Carries Book Reviews

**This post contains Amazon affiliate links which will allow me as an associate to earn a small commission on any purchase made through the link of the products I share. This commission in no way changes the pricing of any items for the buyer.**

Well now, I have been going in this pattern of behaving one week and clicking wildly the next week for months now. Last week I only six new titles making it a behaving week and not going into double digit additions so one would expect I’d be hanging my head in shame this week. Nooooo actually I’m quite proud of myself on breaking my streak on a behaving week and only adding five new titles this week. Who would have thought? Certainly not me!! 🤣

As always clicking the covers will take you to the book on Amazon!**

New additions from Netgalley June 11th – June 18th

#1 New York Times bestselling author Tessa Bailey delivers a sexy, hilarious standalone holiday rom-com about the adult children of two former rock stars who team up to convince their estranged mothers to play a Christmas Eve concert…

Melody Gallard may be the daughter of music royalty, but her world is far from glamorous. She spends her days restoring old books and avoiding the limelight (one awkward tabloid photo was enough, thanks). But when a producer offers hera lot of money to reunite her mother’s band on live tv, Mel begins to wonder if it’s time to rattle the cage, shake up her quiet life… and see him again. The only other person who could wrangle the rock and roll divas.

Beat Dawkins, the lead singer’s son, is Melody’s opposite—the camera loves him, he could charm the pants off anyone, and his mom is not a potential cult leader. Still, they might have been best friends if not for the legendary feud that broke up the band. When they met as teenagers, Mel felt an instant spark, but it’s nothing compared to the wild, intense attraction that builds as they embark on a madcap mission to convince their mothers to perform one last show. 

While dealing with rock star shenanigans, a 24-hour film crew, brawling Santas, and mobs of adoring fans, Mel starts to step out of her comfort zone. With Beat by her side, cheering her on, she’s never felt so understood. But Christmas Eve is fast approaching, and a decades-old scandal is poised to wreck everything—the Steel Birds reunion, their relationships with their mothers, and their newfound love. 

Sparks fly in this delightful novel about two burned out professionals who meet at a ramshackle resort on the British seaside—from the #1 New York Times bestselling author of The Party Crasher.

She can do anything . . . just not everything.

Sasha has had it. She cannot bring herself to respond to another inane, “urgent” (but obviously not at all urgent) email or participate in the corporate employee joyfulness program. She hasn’t seen her friends in months. Sex? Seems like a lot of effort. Even cooking dinner takes far too much planning. Sasha has hit a wall.

Armed with good intentions to drink kale smoothies, try yoga, and find peace, she heads to the seaside resort she loved as a child. But it’s the off season, the hotel is in a dilapidated shambles, and she has to share the beach with the only other occupant: a grumpy guy named Finn, who seems as stressed as Sasha. How can she commune with nature when he’s sitting on her favorite rock, watching her? Nor can they agree on how best to alleviate their burnout (Sasha: manifesting, wild swimming; Finn: drinking whisky, getting pizza delivered to the beach).

When curious messages, seemingly addressed to Sasha and Finn, begin to appear on the beach, the two are forced to talk—about everything. How did they get so burned out? Can either of them remember something they used to love? (Answer: surfing!) And the question they try and fail to ignore: what does the energy between them—flaring even in the face of their bone-deep exhaustion—signify?

Fake dating isn’t supposed to lead to real feelings….
 
Highland Falls police officer Emma Scott is a workaholic who doesn’t do small talk, hugs, or anything else touchy-feely. Ever since her fiancé’s death over a year ago, Emma’s been sleepwalking through life, and her family is growing increasingly worried about her. Enter Josh Callahan, her brother’s best friend. Josh is obnoxiously good-looking and, even more annoyingly, in a perpetually cheerful mood. Though he may drive her crazy, his suggestion to fake date him is brilliant because there are no feelings involved. At least, not at first.
         High school football coach and volunteer firefighter Josh Callahan is a fun-loving guy who is all about friends, family, and community. After his wife left him, he committed to staying uncommitted, except now he’s earned the nickname “Heartbreaker of Highland Falls.” Spending time with Emma will improve his rep while she can remember what it means to get out and enjoy life again. And his plan works…until Josh realizes that the feelings he has for Emma are all too real.  But is Emma ready to share her heart again?

Perfect for fans of Kate Carlisle and Diane Kelly, after her ex-husband tears down their marriage, the last thing Jaime wants is to renovate a worn-down historic home. But when a body is discovered behind a wall—she realizes she’ll have to catch the killer before she builds herself up again.

Jaime and Henry were the perfect couple with the perfect life; together, they ran one of the most successful construction and interior design companies in all of Charlotte, North Carolina. But when Jaime catches her charismatic husband in an affair, she realizes her husband is not the man she thought she married. The divorce is equally gutting—due to an ironclad prenuptial agreement, Jaime receives only one thing: a historical house in disrepair. Knowing that any renovation she attempts will be tedious and costly, Jaime starts to believe that things can’t get much worse—until she finds a dead body in the house.

The body is found behind a recently renovated wall—and this leaves Jaime with more questions than answers. Who killed this person and why? Could it have been the previous owners, someone who snuck in while nobody was looking, or Henry? Furious that the house is now a crime scene, which further delays all renovations, Jaime decides to investigate the murder herself, DIY-style. Together with the new resident cat she calls Demo and the handsome and friendly hardware store owner who happens to be her neighbor, Jaime is ready to use all the tools in her toolbox to catch the killer.

Jaime needs to renovate this house if she wants to move forward with her life, but will this murder investigation leave her in ruins—or worse?

Perfect for fans of Amanda Flower and Julie Anne Lindsey, when Kate Mulligan inherits her great uncle’s fruit orchard, she quickly realizes that apples aren’t the only thing that can have rotten cores.

After losing her husband in a terrible car crash, thirty-five-year-old Kate is left to pick up the pieces of her life alone. Although she has physically recovered, she worries her spirit never will. But when she learns that she has inherited a fruit orchard in a small town just outside Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, from her great uncle Stan, she takes this as an opportunity ripe for the picking. Kate knew immediately what to do with it: open a cider house. Her hopeful plans fall far from the tree when she finds the body of the orchard manager, Carl Randolph, leaving her to figure out who is at the core of this murder.

She had been in correspondence with Carl, who had agreed with her brilliant idea of opening a cider house. But not everyone is so quick to buy what she was selling—Uncle Stan’s lawyer, Robert Larabee, paints a less rosy financial outlook of the orchard’s past, present, and future. 

Kate discovers that Carl had large, unexplained deposits to his bank account and it becomes clear that either he was blackmailing someone, or someone was paying him to keep quiet. Meanwhile, Kate and her neighbors receive offers to buy their property from a mysterious buyer. And there’s more than meets the eye with the neighboring orchard owner, Daniel Martinez, although Kate can’t quite put her finger on if it’s sweet or sour.

Will she be able to pick out the bad apple among the bunch before it’s too late?

**This post contains Amazon affiliate links which will allow me as an associate to earn a small commission on any purchase made through the link of the products I share. This commission in no way changes the pricing of any items for the buyer.**

Tale of an Anxious Heart
Elsa Jacobs
Publication date: June 14th 2023
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance, Suspense

Tale of an Anxious Heart follows the heart-wrenching journey of Marianne, a young woman plagued by anxiety, as she takes a hitchhiker on her way to her beach house. Despite her reservations, she can’t help but feel drawn to his dark and mysterious persona. However, with each encounter, she begins to realize the man isn’t the person she thought he was.

As they continue on their journey, Marianne’s anxiety worsens, and she struggles to control it. James becomes a trigger for her panic attacks, yet she can’t seem to let him go. Her anxious heart is torn between her love for him and the need to protect herself from the danger he brings. Their relationship becomes increasingly complicated, and the line between love and hate blurs.

And when they start to find peace, their world is turned upside down. As they run for their lives, Marianne and James are pushed to their limits. They face betrayals, heartbreaks, and death at every turn. The journey is full of angst, heartache, and passion as Marianne struggles with her anxiety and traumas, and James fights for his redemption. Will they make it to safety and find a new life together, or will their pasts consume them both?

Goodreads / Amazon

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EXCERPT:

After three hours on the road, we make a pitstop.

“At last!” he blurts, getting out of the car.

Then, I notice something I shouldn’t have. My hitchhiker stands with a slight groan, hand pressed against his right side. And as he stands, he reveals the inside of his jacket, and there it is—a shiny gun sitting in his pocket. My paranoid thoughts aren’t so paranoid after all.

It’s not rocket science to figure out where this equation leads. Nobody carries that kind of gun unless they are a criminal.

I’m going to die, sliced up by a crazy hitchhiker.

Can I handle this?

But then again, he’s hurt. Maybe he’s losing blood; maybe his life is in danger.

And mine?

He enters the convenience store. It’s almost comical; the way he walks, like he’s invincible. Professional criminal, tough as nails. And here I am, professionally screwed.

I imagine what they’ll say on the six o’clock news: “A young woman was found sliced up so her killer could make a house of cards out of the pieces…”

I can’t take my eyes off his form. The man stands tall, arrogant, his badass attitude taped to his face. He feels nothing.

Although, his eyes are more narrowed than before. He’s a human being. A wounded human being and I’m a nurse.

I fill up the car while chewing on my bottom lip. He heads toward the back of the building. My heart is pounding, unsure of what might happen next. I might have made a huge mistake. The options before me are unappealing—leave him there, join him, or wait for him to come back and pretend nothing’s wrong. I finish filling the gas tank and pay, trying my best to appear normal. The store is dimly lit and eerily quiet, adding to my growing uneasiness. A knot forms in my stomach as I push the door open, my heart trying to spread my ribs apart.

My eyes dart back and forth as I scan the aisles frantically, grabbing snacks and drinks, not knowing what the road ahead has in store.

As I approach the exit, my heart is in my throat. I can’t catch my breath, and I only hear an irregular heartbeat in my ears.

Shit, I’m having a panic attack.

Time slows as my legs weaken, and unwanted sweat rolls down my neck. My sweaty palms land on the door, but the ground drops from under me. My vision blurs, and I can’t breathe.

I can’t breathe. I’m going to pass out. Shit.

My phone’s ringtone blares. I don’t recognize the number.

“Yes,” I answer, my voice barely above a whisper.

An old voice comes through the line. I don’t recognize that, either.

“If you value your life, you’ll leave him,” the voice growls.

I glare at my phone.

I don’t even know if my life has any value at all.

“You have a few seconds to leave, Miss Milosh.”

The call disconnects, and my eyes flutter to my phone as it chimes again. Another ring announces an incoming text message, but I ignore it. I know what I need to do. I steel myself for the task ahead, fully aware I’m going to tread dangerous waters. One stop to grab my first aid box, and I’m thrilled.

 

Author Bio:

I’m Elsa Jacobs, indie author of contemporary romance from sweet and seductive to dark and gritty. All levels of steam.

A few years ago, I found myself obsessed with a bunch of characters and plots, swirling madness in my mind. The only reasonable cure was to write them all. In less than a year, I had written four draft. I had no intention of publishing because fear held me back, and I put them aside, unsure if they were worth sharing with the world.

Years passed, and I finally mustered the courage to read one of my drafts and spoke to an editor, sending them a chapter. The wait for their response was nerve-wracking.

But, as you can imagine, that one chapter led me on a journey that brought me here. And the story is about to be legendary.

My debut novel, Tale of an Anxious Heart, is a fast-paced and thrilling ride that will keep you on the edge of your seat with its twists and turns. This contemporary medium spice read is not your typical romance, featuring morally gray characters and a steamy, possessive alpha male hero who will leave you breathless.

But don’t be fooled by the conventional tropes – My strong female hero is more than capable of holding her own and conquering inner demons as she embarks on a road trip that will change her life forever. Pick up Tale of an Anxious Heart today and discover why it can be challenging to pick up a hitchhiker…

Website / Instagram / Facebook / TikTok / Twitter / Newsletter

 

GIVEAWAY!

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Title: Cassandra in Reverse

Author: Holly Smale

Publisher: MIRA

Publication Date: June 6, 2023

Page Count: 434

My rating: 4 stars

About the book:

If you had the power to change the past, where would you start?

Cassandra Penelope Dankworth likes what she likes, and strongly dislikes what she doesn’t. Her life runs in a pleasing, predictable order…until all these things happen on the same day.

• She gets dumped.
• She gets fired from her PR job for not being a ‘People Person’
• Her local café runs out of her favorite muffins

Then, something truly unexpected happens: Cassie discovers she can travel back in time and change the past.

She decides to use this newfound ability to change all the broken parts of her life. Get undumped, unfired. And with time on her side, how hard can it be?

A Reese’s Book Club Pick

An Amazon Best Book of June 2023

An Apple June Must Listens Pick 

Country Living, Best Spring Books for Adults to Add to Your 2023 Reading List

Katie Couric Media, What to watch, read, and listen to this week

Gizmodo, Here Come Tons of New Sci-Fi, Fantasy, and Horror Books

Booklist Queen, The Most Anticipated June 2023 Book Releases

Find this book online:

Goodreads  /  Amazon  /  BookShop.org /  Barnes & Noble / HarperCollins / Books A Million

Excerpt:

WHERE DOES A STORY START? 

It’s a lie, the first page of a book, because it masquerades as a beginning. A real beginning—the opening of something—when what you’re being offered is an arbitrary line in the sand. This story starts here. Pick a random event. Ignore whatever came before it or catch up later. Pretend the world stops when the book closes, or that a resolution isn’t simply another random moment on a curated timeline. 

But life isn’t like that, so books are dishonest. 

Maybe that’s why humans like them. 

And it’s saying that kind of shit that gets me thrown out of the Fentiman Road Book Club. 

Here are some other things I’ve been asked not to return to: 

• The Blenheim Road Readers Group 
• A large flat-share I briefly attempted in Walthamstow 
• My last relationship 
• My current job

The final two have been in quick succession. This morning, Will—my boyfriend of four months—kissed me, listed my virtues out of nowhere and concluded the pep talk by ending our relationship.

The job situation I found out about eighty seconds ago.

According to the flexing jaw and flared nostrils of my boss, I’ve yet to respond to this new information. He seems faint and muted, as if he’s behind a pane of thick frosted glass. He also has a dried oat on his shirt collar but now doesn’t seem the right time to point it out: he’s married—his wife can do it later.

“Cassie,” he says more loudly. “Did you hear me?”

Obviously I heard him or I’d still be giving a detailed report on the client meeting I just had, which is exactly what I was doing when he fired me.

“The issue isn’t so much your work performance,” he plows on gallantly. “Although, Christ knows, somebody who hates phone calls as much as you do shouldn’t be working in public relations.”

I nod: that’s an accurate assessment.

“It’s your general demeanor I can’t have in this office. You are rude. Insubordinate. Arrogant, frankly. You are not a team player, and do you know what this office needs?”

“A better coffee machine.”

“That’s exactly the kind of bullshit I’m talking about.”

I’d tell you my boss’s name and give him a brief description, but judging by this conversation, he isn’t going to be a prominent character for much longer.

“I’ve spoken to you about this on multiple occasions— Cassandra, look at me when I’m talking to you. Our highest-paying client just dropped us because of your quote, unquote relentlessly grating behavior. You are unlikable. That’s the exact word they used. Unlikable. Public relations is a People Job. For People People.”

Now, just hang on a minute.

“I’m a person,” I object, lifting my chin and doing my best to stare directly into his pupils. “And, as far as I’m aware, being likable is irrelevant to my job description. It’s certainly not in my contract, because I’ve checked.”

My boss’s nostrils flare into horsiness.

I rarely understand what another human is thinking, but I frequently feel it: a wave of emotion that pours out of them into me, like a teapot into a cup. While it fills me up, I have to work out what the hell it is, where it came from and what I’m supposed to do to stop it spilling everywhere.

Rage that doesn’t feel like mine pulses through me: dark purple and red.

His colors are an invasion and I do not like it.

“Look,” my boss concludes with a patient sigh that is nothing like the emotion bolting out of him. “This just isn’t working out, Cassie, and on some level you must already know that. Maybe you should find something that is better suited to your…specific skill set.”

That’s essentially what Will told me this morning too. I don’t know why they’re both under the impression I must have seen the end coming when I very much did not.

“Your job has the word relations in it,” my boss clarifies helpfully. “Perhaps you could find one that doesn’t?”

Standing up, I clear my throat and look at my watch: it’s not even Wednesday lunchtime yet.

Relationship: over.

Job: over.

“Well,” I say calmly. “Fuck.”

So that’s where my story starts.

It could have started anywhere: I just had to pick a moment. It could have been waking up this morning to the sound of my flatmates screaming at each other, or eating my breakfast (porridge and banana, always), or making an elaborate gift for my first anniversary with Will (slightly preemptive).

It could have been the moment just before I met him, which would have been a more positive beginning. It could have been the day my parents died in a car accident, which would have been considerably less so.

But I chose here: kind of in the middle.

Thirty-one years into my story and a long time after the dramatic end of some others. Packing a cardboard box with very little, because it transpires the only thing on my desk that doesn’t belong to the agency is a gifted coffee mug with a picture of a cartoon deer on it. I put it in the box anyway. There’s no real way of knowing what’s going to happen next, but I assume there will still be caffeine.

“Oh shit!” My colleague Sophie leans across our desks as I stick a wilting plant under my arm just to look like I’m not leaving another year of my life behind with literally nothing to show for it. “They haven’t fired you? That’s awful. I’m sure we will all miss you so much.”

I genuinely have no idea if she means this or not. If she does, it’s certainly unexpected: we’ve been sitting opposite each other since I got here and all I really know about her is that she’s twenty-two years old and likes tuna sandwiches, typing aggressively and picking her nose as if none of us have peripheral vision.

“Will you?” I ask, genuinely curious. “Why?”

Sophie opens her mouth, shuts it again and goes back to smashing her keyboard as if she’s playing whack-a-mole with her fingertips.

“Cassandra!” My boss appears in the doorway just as I start cleaning down my keyboard with one of my little antiseptic wipes. “What the hell are you doing? I didn’t mean leave right now. Jesus on a yellow bicycle, what is wrong with you? I’d prefer you to work out your notice period, please.”

“Oh.” I look down at the box and my plant. I’ve packed now. “No, thank you.”

Finished with cleaning, I sling my handbag over my shoulder and my coat over my arm, hold the box against my stomach, awkwardly hook the plant in the crook of my elbow and try to get the agency door open on my own. Then I hold it open with my knee while I look back, even though—much like Orpheus at the border of the Underworld—I know I shouldn’t.

The office has never been this quiet.

Heads are conscientiously turned away from me, as if I’m a sudden bright light. There’s a light patter of keyboards like pigeons walking on a roof (punctuated by the violent death stabs of Sophie), the radiator by the window is gurgling, the reception is blindingly gold-leafed and the watercooler drips. If I’m looking for something good to come out of today—and I think I probably should—it’s that I won’t have to hear that every second for the rest of my working life.

It’s a productivity triumph. They should fire people for fundamental personality flaws more often.

The door slams behind me and I jump even though I’m the one who slammed it. Then my phone beeps, so I balance everything precariously on one knee and fumble for it. I try to avoid having unread notifications if I can. They make my bag feel heavy.

Dankworth please clean your shit up

I frown as I reply:

Which shit in particular

There’s another beep.

Very funny. Keep the kitchen clear

It is a COmmUNAL SPaCE.

It wasn’t funny a couple of weeks ago when I came down for a glass of water in the middle of the night and found Sal and Derek having sex against the fridge.

Although perhaps that is the definition of communal.

Still frowning, I hit the button for the lift and mentally scour the flat for what I’ve done wrong this time. I forgot to wash my porridge bowl and spoon. There’s also my favorite yellow scarf on the floor and a purple jumper over the arm of the sofa. This is my sixth flat-share in ten years and I’m starting to feel like a snail: carrying my belongings around with me so I leave no visible trace.

I send back:

OK.

My intestines are rapidly liquidizing, my cheeks are hot and a bright pink rash I can’t see is forming across my chest. Dull pain wraps itself around my neck, like a scarf pulled tight.

It’s fascinating how emotions can tie your life together.

One minute you’re twelve, standing in the middle of a playground while people fight over who doesn’t get you as a teammate. The next you’re in your thirties, single and standing by the lifts of an office you’ve just been fired from because nobody wants you as a teammate. Same sensations, different body. Literally: my cells have cunningly replaced themselves at least twice in the interim.

The office door swings open. “Cassandra?”

Ronald has worn the same thing—a navy cashmere jumper—every day since he started working here a few months ago. It smells really lovely, so I’m guessing there must be plural.

He walks toward me and I immediately panic. Now and then I’ve caught him looking at me from the neighboring desk with an incalculable expression on his face, and I have no idea what it could be. Lust? Repulsion? I’ve been scripting a response to the former for a month now, just in case.

I am honored by your romantic and/or sexual interest in me given that we’ve only exchanged perfunctory greetings, but I have a long-term boyfriend I am almost definitely in the process of falling in love with.

Well, that excuse isn’t going to work anymore, is it.

Ronald clears his throat and runs a large hand over his buzz-cut Afro. “That’s mine.”

“Who?” I blink, disoriented by the grammar. “Me?”

“The plant.” He points at the shrubbery now clutched under my sweaty armpit. “It’s mine and I’d like to keep it.”

Ah, the sweet, giddy flush of humiliation is now complete.

“Of course,” I say stiffly. “Sorry, Ronald.”

Ronald blinks and reaches out a hand; I move quickly away so his fingers won’t touch mine, nearly dropping the pot in the process. It’s the same fun little dance I do when I have to pay with cash at the supermarket checkout, which is why I always carry cards.

I get into the lift and press the button. Ronald now appears to be casually assessing me as if I’m a half-ripe avocado, so I stare at the floor until he reaches a conclusion.

“Bye,” he says finally.

“Bye,” I say as the lift doors slide shut.

And that’s how my story starts.

With a novelty mug in a box, a full character assassination and the realization that when I leave a building I am missed considerably less than a half-dead rubber plant.

Excerpted from CASSANDRA IN REVERSE. Copyright © 2023 by Holly Smale. Published by MIRA, an imprint of HarperCollins.

Cassandra in Reverse by Holly Smale is what you get when you mix a contemporary romance and a time travel fantasy. The story is told from the point of view of the lead character who is neurodivergent as she bounces around in time trying to fix her own life after it has fallen apart.

Cassandra Penelope Dankworth is not having a good day when she gets to work only to find the cherry on the rotten cake of the day is she’s being fired. Cassie doesn’t know what to think after starting the day off with a break up before it all spiraled out of control and being a creature of habit this is all just too much for her to handle.

In the blink of an eye though Cassie finds herself right back to the beginning of it all and living the trauma over until she wonders if anything she does can change the outcome. Cassie learns that she can start over if things go wrong and time travel just may be the answer she was looking for to fix her life before it went off the rails.

Holly Smale is an author that I was already familiar with having tried some of her young adult contemporary romance novels. I found her writing a ton of fun and seeing a this was an adult romcom that also mixed in another genre when I love books that mix genres I couldn’t help but get excited. The incredibly great part to this new series for me was finding that an autistic lead was at the front of this story and I couldn’t help but be enamored with it. This one turned into just what I hoped, a ton of laughs along with a lot of character growth as she finds herself and navigates the world so I couldn’t help but to enjoy it as I read along.

I received an advance copy from the publisher via NetGalley

About the author:

Holly Smale is the internationally bestselling, award-winning author of the Geek Girl (soon to be a Netflix series) and The Valentines teen series, which have sold 3.4 million copies worldwide. In January 2021, Holly was diagnosed autistic at the age of 39. Suddenly a lot of things made sense. Holly regularly shares, debates about, and celebrates neurodiversity on Twitter and Instagram @holsmale. Cassandra in Reverse is her adult debut and was named A Reese’s Book Club Pick, an Amazon Editors’ Top Pick of the Month, and a June Must Listen on Apple.

Author Website / Twitter / Instagram / Goodreads

**This post contains Amazon affiliate links which will allow me as an associate to earn a small commission on any purchase made through the link of the products I share. This commission in no way changes the pricing of any items for the buyer.**

A Plague of Mercies
Adam Pelzman
Publication date: June 7th 2023
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Poetry, Romance

A lethal plague sweeps the globe. Millions have died. Survivors are confined to their homes.

Gabriel passes his time in a small New York apartment on the city’s Upper West Side. During the plodding solitude of the lockdown, he observes several strangers in their nearby apartments. As he watches them struggle to survive a world at risk of extinction, he wonders about their lives—where they’re from, what they value, how they’re coping with a deadly contagion. All alone, he develops a vague yet important connection to these people, an affection for those who are struggling to survive isolation, fear and looming death.

Told in powerful, spellbinding free verse, Gabriel’s observations grow deeper and more elaborate as the endless days pass. But when he and a woman from across the street begin to watch each other from afar, his imagination begins to collide with the bleak reality of the times.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Kobo

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EXCERPT:

There is a woman who lives in a building in New York City,

on the Upper West Side.

A man just a few years older lives in a building across the street.

These two people live at the same elevation,

the same height,

one hundred feet above the pavement,

above the crust of the earth.

They can see into each other’s apartments.

Every night before the woman gets into bed

she puts on a threadbare gray shirt.

The shirt is long and sleeveless and extends down to her knees.

She turns off the ceiling light

and then turns on a nightlight near her bed.

The light casts an amber glow reminiscent of a campfire.

The man in the other apartment wonders if the nightlight

is the woman’s response to a fear of the dark,

to a threat real or imagined,

an antidote of sorts.

After she turns on the nightlight

she looks briefly through her window.

Perhaps she is reflecting on another day passed.

Perhaps she is considering the quality of her life,

or the quantity that remains.

Perhaps she is scanning the dark street for signs of life,

for hope in any of its many forms.

 

Author Bio:

Adam Pelzman was born in Seattle, raised in northern New Jersey, and has spent most of his life in New York City. He studied Russian literature at the University of Pennsylvania and went to law school at UCLA. His first novel, Troika, was published by Penguin (Amy Einhorn Books) and later republished by Jackson Heights Press as A Cuban Russian American Love Story. He is also the author of The Papaya King (which Kirkus Reviews described as “entrancing” and “deeply memorable”) and The Boy and the Lake (which is set in New Jersey during the late 1960s). His newest novel is A Plague of Mercies.

Website / Goodreads / Instagram

 

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Title: Famous in a Small Town

Author: Viola Shipman

Publisher: Graydon House

Publication Date: June 13, 2023

Page Count: 349

My rating: 4 stars

About the book:

Fried Green Tomatoes meets Midnight at the Blackbird Café in USA Today bestselling author Viola Shipman’s FAMOUS IN A SMALL TOWN, a heartwarming story about intergenerational friendship and self-discovery, set in beautiful Northern Michigan.

In 1958, 15-year-old Mary Jackson became the first woman ever crowned The Cherry Pit Spittin’ Champion of Good Hart, Michigan, landing her in the Guinness Book of World Records, and earning her the nickname Cherry Mary. Nearly 80 years old at the story’s start, Mary runs The Very Cherry General Store, a business that has been passed through three generations of women in the family. While there is no female next of kin, Mary believes the fourth is fated to arrive, as predicted by “Fata Morgana,” a Lake Michigan mirage of four women walking side by side.

Becky Thatcher (yes, like the Mark Twain character), an Assistant Principal from St. Louis, has just broken up with her long-term boyfriend and heads to Good Hart for a healing girl’s trip with her best friend. When Becky drunkenly spits a cherry pit an impressive distance, Mary urges her to enter the upcoming contest, and wonders if Becky could be the woman she’s been waiting for. 

Inspired by, and paying tribute to, Michigan’s National Cherry Festival, to the Tunnel of Trees, to lake life, and to the beauty of intergenerational friendship, FAMOUS IN A SMALL TOWN is “full of summertime delight…and sweet, nostalgic charm” (Heather Webber, USA TODAY bestselling author of Midnight at the Blackbird Café). 

Bursting with memorable characters and small-town lore, FAMOUS IN A SMALL TOWN is a magical story about the family you’re born with, and the one you choose.

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Excerpt:

THE LAKE EFFECT EXPRESS

August 1958

“Good News from Good Hart!”

by Shirley Ann Potter

It was the spit heard ’round the world!

Our town is still atwitter over the news that the daughter of Mr. Peter Jackson was crowned the 35th Annual Cherry Pit Spittin’ Champion of Leelanau and Emmet County last Saturday. Fifteen-year-old Mary Jackson, an Emmet County high-school sophomore, was not only the first woman—uh, girl—to win the contest, but her stone flew a Guinness Book of World Records–breaking distance of ninety-three feet six-and-a-half inches, shattering the previous record set by “Too Tall” Fred Jones in 1898 at the state’s very first Cherry Championship right here in Good Hart.

News of her accomplishment has flown farther than her cherry pit, with reporters from as far away as New York and London anointing our town sprite with the moniker “Cherry Mary.”

I caught up with Mary at the Very Cherry General Store—our beloved post office/grocery store/sandwich- 

and-soda-shop run by Mary’s mother and grandmother—to see how she managed such a Herculean feat.

“My mom taught me to whistle when I was a kid (“A kid!” Don’t you just love that, readers?), and I had to be loud enough for her to hear me when she was down at the lake. I think that made my lips strong,” Mary says. “And I started eating sunflower seeds when I was fishing on the boat with my grandma. She taught me how to spit them without having the wind blow them back in the boat.”

Mary says she practiced for the contest by standing in the middle of M-119—the road that houses our beautiful Tunnel of Trees—and spitting stones into the wind when a storm was brewing on Lake Michigan.

“I knew if I could make it a far piece into the wind, I could do it when it was still.”

While her grandmother was “over the moon” for Mary’s feat, saying, “It’s about time,” Mr. Jackson says of his daughter’s accomplishment, “It’s certainly unusual for a girl, but Mary isn’t your average girl. Maybe all this got it out of her system, so to speak. I hope so for her sake.”

The plucky teenager seems nonplussed by the attention, despite seeing her face all over northern Michigan in the papers and the T-shirts featuring her face—cheeks puffed, stone leaving her mouth—and the words Cherry Mary in bright red over the image.

“A girl can do anything a man can,” Mary says in between retrieving mail, spreading mayonnaise on a tomato sandwich and twirling a cherry around in her mouth, before perfectly depositing the stone in a trash can across the room. “You just gotta believe you can. That’s the hard part. Harder than spitting any old pit.”

Mary seems ready to conquer the world, readers. Cheers, Cherry Mary! Our hometown heroine!

*******

BECKY

June 2023

“Okay, Benjie, would you like it if Ashley did this to you?”

He scrunches up his face to stave off tears and shakes his head. “No.”

“Well, it’s not a nice thing to do.”

I study Ashley’s hair, then take her face in my hands. “It’s going to be okay. Trust me?”

The little girl nods her head. I give her a hug.

I walk over to my desk and open the bottom drawer . There is a large jar of creamy peanut butter sitting next to a bag of mini Snickers. The peanut butter is for emergencies like this: removing gum from a little girls’ hair. The Snickers are for me after I’m finished with this life lesson.

“Well, I’m just glad neither of you are allergic to peanuts,” I say. “Allows me to do this.”

I cover the gum stuck in the back of Ashley’s pretty, long, blond hair and then look at her.

“I promise this works,” I say. “I’ve performed a lot of gum surgery.”

She nods. Her eyes are red from crying, her cheeks blotchy.

“Why did you do this, Benjie?” I ask the little boy seated in the chair before my desk. 

He ducks his head sheepishly, his brown bangs falling into his eyes, and murmurs something into his chest.

“I didn’t catch that,” I say. “What did you say? Remember it’s okay to express your emotions.”

He looks at me, freckles twitching on his cheeks. “I can’t say,” he whispers.

“Yes, you can,” I say. “Don’t make this any worse than it already is.”

Benjie glances toward the door to ensure that it is closed. “Tyler Evans told me to do it or he’d punch me on the way home.”

Being a grade-school administrator is akin to being a detective: you have to work the perp to get the truth. Eventually—no matter the age—they break, especially when a verdict on punishment is waiting in the balance.

It’s the last day of school. Benjie does not want his summer to be ruined.

I lean down and slide the gum out of Ashley’s hair. I go to my sink, dampen a cloth and put some dish soap on it, return and clean the rest of the peanut butter off her locks. I move to a tall filing cabinet and retrieve a clean brush. The filing cabinet is filled with bags of sealed brushes and combs, toothbrushes and EpiPens, certificates and old laptops. I run the brush through her hair. I hold up a mirror for her to see the back of her head.

“See, good as new.”

“What do you say to Ashley, Benjie?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Do you accept his apology?”

Ashley shakes her head no. “You ruined the last day of school. You’re a big ol’ meanie.”

“Ashley,” I say, my tone sweet but authoritarian.

“I accept your apology,” she says.

“You’re free to go,” I say to her.

“But you’re still a big ol’ poop head,” she says, racing out of my office, bubblegum-free hair bouncing.

I actually have to clench my hands very hard to stifle a laugh.

Big ol’ poop head.

How many times a day would I—would any adult—like to scream that at someone?

“Are you telling my parents?” Benjie asks.

“I have to,” I say, “but I’ll tell them why you did it, and then I’ll have a talk with Tyler.”

“No!”

“I have to do that, too,” I explain. “And I’ll talk to his parents as well.”

He looks at me, his chin quivering.

“We have a zero-tolerance policy here for bullying,” I say. “Trust me, Tyler won’t do it again. You have to stand up to bullies. You have to show them the right way to do things. Otherwise, they never change.”

In addition to being a detective, an assistant principal is also akin to being the vice-president of the United States. Everyone knows your name, everyone knows you’ve achieved some level of status, but nobody really understands what the hell you do all day.

“I promise it will be okay,” I say. “Just promise me you won’t do it again. You’re a nice boy, Benjie. That’s a wonderful thing. Always remember that.”

“I promise.” He looks at me. “Can I go now?”

“One more thing. You know you aren’t supposed to bring gum to school.”

“I know. But one of the moms was handing it out before school.”

Mrs. Yates, I instantly know. She wants to be the cool mom. She’s Room Mom for 2A, and, Mrs. Trimbley, the Room Mom for 2B, told me that competing with her this year was like being a contestant in Squid Game.

Benjie continues. “It’s Bubble Yum. My favorite. My mom won’t let me have it because it’s bad for my teeth.”

Benjie opens his mouth and smiles. He resembles a jack-o’-lantern. He’s missing teeth here and there, willy-nilly, black holes where baby teeth once lived and adult teeth will soon reside.

Too late, I want to say to Benjie, but he won’t get my humor. Only my best friend, Q, understands it, and my grandparents who made me this way.

I think of how much I loved chewing gum as a kid.

“Do you have any more?”

“Am I going to get in trouble again?”

“No,” I say with a laugh.

He reaches into the pocket of his little jeans and hands me a piece of grape Bubble Yum.

My favorite.

“Do you know what my teacher used to say when I’d sneak gum into class?”

“You snuck gum into class?”

He stares at me with more admiration than if Albert Pujols from the St. Louis Cardinals suddenly appeared with an autographed baseball.

“I did,” I say. “It was about the only bad thing I ever did. My teacher used to hold out her hand in front of my desk and ask, ‘Did you bring enough gum to share with the whole class?’”

“Did you?” Benjie asks, wild-eyed.

“No,” I say. “That was the whole point. She wanted to embarrass me. And it always worked. Teachers just liked to say that.”

I take the gum from Benjie. “This is just between us, okay?”

He giggles and nods.

I pop the gum into my mouth. It’s even more insanely sweet and sugary and tastes even better than I remember. My taste buds explode. I chew, Benjie watching me with grand amusement, and then—looking out my window to make sure the coast is clear—blow a big bubble. A massive bubble, in fact. It expands until it’s the size of a small balloon. Benjie continues to watch me in silence as a child today might do today trying to figure out how to use a rotary phone. After a few moments, the flavor subsides.

“Want to learn a trick?” I ask.

“Yeah!”

“If you ever get caught chewing gum, don’t stick it in a nice girl’s hair or swallow it. Learn to do this.” I narrow my lips as if I’m going to whistle, puff my cheeks and spit my gum into the air as if Michael Jordan were draining a game-winning three-pointer as time expired. The purple gum arcs into the air and deposits directly into a trash can next to a low-slung sofa ten feet across my office.

Benjie pumps his fist and lifts his hand to high-five me.

“Where did you learn to do that?” he asks.

“Sunday school,” I wink. “My grandma taught me.”

Excerpted from Famous in a Small Town. Copyright © 2023 by Viola Shipman. Published by Graydon House, an imprint of HarperCollins.

Famous in a Small Town by Viola Shipman is a women’s fiction title that was being compared to Fried Green Tomatoes so of course I had to give this one a try. The story in Famous in a Small Town is one that does have two timelines of the present and the past and different points of view.

Mary Jackson has a lived a long, good life in her small town of Good Hart, Michigan. When Mary was young the town dubbed her with the nickname Cherry Mary. Mary had set a record in the town’s festival cherry spitting contest and to this day no one has even come close.

Becky Thatcher has come to the small town of Good Hart, Michigan with her best friend to recover from a break up and figure out what she wants in life. Becky had always stuck by her man but she just figured out sticking by was turning into settling for something she didn’t want. When Becky crosses paths with Mary the women wonder if it wasn’t their destiny.

A lot of times I see books advertised as being for someone who loved a specific popular book and I think to myself why, this is nothing like what is mentioned. Famous in a Small Town however did have similarities to Fried Green Tomatoes and being a fan I found myself enjoying this one too. The story was a charming one of friends and family and finding oneself in the midst of it all and with lovely characters the pages just flew by. Great story that I’d also recommend to anyone who enjoyed Fried G sreen Tomatoes so for once I agree with their marketing and would definitely return to this author myself.

I received an advance copy from the publisher via NetGalley.

About the author:

VIOLA SHIPMAN is the pen name for internationally bestselling LGBTQIA author Wade Rouse. Wade is the author of fifteen books, which have been translated into 21 languages and sold over a million copies around the world. Wade chose his grandmother’s name, Viola Shipman, as a pen name to honor the working poor Ozarks seamstress whose sacrifices changed his family’s life and whose memory inspires his fiction. 

Wade’s books have been selected multiple times as Must-Reads by NBC’s Today Show, Michigan Notable Books of the Year and Indie Next Picks. He lives in Michigan and California, and hosts Wine & Words with Wade, A Literary Happy Hour, every Thursday.

Author Website  / Twitter / Facebook / Instagram / Goodreads