Carries Book Reviews

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A Christmas Dream
Shanna Hatfield
(Hudson House Holiday, #1)
Publication date: November 14th 2024
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Holiday, Romance

He came to build the house of his dreams, but found a home for his heart.

After an extensive search for the ideal location to build a house he’s spent years designing, Brant Hudson knows he’s found the perfect site the moment he sets foot on the land near Silver Bluff, Oregon. However, frustrating delays leave him laboring alongside the very crew he hired to finish the house in time for Christmas. His work leads the woman who catches his eye to believe he’s a carpenter rather than the owner of the grand manor.

Holland Drake grew up on a farm, but she aspires to secure a position as a housemaid at Hudson House. While delivering lunch to her brother at the worksite, the door opens to a job when Holland encounters a strikingly handsome carpenter whose charm captivates her. Soon, Holland discovers the enchanting man is none other than the owner of the house and her new employer.

As the holiday season arrives amid a flurry of excitement and possibilities, Holland and Brant face choices that could change their lives forever. Will fear hold them back from stepping into the future together, or will their Christmas dreams of love come true?

A Christmas Dream is the first book in the Hudson House Holiday series of wholesome, heartwarming Christmas romances full of the joy of the season.

Goodreads / Amazon

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EXCERPT:

Another thirty minutes passed, during which time Brant envisioned thick slices of smoky ham encased between fluffy biscuits hot from the oven as he worked. He was just about to suggest to Remington they take a break for the noon meal when a woman as pretty as any Brant had ever encountered breezed into the room carrying a large basket covered with a blue-checkered cloth.

“Denver! I thought I’d never find you in this colossus of a house. I saw Colin outside, and he said you were in the library, but so much has changed since the last time I was in here, I thought I might wander around lost until you starved to death.” The woman’s gaze shifted from the carpenter on the second floor, taking in Brant and Remington as they hastily stood. “Oh, hello.”

Denver scrambled down the ladder where he’d been working on the trim at the top of a bookcase. Brant was surprised he didn’t fall and break his neck the way he skipped the last four rungs, using just his hands on the sides of the ladder to slide to the floor. It was a trick Brant intended to have Denver teach him another day.

“Holland, I didn’t know you were coming today. I would have met you outside.” Denver glanced nervously from the young woman to Brant, and then back to the fetching female as he raced down the spiral staircase.

The woman shrugged. “We wanted to surprise you.”

Did Denver have a wife and children awaiting him at home in Silver Bluff? In the three years of Hudson House’s construction, Brant had gotten to know the names of every worker and thought he had a thorough mental list of those who were married and those who were not. How had he overlooked Denver’s family? Especially when the man had such an attractive wife?

Shiny brown hair she wore pulled back from her face, fastened with a ribbon at the nape of her graceful neck, fell in glorious waves to her waist. Freckles splattered a narrow, upturned nose. Her bottom lip, fuller than the top, rested in a natural pout that was most alluring. Her brown eyes snapped with intelligence and interest when they landed on Brant again. Her features were delicate and decidedly feminine, and she owned such a happy countenance, it made Brant want to smile just being in the same room with her.

Denver Drake was a most fortunate man if the woman holding a basket from which delicious aromas emanated was, indeed, his wife.

“Who might this be, Denver?” Brant asked, taking a step closer to the couple, curious and oddly interested in the answer.

“Holland Drake,” Denver said, taking the basket from the woman and giving her a slight nudge forward.

A wave of disappointment washed over Brant. So, she was married to Denver.

“My sister,” Denver continued.

The desire to raise his fist and cheer was almost more than Brant could contain, but he managed to tamp down his victorious feeling and school his features into what he hoped was a welcoming expression. The lovely woman was not married, at least not to Denver.

“Miss Drake,” Brant said, closing the distance between them and taking her hand in his. He raised her slender fingers to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand while holding her gaze.

Her eyes widened slightly, though he could see curiosity lingering there, and she quickly pulled her hand away. “I haven’t seen you working around the house before. Are you new?”

It was on the tip of Brant’s tongue to tell her the truth. To say he was the one who would eventually live in the house that had once been a dream scattered across multiple sheets of paper. Instead, he decided he wanted to get to know this woman, not as the owner of a fancy home, but as one of the many men helping to build it.

“I’m not new, but help was needed in the library today.” That wasn’t a lie, but the stark truth. He and Remington would likely contribute countless hours of physical labor if the house was to get finished by his own self-imposed deadline prior to his sister’s holiday arrival.

“Mister …” Denver started to speak up, but Brant gave him a brief shake of his head along with a warning look. The young man swallowed hard and nodded once in understanding. “Mr. Hudson is hoping to be able to use the library soon. It will also serve as his office, and he’d like it to be the first room completely finished. That’s why we’re all working so hard to make that happen.”

Author Bio:

USA Today Bestselling Author Shanna Hatfield writes sweet romances rich with relatable characters, small town settings that feel like home, humor, and hope.

Her historical westerns have been described as “reminiscent of the era captured by Bonanza and The Virginian” while her contemporary works have been called “laugh-out-loud funny, and a little heart-pumping sexy without being explicit in any way.”

When this farm girl isn’t writing or indulging in rich, decadent chocolate, Shanna hangs out with her husband, lovingly known as Captain Cavedweller. She also experiments with recipes, snaps photos of her adorable nephew, and caters to the whims of a cranky cat named Drooley.

To learn more about Shanna or the books she writes, visit her website http://shannahatfield.com or find out more about her here: linktr.ee/ShannaHatfield

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Inked in Blood and Memory
Allison Ivy
Publication date: December 3rd 2024
Genres: Horror, LGBTQ+, New Adult

Recluse Sophie Vanguard’s winter cabin retreat turns ominous when blue flowers mysteriously appear. They’re everywhere. On her front porch, in kitchen cabinets, and even on her pillow. It isn’t long before chilling whispers echo in the halls, and her journal repeats seven unsettling entries.

Enter the bloodied and beautifully eccentric Ly Thi Ren. Though Ren seems familiar, Sophie refuses to believe the girl’s insistence that they are trapped inside a book.

In a land of fiction, truth and lies blur together, clear decisions are marred by doubt, and shared family trauma lurks just below the surface.

Can Ren and Sophie make it out alive? Or will they end up nothing more than words inked in blood and memory?

With elements of gothic horror, splatterpunk, romance, and fantasy, Inked in Blood and Memory is a self-aware LGBTQ+ horror that wraps its clutches around the reader and doesn’t let go.

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EXCERPT:

You never forget your first ritual sacrifice. So why had I? That seems like something you’d remember. It’s not something most American families gather for.

Hey, Má. Could you pass the rau răm? Oh, and what time is the sacrifice tonight?

And yet, I had forgotten. I had forgotten the little things, too. My mother’s laugh, her abrupt chortles that often devolved into giggles. My childhood nickname.

We eat pho the night our own parents sacrifice one of my best friends. It’s weird what sticks with you after years of trying to forget. We eat in silence, though I haven’t yet realized the reason for the solemn mood. My nine-year-old brain doesn’t quite grasp the idea of “sacrifice.” I can’t wait to wear my new ceremonial cloak. I begged my parents to let me wear it through dinner, but they refused.

“It’s too special,” they say. “You don’t want to ruin it, do you, con gái?”

No, I don’t want that. Still, my eyes wander to the piece of clothing that hangs on the coat tree next to the front door. The intricate symbols fascinate me. The only other place I’ve seen them is on the book. Not just any book. The book.

I get to see it on special occasions during the four months out of the year our family guards it. The other eight months are split between two additional families. My best friends’, Sophie Vanguard and Jeremy Berg-Nilsen.

We’ll join them later for the ceremony or the “thanksgiving,” but not that Thanksgiving. We are not pilgrims, but our three families are special. Chosen. And today, Jeremy is the most special.

“Ông xã, are you sure this is the only way?” Má squeezes Ba’s arm.

Ba remains quiet for so long I almost ask him if he’s heard Má. I’m not sure what she means by her question or why it’s gotten even quieter than before.

Ba answers before I speak. “It’s too late to back out. Maybe we could have years ago, but not now. This is how we keep our family safe.” He kisses my mother’s hand and stands to clear the plates.

I knit my brows together. Why are they so serious? It’s like they’re sad. But it’s the day of the thanksgiving. They should be happy.

Later that night, I beam proudly in my cloak with the strange symbols, relishing the feel of the velvet hem between my fingertips. Incense burns in a corner, permeating the air with a smoky aroma that I’ve always hated, but it reminds me of the days we celebrate the four equinoxes.

The adults hug and talk amongst themselves excitedly. All but Mrs. Berg-Nilsen, Jeremy’s mom. She stands against the wall, keeping to herself. Her long blonde hair covers most of her face, but I can tell her cheeks are wet.

I ponder this as I sit cross-legged on the antique rug with Jeremy in his family’s living room. We sip Capri-Suns and talk about what we think will happen in a few minutes.

“Happy birthday, Jeremy,” Sophie says after arriving with her parents and barreling through the adults ’legs. She holds a cloak that matches mine out behind her as she runs like she’s a superhero or a bat and plops down on the rug between us.

“Thanks, Sophie,” Jeremy mumbles, staring at his Capri-Sun.

Of the three of us, Sophie is the most frenetic. I think that’s the word Ba used. The adults are always hiding the sugar from her. She channels her chaotic energy for good most of the time. At school this past week, a couple kids from our grade cornered Jeremy. Sophie took me by the hand and came to Jeremy’s aid, not letting up until the kids backed off.

“Why is your mom crying?” I ask Jeremy.

His eyes move from his drink to his shoes, and he tugs at the laces. “Dad says she’s happy, but she won’t look at me.”

“Grownups are weird,” I say, watching Jeremy’s parents lead the rest into the kitchen.

“I think I did something real bad,” Jeremy says.

The door swings closed, and I’m on my feet, ignoring Sophie’s questions and drawn to the conversation happening behind the closed door.

Author Bio:

Allison Ivy writes under a pen name and grew up reading a book a day. She graduated from Penn State with a B.A. in English and a Creative Writing certificate. She currently lives in Connecticut and listens to far too many show tunes and DVD commentaries. The Dragon and the Double-Edged Sword is her first novel.

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It’s Mother-Pucking Christmas!
Alina Jacobs
Publication date: November 21st 2024
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Holiday, Romance

When your grandmother stalks the star hockey player on the rival team because “You need a husband, Dakota—you’re not getting any younger!” it’s Christmas crazy on ice.

It is not, however, the start of our great love story.

I don’t date guys on that team.

He doesn’t do casual, drunken hookups, which is all the captain of the Icebreakers is getting from moi.

I give him the finger and tell him I hope he loses his teeth out there.

He smirks and wins the game because both this Christmas season and this hockey season are a fucking scam.

Then my younger, much dumber brother informs me that he owes his bookie a bunch of money and really needs the Icebreakers to lose their next game, and could I pretty please be an amazing big sis and date their captain then break his heart so he’ll suck and lose the game—otherwise little bro will get killed, or worse, our mom will find out.

As much as I eye roll my overly large, overly loud family, I’d do anything for them.

Including date the captain of the Icebreakers.

Barf.

Ryder is a Boy Scout. He doesn’t swear. He uses words like ma’am and sir. On our date, he opens my door, pulls out my chair, and helps me with my coat. He even volunteers at the local animal shelter and loves handmade sweaters.

No, it is not cute! Three warm, gooey cinnamon rolls dressed up as a six-five, hot AF hockey player are not my type.

At all.

Nope.

Santa better bring me something nice this Christmas for all my pain and suffering!

In bed though?

Let’s just say sleeping with the captain of the Icebreakers… is not going to be a problem.

Goodreads / Amazon

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EXCERPT:

“You’re stalking my client,” Hudson yelled at the old woman, who was completely unfazed by his anger.

My teammates ’eyes bugged out like the pugs’, then they all collapsed, howling with laughter, at my feet. Even Coach snickered into his gloves.

“You’re the Crusher?” My mouth dropped open. “You’re the one who’s been stalking me for the last five months?”

“Stalker? Pshaw!” Granny Murray was offended. “I’m not stalking anyone.”

“You’re going to be arrested.” Hudson bore down on the woman.

“Don’t arrest my grandmother,” Dakota snapped at him.

“She’s stalking him.” Hudson made a knife hand in my direction. “Do you know how much goddamn money this woman has cost me?”

“I’m not stalking. I’m leaving him presents and nice notes,” Granny Murray shouted.

Hudson slapped a hand to his forehead. “Notes? They’re fucking pornographic.”

“Now see here.” Granny Murray wagged her finger at the tall man. “I’m just trying to rile him up for Dakota.”

“You frightened him, Gran,” Gracie scolded.

“Oh my god.” Erik gasped at my feet, holding his side. “College Boy is afraid of a little old lady.”

I sputtered, “Shut your mouth, Canada.”

“Are you going to ‘oh heck ’him?” Pete snickered.

“Sonny, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. You seem like a nice boy.” The old woman patted me on the arm.

Hudson slapped her hand away.

“As an apology present”—she grabbed Dakota and pushed her toward me—“I will let you have sex with my granddaughter. She puts out, and her boobs are real.” She squeezed Dakota’s chest.

“Oh, uh…” I rocked back on my skates. “That’s very kind of you, ma’am, but no. No thank you.”

Dakota had the nerve to look offended.

My teammates ’mouths dropped open, then they laid into me.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Fucking Boy Scout.”

“Come on, Ryder!”

“Jesus Christ, College Boy.”

“Dude!”

“Shame! Shame to the family. Shame to the team…” Rick slapped his glove.

“I’m not having relations with her,” I stammered. “I don’t even know her.”

Dakota raised an eyebrow.

Pete muscled up to Dakota. “I’ll take the apology present, beautiful. I have a very nice hotel suite—hot tub, big bed. Expense account.”

“No! No expense accounts,” Coach barked.

Erik shoved Pete aside. “How about a two-for-one deal?”

Dakota looked interested. The pretty brunette put her finger to her lips like she was seriously thinking about it.

I sucker punched Erik.

“Hey!” Coach slapped the back of my head.

I didn’t even feel it.

“You’re not sleeping with her. Certainly not both of you, ingrates,” I snarled.

“Ooh, College Boy is mad!” Rick giggled.

“All of you, shut the fuck up!” Coach yelled. “Shaddap!”

I sniffed.

“Ryder, you’re kind of a prude.” Coach turned on me. “Dial it back. You’re almost thirty, for Chrissake, and for someone who says he wants a family, you’re about as effective as a panda in that department.”

Mike applauded.

“But they’re trying to… you know… with a fan. That’s against the rules,” I argued.

Coach sighed loudly.

“Oh.” Dakota piped up. “I am definitely not a fan. In fact, I hate your team. Arctic Avengers all the way. I’d never date the captain of the motherfucking Icebreakers. I will, however, sleep with you all.” She blew me and my teammates a kiss.

“Fuck that!” My friends refused. “We’re not traitors.”

“Dammit, Dakota!” Granny Murray scolded, “All that work down the toilet.”

“Definitely snatching defeat out of the jaws of victory,” Gracie said.

Dakota scowled.

“Well, that is how the Arctic Avengers do it.” I sneered at her.

Dakota gave me the finger. “I hope you lose all your teeth out there.”

Author Bio:

If you like steamy romantic comedies with a creative streak, then I’m your girl!

Architect by day, writer by night, I love matcha green tea, chocolate, and books! So many books…

Sign up for my mailing list to get the free novella, AFTER HIS PEONIES, along with special bonus content, giveaways, and more!

http://alinajacobs.com/mailinglist.html

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My Only Friend, the End
Steven Owad
Publication date: December 2nd 2024
Genres: Adult, Literary Fiction, Post-Apocalyptic

Everyone in town has dropped dead. Maybe everyone everywhere has. Surviving the flash extinction was easy. The hard part—living alone—starts now.

Goodreads / Amazon

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EXCERPT:

I spent the next two days nursing a chill fever and watching the fires engulf pockets of the city—more slowly than you might expect, with prodigious walls of steam wherever fire met the Missouri floodwaters. Despite the vivid show, there was something anticlimactic about the way the town died so gradually after everyone in it had died so fast.

The amoxicillin and painkillers aided the convalescence, but they did nothing for my mental health. Whether awake or asleep, I obsessed over my wife and son. I also immersed myself in a sea of questions that had no answers, questions that begat other questions, borne of illness of the body and mind. Some of the more obvious ones:

What to do now? Go find survivors? Stay here and make sure I’m visible when the National Guard comes?

Some were darker: Did Ronnie and Evan suffer, or did everyone everywhere really drop dead at the same time?

The biggest question of all, which I asked myself every few minutes: What the hell happened?

And that question’s obvious cousin: Why didn’t it happen to me?

A fact that ruled out positive answers: No rescuers had come to the aid of the 60,000 souls of Great Falls, Montana. This, combined with the death of all radio signals from near and far, told me this plague or, I don’t know, supercharged virus or whatever had a potentially planet-wide scope. But since I was alive, other people were alive too, right? At the very least another skydiver. A deep-sea diver. Someone who was immune to this … to this what? Was it a virus? Bioterrorism? How could it kill the people on the ground and the people in my plane but spare me? Did my high-speed fall—115 miles per hour—was that what saved me? My unique movement within a certain pocket of air pressure shielded me from a blast from an otherwise apocalyptic pathogen or radiation pulse or microwave beam? If so, were other jumpers still breathing? Or climbers up on Everest? How about miners and spelunkers and sailors in submarines? I couldn’t be the only one left.

Author Bio:

Steven Owad is an award-winning writer and editor living in Calgary, Canada. His novels have been praised in publications such as Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine and Kirkus Reviews, and his stage plays have been produced in theaters throughout North America. In his previous life as a newspaper editor, Steven lived in Thailand and Poland, where he begged journalists not to use “impact” as a verb. Before that, there was a degree in English, with a lot of thousand-page Victorian novels. These days shorter modern novels and plays are more his speed. Steven loves the outdoors when there’s no risk of frostbite. Connect with him on Facebook or at stevenowad.com.

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Forgive Me, Father
Erica Jaden
(The Don Series, #1)
Publication date: June 30th 2025
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Mafia, Romance

Camilla Santore was born with Don Traditions.

She is the eldest daughter to Don Santore and has been betrothed to Philip Solomon since the age of ten.

On the day of her marriage she catches her future husband in bed with her best friend and decides to run away from her wedding day, a grave mistake, as the merger that would’ve advanced her family inside the Don clan solely rested on this marriage.

Alberto Pontisello, also known as the White Rabbit, has reached more than his hundred kills and will take over the Don clans after his father.

However, he just discovered that the woman that was set to be his wife since before his birth broke a very sacred tradition. Refusing to marry her is not an option, but he is the White Rabbit and breaking rules is something Alfonso is really good at.

Camilla and Alberto met by luck on both their wedding days and went into a business agreement to marry each other.

Will the Pontisellos accept Alberto’s new wife, and will Camilla be able to handle the Pontisellos as a Don leader’s wife and Alberto’s very dark erotic fantasies?

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Author Bio:

Erica Jaden is born and raised in South Africa where she’s married to her first real love, a wonderful, supportive husband.

She adores crafting worlds and creating soulless male characters who are remorseless and relentless when it comes to love, and the unfortunate heroines who fall for them.

When she is not writing, you can find her either cuddled up on her reading chair with a good story wishing she could jump into one of her morally grey worlds, or doing something highly creative.

Her stories do come with at least two pages of CW’s, TW’s & kinks. Lot’s and lot’s of kinks, so you are warned.

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