Many readers will recognize that the title of this historical mystery refers to Julia Child and her classic cookbook, Mastering the Art of French Cooking. And indeed, most happily, Julia, her husband (Paul), and sister (nicknamed Dort) are all found in these pages. There is also a fictional character, Tabitha, who is nowhere near the cook that Julia is but who is a good friend to her.
The story takes place in the late 1940s in Paris so I was immediately inclined to like this book. The opening has Julia trying to figure out what is wrong with her mayonnaise. Soon, she will have much bigger problems. After a party at her apartment, a body is found in the basement area of Julia’s flat. The victim was a guest and the knife used to kill her came from Julia’s kitchen. Therese also was employed at the theater where Dort works.
Tabitha, the book’s amateur sleuth, has a father who was in the police. This makes her wanting to solve the case feel credible. She has come to Paris to spend time with her grandfather and his partner who becomes like an uncle to her. They add color and relationships to the story.
This book was entertaining and fun. I liked the setting, the characters, the food and the story. Kudos to the author. She has also written a series featuring Agatha Christie’s housekeeper showing how versatile she is. I have enjoyed her contributions to the historical mystery and recommend this title. I hope that this is the start of a series.
Many thanks to NetGalley and Kensington Books for this title. All opinions are my own.
The cover of this book gives readers a good sense of what is inside. It evokes (for me) a small town where some interesting people might live. I can see that nothing too bad will happen and that I can have a relaxing read. All true!
This is the second of two books in a series; first was Second Chance on Cypress Lane. I have not read the first title but had no trouble following along in this one.
This is a novel that uses a well known trope of romantic/women’s fiction. An old rivalry/connection with someone who seemed to be in the past comes to the forefront. This is what happens with Sinclair and Rett (that is surely a name that brings romance to mind as in Mr. Butler, even if that had a different spelling).
The two are reunited when they become involved in a mutual friend’s wedding. Readers may feel that they know where this story is going. That is okay. This is just a relax and enjoy it kind of story. It will be savored by those who like small town romances.
Many thanks to NetGalley and Forever Grand Central for this title. All opinions are my own.
Diana Palmer has written many popular novels. I am delighted to be on the blog tour for her latest title. Many thanks to HTP Books for this opportunity.
The prolific author of more than one hundred books, Diana Palmer got her start as a newspaper reporter. A New York Times bestselling author and voted one of the top ten romance writers in America, she has a gift for telling the most sensual tales with charm and humor. Diana lives with her family in Cornelia, Georgia.
Book Summary:
Tanner Everett spends most of his time jet-setting around the world. But that hasn’t stopped innocent Stasie Bolton, the daughter of a neighboring rancher, from falling head-over-heels for the jet-setting playboy. So Stasie is secretly thrilled when both her father proposes linking the properties in matrimony…which means Tanner will be hers, for good.
Despite his globetrotting ways, Tanner can’t help but be enthralled by the quiet girl next door. But as the embers between the two are fanned into flames, Tanner wonders if he’s found forever in the last place he ever expected.
Try it:
ONE
Anastasia Bolton, nicknamed Stasia, was nineteen today. She looked at herself critically in her bedroom mirror, making a face at her lack of beauty. She had a pretty mouth and big, soft brown eyes. Her cheekbones were high, her ears small. She was only medium height, but her figure was perfect. She had elegant long legs, just right for riding horses, which she did, a lot. She’d done barrel racing when she was younger, but art had taken over her leisure hours. She painted beautifully. She was named after a semi-fictional character in a movie her romantic late mother had loved, Anastasia, which starred Yul Brynner and Ingrid Bergman. Her mother had loved the movie and named her only child after the unforgettable heroine. Stasia lived with her father, Glenn Bolton, on a huge beef ranch in Branntville, Texas. Her last living grandparents, her dad’s parents, had died of a deadly virus the summer before her graduation from high school. Her mother had died tragically when Stasia was only thirteen. There was no other family left, just Stasia and Dad. They were close.
Glenn Bolton was only fifty years old, but he had a very bad heart and he was in the final stages of heart failure. It was treatable, but he hadn’t shared that knowledge with Stasia. He was terrified of the open-heart surgery treatment would require. He and the doctor had spoken privately the week before, and afterward, Glenn had been quieter than usual and he’d contacted his attorney. That had been a private conversation as well. Stasia worried about what was being discussed. She didn’t want to think about what her life would be like without him. She had no family except him. Well, there were the Everetts, who lived next door to her father’s ranch on their own enormous ranch, the Big Spur. They were sort of like family, after all, since Stasia had known them all her life. Cole Everett and his youngest son, John, were frequent visitors.
Glenn had the only groundwater suitable for ranching in the small community of Branntville, Texas. A river ran like a silver ribbon through his entire property, so he wasn’t dependent on wells for watering his cattle, as other ranchers were. He approved of Cole and John. He wanted more than anything to see his daughter settled with one of the Everett sons, but she was only in love with one of them—with Tanner, the eldest, who was the cookie-cutter design of the spoiled rich kid. Cole hadn’t spoiled Tanner. That had been his wife, Heather, a former singing star and current songwriter. Their firstborn had been the light of her life. He was twenty-five now, a strong, incredibly handsome young man with dark hair and pale blue eyes, almost silver like his father’s, and a Hollywood sort of physique. He liked variety in his women, but for the past year he’d had a girlfriend who enjoyed the jet-setting lifestyle that he favored.
Cole had given Tanner a Santa Gertrudis stud ranch that he’d bought when the owner went into a nursing home, hoping to settle down his wild son. It was a good property, adjoining his and the Bolton properties, but the water situation there was dire. There had been drought in the past year, and they’d had to drill wells to get enough water just to keep the livestock watered. The Bolton place had a river running through it, and many small streams that ran over into the Everetts’ holdings. However, that water didn’t belong to them so they were unable to divert it for any agricultural purposes. For a long time, Cole had toyed with the idea of a merger with Glenn Bolton, but Glenn wouldn’t hear of it. He found all sorts of reasons for his stubborn attitude. Cole saw right through him. Stasia was still living at home, and she was in love with Tanner. The fly in the ointment was that Tanner didn’t like Stasia. He liked experienced, sophisticated women like Julienne Harper, his girlfriend. Tanner could have made an empire out of the ranch Cole had given him, but he wasn’t home enough. He and Julienne were always on the go somewhere. Skiing in Colorado, parties on somebody’s yacht off Monaco, summers in Nice. And so it went. Stasia knew about Julienne. Everybody in Branntville did. It was a small community where gossip flourished. It was mostly kind gossip, because the people who lived there had known each other’s families for generations. Tanner was one of them. But Julienne, who was sarcastic and condescending, was an outsider, a city woman who’d alienated just about everyone she came into contact with. Tanner had a couple, Juan and Minnie Martinez, who ran the house and managed the ranch for him while he played around the world. They’d just threatened to quit because ofJulienne’s last visit to Tanner’s ranch. Cole had played peacemaker. The Martinezes were good at ranch management, and somebody had to keep the place going. Cole despaired of Tanner ever settling down to real work. He’d always had everything he wanted. Cole, who adored his wife of twenty-five years, hadn’t had the heart to make her stop coddling Tanner, while there had still been time to knock some of the selfishness and snobby attitude out of him. Now, it was too late. Stasia came into the living room where the men were talking with a tray of coffee and sliced pound cake. All three men stood up, an ancient custom in rural areas that still had the power to make her feel important. Her generation cared less about such things, as a rule, but Stasia was a throwback. Glenn had raised her the way his parents had raised him. She’d absorbed those conservative attitudes on the way of the modern world. She hated it. She hated it most because Tanner liked women who belonged to that sophisticated crowd. John Everett looked like his mother, Heather, in coloring, at least. He was big and blond and drop-dead handsome, with his father’s silver eyes. His young sister, Odalie, also looked like Heather, with pale blue eyes and blond hair. Tanner was the one who most resembled Cole, who was tall and still handsome. Tanner had the same thick, dark hair but with pale blue eyes that just missed being the silver of his father’s. John went forward and took the heavy tray from her. He grinned. “I love cake.” She laughed, a soft, breathy sound. “I know.” She smiled at him with warm affection. He was like a cuddly big brother to her. He knew that and hid his disappointment. “How’s the art going?” Cole asked with a smile. “I sold a painting!” she exclaimed happily. “There was a man passing through, from someplace back East, and he sawthe landscape I painted in the local art shop. He said it was far too cheap for something that lovely, so he gave Mr. Dill, the owner, three times my asking price. I was just astonished.” “You paint beautifully,” John said, his eyes brimming with love that she tried not to see. He indicated the landscapes on the walls of the Bolton home; one with running horses in a thunderstorm was entrancing. “Thanks,” she said, flushing a little. “Mr. Dill said the man looked Italian. He was big and muscular and he had these two other big guys with him. He was passing through on the way to San Antonio on business.” “Sounds ominous,” John teased. She laughed as she poured coffee all around and offered cake on saucers with sparkling clean forks. “He told Mr. Dill I should be selling those paintings up in New Jersey, where he was from, or even New York City, where he owned an art gallery and museum. He said he was going to talk to some people about me! He even took down Mr. Dill’s number so he could get in touch.” She sighed. “It was probably just one of those offhand remarks people make and then forget, but it was nice of him to say so.” “You really do have the talent, Stasia,” Cole told her. “It would be nice if he could put you in touch with some people in the art world back East. If that’s what you want to do with your life,” he added gently. She smiled at him. “I like to paint.” She grimaced. “I’d like to marry and have a family, though.” “No reason you couldn’t do both,” John said. “And if you had to fly back East to talk to people, well, we have a share in a corporate jet, you know. You could let us know when you had business there and I could go with you.” She smiled sedately. “Thanks, John, but it’s early days yet.” “How’s Tanner?” Glenn asked.
Cole’s light eyes grew glittery. “Off on another trip. To Italy, this time. My daughter’s studying opera in Rome. He thought he’d stop by and see her on the way to Greece.” “Odalie has a beautiful voice,” Stasia replied, hiding disappointment. She’d hoped Tanner might show up with his brother and father. “Does she want to sing at the Met eventually?” “She does,” Cole replied. He drew in a long breath and sipped coffee. “I’ll hate having her so far from home. But you have to let kids grow up.” He glanced at John with affection. “At least this one doesn’t have itchy feet yet!” “I’m a homebody,” John said easily. “I love cattle. I love ranching. I don’t want to leave home,” he added, with a covert glance at Stasia. “Good thing,” Cole chuckled. “I have to leave the ranch to somebody when I’m gone.” “You’re not going anywhere for years,” Glenn chided. “The Everetts are a long-lived bunch. Your grandfather lived to be ninety.” “Yes, but my father died before he was sixty, and my mother died before I married Heather,” Cole replied. His face tautened as he relived those days, when a lie split him apart from Heather, whom he’d loved with all his heart. It had been a torment, those months apart before he discovered that a jealous rival had told him lies about Heather’s parentage and made it sound as if he and Heather were actually related. They weren’t, but it was heartbreaking just to think it. Heather had been singing in nightclubs in those days. Cole had been cruel to her because her feelings for him were all too visible and he thought nothing could ever be allowed to happen between them. When he found out the truth, Heather had already backed out of his life. It had taken a long time to win her back.
He glanced at Stasia. She reminded him of Heather in her youth. She wasn’t as beautiful as his wife, but she was sweet and gentle and she’d make someone a good wife and mother. He knew that it wasn’t going to be Tanner. The boy had mentioned weeks ago that he hated having to talk to her father at all because Stasia would sit and stare at him as if he were a tub of kittens needing a home. He found her juvenile and dull. John, on the other hand, adored her. Cole grimaced as he processed the thought, because Stasia so obviously thought of John as the brotherly type. “Now, about what I mentioned on the phone,” Cole began as he finished his coffee and put it and the cup and saucer back on the tray. “I know what you’re going to say,” Glenn broke in, with a smile. “But I’ll never give you permission to dam the streams.” Cole sighed. “Only one stream, the one nearest my south pasture. The cattle are going to suffer for that decision,” he told the older man. “We’ve drilled every well we can.” “I know that,” Glenn told him. “I’ve got things in motion that will solve your problem. Don’t bother asking; won’t tell,” he chuckled. “But you’re worrying over something that’s already fixed. Just a matter of time. Short time, at that,” he added with a faraway look in his eyes. Cole started to argue, realized it would do no good and just shrugged good-naturedly. “Okay. I’ll rely on your conscience.” “Good place to put trust, since I do have one,” Glenn replied. He scowled. “That boy of yours got himself into hot water in France, they say. It was on the front page of the tabloid those Lombard people back East publish.” “It wasn’t Tanner who started the trouble,” Cole replied curtly. “It was his…companion, Julienne Harper. She started a row in a high-ticket French restaurant with another woman, and her companion started cursing and threw a punch at Tanner when he intervened. Tanner had some explaining to do.” He glanced at Glenn. “This time, I didn’t interfere, and I wouldn’t let Heather do it, either. The boy’s got to grow up and take responsibility for his own actions.” “According to the tabloid, he made restitution for the victim’s dress and paid the dentist to replace one of her date’s front teeth.” Glenn shook his head. “Reminds me of you, when you were that age,” he added with twinkling eyes. “Got arrested for a bar brawl when you got home from the service, I believe…?” Cole glared at him. “Some yahoo made a nasty joke about what soldiers did overseas. I took exception. The guy wasn’t ever even in a good fight, what would he know about being a soldier?” “Well, your dad kept him from suing, at least,” Glenn said, and chuckled. “Most people around here were scared of your father anyway. He was a real hell-raiser.” Cole smiled sadly. “He was, and he died far too young.” Glenn knew some stories about Cole’s father that he wasn’t about to share. Some secrets, he reasoned, should be kept. “Your son was in black ops when he went in the military, wasn’t he?” he asked suddenly. Cole looked thunderous. “Yes, he was. I didn’t find out until he was back home.” He sighed. “I told him he had to get an education, so he joined the Army and got it that way. At least he finally decided that risking his life daily wasn’t conducive to running a ranch. It’s one reason I bought the old Banks property for him, to draw him back home.” He leaned forward. “I thought if his income depended on ranching, he’d make better life decisions. At least he did get a degree in business, even if it was between assignments.” He laughed shortly. “And then he met her.” He shook his head.
Everybody knew what that meant. “Her.” Julienne Harper. The fly in the ointment. She’d lured Tanner back into the jet-set lifestyle the military had purged him of, and now he was even less responsible than he’d been before. “A bad woman can make a fool of a good man. And sometimes, the reverse,” Glenn added. He didn’t mention his late wife, but they all knew the tragic story. His wife had been suddenly and hopelessly attracted to a man straight out of prison who’d worked on the ranch. The tragic consequences were still being lived down, by Glenn and his daughter. “She was a good woman,” Glenn said stubbornly. “She was just impulsive and easily led.” “Which is how many good people end up in prison,” John said sadly. “I’m hopeful that we can keep my big brother out of it.” Cole stood up with his son and clapped him on the back. “Something I’ll never have to worry about with you,” he said with obvious affection. “At least one of my kids turned out right.” He was referring to Odalie, who’d had a brush with the law in her teens, just as Tanner had—when going into the military was the only thing that saved him from serving time. Tanner had fallen in with a few ex-cons and gotten drunk with them. He passed out in the back seat just before they robbed a convenience store, but Cole had to get attorneys and pull a lot of strings to keep his son out of jail. “Most kids turn out right eventually, even those who have a rough start,” Glenn said with a smile. “Yours turned out very well,” Cole said, smiling gently at Stasia. “She reminds me of Heather at her age.” “And that’s a compliment indeed,” Glenn said, watching his daughter flush shyly. “Well, we’d better get back home,” Cole said. “We’re getting ready for roundup. If you need any help over here, when you start, you know we’ll do anything you need us for.” Glenn smiled and shook hands with both men. “Yes, I do know. I’ll send my hands over if you need extras. We’re waiting a week to start.” “We’d be grateful. No matter how many hands you have, a few more are always welcome.” “Done. Just say the word.” “I don’t guess you’d like to take in a movie this weekend?” John asked Stasia on the way out the door. She hesitated. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings. She smiled gently. “I would, but I’m working on a landscape and I have a real incentive to finish it quickly now, just in case that nice man does give my name to somebody back East,” she added with just the right touch of regret. She liked John, but she didn’t want to encourage him. Nobody could replace Tanner in her heart. “Okay,” John said easily, hiding his disappointment. “Rain check?” “Sure,” she lied. He grinned and they all went out onto the long, wide front porch to see the Everetts off. Cole stared into the distance. “Good weather, for early spring,” he said, admiring the grass that was just getting nice and green in the pastures beyond. “I hope it holds.” “So do I,” Glenn replied. “See you.” Glenn threw up a hand. Stasia waved. The Everetts got into one of their top-of-the-line black ranch trucks and drove away. “John’s sweet on you,” Glenn mentioned over supper that night. “I know,” she groaned. “I like him so much. He’s like the brother I never had. But he wants more than I can give him, Dad. It wouldn’t be right to encourage him.” Glenn nodded. “I agree.” He cocked his head at her. “It’s still Tanner, isn’t it?” She grimaced and nodded. “I can’t help it. I’ve been crazy about him since I was fifteen, and he can’t see me for dust. It’s such a shame that I’m not beautiful and rich and sophisticated,” she added heavily. “A man who loves you won’t care what you are or what you’ve got,” he said gently. “I guess not.” She poked at her salad with a fork. “Julienne’s really beautiful. Of course, she doesn’t talk to the peasants. I saw them together in Branntville just before they left for overseas. She looked me up and down and just laughed.” Her face burned at the memory. “So did he, in fact. He thinks I’m a kid.” Glenn had a faraway look in his eyes. “That could change,” he said, almost to himself. He turned his green eyes toward her, the same green eyes that he’d hoped she might inherit. But her brown ones were like his late wife’s, he reflected, big and brown and beautiful. “You’ll inherit this ranch,” he added. “I hope you’ll have the good sense to find a manager if you don’t want the responsibility of running it yourself. And I hope you won’t be taken in by any slick-talking young man who sees you as a meal ticket,” he added worriedly, because she wasn’t street-smart. “This property has been in our family for a hundred years. I’d hate to see it go to an amusement park for tourists.” She frowned. “Why would it go to someone like that?” “Oh, this guy offered me a lot of money for the property just the other day, when I was at the bank renewing a couple of CDs. The bank president introduced us.” “You told him no, of course, right, Dad?” she asked.
He pursed his lips. He drew in a breath. “I told him I’d think about it.” He didn’t tell her that the ranch was mortgaged right up to the eaves of the house. His bad business decisions had led the place to ruin, something Cole Everett knew. It was why Cole was trying to get the ranch. But then, he’d have it soon, Glenn thought sadly. He couldn’t let Stasia become a charity case, and the sale of the ranch wouldn’t even cover the debts, as things stood. “But it’s right next door to the Everetts’ new ranch, the one Tanner owns,” she said worriedly. “Can you imagine how nervous purebred cattle would react to an amusement park next door?” “I can,” he said. “Tanner could lose everything,” she said. “His livelihood depends on the new ranch, especially since his dad has already split the inheritance at Big Spur between John and Odalie. He figured Tanner would have enough of a fortune with the Rocking C.” The Rocking C was the name of Tanner’s ranch. The previous owner, an elderly Easterner, had called it his rocking chair spread. Hence the name. “Well, Tanner might have to make a hard decision one day, when I’m gone,” Glenn said, and smiled to himself. “Are you plotting something, Dad?” she asked, worried. “Me?” He contrived to look innocent. “Now what would I have to be plotting about?” He chuckled. “How about some of that apple pie you made? This new heart medicine my doctor put me on makes me hungrier, for some reason.” “You never did tell me what he said when you went to him last week,” she mentioned. “Same old same old. Take it easy, take my meds, don’t do any heavy lifting,” he answered, lying through his teeth. He was due to speak to a cardiologist soon, who would decide ifthe open-heart surgery Glenn was frightened of was required to keep him alive. A quadruple bypass, the doctor had recommended, and soon. Too many fats, too much cholesterol— despite Stasia’s efforts to make him eat healthy food—a history of heart problems and not recognizing his limitations had placed Glenn in a bind. Glenn hadn’t shared that information with his daughter. No need to worry her. Besides, he felt fine. A few days later, just after his cardiologist’s office had phoned with an early appointment to see the intervention cardiologist, he started up the steps into the house and fell down dead. Tanner Everett was cursing at the top of his lungs, so loudly that Cole had to call him down before Heather heard her son. “Go ahead. Rage,” Cole snapped. “But the will can’t be broken. Nobody in Branntville will agree that Glenn Bolton wasn’t in his right mind when he made it.” “An amusement park! Next to my purebred herd!” Tanner whirled on his heel and glared at his parent. “And if I don’t marry damned Stasia, that’s my future.” Cole felt the resentment in the younger man. In his place, he’d have felt it as well. “It was a rotten thing to do,” Cole agreed. “But we have to deal with what we’ve got, not what we wish we had.” “I’m twenty-five years old,” Tanner raged. “I’m not ready to get married! Not for years yet!” He stared at his father. “You were older than me when you married Mother.” “Yes, I was. I played the field for years.” He looked down at his boots. “I loved your mother. For a long time. But she had a rival who lied and said Heather and I were related by blood. She took years away from us.” Tanner knew the story. All the Everett kids did. It would have been a tragedy if Cole hadn’t found out the truth in time.
“Heather was just about Stasia’s age when I fell in love with her. She sang like a nightingale, just like Odalie does now. She was beautiful. She still is,” he added softly. Tanner, who’d never felt love for a woman, just stared at him without comprehension. “There must be some way to dispute the will,” Tanner said doggedly. “Go ahead and look for one. But I’ll tell you what our attorney told me: no way in hell. You marry Stasia or the property goes to the Blue Sky Management Properties. Stasia will get nothing.” “Bull! The ranch is worth millions,” Tanner shot back. “It was. Glenn was no rancher, even if his father was,” Cole replied curtly. “The place is mortgaged to the hilt, and you can’t tell Stasia that. She’s got enough misery right now coping with her dad’s death.” He grimaced. Even he was sorry for Stasia’s situation. She couldn’t help what she felt for him, he supposed. But he was never going to return it. She had to know that. “Which leads to my suggestion. I’m giving you the Rocking Chair ranch, and merging Stasia’s with Big Spur. We can pay off the debt by disposing of most of Glenn’s beef cattle and replacing it with our purebred Santa Gerts. In other words,” Cole added quietly, “either you make a go of your new ranch or you’ll be out in the cold. I’m not changing my will, Tanner,” he added firmly. “I’m sorry. But you could do worse. And it’s about time you stayed home and managed your own damned ranch and stopped acting like some Eastern playboy.” “I hate dust and cattle,” Tanner muttered. “You should have given this ranch to John. Then he could have married Stasia.” “She wouldn’t have him,” Cole said simply. “She doesn’t love him.” He jammed his hands into his slacks pockets. “She doesn’tlove me, or she wouldn’t have encouraged her father to do this to me!” “I don’t think she had anything to do with it. Glenn had a bad heart and she had no other family.” “You could have adopted her,” Tanner said with a sarcastic bite in his voice. Cole’s silver eyes narrowed and started to glitter. Tanner cut his losses. “All right, damn it!” he muttered. “I’ll do what I have to. But I’m not settling down to aprons and babies and white picket fences! Not for any woman!” “Nobody’s asking you to.” Cole felt sorry for Stasia. She loved Tanner. Maybe, maybe love on one side would be enough. But he was worried. Tanner was like a stallion with a new rope around his neck. This wasn’t going to end well. Stasia was in shock. She sat at the kitchen table and made the funeral arrangements, relying on the funeral home and her father’s attorney for clarity. She was penniless. Worse, her father had forced his attorney to put a clause in the will. Tanner married Stasia, or her father’s property went to the amusement park man, who would turn it into a loud, cluttered nightmare for Cole’s horses and cattle. She’d heard the terms of her father’s will from their attorney, Mr. Bellamy. She was shocked and miserable, especially when she recalled what her father had told her only days before, about the offer from the amusement park man. She’d thought she’d get at least enough to live on from the deal, but it wasn’t like that at all. Her father had kept so much from her. The ranch was worthless, mortgaged and debt-ridden. There was no way she could run it for a profit, or even hire someone to run it. And if the amusement park man got it, it would destroy Cole’s ranch as well as Tanner’s. Neither of them could afford to tear down existing stables and barns and rebuild them in a safer location. In fact, there would be no safer location, with that overlit nightmare of noise and light nearby. Not for one minute did she think Tanner would give in to her father’s subdued blackmail and marry her. She was ashamed that he’d even put that clause into his will. Tanner would probably think it was her idea. When she finished the preliminaries, she went to her father’s closet to look for his one good suit and his best pair of wing-tip shoes. The sight of the suit set her off. She dropped down onto the spotless paisley duvet on her father’s bed and bawled until her eyes were red and her throat hurt. That was probably why she didn’t hear the knock at the front screen door, which wasn’t locked. It was also probably why she wasn’t aware that Tanner had come into the room and was standing in the doorway, just watching her. He knew she loved her father. He was the only family she had left. It hurt him to watch her cry. He’d had no real feelings for her, except irritation that she was infatuated with him and let it show too much. But she was really hurting. He’d never lost anyone in his family. Both sets of his grandparents had been dead when he was born. He didn’t know death except as an observer. “Stasia?” he called quietly. She jumped, startled, and lifted a wet face with red-lined eyes to his. She swallowed down the pincushion that seemed stuck there and swiped at her eyes with the tail of the bright yellow T-shirt she was wearing. “It wasn’t my idea, what he put in the will,” she said, as if he’d already accused her of engineering it. Angry brown eyes warred with his pale blue ones. “He said the amusement park man would pay him millions for the land and in the next breath he said it had been in our family for over a century and we should hold onto it.” She swallowed, hard.
“I didn’t know we were bankrupt. I didn’t even know how sick he was. He said he had new medicines and the doctor said he was…doing fine…” Her voice trailed off. Tears fell like rain from her eyes. She averted them. She could feel the pity in him and she didn’t want it. He didn’t want her. She knew that without asking. But he couldn’t watch her cry. It touched something deep inside him that he didn’t even know was there. He moved closer, pulled her abruptly into his arms and folded her up close. “Let it out,” he said in the softest tone he’d ever used to her. “Go on.” She did. Her father had never been physically affectionate with her. Neither had anyone, except Tanner’s mother. It was so nice to be held and cuddled and told that everything was all right. Nothing was all right. But Tanner was strong and warm and he smelled of deliciously expensive male cologne. She melted into him, letting the tears fall. Finally, she regained control of herself and moved shyly away. “Thanks,” she choked. He shrugged. “I’ve never really lost anyone,” he confessed. “Buddies, when I was in the service, and in black ops. But nobody close.” She looked up at him. “I guess not. I’m really sorry. About the will.” She swallowed, hard, and turned away. “I’ll find another buyer,” she said softly. Then she remembered that she couldn’t sell it herself. Besides, it was bankrupt. “There must be a way…” “There’s no way to break the will,” he returned. “My father spoke to our attorneys about it. Your father was in his right mind all the way,” he added tersely. She grimaced. Her pale blond hair was loose around her tanned shoulders, disheveled and wavy. In the tight jeans andT-shirt she was very attractive. Tanner had never noticed how attractive before. “Well, then, how about this?” she asked suddenly while he was still exploring her with new curiosity. “Suppose we get married and the next day we get it annulled?” “No wedding night?” he asked with mock horror. She just looked at him. “I don’t want to sleep with you. I don’t know where you’ve been,” she said and forced a smile. Humor flared in his pale blue eyes, despite his resentment at the situation they were in. “Besides, I’m saving myself for my future husband,” she added with faint hauteur. “Most men like experience, not green girls, in bed,” he returned. “My husband will be an extraordinary man, with a good heart and brain, and he’ll be grateful that I waited for him,” she said. “Of course. He’ll be standing right next to the Easter Bunny, waiting.” She just stared at him. “Dad and I went to church every Sunday. My great-grandfather was a Methodist minister. He founded the church we go to. My great-grandmother had been a missionary in South America. You may live in the fast lane. Some of us still believe in fantastic things and we like a slower pace.” “Snail pace,” he scoffed. “Whatever.” She turned away from him and pulled her father’s suit and a clean, nicely pressed white shirt, and a tie, off the clothing rack. She picked up his immaculate black wing tips and put them beside the bed. “What are you doing?” “He has to have clothes to be…buried in.” She almost faltered, but she took a deep breath and pulled a duffel bag outof her father’s closet. “I’m going to take them to the funeral home and go over the arrangements with the director. Dad had insurance there that will pay for it all.” He was surprised at her efficiency, despite her obvious grief. He didn’t know her well. In fact, he was convinced now that he’d never known her at all. “Can I help?” he asked. “Yes.” She turned to look at him. “Go home.” Both eyebrows went up. She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be snappy. I just want to be alone. I have to work through this by myself.” Her eyes turned back up to his. “You never answered me. Can’t we just get married long enough to fulfill the terms of the will and then get it annulled?” she asked. “I honestly don’t know,” he replied. “But I can find out.” She nodded. “Then, would you do that?” He stared at her with open curiosity. “You’ve followed me around like a puppy for years,” he said absently, watching her flush. “For a woman with a monumental crush on me, you seem strangely reluctant to try and keep me.” “Most girls have crushes on totally unsuitable people,” she said, fighting a scarlet blush. “They outgrow them.” “And you’ve outgrown yours?” he asked softly. “Yes,” she lied, averting her eyes. “Well, sort of. I mean, I just turned nineteen and I think I may have a future in art.” Sure she did, he thought to himself. She was talented, but a lot of women painted and never went past giving the canvases away as presents. His eyes went to a landscape on the wall of a windmill with a lone wolf sitting on a small grassy rise under a full moon. Beside it was a portrait of her father that was incredibly lifelike. He frowned. She really did have talent. Not that it would do her much good in this back-ofbeyond place.
There was a knock at the front door. She stopped what she was doing, went around Tanner and went to the door. Two women from the church were there with casseroles and bags of food and even a cake. “Oh, it’s so kind,” Stasia said, the tears returning as she hugged both women. “Thank you so much!” “Your dad was a good man, honey,” the eldest of the two said. “We all know where he’ll end up.” “If you need anything at all, you just call. Or if you’d rather not be here alone at night…” “I’ll be fine,” she said softly. “But thanks for the offer.” They said their goodbyes. She put up the food, aware that Tanner had come out of her father’s room and was now lounging against the kitchen door. “Small towns,” he said, shaking his head. “And all the little idiosyncrasies that go with them, still amazes me. Nobody outside a rural community would bring food.” “It’s a tradition here,” she said quietly. “I’ve done my share of cooking to give to grieving families.” She glanced at him. “But of course, that’s not your style or Julienne’s. You hate living here.” “I do. I’ve spent too much time in exotic places to settle for boring routine, even to please my father.” He thought about Julienne with faint despair. She was great in bed. He’d never be able to replace her. She was already furious and threatening to leave him after being told about Bolton’s will. “This isn’t the lifestyle I want. The family ranch, a bunch of kids, a wife in the kitchen.” He made a face. “I’d rather have Julienne in see-through black lace than all that put together.” “Fortunately for you, that’s still possible. All we have to do is fulfill the conditions of my father’s will and you can be off to the south of France, or Greece, or wherever you people go for fun.”
He frowned. “What do you do for fun?” Her eyebrows arched. “I paint.” “Besides that.” He looked around. “It’s just dirt and grass and mesquite and cattle.” “I like cattle. We have little white kittens in the barn,” she said, and her face softened, like her brown eyes. “There’s a family of rabbits out behind the barn. Dad had to fence them out of the kitchen garden.” She stopped, swallowed hard, went back to storing away food. “I like to sit on the front porch in the evening, just at dusk, and listen to the dogs baying in the distance.” “God, how exciting!” he groaned. She turned and looked at him. “You’re older than me, but you don’t know much about the way things really are, do you? You live in a fantasy world of artificial people and artificial places. I’d rather be who I am, where I am, doing what I’m doing.” “You’ll rot here,” he said shortly. She just smiled. “Difference of opinion. I like my reality straight up. I don’t need exotic stimulation to keep me going.” His eyes narrowed. “Meaning that I do?” “You’re not like your brother. John loves ranching,” she said. “He doesn’t even like to drive his Mercedes. He’s more at home in a pickup truck or in the saddle. He’s a realist, like me.” She smiled sadly. “You’re a dreamer. This is never going to be your kind of life.” She said it with a hollow certainty that dulled her eyes. She loved him so much. But he didn’t want her. He told her so with every word, every look. What he’d said about Julienne was like a knife through her poor heart. “If I don’t keep the ranch and make it pay, I’ll lose everything and be stuck here in the mud like my brother,” he said shortly.
I am so delighted to be a part of the Romance Blog Tour. I love books with the word “Bookshop” in the title so was very drawn to this one. Many thanks to HTP books for this opportunity.
Lee Tobin McClain is the bestselling author of more than thirty emotional, small-town romances described by Publishers’ Weekly as enthralling, intense, and heartfelt. A dog lover and proud mom, she often includes kids and animals in her books. When she’s not writing, she enjoys hiking with her goofy goldendoodle, chatting online with her writer friends, and admiring her daughter’s mastery of the latest TikTok dances. Learn more at www.leetobinmcclain.com.
Book Summary:
Don’t miss this brand-new romance in New York Times bestselling author Lee Tobin McClain’s Hometown Brothers miniseries!
Running a bookstore on a quaint Chesapeake island is exactly the life Deena Clark would have chosen for herself. But helping billionaire businessman Luis Dominguez figure out fatherhood is part of the package. Can bonding over books and one little girl help them open their hearts to each other?
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CHAPTER ONE
“Have you ever considered slowing down?” The doctor’s words were as out of place as his white coat in Luis Dominguez’s busy corporate office. Mergers and acquisitions were what they did here, and at a fast pace. No one slowed down, ever. “What are you trying to tell me, Doc?” Luis attempted to ignore the text messages that kept pinging into his phone. “I’m only twenty-eight. I can’t have something wrong with me.” Dr. Henry fastened the blood pressure cuff on his arm. “My understanding is that you got dizzy at a board meeting. And that you live on coffee and nachos.” He tightened the cuff, studied the numbers and frowned. “It’s 130/90. That’s concerning. Family history of heart or kidney disease?” “I don’t know.” Luis didn’t want to go into his family medical history, or lack of one, in the middle of a regular work week in mid-April. “I’ll try to take it easier. Eat better.” Even as he said it, he knew it wasn’t true, but he needed to get on with his day. “I hope you will. Your board members are worried. Apparently, you’re indispensable.” The man patted Luis’s shoulder. “I’ll see you next week. We’ll need to talk about medication, unless I see significant improvement.”
“You’ll see it,” Luis promised. Ever the overachiever. He was a bit touched that his board of directors was worried enough about his health to set up weekly inoffice checkups. He’d built a life where no one had to worry about him, and he didn’t have to worry about anyone else. That was how he wanted it, but every now and then, it was good to know someone cared. He went to the door and gestured for his assistant, Gunther, to come in. “Everything ready for today’s presentation?” “Slides are all cued up and people are arriving.” Adrenaline surged. “Good.” The doctor clicked his medical bag closed. “How about getting a hobby? Starting a family? Being married is good for your health, you know.” “Not gonna happen.” Luis had already made peace with his single status, mostly. He was no good at forming and maintaining relationships. Didn’t want the responsibility. Didn’t want to fail at the responsibility, the way his parents had. Plenty of women were up for a no-strings fling with a millionaire. The trouble was, that lifestyle got old fast. “Come on,” he said to Gunther, heading for the door. “Let’s start the party.” The offices of Dominguez Enterprises buzzed with energy, people leaning over computers, the elevator pinging, voices speaking rapidly into phones. This was Luis’s hobby. This was his family. He was on track to reach his financial goals by age forty, but his lifestyle didn’t leave room for coaching Little League or cutting the grass.
“Excuse me, Mr. Dominguez?” A gorgeous blonde woman came out of the reception area and intercepted him. She was holding a toddler dressed in pink, a bow in her dark curls. Cute. Luis liked babies. He reached out and tickled the little one’s chin, clicking his tongue, and the child giggled. “Can I speak to you for a moment, sir?” the woman asked. He refocused on the blonde. “Not now. Make an appointment with Mrs. Jackson, there at the desk.” He gestured toward her then headed into the conference room, smiling at the sight of the suit-clad men and women around the table. Men and women from whom he’d soon make a bundle of money. Fairly and legally, of course. The small tech firm that was being acquired by the larger one would get a boost of capital and be able to keep all its employees on payroll, and the bigger firm would benefit from the diversification. Ideally they’d all leave as happy as he was. In fact, two hours later they did leave happy. Everyone shaking hands, his own people congratulating him and him thanking them for their hard work. Who’d have ever thought that a kid from his background would end up making deals with some of the most important businesspeople in Washington, DC? Then again, maybe his career was at least a little predictable. As a young teenager, he’d borrowed a few bucks from a friend and bought a case of high-caffeine soda, then sold it at a markup on test days. With the profit, he’d bought two more cases and expanded his business from the middle school to the high school. Of course, he’d had to skip class to do that.
“He’s not the brightest kid, but he sure does have the Midas touch,” the teacher who’d caught him had said to his foster mom. And Luis had done his best to make the most of whatever talents and abilities he had. Now, as he walked out of the conference room, the woman who’d approached him before came toward him, this time accompanied by Mrs. Jackson. The woman looked a little disheveled, blowing the blond hair off her face as she shifted the now-sleeping toddler in her arms. She was still pretty, though. Maybe even prettier with her face flushed and her hair loose. “I’m sorry, Luis,” Mrs. Jackson said. “She wouldn’t leave.” “I really need to speak with you.” The woman’s voice was low, but determined. There was a sexy rasp to it. He’d have blown her off if it weren’t for those stunning slate-colored eyes that seemed to hold all kinds of secrets. But it had been weeks since he’d had a date, and he was feeling celebratory. “Come on back, I have a few minutes,” he said, gesturing toward the hallway that led to his office. He usually avoided women with kids. He definitely avoided women with husbands, so he stepped to the side and checked out her left hand as she passed him. No ring. She wore a dark skirt and vest and a white shirt, and there was a slight swing to her walk. He reached the office just behind her and held open the door. “Go ahead, have a seat by the window.” He kept his voice low so as not to awaken the child. He nodded an it’s okay to Mrs. Jackson, who tended to be a mother hen, and followed the woman inside. He knelt down by the minifridge. “Something to drink? I have water, soda. Juice if the kiddo wakes up.” Outside, he could hear people calling goodbyes to each other. He’d given everyone the rest of the day off. They worked late for him plenty of times, so he liked to offer perks when the occasion merited it. “Water, please.” The woman spoke quietly, too, but the child murmured in her arms and opened her eyes. “Juice as well, if you don’t mind.” He stood, holding two bottles of water in one hand and a juice in the other. He twisted the top off a water bottle and handed it to her, then did the same for the apple juice. Sitting on the edge of his desk, he studied the woman. “So what can I do for you?” She sipped water, cradling the child in one arm, and then looked at Luis with a level stare. “I’d like for you to meet someone.” “Tell me more.” So she did have an agenda. Probably some project she wanted him to finance. Bringing her kid was a rookie mistake, but because she looked so serious and earnest, he’d let her down easy. She nodded down at the baby. “This is Willow,” she said. “Hi, Willow.” Luis smiled at the little one, then sipped water. The woman’s skirt slid up above her knees in the low chair. He lifted his eyes to her face. “What’s your name?” “I’m Deena Clark,” she said. “But Willow is the important one.” The baby held a small rubber doll out to Luis. He took it from her, hid it behind his back and then held it out again, jiggling it, making her laugh. “Why is Willow the important one?” he asked. “Because,” the woman said, “she’s your daughter.” There. She’d gotten it out. Deena blew her hair out of her eyes and made soothing circles on Willow’s back, holding the apple juice for her to sip. She inhaled Willow’s baby-powder scent and patted her chubby leg. She loved the two-year-old fiercely, and she hadn’t wanted to give up even the modicum of control that would come with rich Mr. Dominguez knowing he was the child’s father. But she was pretty sure Luis wouldn’t want much, if anything, to do with the baby. He was too wealthy and entitled. His wealth would make it easy for him to pay some child support, though. And that would allow Deena to stop working so much, to spend more time at home and to get Willow the services she needed. Maybe this would go okay. Luis Dominguez wasn’t quite what she’d expected. True, he’d made her wait for two hours, but then again, she’d arrived unannounced. She’d heard him saying nice things to his workers, and he’d gotten her and Willow something to drink. So maybe he wasn’t as uncaring as Willow’s mommy had believed. He was hot, too. Deena didn’t do relationships, but if she did…well. Curly black hair, light brown skin, an athletic body and a dimple in his cheek when he smiled… No wonder Tammalee had gone for him. He took a sip of water, studying her. “I wouldn’t have invited you in if I’d known you were one of those women.” “What women?” She bounced the baby doll in front of Willow, who laughed and grabbed for it then held it to her chest in an adorable imitation of motherhood. “Women looking to pin paternity on a wealthy man.” Luis crossed his arms over his chest. She raised her eyebrows. “That happens?” “Pretty often.” He took another sip of water and then put the bottle down with a thump. He looked oddly disappointed. “I’m not falling for it, so why don’t you take your child and your scam elsewhere.” “This isn’t a scam. I’m serious.” “It’s a new twist,” he said in a fake-thoughtful way, “approaching a man you never slept with. Creative.” That made her cheeks heat. She didn’t sleep with anyone, not that he needed to know that. “No,” she said, reaching for her phone. “You slept with my roommate.” She scrolled through her pictures, found one of Tammalee and held it up for him to see. He squinted at it. “Oh, yea-a-ah,” he said, his brows drawing together. “Sweet girl. But why are you coming here, not her, to claim this is my child?” Deena glanced at Tammalee’s smiling photo, swallowed hard and slid her phone back into her purse. “Tammalee is dead,” she said. His eyes widened. “What? Really?” She nodded. “An accident.” “I’m sorry to hear that.” He stared at the carpet for a minute and then met her eyes. “You realize I’m going to verify all this?” She blew out a sigh. “Look up Tammalee Johnson, obituary.” He studied her a moment as if wondering if there were even a chance her story was true. She must have looked honest, because he walked around his massive desk, bent over the computer and typed and clicked. He found what he was looking for. “She died two months ago?” He turned the computer so she could see. The large-size picture of her friend, the one that had accompanied her obituary, made Deena choke up. And that made her angry at herself, and by extension, at this guy. Neither reaction made sense, but then, grief didn’t make sense. The baby stiffened in her arms, probably sensing her tension. Or maybe she’d spotted the picture of her late mother. “Shh, it’s okay,” Deena whispered, rubbing her back again. But this time, it didn’t help; Willow wailed. The high, keening cry was a sound Deena had heard daily for the past two years, but it still grated on her. “Okay. Okay, honey. Want more juice?” Willow slapped the bottle away, spilling juice all over Deena, and the guy’s fancy carpet. “Sorry.” Although she shouldn’t apologize for what his own kid had done. She rocked Willow in the vigorous way that sometimes calmed her down, trying to gauge whether this tantrum was likely to be a long one. She looked at Luis from under the cover of her lashes. Tammalee had been sure he wouldn’t understand Willow, saying he only cared about money. Still, if this meltdown went on, he might require an explanation. But first things first. She needed to get him to acknowledge paternity before going into Willow’s issues. Willow’s cries were softening, to Deena’s experienced ear, but they were still grating. Luis looked uneasy, his forehead wrinkling. “Can’t you do something?”
“She’s hungry and tired,” Deena said by way of explanation. “You could have found a better time to talk to me about this, when you didn’t have to wait.” “You could have given me five minutes before your big important meeting.” But she could see that the baby’s crying was impacting Luis, and she didn’t want it to make him dislike Willow before even getting to know her. “We can leave,” she offered, “but only when you agree to the next step.” “Fine. I’ll do a DNA test.” He sighed. “There’s a doctor I can call.” “I have a test right here.” She fumbled in her purse and pulled out the drugstore version. “You just have to rub the swab inside your mouth for fifteen seconds.” It had cost a hundred dollars, which was a hardship, but for Willow, it was worth it. He was already opening it. “How long does it take?” “Two days from receipt. You mail it in, so…next week?” “I’ll take care of it.” He pulled out his phone. “Mrs. Jackson? Hey, before you leave, could you get a courier up to my office ASAP?” He listened. “Yes, I’m still here. I know. Soon.” He ended the call and looked at Deena. “I’ll have it sent to a better lab and try to get the results faster.” He studied Willow, still crying, and shook his head. She could tell he was hoping he’d get the good news that he wasn’t Willow’s father. Which, she supposed, was a possibility. Tammalee had enjoyed life, and men, and hadn’t been particularly choosy about who she’d spent time with—in or out of bed. But she’d insisted that Willow’s father was Luis, and Deena believed her.
She swabbed the baby’s mouth, making her cry again. Handed Luis the swab, and stood. “She’s a terrific kid and deserves the best,” she tossed over her
shoulder as she left.
Whether the best outcome would be having Luis as a father, or not having him, she didn’t know.
I think that this is a fantastic entry in the Rebel Girls series. Those who are Pride adjacent or who themselves celebrate a PRIDE identity will get so much from this title. Kids and their adults who are a part of this community will feel recognized and those who are not will also find much to learn and admire here.
In this colorfully illustrated title, I found people whose names I recognized as, for example, Billie Jean King, Janelle Monae and Laverne Cox. I also met many new people in these pages. Here are sports figures, scientists, artists, activists and more.
Each person featured gets a two page spread. There is biographical information, a quote from each person, and some q codes. Lots to explore here in a good entry in the series. There is space to write, a list of helpful terms and more at the end of the book.
Thank you Rebel Girls for recognizing our many communities.
Many thanks to NetGalley and Rebel Girls for this title. All opinions are my own.
I loved that this story’s protagonist/detective is a woman of a certain age. She is down on her luck with an inheritance that was spent and a career in which it is tough for a woman who is not an ingenue to make her way. Gwinny keeps going however, with humor, curiosity and a way with some dogs.
Early in the book, Gwinny races to her best friends wedding where the parking attendant mistakes her for staff, not an important guest. No matter, Gwinny adjusts, changes her clothes and starts to mingle. Then…the unimaginable (tho not to mystery readers) occurs…the groom is killed.
Who did it? Why? There are plenty of suspects and a great deal of fun for the reader as the plot unwinds. Pick up this title for a nice diversion.
Many thanks to Allison & Busby for this title. All opinions are my own.
Gretchen Rubin has written what, I am sure, will be a best seller and a book welcomed by her many fans. This time, she focuses on learning to appreciate life through the senses, recognizing all that they do for us, NOTICING them, and using this awareness to have a more meaningful and fulfilled existence.
One aspect of the book that I enjoyed was Ms. Rubin’s sharing of personal anecdotes. Her personality, organized yet open, inquiring yet functioning best with routine come across most clearly through these.
Each sense is carefully explored through a variety of lenses. The author begins with sight. There is scientific information and much about the ways in which Ms. Rubin literally began to see and notice more. Two examples; Ms. Rubin began a collection of objects in one color family and, for another, she began going to the Metropolitan Museum daily in an effort to really LOOK at what what was there. I found that I paid more attention in my life as a result, just noticing the hues of my world a bit more and slowing down to enjoy them. The same is true as each sense is examined and readers are invited in.
This book will be a welcome guide to its intended audience. Ms. Rubin has done it again.
Many thanks to NetGalley and Crown Publishing for this title. All opinions are my own.
It is always a pleasure to spend time with Bruno whose story began with Bruno, Chief of Police. To Kill a Troubadour is the fifteenth in the series with the sixteenth title coming out in August 2023.
This plot has some political underpinnings. A new piece, Song for Catalonia, raises many feelings. The writer has sympathy for the Catalans who want independence from Spain and the Nationalists do not like this. Musician, Joel, is threatened. Will he perform in St. Denis? How far will protesters go? France and Spain plan to work together on this situation so Bruno is involved.
At the same time as Bruno is drawn in, he also wants to help a friend whose husband is being released from prison. Furthermore, he wants to enjoy the pleasures of where he lives including the food. Will he have time for everything? Readers can trust that he will. They will enjoy spending time with Bruno as everything is sorted out.
Publishers Weekly says: “Good food, fascinating history, and a crackerjack mystery: who could ask for more?” Indeed.
Many thanks to Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group for this title and also to NetGalley. All opinions are my own.
This book was published in August 2022.
Editorial Reviews
Review
“Smoothly integrated into Bruno’s investigation is information on a multitude of subjects, from medieval musical instruments to Ukrainian history, plus easy-to-follow recipes. . . . Good food, fascinating history, and a crackerjack mystery: who could ask for more?”—Publishers Weekly
“While a brilliantly conceived plot builds up to a climax that James Bond might envy, there is pleasure to be had in Martin Walker’s sensitive portrayal of a tight-knit community where friendship and mutual support count for more than expediency. Bruno is a hero for our troubled times.”—Barry Turner, Daily Mail (London)
“[Bruno] raises his own chickens, grows his own produce, and is as caring a cook as Robert B. Parker’s Spenser. . . . As usual, Walker concocts a satisfying dish featuring an intriguing lead character who moves through enviable settings and enjoys wonderful meals while tracking down criminals. . . . Suspense carries to the last in this extremely well-crafted mystery that can be enjoyed by both fans and readers who are new to the series.”—Connie Fletcher, Booklist (starred review)
“Everyone’s favorite French police chief Benoît Courrèges—aka Bruno, Chief of Police—faces a new threat. . . . All of Walker’s fan-favorite characters are present and accounted for, as well as all of Bruno’s treasured pastimes.”—Bruce Tierney, BookPage
This is the 14th entry in the historical mystery series that features Barker and Llwelyn, a quintessential detective duo. It was a pleasure to spend time with them in this well written novel that was given a starred review by Publishers Weekly.
It is not necessary to have read the earlier books in the series to enjoy this one but readers who have the time may well want to do so in order to understand more about this duo. They are not alike but do respect one another.
Phillip Addison is a teacher by day but his true love is the volunteer work that the does in the Egyptology section of the British Museum. He might have had a promising future and a full-time job there had he not been murdered. Who did it? Why? Does it have anything to do with a discovery that he made on his last night at the museum? Barker and Llewelyn are hired by Mrs. Addison to figure things out.
This title has many strengths. I enjoyed the narrative voice and the well described settings, everywhere from the museum to the dank river where the body is found to homes and work spaces. The mystery is interesting and solid and will especially be enjoyed by Egyptologists.
Many thanks to NetGalley and St. Martin’s Press for this title. All opinions are my own.
Joyce's mystery and fiction book reviews with some non-fiction too! 