Thinking of traveling to England’s capital? Are you just an armchair traveler? Want to get a unique take on London? Whichever applies, this book is a good guide.
Readers are offered four walks through London. The first goes from Tower Hill Station to Liverpool Street Station. Next is Tottenham Court Road Station to Trafalgar Square. Third is London Bridge Station to Borough Station. Finally, there is a walk from Westminster Station to Berkeley Square.
Each walk has a theme. For example, the first one focuses on London’s buildings. They go from Roman ruins to skyscrapers.
In the introduction, the author states that he wants to show explorers lots of hidden corners. He also want to provide an “ability to read London.” Sounds good.
This book has lovely illustrations, a plethora of sites to see, informative and brief descriptions, and maps to help on the way. Each site’s address is also provided.
Recommended for someone who has the time and inclination to explore an amazing city.
Many thanks to NetGalley and Quarto Publishing Group for this title. All opinions are my own.
I am delighted to be on the blog tour for this title. I was drawn to this book as soon as I saw the cover. Many thanks to everyone at HTP for the opportunity.
The book:
THE AMALFI CURSE : A Bewitching Tale of Sunken Treasure, Forbidden Love, and Ancient Magic on the Amalfi Coast
Author: Sarah Penner
Publication Date: April 29, 2025
ISBN: 9780778308003
Format: Hardcover
Publisher: Harlequin Trade Publishing / Park Row
Price $30.00
About the book:
Book Summary:
A nautical archaeologist searching for sunken treasure in Positano unearths a centuries-old curse, powerful witchcraft, and perilous love on the high seas in this spellbinding new novel from the New York Times bestselling author of The Lost Apothecary—perfect for fans of The Familiar and The Cloisters.
Haven Ambrose, a trailblazing nautical archaeologist, has come to the sun-soaked village of Positano to investigate the mysterious shipwrecks along the Amalfi Coast. But Haven is hoping to find more than old artifacts beneath the azure waters; she is secretly on a quest to locate a trove of priceless gemstones her late father spotted on his final dive. Upon Haven’s arrival, strange maelstroms and misfortunes start plaguing the town. Is it nature, or something more sinister at work?
In 1821, Mari DeLuca and the women of her village practice the legendary art of stregheria, a magical ability to harness the power of the ocean. As their leader, Mari protects Positano with her witchcraft, but she has been plotting to run away with her lover, Holmes – a sailor aboard a merchant ship owned by the nefarious Mazza brothers, known for their greed and brutality. When the Mazzas learn about the women of Positano, they devise a plan to kidnap several of Mari’s friends. With her fellow witches and her village in danger – and Holmes’s life threatened by his connection to the most feared woman in Positano – Mari is forced to choose between the safety of her people and the man she loves.
As Haven searches for her father’s sunken treasure, she begins to unearth a tale of perilous love and powerful sorcery. Can she unravel the Amalfi Curse before the region is destroyed forever? Against the dazzling backdrop of the Amalfi Coast, this bewitching novel shimmers with mystery, romance, and the untamed magic of the sea.
Start reading:
1
MARI
Wednesday, April 11, 1821
Along a dark seashore beneath the cliffside village of Positano, twelve women, aged six to forty-four, were seated in a circle. It was two o’clock in the morning, the waxing moon directly overhead.
One of the women stood, breaking the circle. Her hair was the color of vermilion, as it had been since birth. Fully clothed, she walked waist-high into the water. A belemnite fossil clutched between her fingers, she plunged her hands beneath the waves and began to move her lips, reciting the first part of the incantesimo di riflusso she’d learned as a child. Within moments, the undercurrent she’d conjured began to swirl at her ankles, tugging southward, away from her.
She shuffled her way out of the water and back onto the shore.
A second woman with lighter hair, the color of persimmon, stood from the circle. She, too, approached the ocean and plunged her hands beneath the surface. She recited her silent spell on the sea, satisfied as the undercurrent grew even stronger. She gazed out at the horizon, a steady black line where the sky met the sea, and smiled.
Like the other villagers along the coast tonight, these women knew what was coming: a fleet of pirate ships making their way northeast from Tunis. Winds were favorable, their sources said, and the flotilla was expected within the next day.
Their destination? Perhaps Capri, Sorrento, Majori. Some thought maybe even Positano—maybe, finally, Positano.
Given this, fishermen all along the Amalfi coastline had decided to remain at home with their families tomorrow and into the night. It wouldn’t be safe on the water. The destination of these pirates was unknown, and what they sought was a mystery, as well. Greedy pirates went for all kinds of loot. Hungry pirates went for nets full of fish. Lustful pirates went for the women.
On the seashore, a third and final woman stood from the circle. Her hair was the rich, deep hue of blood. Quickly, she undressed. She didn’t like the feeling of wet fabric against her skin, and these women had seen her naked a thousand times before.
Belemnite fossil in one hand, she held the end of a rope in her other, which was tied to a heavy anchor in the sand a short distance away. She would be the one to recite the final piece of this current-curse. Her recitation was the most important, the most potent, and after it was done, the ebbing undercurrent would be even more severe—hence the rope, which she would wrap tightly around herself before finishing the spell.
It was perilous, sinister work. Still, of the twelve women by the water tonight, twenty-year-old Mari DeLuca was the most befitting for this final task.
They were streghe del mare—sea witches—with unparalleled power over the ocean. They boasted a magic found nowhere else in the world, a result of their lineage, having descended from the sirens who once inhabited the tiny Li Galli islets nearby.
The women knew that tomorrow, wherever the pirates landed, it would not be Positano. The men would not seize their goods, their food, their daughters. No matter how the pirate ships rigged their sails, they would not find easy passageway against the undercurrent the women now drew upward from the bottom of the sea. They would turn east, or west. They would go elsewhere.
They always did.
While the lineage of the other eleven women was twisted and tangled, filled with sons or muddled by marriage, Mari DeLuca’s line of descent was perfectly intact: her mother had been a strega, and her mother’s mother, and so on and so on, tracing back thousands of years to the sirens themselves. Of the women on the seashore tonight, Mari was the only strega finisima.
This placed upon her shoulders many great responsibilities. She could instinctively read the water better than any of them. Her spells were the most effective, too; she alone could do what required two or three other streghe working in unison. As such, she was the sanctioned leader of the eleven other women. The forewoman, the teacher, the decision-maker.
Oh, but what a shame she hated the sea as much as she did.
Stepping toward the water, Mari unraveled her long plait of hair. It was her most striking feature—such blood-colored hair was almost unheard of in Italy, much less in the tiny fishing village of Positano—but then, much of what Mari had inherited was unusual. She tensed as the cold waves rushed over her feet. My mother should be the one doing this, she thought bitterly. It was a resentment she’d never released, not in twelve years, since the night when eight-year-old Mari had watched the sea claim her mother, Imelda, as its own.
On that terrible night, newly motherless and reeling, Mari knew the sea was no longer her friend. But worse than this, she worried for her younger sister, Sofia. How would Mari break this news to her? How could she possibly look after spirited Sofia with as much patience and warmth as their mamma had once done?
She’d hardly had time to grieve. The next day, the other streghe had swiftly appointed young Mari as the new strega finisima. Her mother had taught her well, after all, and she was, by birthright, capable of more than any of them. No one seemed to care that young Mari was so tender and heartbroken or that she now despised the very thing she had such control over.
But most children lose their mothers at some point, don’t they? And sprightly Sofia had been reason enough to forge on—a salve to Mari’s aching heart. Sofia had kept her steady, disciplined. Even cheerful, much of the time. So long as Sofia was beside her, Mari would shoulder the responsibilities that had been placed upon her, willingly or not.
Now, toes in the water, a pang of anguish struck Mari, as it often did at times like this.
Neither Mamma nor Sofia was beside her tonight. Mari let out a slow exhale. This moment was an important one, worth remembering. It was the end of two years’ worth of agonizing indecision. No one else on the seashore knew it, but this spell, this incantation she was about to recite, would be her very last. She was leaving in only a few weeks’ time, breaking free. And the place she was going was mercifully far from the sea.
Eyes down, Mari slipped her naked body beneath the water, cursing the sting of it as it seeped into a small rash on her ankle. At once, the water around her turned from dark blue to a thick inky black, like vinegar. Mari had dealt with this all her life: the sea mirrored her mood, her temperament.
As a child, she’d found it marvelous, the way the ocean read her hidden thoughts so well. Countless times, her friends had expressed envy of the phenomenon. But now, the black water shuddering around her legs only betrayed the secrets Mari meant to keep, and she was glad for the darkness, so better to hide her feelings from those on the shore.
Halfway into the water, already she could feel the changes in the sea: the two women before her had done very well with their spells. This was encouraging, at least. A few sharp rocks, churned by the undercurrent, scraped across the top of her feet like thorns, and it took great focus to remain in place against the undertow pulling her out. She used her arms to keep herself balanced, as a tired bird might flap its wings on an unsteady branch.
She wrapped the rope twice around her forearm. Once it was secure, she began to recite the spell. With each word, tira and obbedisci—pull and obey—the rope tightened against her skin. The undercurrent was intensifying quickly, and with even more potency than she expected. She winced when the rope broke her skin, the fresh wound exposed instantly to the bite of the salt water. She began to stumble, losing her balance, and she finished the incantation as quickly as possible, lest the rope leave her arm mangled.
She wouldn’t miss nights like this, not at all.
When she was done, Mari waved, signaling to the other women that it was time to pull her in. Instantly she felt a tug on the other end of the rope. A few seconds later, she was in shallow, gentle water. On her hands and knees, she crawled the rest of the way. Safely on shore, she lay down to rest, sand and grit sticking uncomfortably to her wet skin. She would need to wash well later.
Terribly time-consuming, all of this.
A sudden shout caught her attention, and Mari sat up, peering around in the darkness. Her closest friend, Ami, was now knee-deep in the water, struggling to keep her balance.
“Lia!” Ami shouted hysterically. “Lia, where are you?”
Lia was Ami’s six-year-old daughter, a strega-in-training, her hair a delicate, rosy red. Not moments ago, she’d been situated among the circle of women, her spindly legs tucked up against her chest, watching the spells unfold.
Mari threw herself upward, tripping as she lunged toward the ocean.
“No, please, no,” she cried out. If Lia was indeed in the water, it would be impossible for the young girl to make her way back to shore. She was smaller than other girls her age, her bones fragile as seashells, and though she could swim, she’d have nothing against the power of these tides. The very purpose of the incantation had been to drive the currents toward the deep, dark sea, with enough strength to stave off a pirate ship.
Lia wasn’t wearing a cimaruta, either, which gave the women great strength and vigor in moments of distress. She was too young: streghe didn’t get their talisman necklaces until they were fifteen, when their witchcraft had matured and they were deemed proficient in the art.
At once, every woman on the shore was at the ocean’s edge, peering at the water’s choppy surface. The women might have been powerful, yes, but they were not immortal: as Mari knew all too well, they could succumb to drowning just like anyone else.
Mari spun in a circle, scanning the shore. Suddenly her belly tightened, and she bent forward, her vision going dark and bile rising in the back of her throat.
This was too familiar—her spinning in circles, scanning the horizon in search of someone.
Seeing nothing.
Then seeing the worst.
Like her younger sister’s copper-colored hair, splayed out around the shoulders of her limp body as she lay facedown in the rolling swells of the sea.
Mari had been helpless, unable to protect fourteen-year-old Sofia from whatever she’d encountered beneath the waves that day, only two years ago. Mari had spent years trying to protect her sister as their mother could not, yet in the end, she had failed. She’d failed Sofia.
That day, the sea had once again proved itself not only greedy but villainous—something to be loathed.
Something, Mari eventually decided, from which to escape.
Now, Mari fell to her knees, too dizzy to stand. It was as though her body had been hauled back in time to that ill-fated morning. She bent forward, body heaving, about to be sick—
Suddenly, she heard a giggle, high-pitched and playful. It sounded just like Sofia, and for a moment, Mari thought she’d slipped into a dream.
“I am here, Mamma,” came Lia’s voice from a short distance away. “I am digging in the sand for baby gran—” She cut off. “I forget the word.”
Ami let out a cry, relief and irritation both. She ran toward her child, clutched her to her breast. “Granchio,” she said. “And don’t you ever scare me like that again.”
Mari sat up, overwhelmed by relief. She didn’t have children, was not even married, but Lia sometimes felt like her own.
She steadied her breath. Lia is fine, she said silently to herself. She is perfectly well, on land, right here in front of all of us. Yet even as her breath slowed, she could not resist glancing once more behind her, scanning the wave tops.
The women who’d performed the spell changed into dry clothes.
Lia pulled away from Ami’s embrace, sneaking toward Mari, who welcomed her with a warm, strong hug. Mari bent over to kiss the girl’s head, breathing in her fragrance of oranges, sugar, and sweat.
Lia turned her narrow face to Mari, her lips in a frown. “The spell will protect us from the pirates forever?”
Mari smiled. If only it worked that way. She thought of the pirate ship approaching the peninsula tonight. If it did indeed make for Positano, she imagined the captain cursing under his breath. Damn these currents, he might say. I’ve had my eye on Positano. What is it with that village? He would turn to his first mate and order him to alter the rigging, set an eastward course. Anywhere but this slice of troublesome water, he’d hiss at his crew.
“No,” Mari said now. “Our magia does not work that way.”
She paused, considering what more to tell the girl. Nearly every spell the women recited dissipated in a matter of days, but there was a single spell, the vortice centuriaria, which endured for one hundred years. It could only be recited if a strega removed her protective cimaruta necklace. And the cost of performing such magic was substantial: she had to sacrifice her own life in order for the spell to be effective. As far as Mari knew, no one had performed the spell in hundreds, maybe even thousands, of years.
Such a grim topic wasn’t appropriate now, not with young Lia, so she kept her explanation simple. “Our spells last several days, at the most. No different than what a storm does to the ocean: churns it up, tosses it about. Eventually, though, the sea returns to normal. The sea always prevails.”
How much she hated to admit this. Even the vortice centuriaria, long-lasting as it was, faded eventually. The women could do powerful things with the sea, yes, but they were not masters of it.
“This is why we keep very close to our informants,” Mari went on. “There are people who tell us when pirates, or strange ships, have been spotted offshore. Knowing our spells will only last a few days, we must be diligent. We cannot curse the water too soon nor too late. Our fishermen need good, smooth water for their hauls, so we must only curse the water when we are sure there is a threat.” She smiled, feeling a tad smug. “We are very good at it, Lia.”
Lia traced her finger in the sand, making a big oval. “Mamma tells me I can do anything with the sea when I am older. Anything at all.”
It was an enticing sentiment, this idea that they had complete control over the ocean, but it was false. Their spells were really quite simple and few—there were only seven of them—and they abided by the laws of nature.
“I would like to see one of those big white bears,” Lia went on, “so I will bring an iceberg here, all the way from the Arctic.”
“Sadly,” Mari said, “I fear that is too far. We can push the pirates away because they are not all that far from us. But the Arctic? Well, there are many land masses separating us from your beloved polar bears…”
“I will go to live with other sea witches when I’m older, then,” Lia said. “Witches who live closer to the Arctic.”
“It is only us, dear. There are no other sea witches.” At Lia’s perturbed look, she explained, “We descended from the sirens, who lived on those islands—” she pointed to the horizon, where the Li Galli islets rose out of the water “—and we are the only women in the world who inherited power over the ocean.”
Lia slumped forward, let out a sigh.
“You will still be able to do many things,” Mari encouraged. “Just not everything.”
Like saving the people you love, she mused. Even to this day, the loss of little Sofia felt so senseless, so unneeded. The sisters had been in only a few feet of water, doing somersaults and handstands, diving for sea glass. They had passed the afternoon this way a thousand times before. Later, Mari would wonder if Sofia had knocked her head against the ground, or maybe she’d accidentally inhaled a mouthful of water. Whatever happened, Sofia had noiselessly slipped beneath the rippling tide.
She’s playing a trick, Mari thought as the minutes passed. She’s holding her breath and will come up any moment. The girls did this often, making games of guessing where the other might emerge. But Sofia didn’t emerge, not this time. And just a few months shy of fifteen, she hadn’t been wearing a cimaruta.
Lia began to add small lines to the edge of her circle. She was drawing an eye with lashes. “Mamma says you can do more than she can,” she chirped. “That it takes two or three of the streghe to do what you can do by yourself.”
“Yes,” Mari said. “Yes, that’s right.”
“Because of your mamma who died?”
Mari flinched at this, then quickly moved on. “Yes. And my nonna, and her mamma, and so on. All the way back many thousands of years. There is something different in our blood.”
“But not mine.”
“You are special in plenty of ways. Think of the baby needlefish, for instance. You’re always spotting them, even though they’re nearly invisible and they move terribly fast.” \
“They’re easy to spot,” Lia disputed, brows furrowed.
“Not for me. You understand? We are each skilled in our own way.”
Suddenly, Lia turned her face up to Mari. “Still, I hope you do not die, since you have the different, special blood and no one else does.”
Mari recoiled, taken aback by Lia’s comment. It was almost as though the young girl sensed Mari’s covert plans. “Go find your mamma,” she told Lia, who stood at once, ruining her sand art.
After she’d gone, Mari gazed at the hillside rising up behind them. This beach was not their normal place for practicing magic: Mari typically led the women to one of countless nearby caves or grottoes, protected from view, via a pair of small gozzi, seating six to a boat. But tonight had been different—one of the gozzi had come loose from its mooring, and it had drifted out into the open ocean. This had left the women with only one boat, and it wasn’t big enough to hold them all.
“Let’s gather on the beach instead,” she’d urged. “We’ll be out but a few minutes.” Besides, it was the middle of the night, and the moon had been mostly hidden behind clouds, so it was very dark.
While a few of the women looked at her warily, everyone had agreed in the end.
Mari stood and squeezed the water from her hair. It was nearly three o’clock, and all of the women were yawning.
She shoved the wet rope into her bag and dressed quickly, pulling her shift over her protective cimaruta necklace. Hers bore tiny amulets from the sea and coastline: a moon shell, an ammonite fossil, a kernel of gray volcanic pumice. Recently, Mari had found a tiny coral fragment in the perfect shape of a mountain, which she especially liked. Mountains made her think of inland places, which made her think of freedom.
As the women began to make their way up the hillside, Mari felt fingertips brush her arm. “Psst,” Ami whispered. In her hand was a small envelope, folded tightly in half.
Mari’s heart surged. “A letter.”
Ami winked. “It arrived yesterday.”
It had been two weeks since the last one, and as tempted as Mari was to tear open the envelope and read it in the moonlight, she tucked it against her bosom. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Suddenly, Mari caught movement in the corner of her eye, something on the dock a short distance away. At first, she thought she’d imagined it—clouds skirted across the sky, and the night was full of shadows—but then she gasped as a dark form quickly made its way off the dock, around a small building, and out of sight.
Something—someone—had most definitely been over there. A man. A late-night rendezvous, perhaps? Or had he been alone and spying on the women?
Mari turned to tell Ami, but her friend had already gone ahead, a hand protectively on Lia’s back.
As they stepped onto the dirt pathway scattered with carts and closed-up vendor stands, Mari turned around once more to glance at the dock. But there was nothing, no one. The dock lay in darkness.
Just a trick of the moonlight, she told herself.
Besides, she had a very important letter nestled against her chest—one she intended to tear open the moment she got home.
The author:
Sarah Penner is the New York Times and internationally bestselling author of The London Seance Society and The Lost Apothecary, which will be translated into forty languages worldwide and is set to be turned into a drama series by Fox. Sarah spent thirteen years in corporate finance and now writes full-time. She and her husband live in Florida. To learn more, visit SarahPenner.com.
Magic. Location (Amalfi). Treasure. A terrific protagonist. High stakes. Suspense. What more could a reader want? This was a fun read and one that it is easy to recommend.
Many thanks to NetGalley and HTP for this title. All opinons are my own.
In a note to her readers, Debbie Macomber says that she tried retirement but discovered it was not for her. Rather, what she wanted to do was continue telling stories. This book is the result and it is one that her fans will surely enjoy. It has all of the elements of a classic Macomber story, good characters, a plot that engages, and a feeling of satisfaction when the last page is turned.
This is the story of several people who find each other and offer one another the chance to again embrace life fully. There is widow Joan who misses her husband every day. Joan has two sons but they are often busy with their own lives. Next is a young girl who misses her deceased mom. Maggie’s father is an alcoholic and she wants to begin a life away from him as she studies for her nursing degree. (Joan’s son is one of her customers at the Starbucks where she works to fund her studies). Third, there is landscaper, Phil. His loss is that of his daughter.
Will these three come together and help each other to move forward? Readers will have a pretty good idea of the answer but that is not the point. This is not a novel that is read for suspense but, instead, one for those who like a nice story and a bit of thoughtful escape.
I first read Debbie Macomber’s Cedar Cove series. I just progressed from one to the next and enjoyed them all. Readers who want what she offers will be delighted with this new book and her backlist.
Many thanks to Random House Publishing Group-Ballantine for this title. All opinions are my own.
How welcome to see the return of Sigrid Harald after so many years!
Wonderful to connect with this book and the characters in an engaging
mystery that can be read by fans old or new. There is enough backstory to
make this an enjoyable read for those new to the series who are perhaps
missing Deborah Knott.
Margaret Maron brings the New York City of the 90s vividly to life.
It is a world in which the WTC still stands and one could eat at Lutece.
But all is not well as murders occur at a park bench. Further, there are
mysteries regarding Sigrid's former love, the artist Oscar Nauman.
This book is well written and highly recommended for Margaret Maron fans
and anyone who likes a (slightly) gritty New York mystery.
Book provided by Net Galley for an honest review.
I absolutely adored Messina’s first novel, The Phone Booth at the Edge of the World. It was tender and heartfelt. It did not look away from tragedy and, at the same time, showed such faith in humanity.
Once again, Messina writes with her unique voice and moves the reader. Readers should know that there really is a heartbeat library. What a thing to contemplate and to make one think about one’s life and those of others.
As was true in the first book, the cover and design of the novel are beautiful. There are some interior illustrations that are simple and engaging. The novel is constructed uniquely with narrative and other sections of thoughts and revelations.
The story is about a man, Shuichi, and a child Kenta. Part of their connection came through Shuichi’s mother. She is no longer alive. Shuichi is clearing out her belongings and thinking about their relationship and his life. When he notices some things are being taken, he comes to see and know Kenta, a boy who has had struggles. Both Kenta and Shuichi have their stories and they are well told here.
Here is another moving and emotionally resonant novel by a talented author.
Many thanks to NetGalley and Abrams for this title. All opinions are my own.
Many thanks to Berkley for the invitation to this blog tour. I was very excited to receive an early copy of this novel.
Introduction:
This spring, beloved USA Today bestselling author Abbi Waxman pulls back the veneer of Hollywood’s glitz and glamour in her dazzling pivot to feel-good mystery, ONE DEATH AT A TIME (Berkley Trade Original; on sale April 15, 2025). With her signature indelible dry wit, and knack for writing hilarious and relatable heroines, Waxman delivers her first twisty mystery, starring a pair of misfit amateur sleuths alongside an eccentric cast of characters, that tackles the subject of sobriety with care.
In ONE DEATH AT A TIME, Waxman continues to deliver the wry humor and quirky protagonists that have made her novels widely adored by readers. Waxman’s previous novels The Bookish Life of Nina Hill (2019), Adult Assembly Required (2022), and Christa Comes Out of Her Shell (2024) all center unforgettable heroines who could easily be readers’ best friends as they are grappling with real issues like isolation, connection, mental health, and complex family ties.
More about the book:
The sleuthing duo at the center of ONE DEATH AT A TIME are no different: two recovering alcoholics battling the daily challenges that come with sobriety as they also happen to be solving a murder.
Let’s set the scene: Los Angeles, California.
Enter: Julia Mann—bad-tempered ex-actress, professional thorn in the side of authority, and recovering alcoholic. Julia just found a dead body in her swimming pool, and the cops say she is responsible (she already went to jail for murder once, so now they think she’s making a habit of it).
Enter: Natasha Mason—college dropout, Gen Z gig-economy worker, and recovering alcoholic. When Julia runs into Mason at an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting, Mason is eager to clear Julia’s name and help keep her sober. But all Julia wants is for Mason to leave her alone.
As their investigation ranges from the Hollywood Hills to the world of burlesque on Sunset Boulevard to the country clubs of Palm Springs, this unconventional team realizes their shared love of sarcasm and poor life choices are proving to be a powerful combination. Will secrets from their past trip them up, or will their team of showgirls, cat burglars, and Hollywood agents help them stay one step ahead? Are dead piranhas, false noses, and a giant martini glass important clues or simply your typical day in Los Angeles? And will they manage to solve the crime before they kill each other, or worse, fall off the wagon?
Perfect for fans of feel-good mysteries, and readers of The Thursday Murder Club and Killers of a Certain Age, loyal Waxman fans and new readers will adore ONE DEATH AT A TIME’s unlikely sleuthing duo, clever dialogue, and slew of incredible pop culture references.
Mystery & Thrillers
396 pages
About the author:
Abbi Waxman is a chocolate-loving, dog-loving woman, who lives in Los Angeles and lies down as much as possible. She worked in advertising for many years, which is how she learned to write fiction. She has three daughters, two dogs, three cats, and sundry other animals.
From the Publisher
Editorial Reviews
Review
“Abbi Waxman is both irreverent and thoughtful.”—#1 New York Times bestselling author Emily Giffin
“Waxman’s mystery is a sly female bonding manifesto: It’s Thelma & Louise without booze or Brad Pitt.”—Oprah Daily
“[A] fun, clever tale.” —AARP
“An absolute rollercoaster ride of a mystery! Loaded with hilarity and heart, it is impossible not to get attached to this snarky dynamic duo and their shenanigans. A must read for mystery lovers and fans of Hacks, there is something in this fabulous multi-generational journey for every reader.”—Jenn McKinlay, New York Times bestselling author of A Merry Little Murder Plot
“Hold on to your non-alco drinks because a new detective dream team has arrived. Meet Julia and Mason: recovering, rebellious, and gloriously sarcastic. I ugly-snorted too many times to count. A fabulous mystery, characters with depth, and a total hoot too. More please!”—Alison Goodman, New York Times bestselling author of The Benevolent Society of Ill-Mannered Ladies
“Abbi Waxman has done it again. This book has everything you could want: a cast of funny, flawed, feisty characters, a deliciously irreverent, hilariously high-octane murder mystery plot, and a huge amount of heart. I absolutely loved it.”—Freya Sampson, USA Today bestselling author of Nosy Neighbors
“Sparkling prose, quirky, well-drawn characters, laugh-out-loud dialogue, and a murderous ‘curse.’ This is a total winner with a satisfying ending.”—Kathleen West, author of Are We There Yet?
“Full of the witty banter and laugh-out-loud scenarios readers have come to expect from Waxman, this raucous romp around Tinseltown with an odd couple of sleuths will delight readers.”—Library Journal
“Sharp and clever!”—Kirkus Reviews
“Delivers a caffeinated Hollywood whodunit full of fast-talking characters… Waxman stuffs the narrative with colorful side characters and witty repartee…movie buffs and fans of comical mysteries will enjoy themselves.”—Publishers Weekly
“The joy of this book is both its breadth and depth…. It’s a marvelous portrait of 30 years in Hollywood, the conflict between the generations, and how humor can almost conquer all.”—First Clue
My thoughts:
This was the first book that I have read by Abbi Waxman but it will not be the last. I hope that she will write more funny, snarky, mystery/thrillers that have interesting characters (including a recovering alcoholic, jailed for murder previously protagonist), and a plot that will take readers for an interesting ride.
Follow Julia and Mason as they get to know each other, go all over the place meeting with a variety of California characters. Will they emerge unscathed?
Take a look at this title to find out.
Again, many thanks to Berkley for this opportunity and to NetGalley as well.
I was thrilled to receive the e-galley of this title from the publisher. Mainly this was because I have read and enjoyed all of the other books by this author. I was also delighted to be approved for a title by Berkley as this is a rarity for me.
Local Gone Missing was an absorbing book from the start. It followed many characters, among them, Charlie. He is quite the man but what is behind his facade? Early on readers learn that Charlie has a severely disabled daughter (Birdie) and a second wife (Pauline) who is quite attached to her creature comforts. What will “hail fellow, well met” personality, Charlie, do to meet his financial obligations?
Dee is a cleaner. As often happens in fiction, Dee observes a lot while she tidies. There is more to Dee than meets the eye.
Pete Diamond (is it a coincidence that his name is the same as Peter Lovesey’s detective? This is just an aside as I noticed the name). Pete is one of the weekenders, a group that the insiders do not welcome. He has organized a music festival. It does not go well. Read the book to find out why.
There are many other characters as well. They are both local and not. Many of them (and all of the ones in the book) have complex interrelationships.
Finally, there is Elise, a character whom I really liked. Elise is a police officer who has been on leave due to a bout with cancer. She is friendly with Ronny. The two insinuate themselves into the investigations that are going on in their beach community. Of course, the police are involved as well.
Much happens over the course of the novel. I was deeply immersed and eager to see what would happen next.
I can honestly say that this might be my favorite book by the author. Those looking for a suspenseful, slow burn summer read need look no further.
Many thanks to NetGalley and Berkley for this title. All opinions are my own.
Katherine Reay is a versatile writer. Some of the first books that I read by her were homages to literature. Just a few of the titles that I enjoyed were Dear Mr. Knightley (a take on Daddy Longlegs), The Austen (yes, Jane) Escape, The Printed Letter Bookshop and, Of Literature and Latte. She then expanded into historical fiction with The London House.
In this novel, a dual time line historical one, Reay takes readers to WWII Vienna in telling one story, while in the other a Russian young woman is an exchange student in DC in the 80s.
Ingrid, of the earlier time period , has lost many in the war. Her parents were helping the Allies when fate caught them. Ingrid has decisions to make about where she will live her life. What does she decide? Who is her husband? What will she do as she learns more about him?
Anya, in the later time period, comes to love America more than she thought she would. Will she go back to Russia? If yes, what will she do there? And, importantly, how will the story lines converge?
Those who love history, spy stories, love stories, family stories and all around good reads, pick this one up. I really enjoyed it.
Many thanks to Harper Muse and NetGalley for this title. All opinions are my own.
by David P. Wagner is an e book bargain for 11.6.21
Readers who enjoy art, architecture, gardens, twisting streets, Italian food and red wine will want to read this mystery. It is part of a series although the novels can be read out of order. This was the first book that I have read by Mr. Wagner and I look forward to reading all of the others.
Rick Montoya works as a multi-lingual translator while his significant other, Betta, is employed by an art crime squad in the Italian cultural ministry. The two are in the Urbino area where a wealthy Spanish collector has donated a Piero Della Francesca drawing to a small, local museum. Unfortunately he is murdered and the drawing is missing. Solving the case is the focus of this story with intervals for food and drink.
There are many suspects. These include directors of other museums, a collector who was unable to secure the drawing himself, the victim’s second wife and his daughter, his assistant and more. Readers will get to know each of them as they try to solve the case.
Those who enjoy mysteries by Donna Leon and Andrea Camilleri will want to read this. There is even a character who continuously pays homage to the latter’s series detective, Inspector Montalbano.
Many thanks to NetGalley and the publisher. All opinions are my own.
I previously read and enjoyed To Die in Tuscany which is a later entry in the series that features Rick Montoya. In Cold Tuscan Stone, readers meet Rick for the first time. He is from New Mexico, has an Italian mother and has moved to Italy where he works as a translator.
In this novel, an old friend of Rick’s, affectionately nicknamed Beppo, asks for Rick’s help in investigating what seem to be nefarious doings in the sale of Etruscan artifacts. Rick is asked to pose as a buyer and to infiltrate several sources of antiques to help with the case.
What I learned from the prior novel is that where Rick goes, murder follows, along with good food that is lovingly described, wine, and attractive women. What more could a reader want?
As noted above, this book offers an interesting plot, a wonderful setting and a likeable protagonist. Readers who enjoy the Brunetti and/or Montelbano series will likely enjoy the Montoya books as well. There are seven of these in all.
Many thanks to NetGalley and Poisoned Pen Press for this title. All opinions are my own.
![Take Out by [Maron, Margaret]](https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/51fS9YTZ%2BPL.jpg)
How welcome to see the return of Sigrid Harald after so many years!
Wonderful to connect with this book and the characters in an engaging
mystery that can be read by fans old or new. There is enough backstory to
make this an enjoyable read for those new to the series who are perhaps
missing Deborah Knott.
Margaret Maron brings the New York City of the 90s vividly to life.
It is a world in which the WTC still stands and one could eat at Lutece.
But all is not well as murders occur at a park bench. Further, there are
mysteries regarding Sigrid's former love, the artist Oscar Nauman.
This book is well written and highly recommended for Margaret Maron fans
and anyone who likes a (slightly) gritty New York mystery.
Book provided by Net Galley for an honest review.
Joyce's mystery and fiction book reviews with some non-fiction too! 