An Island Wedding is the fifth title in the series that began with The Cafe by the Sea. Each of the books is set on the small island community of Mure, a spot that feels pretty idyllic.
Readers who have followed the folks who live on Mure will surely be happy to find that there is a new book. While the stories are best read in order, Ms. Colgan thoughtfully provides an introduction to the characters and places, so this book could be read and enjoyed by new readers too.
I was happy to again spend time with Flora, her baby, her fiance, her family and her friends. It was nice to revisit the hotel and see what was happening there. I also enjoyed the plot about Saif, a refugee doctor who has found a new beginning for himself and his children on Mure.
There are wedding plans here, daily life and a few surprises. How will Flora and Joel’s wedding, one that they planned to be “micro” compare with that of Olivia who has returned to Mure for an extravaganza? Will love triumph? Relax and enjoy as you find out. Enjoy a (virtual) vacation in Mure, that magical island between Scotland and Norway as the pages are turned in this light read.
Many thanks to NetGalley and Avon and Harper Voyager for this title. All opinions are my own.
Maggie D’Arcy is back! This is the third in a series that I very much enjoy. These books can be read out of order but, if readers have time before this book’s pub date to read the other two, they are best read in order. There is a lot of backstory.
Maggie is surrounded by many people and their interrelationships. These are as much a reason for reading the novels as are the actual mysteries.
In this latest entry, Maggie and her daughter, Lilly, are spending a few months in West Cork, Ireland. They are there with Conor and his son. The history of Conor and Maggie’s relationship begins in one of the earlier books so, just for here, know that they are now a couple and that Maggie and Lilly are considering permanently moving from Long Island, New York to Ireland.
A lot happens in West Cork and Maggie, a (former) police detective, becomes very involved in all of the goings on. There are several murders, drug dealers, real estate development, immigration issues and more in these pages.
Part of the “more” has to do with goings on at an Anglo-Irish stately home in the past. Was a governess murdered? What is the story of the owner/artist who lived there with his family?
Police officers whom Maggie knew from previous cases are here along with a new detective, Ann, and various members of the force including one who is with the drugs squad. Readers also meet the people who live in the area and who are intimately involved in the events depicted. Readers also watch as Lilly falls in love with a young Polish immigrant.
This book at times moves a bit slowly over the course of its more than 350 pages. Nonetheless I enjoyed it. The sense of place is very strong. It felt a bit like I was on the cliffs overlooking the waters, on the village streets and in the homes of the characters.
Readers who already know Maggie will want to read this and catch up with her. New readers may be a bit confused at first but should be able to find their footing. Of course, they can go back to the earlier books to get a better grasp on Maggie, Conor, their pasts and more.
Many thanks to St. Martin’s Press-Minotaur for this title. All opinions are my own.
The Three Dahlias is a traditional mystery that is reminiscent of titles published during mystery’s “Golden Age.” It will be enjoyed by those who like to sink into a long (373 page) crime novel that is not overly violent.
The Dahlias of the title are actresses who starred in, or about to star in, TV or movies that feature Dahlia Lively, a sleuth. Each starred at a certain point in time; Rosalind was first, followed by Caro and, now, Posy who is the latest Dahlia. Each of these actresses has a backstory that impacts the plot. They are a bit competitive with one another but join forces to solve the case that is at the center of the novel.
The Dahlias are attending a super fan convention as the story opens. There are many people on the grounds of the famous author’s home, so loads of suspects. These include family members, those involved with the new film, and the super fans.
No spoiler to say that there is a murder. With their three brains and styles coming to the fore, the Dahlias are on the case. Relax and follow along as they solve it.
I enjoyed this title’s setting and characters. It was a bit slow moving at times though. Still, that was kind of soothing, just following along at a leisurely pace.
Many thanks to NetGalley and Hachette Book Group for this title. All opinions are my own.
Pub date: 21 July 2022
Praise for The Three Dahlias
‘An absolute treat of a read with all the ingredients of a vintage murder mystery: a country house, mysterious dead bodies and three actresses all keen to catch the killer. Perfect weekend reading!’ Janice Hallett, author of The Appeal
‘A wonderful celebration of Golden Age crime. . . a read you can sink into, just like the perfect country house weekend. You will definitely love Dahlia in all her guises by the end’ S.J. Bennett, author of The Windsor Knot
‘I loved it – witty, engaging and hugely enjoyable. A must for fans of classic mysteries’ Frances Brody
‘An affectionate homage to the Golden Age of Detective Fiction and a wry nod to our continuing fascination with it. Great fun. Warm, ingenious and. . . lively!’ L C Tyler
‘A sprightly offering. . . a pleasant summer read’ The Critic
NOTE: The current price for the digital book is just $7.99 for those who may want to pre-order.
This beautifully illustrated book does credit to Gaudi’s love of shape and his architecture. It tells the story of Guadi from his youth to his death in a straightforward manner. Young readers learn how Gaudi was unable to go to school because he could not walk freely for many years. During his early years, the young Gaudi spent time in nature and came to appreciate the forms that he saw there, especially curved lines.
Gaudi overcame his disability enough to enroll in university. When he graduated, it was thought that possibly he was a genius (or not). Gaudi became an architect with his own colorful, unique vision. His buildings, cathedral and parks are still popular attractions in Barcelona.
Budding architects may well take inspiration from this story of a man who did things his own way with vision and determination. He forever changed the face of Barcelona.
Many thanks to NetGalley and NorthSouth Books for this title. All opinions are my own.
Budding history lovers will enjoy immersing themselves in this book that is full of information on ancient Rome. It begins by explaining what an empire is and from there talks about the military in all its branches and many aspects of daily life. There are also sections on learning from the past and a gallery of famous Romans. At te ehd, there are several activities, a timeline and a glossary. So, a lot packed into a short book . Note: each two page spread has objects to look for.
I liked this title. It was informative and filled with detailed illustrations. It would make a great book for a car ride.
Many thanks to Quarto Publishing Group-Wide Eyed Editions and NetGalley for this title. All opinions are my own.
KATE BROMLEY lives in New York City with her husband, son, and her somewhat excessive collection of romance novels (It’s not hoarding if it’s books, right?). She was a preschool teacher for seven years and is now focusing full-time on combining her two great passions – writing swoon-worthy love stories and making people laugh. She is also the author of Talk Bookish to Me.
Book Summary:
This summer, it’s much ado about everything.
Becoming a famous playwright is all Winnie ever dreamed about. For now, though, she’ll have to settle for assisting the celebrated, sharp-witted feminist playwright Juliette Brassard. When an experimental theater company in London, England decides to stage Juliette’s most renowned play, The Lights of Trafalgar, Winnie and Juliette pack their bags and hop across the pond.
But the trip goes sideways faster than you can say “tea and crumpets”. Juliette stubbornly vetoes the director’s every choice, and Winnie’s left stage-managing their relationship. Winnie’s own work seems to have stalled, and though Juliette keeps promising to read it, she always has some vague reason why she can’t. Then, Juliette’s nephew Liam enters stage left. He’s handsome, he’s smart, he is devastatingly British, and he and Winnie have sizzling chemistry. But as her boss’s nephew, Liam is definitely off-limits, so Winnie has to keep their burgeoning relationship on the down-low from Juliette. What could go wrong?
Balancing a production seemingly headed for disaster, a secret romance, and the sweetest, most rambunctious rescue dog, will Winnie save the play, make her own dreams come true, and find true love along the way–or will the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune get the best of her?
Try it:
One
“I’m here and I have coffee!”
After five years as a personal assistant, I have found that entering a chaotic scene with caffeine is the quickest way to ease panic. It’s a distraction, it boosts morale, and if you’re working in the ever-intense theater world, it’s often as necessary as breathing.
Roshni, our second assistant, is quick to approach as the penthouse door swings closed behind me. She’s wearing a knee-length floral romper, and her flawless ebony hair is parted just off to the side. If I wore a romper, it’d look like a man’s bathing costume circa 1916, but on Roshni, it’s the ultimate embodiment of summer fun. I’m still not positive if I want to be her or marry her, but we’ve happily settled on being ride or die work friends in the meantime.
“Thank you so much,” she says, scooping her iced hazelnut coffee out of the to-go tray I’m carrying and casting a nervous glance over her shoulder. “Okay, so, two things. One, I accidentally knocked a pile of papers off Juliette’s desk, which then led to her calling me an anarchist and threatening to have me arrested. And two, she thinks you’re going to London.”
“What makes you say that?”
“She straight-up told me you were going to London.”
“I am not going to London,” I announce, making my voice loud enough to carry through the spacious four-bedroom apartment. With almost a decade of drama study under my belt, my vocal projection is legit.
“Why are you always so resistant to anything remotely ex-citing? To stand still is to go backwards, Winnie.”
I hear her before I see her. Juliette Brassard. My boss of five years, my pseudo-mother, my often-combative sibling, and the perpetual bane of my existence. Working for her is tiring, demanding, slightly monotonous and bizarre, but I love every second of it.
She looks the same as she does most days. Wide-legged pants and a layered top. Always layered. Today it’s a beige cotton shirt and a charcoal vintage vest. Her straight gray-brown hair just reaches her shoulders and thick-rimmed glasses cover her ceaselessly curious chestnut eyes. Her style is a fair reflection of her life—eclectic and casual but secretly expensive.
“It was never the plan for me to go to London,” I tell her. “Roshni is going with you, and you were perfectly happy with the arrangements yesterday.”
“Yes, well, happiness is fleeting, and I realized today that I need my whole team with me if this trip is going to be a success.”
“I checked with the airline this morning,” Roshni says, taking a tentative step forward. “And apparently there’s one seat left in first class.” I shoot her a loving glare as Juliette raises a victorious arm in her direction.
“You see? It’s a sign from the universe.”
“It’s not a sign from the universe,” I counter. “It’s a ridiculous amount of money to pay, and you’re probably the only non-tech billionaire who’s willing to spend that much for a fully reclining seat.”
“A noble sentiment. You should preach that sermon to the bare foot that caressed our cheeks the last time we sat in coach.”
“Okay, we had one uncomfortable flight from LA, and you know full well that the guy was wearing socks.”
“I don’t know that, Winnie. I’ve repressed the memory so deep into my subconscious that I’ll be shuffling around this apartment and whispering about phantom feet until I’m ninety.” She spins away with her typical dramatic flair, opting to walk over to the windows and gazing out at the traffic below. She also covertly checks to see if I’m still watching her.
I choose to ignore her attention-seeking behavior and in-stead place our drinks down on an antique side table. With my hands now free, I pick up a stack of opened event invitations that I left there the day before, giving them one final look over before handing them to Roshni, who’s still standing nearby.
“I’ll reorganize the papers on her desk,” I tell her. “Just RSVP to these, and then we can go over tomorrow’s itinerary. Blue Post-its are a yes. Yellows are a no.”
“Blue, yes. Yellow, no. Got it.” She exits the room with her coffee and the invites, seemingly happy to get out of the fray. If only I was so lucky.
Juliette’s been dropping hints about me going on this trip with them for the past week, but I’ve always managed to side-step the issue. And now, she’s brought the battle to my door-step. Or I guess it’s really her doorstep, since she lives here. And what a doorstep it is.
Twenty floors up on a cobbled Tribeca street, you’d either have to be born into money or wildly successful to own one of these grandly scaled units. Juliette is both. Already a border-line heiress thanks to her Manhattan real-estate mogul father, she then went on to become one of the city’s most celebrated playwrights. She was given everything but still hustled like crazy for her career and threw all of her time and energy into mastering her craft. Luckily for her, it proved to be a lethal combination.
As a native New Yorker and a fiercely proud West-Sider, Juliette’s lived in this apartment for as long as I’ve worked for her. The furniture is mismatched and romantic, and white walls are splashed with green from her dozens of potted plants. Every available surface is covered with old scripts, books, or mugs with half-drunk cups of tea. It’s scholarly chic. If Jane Austen ever traveled forward through time, I like to imagine that this is what her apartment would look like. Alas, dear Jane is nowhere to be found as Juliette steps away from the windows, moving through the space to sit on the arm of her tufted couch.
“Give me one good reason why you can’t go on this trip.” I roll my shoulders, trying to relieve a sudden stress knot before taking a much-needed sip of my latte. “Because you’re leaving tonight. I’m not mentally or physically prepared, and this is supposed to be my yearly vacation time. I have projects that I need to work on, too.”
“Yes, your grand opus of a play that you’re forever editing. Maybe the change of scenery will inspire you. In London, love and scandal are considered the best sweeteners of tea.”
“Don’t try to mind-trick me with John Osborne quotes.” Juliette groans and pushes up off the sofa. “I’m only trying to help you.”
“It would help me if you read my play and told me what you think.”
She just looks at me then and says nothing, no doubt trying to come up with another lackluster excuse. I’ve asked her to read my play dozens of times over the years, but she always finds a reason not to. She’s too busy, her mind is clouded, she’s not in the right mood.
“I’ll read it when it’s finished. Whatever I say now would alter your creative course.”
Ah, so she doesn’t want to sway my process. Not likely. Juliette’s perpetually happy to give her two cents on everything, especially on another playwright’s work.
“As far as London,” she goes on, “you just need to think about it more. Mull it over, let the idea sink in, and if you could agree to come with us in the next ten to fifteen minutes, that would be great.” She goes to leave the room after that but stops short when her cell phone starts ringing. She looks around but doesn’t find it. I do the same until she digs into the couch cushions and eventually plucks it out. She checks the caller ID and smiles as she answers.
“Liam! To what do I owe the pleasure?”
A little out of breath from her impromptu sofa wrestling match, she twists around and away from me, walking over to the windowsill and picking up a small watering can. She sprinkles her first row of plant babies as she listens to his response. Liam is her nephew and lives in London, which is also where her sister, Isabelle, has lived since she moved there in her twenties. I’ve never met her or him, but I have sent Liam gifts on Juliette’s behalf every Christmas and on his birthday.
“That’s right,” she says, moving on to the next row of plants. “I’m getting in tomorrow at 10:00 a.m. Will I be seeing you?” She tries to water the oversized ficus in the corner, but the can is empty. “Sounds great! Here, I’m passing you over to Winnie for a second. Do me a favor and convince her to come on the trip with me. She’s being obstinate.”
“What? No.” My protest is in vain as Juliette’s phone is already in flight. I barely catch it as she disappears into the kitchen, shaking the empty watering can over her shoulder in response.
I clear my throat and put the phone to my ear. “Hello, Liam.”
“Hello, is Winnie there, please?” he asks with mock seriousness.
I fail to suppress my involuntary smile at his polite request and inviting British accent. “This is she,” I answer back.
“Excellent, just the person I was hoping to speak to.”
“My sentiments exactly. To be honest, I’ve secretly been dying to talk to you for years.”
“Have you really?” he asks, surprised.
“No, not really. I don’t even know you.” He says nothing, and I think I might have scared him a bit. “Sorry,” I lightly amend, “I thought we were pretending that we actually meant to have this conversation.”
“Yes, well, that was my initial intention, but it turns out you’re much more convincing than I am. I can only assume that you’ve had formal training?”
“That assumption would be correct.”
“I should have figured.” His voice is surprisingly calm, sounding more like one of my old improv buddies and less like a stranger who’s thousands of miles away. “So,” he goes on, “I’ve been instructed by my aunt to convince you to come to London.”
“She does seem to have that idea stuck in her head.”
“There’s much to recommend it, of course. Red buses. A phenomenal bridge. How do you feel about museums?”
“I hate them,” I tease.
“Absolutely. Nothing to be learned from there. And what about parks?”
“Not into them at all.”
“Couldn’t agree more. I’m violently allergic to pollen, and why should I be forced to carry an EpiPen just so everyone else can enjoy natural beauty? Pure selfishness on their end.”
I smile to myself and pivot around so I’m no longer standing still. “I knew you couldn’t be as normal as you originally sounded. It’s to be expected, though, since you do share a bloodline with Juliette.”
“Yes, we had hoped lunacy would skip a generation, but apparently not.” He pauses then, and I somehow know that he’s smiling, too. “So, how am I faring on my quest so far? Are you packing your bags at this very moment?”
“Unfortunately not. I somehow forgot to bring all my lug-gage and clothes with me to work today, but still, this has been a very pleasant verbal exchange thus far.”
“For me as well. Can I ask what’s holding you back from taking the trip?”
“You may, but I may also choose not to answer.”
“Ah, a lady of secrets, are we?”
“Oh yes,” I answer dramatically. “A lady of many secrets and a play that I need to finish in seventeen days if I’m going to make a contest deadline.”
“Really? I take it that you’re a playwright as well, then?”
“Afraid so.”
“In that case, as you have a very good reason to stay at home rather than crossing the Atlantic, I won’t try to sway you any further…but know that I do so very reluctantly.”
“I appreciate that.”
Juliette sashays back into the room then, the watering can forgotten as she plops down onto the couch with one of her many notebooks. I’ll have to see to the rest of the plants later. She props her feet up on the coffee table and begins to write as I make my way towards her.
“Alright, well, your aunt is now back, so I’ll get going.” “It was very nice meeting you, Winnie.”
“We didn’t actually meet,” I say, correcting him.
“But it sort of feels like we did.”
I find myself grinning once more and shift away so Juliette won’t notice. “I guess it does,” I admit. “Bye, Liam.”
“Goodbye, Winnie.” I pivot back around and hand the phone over. Juliette looks at me with a mischievous sort of smirk as I shake my head and step away to hang my bag in the entryway closet.
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.
