A Night to Surrender – Tessa Dare

Posted on August 19, 2011 by Kathy Wheeler

I was sitting at lunch one day with a few of my friends (none of whom read romance) when I began to describe a scene in this book. (Incidentally, the one of which I’m speaking is on page 168). From the moment I turned to the first page, I found myself laughing. People walking by thought I was nuts. Perhaps I am. But I loved this book.

Set in a little community called Spindle Cove, the hero’s cousin refers to as Spinster’s Cove (see what I mean?), Bram, the hero, needs Susanna Finch, the heroine’s father to give his recommendation for Bram’s re-entry to war. A debilitating injury to his leg has kept him from leading his troops for months, and he is desperate to return.

Instead, he receives an unwanted Earldom, along with a broken down castle, and the ridiculous appointment of creating a mission to guard the township. Piece of cake. Nothing could be simpler. Right? Except, he needs men. And, well, he has a good start—his right hand man, and his lazy cousin. But then the obstacles begin to mount, soon bounding to insurmountable. For instance, the once manly tavern is now a frilly tea shop. The blacksmith, rather than shoeing ox’s, fashions lockets.

The men in Spinster—uh, Spindle Cove, he finds, are far and few between. In addition, whenever Bram poses a question, the answer is, inevitably, ask Miss Finch. My point from the beginning is that the friends I shared the scene with, stated, “this sounds like a theater production.” (Which means I loved it.) The pictures in my head, combined with the witty dialogue and wacky characters, had me rolling on the floor laughing. ROFL for you Texters and Tweeters.

And now that I’ve whet your appetite, the bad news is that this book is not scheduled for release until September. But just remember—if you do not read Tessa Dare’s newest, you will, sadly, miss out. —Kathy L Wheeler

Timetripping With Falco

Posted on July 20, 2011 by JodiL

I’ve been a stickler about my summer reading ever since I had to plod my way through Crime and Punishment while everyone else in my bunk was snickering over Forever by Judy Blume. Let’s face it, even the deepest most sensitive student of the written word–and back then I so did want to believe that was me–would have a hard time cozying up to Raskolnikov, he of the premeditated murder and the belated remorse, when there was a guy with a penis named Ralph hanging around, so to speak.

So this summer I’ve been catching up with an old friend, Marcus Didius Falco, the ancient Roman detective created by British author Lindsey Davis, in his latest mystery Nemesis. I met Falco just a few years after his debut in The Silver Pigs, a romp set in the chill of Roman Britain. I was working for a mystery publisher at the time, and the best perk of the job by far was that I could read every book I could get my hands on. I tore through the first books in days, then began what became an annual object lesson on delayed gratification until the next book’s release. To her credit and my relief, Davis never fails to deliver a new Falco novel each summer, which, given the uproar over the long-awaited release of George R. R. Martin’s A Dance With Dragons, is no small feat. (Davis is even gracious enough to encourage far less literarily productive fans on her website while doing it.)

Falco is a wisecracking gumshoe detective whose shoes just happen to be sandals. The mysteries he investigates are deadly serious. Falco is not. Apparently this is a problem for some. On her official website Davis writes of Falco’s first adventure: “At this early point in his career, he has not only to make his way in the snobbish and dangerous milieu of Vespasian’s Rome, but to overcome the prejudice amongst publishers, booksellers and readers who are wary of historical novels and off-beat settings.”

By now, such misgivings are long gone. Davis writes with such confidence it’s hard to imagine that Falco’s Rome isn’t real. In Nemesis, he investigates the disappearance of a mild-mannered couple of art dealers and comes up against a violent band of freedmen that may have the imperial authorities’ protection. But as always, the colorful characters he meets on the job are never more colorful than his nearest and dearest at home. Falco and his wife Helena are the heart of the series, and their relationship is always its most interesting when it’s pushed to the limits, as it is here. Helena is every inch Falco’s equal–she was originally meant to be the first novel’s big baddie until she convinced the author otherwise. She keeps Falco grounded and gives us an all-too-familiar glimpse of what it’s like for a “spirited” woman to negotiate her way around a freewheeling yet unyieldingly patriarchal society.

The beauty of jumping into a series later in the game is that you can get hooked without having to wait for your next fix. It’s like renting the whole season of a TV show instead of following week to week. The Falco novels are a perfect way to get away without leaving home. Falco’s Rome is as alien as Katniss Evedeen’s Panem and as fantastically populated as Hogwarts. Trust me. I don’t share my summers with just anybody. Falco and Helena are always having a rough go of it, but it wouldn’t feel like summer if I wasn’t getting lost in their latest journey. These days, crime may not be any prettier, and our families haven’t gotten any less crazy. Best way to muddle through may still be to have a healthy sense of humor. But at least we get to do it with central air and indoor plumbing.

Confessions of an Improper Bride – Jennifer Haymore

Posted on July 15, 2011 by Kathy Wheeler

It never fails to amaze me how an author can take a seemingly ridiculous notion and turn it into a gripping plot only to resolve it so convincingly. This is exactly what Ms. Haymore has accomplished with her latest tale.

Serena Donovan has obliterated her own reputation. Sent home in disgrace to West Indies she is rehashing her utter stupidity to her twin sister when an unexpected wave surges over the rail sweeping her sister overboard never to be seen again

I was quite surprised as I had not read the blub on the back cover of the book (I read this on my sony e-reader). Needless to say, I had to read on to see what was going on. Unbeknownst to Serena her mother posted the obituary indicating Meg (the surviving twin) as the surviving sister. When Meg’s sweetheart initiates contact with the family wanting to pick up with Meg, Serena is in quite a quandary. If she does not marry well, her sisters will suffer. And, lord have mercy, should anyone discover her deception.

But there is one person who can discern the difference between Serena and Meg. The one man she’d lost her reputation to, Jonathan Dane. Now, the Earl of Stratford.

This will be one book you will not be able to lay aside. —Kathy L Wheeler

Just Like Heaven – Julia Quinn

Posted on June 17, 2011 by Kathy Wheeler

Picture this! An author creates a series of stories (The Bridgertons). Yet a common thread throughout each book there is one event the characters protest, object to, complain about…well, you get the …picture. And say, for example…it’s set in the Regency era, and, um… suppose it’s a musicale.

Yes! Yes, that’s good, a musicale. Better still, a Quartet. These characters—young and old—loathe to attend because the musicians—excuse me! I meant Quartet, are all unmarried, yet debuted young women.

And uh—tone deaf.

Yes. I said tone deaf.

So, the brilliance in Julia Quinn’s new book (I pray is a series) has done just that. Honoria Smith-Smythe is a determined and quite untalented violinist. But as an unmarried, already out debutante, family tradition requires she take her place in the Quartet until such time she marries. She grits her teeth in a firm, bright smile and plays. Why? To make her mother proud, of course.

Marcus Holroyd, the Earl of Chatteris, is an unusual hero. He is a brooder (not so unusual), strong (okay, that too is not so unusual). Somewhat shy and introverted (definitely, unusual). When he trips in a hole (also unusual) , Honoria has dug to create a theatrical show intended for herself, he ends up spraining an ankle in the silly thing. Worse, when the doctor cuts off his beloved Hessain boot, he apparently stabs his leg. Marcus almost perishes from the infection, but for Honoria and her mother’s unexpected medicinal treatments.

But, in truth, it’s their long standing friendship from childhood that brings their situation to life and love. Uh, and the fact that if Marcus can sit on the front row and proudly root on this woman on through such ear-splitting trauma. He deserves the title of —

HERO!

So, rather than “picturing this” in your head, try “picturing this” in your hands. It is such a fun and lovely story, you’ll be glad you did. And certainly worth the read and the eventual reread. — Kathy L Wheeler

Born at the sixth and seventh chimes

Posted on May 25, 2011 by Sonia Gensler

Chime, by Franny Billingsley, is the story of Briony Larkin, one of the most tortured — and at the same time most lovable — characters I’ve encountered in YA fiction. As the flap copy says, “Briony has a secret.” In Briony’s mind, this secret explains her stepmother’s death, her sister’s mental fragility and the outbreak of deadly swamp cough in her community. Briony is a witch — a hanging offense in the Swampsea. For years she’s been resigned to the fact of her own evil nature and inevitable doom. This changes, however, when Eldric arrives on the scene and proceeds to question everything Briony has held as truth.

I loved this book. So did the many reviewers who called it “a darkly beguiling fantasy,” “exquisite to the final word,” “both lushly sensual and shivery,” “extraordinary and moving,” and “an entirely original concoction” (as quoted on Billingsley’s website). Not sure what I can add to that lavish list of starred reviews, but perhaps I’ll just mention four of my favorite things about the novel:

The voice — so vivid, authentic and captivating. If you are a fan of “voicey” narrators, this book’s for you.
The world building — many fantasy novels incorporate clunky chunks of exposition to introduce their worlds. Chime just tosses you into the story and reveals the world of the Swampsea so organically that you are no longer an observer, you are there. (And you never doubt the existence of a Boggy Mun or Chime Child.)
The mystery — don’t want to give too much away here, but I loved the way details and secrets were scattered like crumbs at perfect intervals. It kept me guessing, and I was never less than gripped by the narrative.
The romance — Briony’s relationship with “bad boy” Eldric develops in a fresh and compelling way. Their chemistry is palpable, but at the same time the barriers to their love are plausible. This part of the story was wonderfully unpredictable, and I never once felt manipulated.

I hope you’ll pardon my bullet-point recap. Even though I loved the book, this was a hard review for me to write — it was a struggle to tame the wildly gleeful thoughts running through my head. I highly recommend Chime!