done a marvelous job of drawing readers into this powerful narrative of a young man with dreams of bettering his village and those who live within it, and along the way gets caught up in a game of high-stakes finances, corporate and political corruption, and a delicate balance between love and childhood promises. The atmosphere and tone the author creates early on strike a stark contrast between the hopeful dreams of the protagonist and the dark underbelly of financially driven crime.
Yet this author’s command over character development was amazing to see unfold. The intricacies of protagonist Krish were so insightful and added so much depth to the narrative. The haunting loss of a childhood friend early on in the book really highlights the overall struggle of the protagonist and influences his actions so much in this story. The balance the author found between this development of the characters and the intrigue of the conflict amongst the protagonist and the corrupt figures he faced really made this financial thriller so engaging to read.
The Verdict
A remarkable, entertaining, and investing financial thriller, author Emme Gordon’s “Double Crosser” is a must-read book. The lengthy yet fast-paced and heart-pounding twists and turns the author takes readers on will guarantee that no reader ever feels bored, as the action is heart-pounding while unique to this particular genre. If you haven’t yet, be sure to grab your copy today!
Rating: 10/10
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About the Author
Emme Gordon lives in Madras with his French wife and two young boys.
During the day, he clocks time in a cubicle, pretending to code software. In the gloam of twilight, while the world readies to sleep, Emme transforms into a dreamer who indulges joyously in a universe of make believe.
Larger than life characters. Impossibly crazy situations. Desperately dangerous risks. King size dreams. All are grist to Emme’s creative mill.
His novels are about unconventional characters who set out to change the world – a reflection of his own refusal to conform and fit in.
Emme would love to hear from you, especially if you enjoy reading his stories and want to share your thoughts.
I received a free copy of this book in exchange for a fair and honest review. All opinions are my own.
A college student and diagnosed psychopath taking part in a psychological study of other psychopathic students is caught in a game of cat and mouse when one of the other students is murdered, and she must uncover the murderer’s identify before she is next in author Vera Kurian’s “Never Saw Me Coming”.
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The Synopsis
Meet Chloe Sevre. She’s a freshman honor student, a leggings-wearing hot girl next door, who also happens to be a psychopath. Her hobbies include yogalates, frat parties, and plotting to kill Will Bachman, a childhood friend who grievously wronged her.
Chloe is one of seven students at her DC-based college who are part of an unusual clinical study for psychopaths—students like herself who lack empathy and can’t comprehend emotions like fear or guilt. The study, led by a renowned psychologist, requires them to wear smart watches that track their moods and movements.
When one of the students in the study is found murdered in the psychology building, a dangerous game of cat and mouse begins, and Chloe goes from hunter to prey. As she races to identify the killer and put her own plan into action, she’ll be forced to decide if she can trust any of her fellow psychopaths—and everybody knows you should never trust a psychopath.
Never Saw Me Coming is a compulsive, voice-driven thriller by an exciting new voice in fiction, that will keep you pinned to the page and rooting for a would-be killer.
The Review
This was such a fantastically written and gripping thriller. The author takes the classic balance of whodunnit mystery storytelling and haunting thriller vibes and flips the script by having the targeted victims in this case diagnosed psychopaths. This is so unique, as it explores psychopathy as a diagnosis and mental health condition rather than a term just for unhinged criminal minds, while also exploring that facet of the general public’s thinking with morally corrupt characters that fit this description. The layered and complex nature of the character development is what really invites readers into this narrative, delivering shocks and twists not seen since the revelations of Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn.
The atmosphere and tone were what really captured my attention as a reader. The author perfectly found the right blend of chilling personality traits from not just the mystery “killer”, but the protagonists of this narrative as well, and the dark humor that readers can’t help but shakily chuckle at. Readers won’t be able to help to get chills as the author delves into the mindset of these characters, and you won’t be able to help to imagine how many people you know or walk by every day, harboring these thoughts and mindsets. That’s always a good indication of a successful thriller.
The Verdict
A masterful, haunting, and engaging mystery and thriller read, author Vera Kurian’s “Never Saw Me Coming” is a must-read thriller of 2021. The unique character perspectives and chilling atmosphere are incredible driving forces to keep readers invested, and the shocking twist revelation of the killer and their motivation will leave readers falling off their seats. If you haven’t yet, be sure to grab your copy today!
Rating: 10/10
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About the Author
Vera Kurian is a writer and scientist based in Washington DC. Her debut novel, NEVER SAW ME COMING, is forthcoming from Park Row Books (US) and Harvill Secker, Vintage (UK) in Fall 2021. (more on that here). Her short fiction has been published in magazines such as Glimmer Train, Day One, and The Pinch. She was born and raised in the mid-Atlantic region, before stints in NYC and LA returned her to her rightful home of DC where she’s lived for most of her adult life. She has a PhD in Social Psychology, where she studied intergroup relations, ideology, and quantitative methods. She blogs irregularly about writing, horror movies and pop culture/terrible TV. She enjoys existentialism and puppies.
I received a free copy of this book in exchange for a fair and honest review. All opinions are my own.
Literary heroine Enola Holmes and her iconic brother Sherlock join forces when a young woman believes her sister has mistakenly been identified as deceased, and the hunt to learn what has happened to the young woman’s twin takes them to shocking depths in author Nancy Springer’s “Enola Holmes and the Black Barouche”, the seventh novel in the Enola Holmes series.
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The Synopsis
Enola Holmes is the much younger sister of her more famous brothers, Sherlock and Mycroft. But she has all the wits, skills, and sleuthing inclinations of them both. At fifteen, she’s an independent young woman–after all, her name spelled backwards reads ‘alone’–and living on her own in London. When a young professional woman, Miss Letitia Glover, shows up on Sherlock’s doorstep, desperate to learn more about the fate of her twin sister, it is Enola who steps up. It seems her sister, the former Felicity Glover, married the Earl of Dunhench and per a curt note from the Earl, has died. But Letitia Glover is convinced this isn’t the truth, that she’d know–she’d feel–if her twin had died.
The Earl’s note is suspiciously vague and the death certificate is even more dubious, signed it seems by a John H. Watson, M.D. (who denies any knowledge of such). The only way forward is for Enola to go undercover–or so Enola decides at the vehement objection of her brother. And she soon finds out that this is not the first of the Earl’s wives to die suddenly and vaguely–and that the secret to the fate of the missing Felicity is tied to a mysterious black barouche that arrived at the Earl’s home in the middle of the night. To uncover the secrets held tightly within the Earl’s hall, Enola is going to require help–from Sherlock, from the twin sister of the missing woman, and from an old friend, the young Viscount Tewkesbury, Marquess of Basilwether!
Enola Holmes returns in her first adventure since the hit Netflix movie brought her back on the national bestseller lists, introducing a new generation to this beloved character and series.
The Review
This was such an engrossing and thought-provoking read. The author does an incredible job of capturing the tone and dialect of not only the era but the original Sir Arthur Conan Doyle novels following Sherlock Holmes. Yet despite the large shadow that Sherlock casts, Enola does an incredible job of outshining her brother and standing on her own as a remarkable literary heroine.
The mystery aspect of the narrative and the setting really did steal the show on this novel. The gripping tale of a twin sister seeking the truth about her other half after rumors of her death fell off was a great hook to grab the readers, and Enola’s, attention. The clash of culture between the high society atmosphere of the missing woman’s estate and the seedy underbelly of London and its countryside as they hunt for the location of the missing woman was interesting to see play out here and really made the narrative feel alive in the reader’s mind.
The Verdict
A masterful, thoughtful, and engaging novel, author Nancy Springer’s “Enola Holmes and the Black Barouche” is a must-read novel of 2021. A great springboard for the heroine to return after finding cinematic success on Netflix thanks to the highly talented Millie Bobbie Brown, the balance of character growth and the mystery was amazing to see, and what felt great was that this novel, while a continuation overall of the character’s personal arcs, was strong enough to stand alone for newcomers like me to the series to get engaged in the narrative. If you haven’t yet, be sure to grab your copy today!
Rating: 10/10
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About the Author
NANCY SPRINGER is the author of the nationally bestselling Enola Holmes novels, including The Case of the Missing Marquess, which was made into the hit Netflix movie, Enola Holmes. She is the author of more than 50 other books for children and adults. She has won many awards, including two Edgar Awards, and has been published in more than thirty countries. She lives in Florida.
Here is an Excerpt From “Enola Holmes and the Black Barouche”
“Is she fainted?”
Indignant, I wanted to sit up and say I was not so easily killed and I never fainted, but to my surprise my body would not obey me. I merely stirred and murmured.
“She’s moving.”
I saw the clodhopper boots of common men surrounding me and smelled alcohol on the breath of those leaning over me.
“Let’s get ’er inside.”
“Somebody go fer the doctor.”
Strong hands, not ungentle, seized me by the feet and shoulders. I could have kicked and yelled—I felt strong enough now—but my mind had started to function, realizing that I was about to be carried into a pub, for only in a public house, or pub, would workmen be drinking in the daytime. And normally no woman of good repute would enter a pub, or if she did, she would be jeered at until she retreated. But, my avid brain realized, fate in the form of Jezebel had given me opportunity to spend some time inside a pub—no, in the pub, most likely the only pub in Threefinches! So I closed my eyes and pretended to be rather more helpless than I was as the men hauled me inside and laid me down on a high-backed bench by the hearth.
Someone brought something pungent in lieu of smelling salts, but I shook my head, pushed the malodourous hand away, opened my eyes, and sat up, acting as if it were a great effort for me to do so. A burly, bearded man in an apron, undoubtedly the publican who kept the place, came running with a pillow for my back, and I thanked him with a gracious smile.
“Will ye have a nip of brandy, lydy?”
“No, thank you. Water, please.”
“Jack! Water for the lydy!” he bellowed to some underling, and he remained nearby as I managed, with hands that genuinely trembled, to remove my gloves. Their thin kidskin leather was ruined by the mauling it had taken from Jezebel’s reins, and my hands were red and sore; doubtless they would bruise. Grateful for the cool glass, I held it in both hands and sipped, looking around me. Half of the denizens of the place, like the owner, stood in a semicircle staring at me not unpleasantly, while the rest did the same from seats at the rustic tables—all but one. A tall man with beard stubble on his chin and quite a shock of coarse brownish-grey hair hiding his forehead had withdrawn to a table by the wall, where he devoted his attention to his mug of ale, or stout, or whatever noxious brew he might fancy. I said brightly to the tavern-keeper, “I believe I would like to stand up.”
“Now, why not wait for the doctor, lydy—”
But taking hold of his arm, as he stood within my reach, I got to my feet with reasonable steadiness. There were muted cheers from the onlookers. Nodding and simpering at the men all around me, I lilted, “Thank you so much. Do you suppose anyone could go out and fetch my bag, and my hat and parasol? I believe they fell along the—”
Already half a dozen would-be heroes were stampeding towards the door. Yet, if I had walked in here under my own power, any request for help would have been met with deepest suspicion. Such is life: odd.
I received a free copy of this book in exchange for a fair and honest review. All opinions are my own.
After his fiancee is brutally murdered, one man will find himself facing moral challenges like never before as he takes on a mission of revenge in the hunt for her killer in author Jared Bodnar’s “The Shattered Violin”.
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The Synopsis
Conner and his fiancée Cassie had a fairytale love. They complemented each other in every way and looked forward to a perfect future ahead of them. In one day, that future is destroyed. Cassie is brutally murdered, leaving Conner broken, alone and filled with pain. He knows the pain of this loss will haunt him for the rest of his life.
After much deliberation, Conner decides that he will stop at nothing to avenge Cassie’s death. Tracking down her killer throws him into a world of moral ambiguity as he sets off on a meandering quest.
Without knowing how, Conner wants to inflict the same pain as the killer inflicted. But, as Conner gets closer to the moment of reckoning, he will face impossible choices and the realization that his elaborate plan may ultimately be derailed.
The Review
A truly gripping and haunting thriller, author Jared Bodnar expertly weaves a tale of love lost, and the downward spiral we go through when a piece of ourselves is ripped out of us savagely. The atmosphere and suspense the author builds as the mystery of who killed the protagonist’s wife was edgy and thick with tension, really balancing the protagonist’s personal development with intense storytelling.
Yet it was the protagonist who sold this narrative. The author really did a great job of portraying how losing someone you love, especially to a violent crime, can affect you emotionally and mentally. The person the protagonist slowly began to slip away from him, and instead, a person solely focused on violent revenge begins to emerge instead. The back and forth struggle of the person he was and the person he’s become add to the tension building the author implements in this story, making it impossible to put this book down.
The Verdict
A chilling, heartbreaking, and mysterious new thriller, author Jared Bodnar’s “The Shattered Violin” is a must-read novel of 2021. Engaging and rich in character study, the narrative really digs into the reader’s emotional depths and tasks us all to picture how challenging losing a loved one can be, while also challenging us to face our losses and overcome our grief, lest we fall further and further down the rabbit hole. If you haven’t yet, be sure to preorder or grab your copy of this book today!
Rating: 10/10
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About the Author
Jared Bodnar is an advertising professional by day, dedicated dad by night and novelist after Midnight.
He graduated from Arizona State University with a Journalism and Psychology double major, a perfect combination for writing psychological thrillers.
A lifelong writer, Jared is passionate about dialogue and is obsessed with converging, twisty storylines. Jared lives in Gilbert, Arizona with his wife Shannon, daughter Harlow, and sons Easton and Kai.
I received a free copy of this book in exchange for a fair and honest review. All opinions are my own.
Two detectives must hunt down and stop a serial killer serving up her own brand of justice in author Terry Shepherd’s “Chasing Vega”, the first in the Jessica Ramierez series.
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The Synopsis
When a meth bust goes bad, Detective Jessica Ramirez and her partner, Officer Alexandra Clark, find themselves in pursuit of a serial killer who dispatches her own form of street justice from the rim of the Grand Canyon. They soon discover that the danger their adversary poses reaches well beyond Arizona and into the very heart of the New York City Financial District.
Filled with 21st century crimes and non-stop action, Terry Shepherd’s first detective thriller features a diverse ensemble cast of strong smart women and the men who try to keep up with them.
Jess and her partner, Officer Alexandra Clark, grab you from page one, and don’t let you go until the last plot twist is finally revealed.
Chasing Vega is a heart pounding roller coaster ride that will make you want to return to Jess and Allie’s world again and again.
The Review
This was an edge-of-your-seat thriller! The author did an amazing job of slowly elevating the tension and the drama of the narrative, adding to the high-stakes atmosphere of the novel. The vivid imagery of the novel’s settings did a fantastic job of highlighting the powerful writing and almost cinematic quality of the author’s writing style.
Yet it was the character development that really stole the show. The protagonist and titular star of this novel, Jessica Ramierez, was a brilliant new action and policy-driven hero, bringing a strong, Latina detective into a high-stakes hunt for a serial killer. The character’s complex family life and steely determination to face off against the sexism and misogynism within the police department was incredible to see, as was the relationships she built with colleagues and friends along the way. The personal stakes that pulled her into this case and the powerful conclusion to her chase with this complicated killer will leave fans eagerly wanting more stories from this author.
The Verdict
A remarkable, action-packed, and engaging thriller, author Terry Shepherd’s “Chasing Vega” is a marvelous start to the Jessica Ramirez series. A must-read thriller, the author expertly balances character growth and atmospheric storytelling that will keep fans invested all the way into the climactic finale. If you haven’t yet, be sure to grab your copy today!
Rating: 10/10
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About the Author
I’m a writer and editor by trade, living in Jacksonville, Florida with my beautiful wife. Between the two of us, we earn enough to keep the lights on, pay the Internet bill and share adventures together. Except for a few excursions and some daily cardio, I spend every free minute in front of a keyboard, spilling out the contents of my disordered mind. Someday maybe it will coalesce into something with commercial appeal. I’m ok if it doesn’t.
Jessica Ramirez is my “protagonist”, what we call our heroes and heroines in the trade. Yes, she patterened after a real Latina cop and I base her on actual events in that cop’s life. To protect the innocent, I weave a composite of traits and adventures in the lives of some amazing police women I’ve had the honor of knowing. Jess has had her share of troubles navigating her career in a department that is one of the last bastions of overt male chauvinism. She’s far from perfect, but has a good heart and a desire for both justice and compassion. Her wild hair tendencies get her into trouble. “La Familia Ramirez” is her rock and her best friend and sometime partner Ali Clark is a confidant and fellow troublemaker.
Check out Jess’ Journal to get to know her a little better. I hope it will inspire you to want to read “Chasing Vega”, her first adventure and “Chasing the Captain”, the one I’m trying to finish now.
I also write stuff for kids. My grandson asked me one day if I had a job. I spend a lot of time with him and with his sister, so it was natural that he might think I was a slacker. When I told him I wrote books, he asked if I could write one for him, so he could be a star. “Hudson and the Missing Tiger” became the first in what will be “The Waterford Detective” series for elementary school kids.
And when the Pandemic came upon us, I wanted to create something that could teach children habits that could help protect them from the Coronavirus. I grew up loving Dr. Seuss and with the help of my brilliant illustrator – son-in-law, Casey Ratchford, we created two books in “The Mystery Bug Collection”. “Juliette and the Mystery Bug” teaches proper hand-washing and nose-blowing. And “Juliette and the Masked Hero” teaches about Masking and Social Distancing. I wrote both books in the anapestic tetrameter style of the good Doctor and are available, along with everything I write at Amazon. The Mystery Bug series became so popular that we created mystery-bug.com as a place where parents and educators can find lesson plans for the classroom and more resources to help create productive conversations with kids about Covid19.
You can tell that my adventures in fiction have been unfocused and a little crazy. That’s ok. I’m often unfocused and crazy. I don’t expect to get rich doing this stuff. I do hope that what I write touches your heart and perhaps gives you an escape from this uncertain world we live in.
Thanks so much for reading this far. See you in the next chapter!
I received a free copy of this book in exchange for a fair and honest review. All opinions are my own.
A mother realizes her worst fears as her teenage daughter disappears, and a trail of secrets and lies forces her to question everything she thought she knew about her child in author Amber Garza’s “Where I Left Her”.
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The Synopsis
From the author of WHEN I WAS YOU comes a spine-tingling new thriller about a mother’s worst nightmare come true, when she goes to pick up her daughter from a sleepover, and she’s nowhere to be found.
Whitney had some misgivings when she dropped her increasingly moody teenage daughter off for a sleepover last night. She’s never met the friend’s parents, and usually she’d go in, but Amelia clearly wasn’t going to let something so humiliating happen, so instead she waved to her daughter before pulling away from the cute little house with the rosebushes in front.
But when she goes back to get her, an elderly couple answers the door–Amelia and her friend are nowhere to be found, and this couple swears she’s at the wrong house. As Whitney searches for Amelia, she uncovers a trail of secrets and lies her daughter has told her–from Finsta accounts to rumors of a secret relationship. Does she really even know this girl she’s raised, and can she find her before it’s too late?
The Review
What a truly gripping and engaging thriller! I was hooked from the book’s first pages, and the pacing and atmosphere that the author created were both entertaining and haunting all at once. Straight out of the gate readers are shown evidence that this young woman was living a very different life than her mother ever knew, and each revelation is like a nail in her coffin as the danger feels closer and closer. Yet in an instant, the author finds ways of taking readers in directions they never saw coming, until the momentous final moments of this book.
The characters themselves were what kept the mystery and narrative so brilliant in their delivery. The changing POVs from chapter to chapter was brilliant, and the revelation of the various characters behind those POVs will turn the novel’s plot on its head. The dynamic and struggles between mother and daughter are the core and heart of this story, highlighting the delicate balance and emotional connection that mothers make with their children and the hardships that arise when children become teenagers.
The Verdict
A brilliantly written, emotional, and shocking summer thriller, author Amber Garza’s “Where I Left Her” is a must-read novel of 2021, and definitely a contender for best thriller of the year! A heartbreaking and heart-pounding journey of a mother who must learn her daughter’s secrets and come to terms with her own past in order to find her child and bring her home, this novel will keep readers on the edge of their seats long past the final pages. If you haven’t yet, be sure to grab your copy today!
Rating: 10/10
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About the Author
Amber Garza has had a passion for the written word since she was a child making books out of notebook paper and staples. Her hobbies include reading and singing. Coffee and wine are her drinks of choice (not necessarily in that order). She writes while blaring music, and talks about her characters like they’re real people. She lives with her husband and two kids in Folsom, California.
Here is an Exclusive Excerpt from “Where I Left Her”
1
FRIDAY, 5:00 P.M.
DROP-OFF
WHITNEY WANTED TO get rid of her daughter.
How awful is that?
Not forever, of course, but for the night. She was weary of the sixteen-year-old attitude. The rolling of eyes, stomping of feet, the judging glances and biting remarks.
That’s why she wasn’t paying as much attention as she should’ve been when dropping Amelia off at Lauren’s. Her mind was back in their apartment, her butt planted on the couch, bare feet propped on the table, a pint of ice cream in her lap.
“The destination is on your right.” She turned the steering wheel, following the instructions given by the disembodied voice of the GPS in her daughter’s phone. Amelia held it up, giving the illusion that her palm was talking. The house in front of them was nondescript. A tract home, painted tan with beige trim, a cream door, two large windows overlooking the narrow front walkway. The only thing that set it apart from the others was the row of rosebushes lining the left perimeter of the yard, scarlet red petals and thorny, jagged stems.
Whitney pulled her car over, tires hugging the curb.
Amelia hopped out the minute her mother’s foot pressed down on the brakes, as if she was desperate to be free of her.
“You sure this is her house?” Whitney asked.
Amelia shrugged, glancing down at her phone and then back up. “This is the address she gave me.” Her tone was impatient, irritated. That’s how she’d been lately. Distant and moody. Everything her mom said and did annoyed her.
Originally, she’d planned to walk Amelia up to the front door and meet Lauren’s mom. But on the way over here, Amelia had begged her not to do that, pointing out that she was no longer a little girl.
As much as Whitney hated to admit it, she could see her point. Amelia was sixteen. As soon as she finished her driver’s training and passed her test, she’d be driving on her own and then Whitney wouldn’t even have the option of dropping her off at her friend’s. It was time she learned to let go, loosen the death grip a little.
Instead of following her daughter, Whitney stayed inside the car, watching through the smudged glass of the passenger-side window. Amelia’s dark hair swished down her spine as she sped to the front door. When she reached it, she readjusted the blue overnight bag that was secured on her shoulder while lifting her other hand to knock.
Lauren appeared in the doorway, flashing a smile at Amelia. She wore a pink headband that made her look much younger than seventeen. Amelia peered over her shoulder before stepping forward, her lips curling at the corners as she threw her mom another wave. It was the largest grin Whitney had gotten in days, and she welcomed it, grabbed hold of it and then gave it back.
After watching them both disappear inside, Whitney pulled away from the curb. Without even looking in the rearview mirror, she sped toward her night of freedom, dreaming of a couch to herself and a movie Amelia couldn’t make fun of.
SATURDAY, 10:00 A.M.
SEVENTEEN HOURS AFTER DROP-OFF
Whitney had been up for hours, and still hadn’t heard from Amelia. Last night was restful. Quiet. Peaceful. All the things Whitney had wanted it to be. Much needed. But this morning she was suffering from a serious case of mom guilt. She missed her daughter. Was anxious for her to come home, attitude and all. Unlocking her phone, she shot her a quick text: Ready for me to pick you up?
Even after several minutes, no response came. Not that she was shocked. When Amelia had friends over, they stayed up all night giggling and talking. No matter how many times Whitney would remind them to keep it down, within minutes their muffled voices would return, drifting through the adjoining bedroom wall. Most likely, she’d done the same at Lauren’s and they were both still asleep.
The house smelled like Saturday morning—coffee, creamer, maple syrup.
French toast had been a weekend tradition for years. When Amelia was little, she’d wake up early and bound into her mom’s bedroom, eager for breakfast. But lately it seemed Whitney ate alone more often than not. Even when Amelia was home, there was no guarantee she’d join her. Amelia lived in her room, earbuds perpetually plugged in her ears, as if she’d grown another extremity. Still, Whitney couldn’t bring herself to stop the tradition altogether. The French toast would get eaten, even if it took a couple of days. Whitney didn’t mind leftovers, anyway. Not that she had many this morning. She’d gone for an extra-long jog and had been ravenous.
After cleaning up the kitchen, Whitney went back into her phone and clicked on the Snapchat app. Amelia may have been quiet around the house lately, but she had no problem sharing her life with the rest of the world. Whitney expected to be greeted by smiling selfies of her and Lauren, maybe some photos of the food they were eating, proof to all the other teenagers on social media that they were having a blast on their Friday night together. But nothing had been posted on her story in the last twenty-four hours.
With slick fingertips, Whitney closed out of Snapchat and checked Instagram. Nothing there either. A chill brushed over her neck, causing the hairs to stand on end. She shook the feeling away with an abrupt jerk of her head. Whitney had always been like this. Anxious. A worrier, especially when it came to Amelia. Perpetually thinking the worst. Amelia hated it. So had her ex-husband. It was one of the many things they fought about. And it was probably one of many reasons why Dan had ended up marrying that sunny, smiling, high-pitched preschool teacher. If Whitney had to take a guess, she’d say there were no skeletons in Miss Karen’s closet. No past indiscretions she was afraid of coming to light. No monsters from her past lurking around the corner.
No secret buried inside, so deep the roots had become invisible.
When Dan married Karen, Whitney remembered thinking how he had succeeded in finding someone completely opposite from her, just like he said he would. It didn’t take him long either. He’d met Karen less than a year after they’d split up. He and Karen were friends for a while, and then dated for several years before marrying.
That was how he always defended it.
We were friends first.
We took it slow.
But that was never the point. He should have made Amelia his priority. Whitney hadn’t dated at all while Amelia was growing up—she’d only started within the last couple of years. Once Amelia hit high school and started having a life of her own, Whitney figured it was time she did too.
Leaning against the counter, she stared out the kitchen window. There wasn’t a view. The window overlooked the apartment across the way. A man stood in his kitchen, his back to Whitney as he drank coffee. His build vaguely reminded Whitney of Jay, and it made her smile.
Going into her last text thread with him, she typed, I miss you.
Then she bit her lip. Too forward? Too soon?
They’d been dating for a couple of months, and he’d only been on an overnight business trip. He was returning later today. She didn’t want to come on too strong.
Backspace. Delete. She tried again: Hope your trip was good.
Too formal?
Whitney paused, thinking.
Why am I making this so hard?
She really liked Jay. That was the problem. He was the first guy in a long time she felt hopeful about. Usually by month two of dating someone, the red flags popped up and her interest waned. That hadn’t happened yet with Jay.
Turns out, she didn’t need to stress over what to text. Jay beat her to it.
Boarding the plane now. Will call you when I’m back, he texted.
Sounds good, she responded.
It was 10:30. There were a million things on the agenda today and waiting around for Amelia wasn’t one of them.
After hitting the grocery store and Target, Whitney swung by Lauren’s, using the memory of how they’d gotten there yesterday as her guide. It was a little tricky, since she hadn’t paid enough attention to Amelia’s directions yesterday, but after a few minutes of circling the neighborhood, she came upon a familiar street and turned on it. A couple of houses in, she recognized the rosebushes.
It had been well over an hour since she’d sent the last text to Amelia. Although there hadn’t been any response yet, Whitney was sure she was up by now. Probably hoping to buy more time with her friend.
Whitney had gotten Amelia a bag of gummy worms. She pulled it out of one of the grocery bags. It crinkled as she set it on the passenger seat. Amelia probably wouldn’t even eat them. Certainly, they didn’t fit within the parameters of her latest diet, but, still, Whitney couldn’t resist. Whitney’s habit of picking up treats at the store had started back when Amelia was a toddler, when she’d surprised her with a bag of cookies one afternoon when picking her up from preschool. Whitney would never forget how wide Amelia’s eyes got, how broad her smile became as she clutched the little bag. A lot of things may have changed between them over the past few years, but Whitney didn’t want that to be one of them.
After getting out of the car, she slipped the key ring around her finger and walked up the front walkway, flip-flops slapping on the pavement. It was a warm, spring day. Kids played outside a few houses down. A lawnmower kicked on. A couple rode their bikes past, bright neon helmets bouncing up and down like beach balls bobbing in the waves. Amelia used to love to ride bikes. For a while, it had been a weekend tradition. Whitney couldn’t remember the last time they’d hit the trails together, but she made a note to ask her about it. Most likely her answer would be a big resounding no, coupled with the same cringey, horrified look she had whenever Whitney suggested they hang out. Still, it was worth a shot. Sometimes Amelia surprised her with a yes, reminding Whitney of the girl she used to be before the teenage monster took over.
When Whitney reached the door, she lifted her hand to knock the same way she’d watched Amelia do the day before. A minute passed and no one answered. That funny feeling returned, but she shoved it down, feeling silly.
She knocked again, this time so hard it stung her knuckles. The girls were probably listening to music or something. Or maybe they were in the backyard. It was a nice day. Ears perked, she listened for the sound of her daughter’s voice or of music playing inside. Hearing neither of those, she frowned.
Finally, Whitney caught the hint of footsteps inside.
The door creaked open, an older woman peering out, eyebrows raised. She looked to be in her late sixties, maybe early seventies.
Whitney was taken aback. She’d never met Lauren’s mom, but there was no way this was her. Maybe Lauren’s grandparents lived with them. Recently, Whitney had watched a news report about how the cost of living had gone up, causing multigenerational homes to become a growing trend. And Lauren had mentioned that her parents were divorced. Whitney knew firsthand how financially taxing it was to raise a child alone.
“Hi, I’m Whitney. Amelia’s mom.” Smiling, Whitney jutted out her hand.
But the elderly woman just stared at it, not saying a word. She glanced over her shoulder where a man around her same age stood. He furrowed his brows and stepped forward. Whitney’s body tensed.
Maybe she’s got dementia or Alzheimer’s or something. Whitney caught the old man’s eyes. “Hi, I’m Amelia’s mom. She spent the night here.”
“Nope. Not here.” Shaking his head, he came closer. “You must have the wrong house. They all kinda look the same in this neighborhood.”
Whitney glanced around. Hadn’t she thought the same thing yesterday? She must’ve turned down the wrong street or something.
Face warming, she backed away from the door. “I’m so sorry to have bothered you.”
“No bother at all,” the man said, and the woman offered a kind smile.
Whitney turned on her heels and made her way back to the car. She turned on the ignition and pulled away from the curb. The couple had already disappeared inside. Whitney drove to the main street and turned right. When she came up on another street, she turned onto it. The man was right. There were lots of houses that looked like theirs. She pulled up in front of one, scanning the yard.
Nope. No roses.
That’s what had set the other house apart. The one she dropped Amelia off at.
She moved farther down the street, carefully looking to the right and to the left, searching for a one-story house, roses lining the perimeter. Coming up empty, she swung the car around. Maybe her mistake had been turning right at the main street.
Backtracking, this time Whitney turned left.
This street was almost identical to the other two she’d just been down. Same tract homes. Manicured lawns. Shuttered windows. A sea of tan paint and beige trim. The odd red door or colorful lawn art. But, again, no roses. At least, not in the correct spot.
Turning onto another street, she finally found it. The simple house. The roses lining the side.
After parking in front, she leaped out and hurried to the front door. It was answered after only a couple of knocks.
She gasped, taking in the elderly man standing in the doorway. The same one she’d just spoken to a few moments ago.
Oh, my God.
She’d ended up right back where she’d started. As she backed away from the door, apologizing profusely, she took in the shuttered windows, the manicured lawn, the roses lining the perimeter of the yard. Peering back at her car, she envisioned Amelia in the front seat holding her phone, the voice of the GPS speaking in her palm.
There was almost no doubt in Whitney’s mind—this was where she’d left her.
I received a free copy of this book in exchange for a fair and honest review. All opinions are my own.
A woman who begins having an affair with an acclaimed author finds her world in peril as her lover is found dead, and she must keep her affair a secret and prevent herself from being implicated in his murder in author Seraphina Nova Glass’s “Such a Good Wife”.
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The Synopsis
From the author of Someone’s Listening comes another thriller that will leave you breathless, about a housewife implicated in a murder investigation, perfect for fans of The Last House Guest and Someone We Know.
Melanie Hale has the perfect life. Her husband, Collin, is a loving and supportive partner and she loves their small-town home just outside of New Orleans. She doesn’t mind (too much) that she’s given up her career dreams to care for her two beautiful children. It’s all worth it.
So why, when she joins a writers’ group for fledgling novelists, does she embark on a steamy affair with Luke, a local bestselling author who gives a talk during the group? Why does she go back to Luke again and again, when she knows it’s wrong?
And then Luke is found dead, and Mel knows she was the last person to see him alive. Now, she not only has to keep the affair a secret, but somehow avoid being implicated in Luke’s death. But who would want to kill him? And if Mel finds the truth, will she be next? What follows is a sinister cat-and-mouse game that will leave readers guessing until the very last page.
The Review
A truly fantastic and engaging thriller! The author does a great job of fleshing out these characters early on, especially protagonist Melanie Hale. The author immediately sets up the narrative with Mel’s discovery of Luke’s body, and the horror of the moment quickly is underscored by the reality of the lies that she had begun to live with. Yet atop the background of her home life and showing the moments that led to her affair, the author has done an amazing job of layering the background with shocks and suspense that makes the murder itself only one of the shocks this novel holds in store.
What really stood out to me was the writing itself. The author does a phenomenal job of not only setting the tone and suspense a novel like this deserves but balances both the reality of having an affair with the more cinematic imagery that the writing invokes. So much of this novel felt like it could become the next Gone Girl, and Mel’s evolution over the course of this novel will keep readers hooked.
The Verdict
A brilliant, thought-provoking, and heart-pounding thriller, author Seraphina Nova Glass’s “Such a Good Wife” is a must-read novel of 2021! The twists and turns the narrative takes throughout this book are a wild ride, and the twist that Mel’s character takes towards the book’s final act will keep readers breathless as they eagerly await this book’s finale. If you haven’t yet, be sure to grab your copy today!
Rating: 10/10
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About the Author
Seraphina Nova Glass is a professor and playwright-in-residence at the University of Texas, Arlington, where she teaches film studies and playwriting. She holds an MFA in playwriting from Smith College, and she’s also a screenwriter and award-winning playwright. Seraphina has traveled the world using theatre and film as a teaching tool, living in South Africa, Guam and Kenya as a volunteer teacher, AIDS relief worker, and documentary filmmaker.
Here is an Exclusive Excerpt from “Such a Good Wife”
Two
Before
I can pinpoint the day that set everything in motion. Gillian Baker, one block over, holds a book club at her house once a week. Reluctantly, and at her insistence, I finally decided to join. I squeezed a cylinder of cookie dough out of its plastic tube, cut it into disks and put a tray of the artificial-tasting dough in the oven so I had something to bring and pass off as my own. Collin thought the book club idea was great and might inspire me. I told him it’s just a kid-free night for the neighborhood wives so they can drink wine and make vapid, uninformed comments on great literature, but he still thought I would be in my element and should give it a try.
I was going to be a scholar once upon a time, but I dropped out of my master’s program when we learned about Bennett’s condition. I wasn’t forced to stay home, but we decided it made sense. It was for the best, and even better than a degree, because I could write books from home and still pursue that dream. What a gift! All the time in the world to write the great American novel. Except I haven’t written any books, have I? What the hell do I really have to say anyway? Life has gone out of its way to ignore me in many regards. Shelby Fitch two doors down was in the peace corps in freaking Guatemala for two years before she married into this neighborhood. She should write the book.
What will my topics be? “Mom cleans up kid’s barf during carpool.”
“Mom waits half a day for dishwasher repair guy, and guess what? He never shows.”
“Mom tries a Peppa Pig cake recipe from Pinterest, but it looks like deranged farm swine with a phallic nose and makes son cry.” I have nothing to say. The other day I thought I’d get serious again and try to really sit and brainstorm some ideas. I ended up watching videos of people getting hurt on backyard trampolines and a solid hour of baby goats jumping around in onesies. So, I guess maybe at least getting my mind back into the literary world can’t hurt.
At my dressing table, I pulled my hair back and slipped on some dangly earrings. It was my first time out of yoga pants that week, and it felt nice. I applied lip gloss and pressed my lips together; I could hear the chaos begin in the background. The oven was beeping nonstop, beckoning Collin to take out the premade dinner he’d been heating up for the kids, but he was arguing with Ben about a video game he refused to turn off. He still had to make a plate for Claire and help the kids with homework after dinner, and Ralph, our elderly basset hound, was barking excessively at something outside, raising the tension in the room. I felt guilty leaving, but when I appeared in the front hall in a sundress, Collin lit up and gave me a kiss, telling me he had it under control. I knew he ultimately did. It’s not rocket science, it’s just exhausting and emotionally bloodsucking, and he’d already had a twelve-hour day of anxiety at work.
I kissed the top of Ben’s head and said goodbye to Rachel, who was paying no attention, and then I walked out the front door. I carried the plate of cookies and a copy of The Catcher in the Rye as I walked across the street. They were trying too hard, trying to be literary. Why not just choose Fifty Shades or a cozy mystery? When Rachel had to read this book for English, she called it a turd with covers. I, on the other hand, spent hours making meticulous notes so I could be sure to make comments that were sharp and poignant. I rehearse them in my head as I walk.
I was the last to arrive; there were a few other moms from the block already there. We all did the obligatory cheek kisses. Gillian’s living room looked like she was hosting a dinner party rather than a book club. Chardonnay was chilling in ice on the kitchen island next to a spread of food that could have come from a Vegas buffet. I wished I could hide my pathetic tube cookies.
“Wow, Gill. Did you do all this?” I asked, impressed.
“Oh, hell no. Are you kidding? It’s catered, silly.”
I can’t believe she’s had her book club catered. Everyone has wine and something fancy on a toothpick in their hands. She put my sad cookies next to the beautiful chiffon cake on the island, and I was mortified. There was cling wrap over them for God’s sake—on a Spider-Man paper plate left over from Ben’s last birthday. Kill me.
She poured me a glass, pretending not to think anything of my trashy offering, and I walked carefully over her white rug as we made our way into the sitting room. Of course she has a “sitting room.” It’s a bright space in the front of the house with vaulted ceilings and a blingy chandelier. We all perched on the edges of pale furniture. I never did quite know how to feel about these women. They’ve welcomed me so warmly, but they sometimes seem like a foreign species to me. Yes, I live in this neighborhood too, but it’s because of Collin’s success, not anything I’ve done. I guess they can probably say the same. I still feel sort of like an imposter. I don’t lean into it the way they seem to.
I didn’t intend to stay home, of course, but I still feel like I was destined for a career, never dependent on anyone else. It’s not that I feel dependent on Collin. That’s not the right word. What we have is ours. The way I contribute is something he could never handle, but I guess I don’t take it for granted the way they seem to. Gillian was constantly remodeling her house and upgrading things that you’d think it impossible to upgrade. She had a stunning outdoor kitchen next to a pool that appears damn near Olympic-sized. It was even highlighted in the local home tour magazine. One day she gutted the whole thing because she wanted the pool to be teardrop-shaped instead. And here I am using Groupons for my facials.
Even that sounds indulgent. Facials. I grew up in a doublewide trailer in Lafayette with a mother who worked the night shift at the hospital and an alcoholic father who spent his days quiet and glassy-eyed on the front porch, staring at some invisible thing, lost in another time. It will never feel right to buy five-hundred-dollar shoes or drive a luxury car, although I’d never want to lose the safety of it and I’m grateful my children will never have to struggle the way I did. This comfort is for them. This safety is for them. That’s the bottom line, so I brushed away the negative thoughts.
Tammy commented on Gillian’s bracelet. She held Gillian’s wrist, examining it. Everyone oohed and aahed as Gillian explained that it was an early birthday gift from Robert and she had to get it insured. I have never understood charm bracelets. An ugly soccer ball hangs off of her silver chain, but I made my face look delighted along with the others. After we settled in, I assumed the small talk was over and we’d dig into a great piece of literature. Kid-free, wine-lubricated, I was ready.
“Oh my God, you guys, did you see Bethany Burena at Leah’s wedding?” Karen asked. There was mocking laughter. I’d been at that wedding, but I didn’t know what they were referring to, so I stayed quiet. Liz chimed in.
“God, it looked like someone stuffed a couple honey-baked hams into the back of her dress.”
“And the worst part is she did that on purpose,” Tammy said, placing her glass of wine on an end table so she could use her hands to talk. “That ain’t too much buttercream, y’all!” Then she held her hands to her mouth and pretended to whisper sideways. “Although did you see her shoveling it in at the cake table?”
“She had those babies implanted,” Karen agreed.
“No!” Gillian gasped.
“Yep. Ass implants. Ass-plants.” Everyone roared with laughter. I forced a chuckle so I didn’t stand out. I hated these people, I realized right in that moment. I longed to leave. I could fake a headache, or check in at home and say there’s a problem with Ben, I thought. Why didn’t I? Why do I need their approval? Karen kept the gossip going.
“That’s not as bad as Alice. She brought the guy who cleans her pool to the wedding!
“What do you mean?” Liz asked.
“As a date.”
“No!”
“Scandal much?” Tammy was delighted she had everyone in hysterics.
“Alice Berg?” I asked, not understanding the social sin she’d committed. “Isn’t she single—like, divorced, I thought.”
“Yeah, but she brought The. Pool. Guy. Sad.”
“So sad,” Karen echoed.
“Desperate,” Liz added. She noticed the book in my hands. “What’s that?”
“What do you mean? It’s the book,” I said with a lighthearted scoff.
“Oh, Mel. I’m so sorry I didn’t mention it, I guess I thought everyone just sort of got it—especially since the book was something so random,” Gillian said.
“Got what?”
“We don’t, like, read it. We just need an excuse to get rid of the kids and hubbies for one night. I think we deserve at least that?” she said, glancing around for allies.
“Damn right we do.” Liz held her wine up and gulped it down, a sort of toast to herself. “You didn’t read it, did you?” I didn’t answer. I felt like an idiot. I was joking when I said it was an excuse to drink and have a night away. I was at least half joking. I thought that I may have found a few kindred spirits, perhaps—that they were at least making a half-assed attempt at self-betterment.
“I just skimmed it,” I said.
I was probably visibly blushing, so I picked a strawberry carved into a rose shape from the table and picked at it.
“Mel has a master’s in literature. Did y’all know that?” Gillian said, maybe in an attempt to redeem herself from indirectly embarrassing me.
“Oh my gosh, smarty-smart pants. Look at you.” Karen swatted my leg and smiled, supportively. I wanted the attention off me as soon as possible, so I didn’t correct her and say that it was creative writing…and that I never finished the degree.
“You should give me the name of your caterer,” I said, picking up a skewer of chicken and taking a bite. “I was gonna do a thing for Collin’s birthday. Maybe a trip, but if we stay in town we’ll have people to the house.” The subject is officially changed. Her eyes lit up.
“Oh my gosh, I have their card. I told them they should pay me for how many referrals I’m getting for them. Their almond torte is totally to die for. Seriously. If you don’t do a cake, maybe mini tortes.”
“Oh, cute!” Liz said.
We talked about mini tortes, whose phone carrier is the worst, Karen’s daughter’s (nonexistent) modeling career and Botox for the next two hours until I walked home unsteadily with my plate of cookies that Gillian gracefully sent home with me. I had to laugh a little at the idea that they met weekly, like they’d read that much. Made sense now. I tossed The Catcher in the Rye in Brianna Cunningham’s garbage can, which she’d failed to pull back into the garage (Tammy actually made mention of that particular oversight earlier in the evening), and I didn’t know if the crushing disappointment of the evening was worse than going back home to Claire’s bedpan and the mounting stress of teen angst and Ben’s moods. I wished I could just sit in the Cunninghams’ yard, drunk for a little while, but someone would see, and it would be discussed at some other neighbor’s book club.
The temperate dusk air was dense with mosquitoes and the chatter of crickets. I took my time walking back. When I approached our house, I saw Collin in an orange rectangle of warm kitchen light. He was washing dishes, sort of, but mostly looking past the kitchen island at the TV in the living room. I concentrated on appearing more sober than I was as I entered the kitchen. I sat at the table, pulling off my shoes, and he offered me a glass of wine.
“No, thanks.” I got up and filled a plastic Bob the Builder cup under the tap, then sat on a counter stool. He pulled one up next to me.
“Was it fun?” he asked, hopefully, wanting me to find an outlet—some joy in my life while things are so tough. I didn’t know if I should tell him the truth or make him happy, so I went down the middle.
“It was okay.”
“Just okay?”
“Eh. Not exactly the literary minds I was hoping to connect with.”
“I’m sorry.” He squeezed my hand. “I took Ben to pick out a new chapter book at Classics tonight.”
“Oh fun. What did he pick out?” I asked, thinking Collin was changing the subject.
He handed me a little postcard advert. “There’s a writers’ group starting next week.”
I looked over the glossy square and it had details welcoming any local writers to join the weekly Thursday group to workshop their writing. Before I could dismiss the assertion that I’m a “writer,” he pointed to the bullet point that stated “all levels welcome.” It was so incredibly sweet that he brought this for me, not only to encourage me in pursuing something I care about, but was also willing to hold down the fort every Thursday. I kissed him.
“That’s very thoughtful of you.”
“But?” he asked, anticipating a “no,” but I didn’t have a reason to say no. I mean, except that I had no writing to present to the group. I could write a critical essay on The Catcher in the Rye. That was about it. It sounded thrilling though. Maybe some accountability and pressure would be just what I needed. I glanced past Collin into the living room and saw Bennett asleep in front of WWE SmackDown! on the TV. I gave Collin a look.
“Well, he’s asleep, isn’t he?” he defended himself. Ismiled and shook my head, pressing my thumb into the crumbs on his plate and tasting the remnants of the cookies I left behind for the kids to eat.
“I guess I can try it,” I said, standing and rinsing the plate. Words I’d give anything to take back.
I received a free copy of this book in exchange for a fair and honest review. All opinions are my own.
A young detective and ambitious FBI agent must work together in order to stop a mysterious serial killer before he disappears again in author Allison Brennan’s “The Third to Die”, the first in the Quinn & Costa aka Mobile Response Team series.
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The Synopsis
An edgy female police detective… An ambitious FBI special agent. Together they are at the heart of the ticking-clock investigation for a psychopathic serial killer. The bond they forge in this crucible sets the stage for high-stakes suspense.
Detective Kara Quinn, on leave from the LAPD, is on an early morning jog in her hometown of Liberty Lake when she comes upon the body of a young nurse. The manner of death shows a pattern of highly controlled rage. Meanwhile in DC, FBI special agent Mathias Costa is staffing his newly minted Mobile Response Team. Word reaches Matt that the Liberty Lake murder fits the profile of the compulsive Triple Killer. It will be the first case for the MRT. This time they have a chance to stop this zealous if elusive killer before he strikes again. But only if they can figure out who he is and where he is hiding before he disappears for another three years. The stakes are higher than ever before, because if they fail, one of their own will be next…
The Review
Such a compelling and engaging blend of police procedural and serial killer thriller! This captured my attention immediately, as the author went about setting the haunting atmosphere of the killer’s actions in the book’s prelude. The insight into the killer’s mind and the investigation very much reminded me of J.D. Barker’s 4MK series, building the suspense and the cat & mouse element of the narrative slowly but surely, keeping the reader hanging on the author’s every word.
The character growth was definitely the major hook for this story. The killer’s motivations and thought process throughout his killings was complex, but it was the protagonists themselves, Costa and Quinn, who really added depth to this narrative. Their haunted backstories and the bond they form together keeps readers on an emotional rollercoaster as they follow this partnership through its highs and lows, until the book’s exhilarating final chapters.
The Verdict
A masterful, engaging, and thrilling new suspense novel, author Allison Brennan’s “The Third To Die” is a must-read thriller! Heart-pounding games between a killer and those chasing him really keep readers invested in this narrative, and the bond between the two investigators on the case will have readers ready and eager to dive into the next chapter of this series. If you haven’t yet, be sure to grab your copy today!
Rating: 10/10
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About the Author
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Allison Brennan believes that life is too short to be bored, so she had five children and writes three books a year.
40 books and numerous short stories later, Allison relocated in 2019 from Northern California to Arizona with her husband and two youngest children.
She currently writes the Lucy Kincaid/Sean Rogan thriller series, and launched the Quinn & Costa thrillers this year with THE THIRD TO DIE. Catherine Coulter called it an “amazing new series” and Kirkus Reviews says Kara Quinn is “A strong and damaged protagonist as compelling as Lisbeth Salander.”
RT Book Reviews calls Allison “a master of suspense” and her books “haunting,” “mesmerizing,” “pulse-pounding” and “emotionally complex.” RT also said that “The Lucy Kincaid/Sean Rogan books are getting better and better!” She’s been nominated for many awards, and is a three time winner of the Reviewer’s Choice award winner for RT Book Reviews as well as the Daphne du Maurier award. Most recently, she was nominated for Best Paperback Original by International Thriller Writers.
Allison has given back extensively to the writing community. She judged the Thriller Awards for nine years, served as awards committee chair for one term, was the managing editor of LOVE IS MURDER (edited by Sandra Brown), and has offered workshops on writing. She is also a mentor to unpublished writers for Mystery Writers of America has spoken to numerous writing groups.
You can reach Allison through Goodreads or through her website.
