Carries Book Reviews

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Title: Death, Dismay and Rosé

Author:  J.C. Eaton

Publisher: Beyond the Page

Publication Date: Sept 29, 2020

Page Count:  247

My rating: 4 stars

About the book:

When a local historian is found dead, Norrie Ellington has to dig through the clues to prove the cause was not a centuries-old curse but coldblooded murder . . .

It’s rare that the summer solstice and a full moon fall on the same night, but winery manager Norrie Ellington is all too familiar with the curse that supposedly accompanies the event: the death by suffocation of someone in the area. She’s inclined to write the whole thing off as folktale nonsense―until the president of the local historical society is found smothered on that very night. Local law enforcement aren’t quite so superstitious, however, and they’ve pegged a close friend of Norrie’s for the murder.

Determined to discredit the curse and get her friend off the hook, Norrie begins digging into the background of the victim, only to discover that he had no shortage of enemies. And as evidence emerges of his questionable connections and shady dealings, Norrie follows a trail of clues that leads her smack into the racing world at Watkins Glen. She’ll have to shift into overdrive to save her friend, because curse or not, there’s a flesh-and-blood killer dead set on making Norrie the next victim . . .

Death, Dismay and Rosé by J.C. Eaton is the sixth book in the cozy The Wine Trail Mysteries series. Each book of this series has it’s own mystery that will be solved within so they could be read as a standalone or in any order if choosing to do so. However, for those following from the beginning there is character development that carries over from book to book.

This series began with Norrie Ellington having been asked to return home to upstate New York by her sister to oversee the family business, Two Witches Winery. Norrie’s sister and her brother in law had been given a grant to study a species of insect in Costa Rica for a next year and while Norrie had made her life in New York City she would be able to continue her job as a successful screenwriter anywhere.

Who knew however that returning home to the winery would bring Norrie face to face with so many murders in their normally quiet area though. This time around Norrie is trying to solve a murder that is wrapped up in old folklore. It was said that in the rare occurrence of the summer solstice and a full moon falling on the same night that there would be a death by suffocation of someone in the area so when the president of the local historical society is found smothered Norrie jumps in to find yet another murderer before someone she knows takes the blame.

The Wine Trail Mysteries series is one of two series that I have followed from the beginning written by the husband and wife team writing under the name J.C. Eaton. What I’ve found is that this series along with the other I am reading both have those humorous and quirky nature to them that I love. And as always while laughing along at the events there is a solid mystery to be solved along the way too. Definitely one that I will continue to return to in the future.

I received an advance copy from the publisher via NetGalley.

Find this book online:

Goodreads  /  Amazon

About the author:

J.C. Eaton is the wife and husband writing team of Ann I. Goldfarb and James E. Clapp who reside in Arizona.

Ann I. Goldfarb

New York native Ann I. Goldfarb spent most of her life in education, first as a classroom teacher and later as a middle school principal and professional staff developer. Writing as J. C. Eaton, along with her husband, James Clapp, she has authored the Sophie Kimball Mysteries (Kensington). In addition, Ann has nine published YA time travel mysteries under her own name. Visit the websites at: http://www.jceatonauthor.com and http://www.timetravelmysteries.com

James E. Clapp

When James E. Clapp retired as the tasting room manager for a large upstate New York winery, he never imagined he’d be co-authoring cozy mysteries with his wife, Ann I. Goldfarb. Booked 4 Murder (Kensington) is his first novel. Non-fiction in the form of informational brochures and workshop materials treating the winery industry were his forte along with an extensive background and experience in construction that started with his service in the U.S. Navy and included vocational school classroom teaching. Visit the website at http://www.jceatonauthor.com

BOOKED 4 MURDER, the first novel in the Sophie Kimball Mystery Series, took first place in the 2018 New Mexico-Arizona Book Awards in the Cozy Mystery Category.

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Rendezvous at Midlife
Maggie Blake
Publication date: June 11th 2024
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Women’s Fiction

A fateful meeting in an airport sends her on the journey of her life.

Margot had always been a woman who knew what she wanted. She worked hard to build her successful locations scouting business in Los Angeles, and in her late forties, Margot felt she was in the prime of her life. A prosperous businesswoman with a loving husband and a beautiful daughter, Margot was living the dream. That is, until her husband left her for a younger woman. Moving forward with the help of her daughter and best friend, Margot once again enters the dating scene and soon finds that she is unable to make a meaningful connection.

Vaughn Jameson has spent his life on the road as a drummer for a well-known rock band, thankful to be living his childhood dream of making music and good times. While he yearns for something more, he isn’t sure what.

Margot and Vaughn’s lives change when they have a chance meeting that sends them on an incredible rendezvous at midlife.

Add to Goodreads / Pre-order

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Author Bio:

Maggie Blake, proud owner of a top-rated property management company in the greater Baton Rouge area, immerses herself in the vibrant Louisiana lifestyle. Having been brought up in the charming city of Rochester, New York, she now resides in the heart of Louisiana with her two precious rescue dogs. Maggie has always harbored a burning desire to write a book, a passion that remained unfulfilled until 2016 when at the Atlanta airport she met a man and it sparked her creative side.

After being diagnosed with breast cancer in 2020, she decided to start the journey of getting her books published. Maggie makes a mean New York-style pizza, enjoys reading, watching movies, and relaxing at home with her spouse—the very man from the airport!

Her debut novel Rendezvous at Midlife is book one in a series, with the additional three books releasing in rapid succession.

 

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Title: The Granddaughter’s Irish Secret

Author:  Susanne O’Leary

Publisher: Bookouture

Publication Date: June 5, 2024

Page Count:  286

My rating: 3 1/2 stars

About the book:

Rose places her hand protectively on her grandmother’s necklace and looks up at Magnolia Manor’s vine-covered walls. The jewels are her most precious possession, but she is terrified to tell her family the truth about where they really come from…

Standing in the doorway of her grandmother Sylvia’s home, Rose Fleury thought returning here was the answer to all of her problems. She has no job and a broken heart, but Sylvia reminds her that Fleury women of the past were strong and independent, and she can be too. Clutching a family heirloom – a beautiful topaz necklace – Rose promises to be brave like her relatives. Until she finds out that the jewels hide a terrible secret…

Someone in town is claiming the necklace is fake. Rose knows Sylvia will be devastated by this news, and it could shatter their family’s reputation. For the sake of her grandmother, Rose is determined to find the real necklace and discover why it was replaced – and quickly convinces handsome local lawyer Noel Quinn to join her. Though Noel’s broad shoulders in his suit and tie remind Rose of her ex-boyfriend, he seems just as fascinated by the mystery, and she finds her heart fluttering every time he catches her eye…

But when Rose traces the real necklace to another family, and another ancestral home in a nearby village, she’s shocked to discover a forbidden love that once tore her family apart – and that Noel is connected to it. Can she really trust the man she’s been growing so close to? And will the truth about the Fleury family cause a rift between Rose and Sylvia that is impossible to repair?

A gorgeous page-turner about finding love and long-lost family secrets, which will transport you to Ireland’s beautiful shores. Fans of Debbie Macomber, Tricia O’Malley and Mary Alice Monroe will be swept away, unable to put this book down.

The Granddaughter’s Irish Secret by Susanne O’Leary is the second book of the new contemporary romance Magnolia Manor series. As with a lot of romance series the Magnolia Manor series is one that changes the main characters in each new book of the series with the setting in this particular series tying them together so they all can be read as a standalone or even in any order if choosing to do so. These is some character development that carries over from book to book and glimpses of previous characters for those that follow the series from the beginning.

After a break up Rose Fleury decided what she needed most was a fresh start and getting away from her life that had fallen apart. Rose decided to leave Dublin and return to Magnolia Manor, her grandmother Sylvia’s home, and take a job helping turn the manor into Sylvia’s dream of senior housing. When Rose needs a date to a friend’s wedding she asks Noel Quinn as a friend but when Rose finds out her family heirloom necklace is a fake she enlists Noel’s help in finding what happened to the original bringing the pair closer and closer together.

I’ve read many many a title from author Susanne O’Leary and continue to come back for these quick romance reads that the author does such a wonderful job bringing the reader into the remote Irish settings. This new series seems to be incorporating a mystery in each book but yet I hesitate to tag them as mystery too with the characters simply looking into their family history but there is that side to the book. I did find some things in the first of this series that I didn’t quite like and found this second to be an improvement on that front too bringing my rating this time up to three and half stars this time around.

I received an advance copy from the publisher via NetGalley.

Find this book online:

Goodreads  /  Amazon

About the author:

Susanne O’Leary is the bestselling author of more than thirty novels, mainly in the romantic fiction genre. She now writes full-time from her home in Dublin and a little cottage in Kerry.

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Need You Now
Maria K. Alexander
(A Pelican Bay Novella)
Publication date: June 2nd 2024
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance

Can two lost souls reunite in time to save her shop and their hearts?

Abby O’Connell returned to Pelican Bay to start a new chapter of her life. With the revitalization of the hurricane-ravaged beach town, it’s a perfect time to open the bath and body product shop she’s always dreamed of. But with her place looking more like a construction zone, the risk of not being ready for opening day is high. Just when she thinks things can’t get worse, she takes a fall on the beach, only to be rescued by her sexy surfer ex.

Connor Maguire was always the party guy. In recovery from a substance abuse disorder, he’s gotten his act together and now is a partner in a home improvement business and co-host of a reality TV show. Surfing has always been a way to escape his worries while becoming one with the waves. When he witnesses a woman fall on the beach, the last person he expects is the girl whose heart he broke ten years ago.

With a week until the grand opening of her shop, can he use his renovation skills to bring her shop and their hearts to life without risking his hard-earned recovery?

Goodreads / Amazon

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EXCERPT:

She quickly dressed in running shorts, a tank top, and sneakers. After grabbing a bottle of water, she went downstairs and let herself out the rear entrance, refusing to walk through the store and the reminder of all that needed to be done.

There’d be time to freak about work later. Now she needed to clear her head.

The benefit of living above her storefront was its prime location along the boardwalk, only a few steps away from the beach. Abby veered left and jogged along the water, pacing herself. She did a circuit around the lighthouse before turning and heading past where she started and the newly renovated amusement pier.

The sun had peeked past the horizon and was slowly making its way into a new day. Watching the sun rise over the Atlantic was one thing she’d missed most after leaving Pelican Bay nine years ago, a year after Hurricane Samantha hit and wrecked the small New Jersey barrier island. In the months since she’d returned, Abby had made a point of watching it rise every day. Each sunrise looked different and brought her a joy she’d experienced nowhere else.

Usually, she had this part of the beach to herself, but she caught the outline of someone in the water.

A surfer.

Her heart lurched as she got closer.

Could it be…

It was hard to be sure from the distance, but once he rose on the board and got into position, Abby recognized the form…the body…the man.

Connor Maguire.

After riding the wave in, he grabbed the board and paddled out even further. He straddled the board with his back to the shoreline, like a god calling to the waves. Then, with the ease and swiftness of the boy she remembered, he turned and paddled toward shore, rising at the perfect moment to get the lift and rush he needed to propel him forward.

Abby continued to run, mesmerized by his form, by the way his hair and body looked against the backdrop of the rising sun. The damn man was as beautiful as ever.

Despite the magnetic pull, she had every intention of running past him.

If only she had been watching where she was going.

When she stepped on something in the sand that caused her ankle to turn, all she could do was cry out as her knee buckled, and she started to fall.

 

Author Bio:

Maria K. Alexander is an award-winning contemporary romance author. She writes about strong women, who are fearless in pursuit of their ambitions. Her stories have strong connections with family and friends, both important parts of her life. When not writing, she loves to read, bake, crochet, bike, visit the beach, and watch romantic comedies. She has two adult children and is a semi-empty nester. She lives in New Jersey with her husband and juggles a full-time job, while dreaming of writing full time by the Jersey shore.

You can keep in touch with Maria at: http://mariakalexander.com and https://linktr.ee/mariakalexander

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Instagram / TikTok

 

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Title: In the Hour of Crows

Author: Dana Elmendorf

Publisher: MIRA

Publication Date: June 4, 2024

Page Count: 281

About the book:

An engrossing and atmospheric debut that follows young Weatherly Wilder as she uses her unique gift to solve her cousin’s mysterious murder and prove her own innocence, set in the beautiful wilds of Appalachia and imbued with magic realism.

In a small town in rural Georgia, Appalachian roots and traditions still run deep. Folks paint their houses blue to keep the spirits way. Black ferns grow, it’s said, where death will follow. And Weatherly Wilder’s grandmother is a local Granny Witch, relied on for help delivering babies, making herbal remedies, tending to the sick—and sometimes serving up a fatal dose of revenge when she deems it worthy. Hyper-religious, she rules Weatherly with an iron fist; because Weatherly has a rare and covetable gift: she’s a Death Talker. Weatherly, when called upon, can talk the death out of the dying; only once, never twice. But in her short twenty years on this Earth this gift has taken a toll, rooting her to the small town that only wants her around when they need her and resents her backwater ways when they don’t—and how could she ever leave, if it meant someone could die while she was gone?

Weatherly’s best friend and cousin, Adaire, also has a gift: she’s a Scryer; she can see the future reflected back in a dark surface, usually her scrying pan. Right before she’s hit and in a bicycle accident, Adaire saw something unnerving in the pan, that much Weatherly knows, and she is certain this is why the mayor killed her cousin—she doesn’t believe for a moment that it was an accident. But when the mayor’s son lays dying and Weatherly, for the first time, is unable to talk the death of him, the whole town suspects she was out for revenge, that she wouldn’t save him. Weatherly, with the help of Adaire’s spirit, sets out to prove her own innocence and find Adaire’s killer, no matter what it takes.

Find this book online:

Goodreads  /  Amazon  /  BookShop.org / HarperCollins / Barnes & Noble 

Excerpt:

PROLOGUE

I was born in the woods in the hour of crows, when the day is no longer but the night is not yet. Grandmama Agnes brought me into this world with her bare hands. Just as her mother had taught her to do. Just as the mother before her taught. Just as she would teach me. Midwife, herbalist, superstitionist—all the practices of her Appalachian roots passed down for generations.

And a few new tricks picked up along the way.

Before Papaw died, he warned me Grandmama Agnes was wicked. He was wrong. It wasn’t just Grandmama who was wicked; so was I.

I knew it was true the night those twin babies died.

“Weatherly,” Grandmama’s sleep-weary voice woke me that night long ago. “Get your clothes on. Don’t forget your drawers.”

My Winnie the Pooh nightgown, ragged and thin, was something pillaged from the free-clothes bin at church. Laundry was hard to do often when water came from a well and washing powders cost money. So we saved our underwear for the daytime.

My ten-year-old bones ached from the death I talked out of the Bodine sisters earlier that day, the mucus still lodged in my throat. I barked a wet cough to bring it up.

“Here.” Grandmama handed me a blue perfume bottle with a stopper that did not match. I spat the death inside the bottle like always. The thick ooze slipped down the curved lip and blobbed at the bottom. A black dollop ready for someone else to swallow.

It smelled of rotting flesh and tasted like fear.

Sin Eater Oil, Grandmama called it, was like a truth serum for the soul. A few drops baked into a pie, you could find out if your neighbor stole your garden vegetables. Mixed with certain herbs, it enhanced their potency and enlivened the superstitious charms from Grandmama’s magic recipe box.

On a few occasions—no more than a handful of times—when consumed in full, its power was lethal.

Out in front of our cabin sat a shiny new Corvette with hubcaps that shimmered in the moonlight. Pacing on the porch, a shadow of a man. It wasn’t until he stepped into the light did I catch his face. Stone Rutledge. He was taller and thinner and snakier back then.

Bone Layer, a large hardened man who got his name from digging graves for the cemetery, dropped a pine box no longer than me into the back of our truck. He drove us everywhere we needed to be—seeing how Grandmama couldn’t see too good and I was only ten. The three of us followed Stone as his low-slung car dragged and scrapped the dirt road to a farmhouse deep in the woods.

An oil-lit lamp flickered inside. Cries of a woman in labor pushed out into the humid night. Georgia’s summer air was always thick. Suffocating, unbearable nights teeming with insects hell-bent on fighting porch lights.

A woman at the edge of panic for being left in charge greeted us at the door. Pearls draped her neck. Polish shined her perfect nails as she pulled and worked the strand. Her heels click-clacked as she paced the linoleum floor.

Grandmama didn’t bother with pleasantries. She shoved on past with her asphidity bag full of her herbs and midwife supplies and my Sin Eater Oil and went straight for the woman who was screaming. Bone Layer grabbed his shovel and disappeared into the woods.

In the house, I gathered the sheets and the clean towels and boiled the water. I’d never seen this kitchen before, but most things can be found in just about the same place as any other home.

“Why is that child here?” the rich woman, not too good at whispering, asked Stone. Her frightened eyes watched as I tasked out my duties.

“Doing her job. Drink this.” Stone shoved a glass of whiskey at her. She knocked it back with a swift tilt of her head, like tossing medicine down her throat, and handed back the glass for another.

Tiptoeing into the bedroom, I quietly poured the steaming water into the washbasin. The drugged moans of the lady spilled to the floor like a sad melody. A breeze snuck in through the inch of open window and licked the gauzy curtain that draped the bed.

When I turned to hand Grandmama the towels, I eyed the slick black blood that dripped down the sheets.

We weren’t here for a birthing.

We were called to assist with a misbirth.

Fear iced over me when I looked upon the mother.

Then, I saw on the dresser next to where Grandmama stood, two tiny swaddles, unmoving. A potato box sat on the floor. Grandmama slowly turned around at the sound of my sobbing—I hadn’t realized I’d started to cry. Her milky white eyes found mine like always, despite her part-blindness.

Swift and sharp she snatched me by my elbow. Her fingers dug into my flesh as she ushered me over to the dresser to see what I had caused.

“You’ve soured their souls,” she said in a low growl. I looked away, not wanting to see their underdeveloped bodies. Her bony hand grabbed my face. Her grip crushing my jaw as she forced me to look upon them. Black veins of my Sin Eater Oil streaked across their gnarled lifeless bodies. “This is your doing, child. There’ll be a price to pay for y’all going behind my back.” For me, and Aunt Violet.

Aunt Violet took some of my Sin Eater Oil weeks ago. I assumed it was for an ailing grandparent who was ready for Jesus; she never said who. She said not to tell. She said Grandmama wouldn’t even notice it was missing.

So I kept quiet. Told the thing in my gut that said it was wrong to shut up. But she gave my Sin Eater Oil to the woman writhing in pain in front of me, so she could kill her babies. Shame welled up inside me.

Desperately, I looked up to Grandmama. “Don’t let the Devil take me.”

Grandmama beamed, pleased with my fear. “There’s only one way to protect you, child.” The glint in her eyes sent a chill up my spine.

No. I shook my head. Not that—her promise of punishment, if ever I misused my gift. Tears slivered down my cheeks.

“It wasn’t me!” I choked out, but she only shook her head.

“We must cleanse your soul from this sin and free you from the Devil’s grasp. You must atone.” Grandmama rummaged through her bag and drew out two items: the match hissed to life as she set fire to a single crow claw. I closed my eyes and turned away, unable to watch. That didn’t stop me from knowing.

The mother’s head lolled over at the sound of my crying. Her red-rimmed eyes gazed my way. “You!” she snarled sloppily at me. Her hair, wild, stuck to the sweat on her face. The black veins of my Sin Eater Oil spiderwebbed across her belly, a permanent tattoo that matched that of her babies. “The Devil’s Seed Child,” the lady slurred from her vicious mouth. The breeze whipped the curtains in anger. Oh, that hate in her eyes. Hate for me.

Grandmama shoved me into the hall, where I was to stay put. The rich woman pushed in. The door opened once more, and that wooden potato box slid out.

The mother wailed as the rich lady cooed promises that things would be better someday. The door closed tight behind us, cries echoing off the walls.

I shared the dark with the slit of the light and wondered if she’d ever get her someday.

Quick as lightning, my eyes flitted to the box, then back to the ugly wallpaper dating the hallway. My curiosity poked me. It gnawed until I peeked inside.

There on their tiny bodies, the mark of a sinner. A crow’s claw burned on their chest. Same as the Death Talker birthmark over my heart. Grandmama branded them so Jesus would know I was to blame.

That woman was right—I was the Devil’s Seed Child.

So I ran.

I ran out the door and down the road.

I ran until my feet grew sore and then ran some more.

I ran until the salt dried on my face and the tears stopped coming.

I was rotten, always rotten. As long as my body made the Sin Eater Oil, I’d always be rotten. Exhausted, I fell to my knees. From my pocket, I pulled out the raggedy crow feather I now kept with me. I curled up on the side of the road between a tree and a stump, praying my wishes onto that feather.

Devil’s Seed Child, I whispered, and repeated in my mind.

It was comforting to own it, what I was. The rightful name for someone who could kill the most innocent among us.

I blew my wish on the feather and set it free in the wind.

A tiny object tumbled in front of my face. Shiny as the hubcaps on Stone’s car. A small gold ring with something scrolled on the flat front. I quirked my head sideways to straighten my view. A fancy script initial R.

“Don’t cry,” a young voice spoke. Perched on the rotting stump above, a boy, just a pinch older than I. Shorn dark hair and clothes of all black.

I smiled up at him, a thank-you for the gift.

“Weatherly!” A loud bark that could scare the night caused me to jump. Bone Layer had a voice that did that to people, though he didn’t use it often.

Over my head, a black wisp flew toward the star-filled sky, and the boy was gone. I snatched up the ring and buried it in my pocket as Bone Layer came to retrieve me. He scooped me up as easy as a doll. His shirt smelled of sweat and earth and bad things to come.

Grandmama’s punishment was meant to save me; I leaned into that comfort. Through the Lord’s work, she’d keep me safe. Protect me. If I strayed from her, I might lose my soul.

Grandmama was right; I must atone.

The truck headlights pierced the woods as Bone Layer walked deeper within them. Grandmama waited at the hole in the ground with the Bible in her hand and the potato box at her feet.

Stone and the rich woman watched curiously as they ushered the mother into their car. The wind howled through the trees. They exchanged horrid looks and hurried words, then fled back into the house, quick as thieves.

Bone Layer gently laid me in the pine box already lowered into the shallow hole he done dug. Deep enough to cover, not enough for forever.

“Will they go to Heaven?” I asked from the coffin, as Grandmama handed me one bundle, then the other. I nestled them into my chest. I had never seen something so little. Light as air in my arms. Tiny things. Things that never had a chance in this world. They smelled sickly sweet; a scent that made me want to retch.

Grandmama tucked my little Bible between my hands. I loved that Bible. Pale blue with crinkles in the spine from so much discovery. On the front, a picture of Jesus, telling a story to two little kids.

“Will they go to Heaven?” I asked again, panicked when she didn’t answer. Fear rose up in my throat, and I choked on my tears. Fear I would be held responsible if their souls were not saved.

Grandmama’s face was flat as she spoke the heartless truth. “They are born from sin, just like you. They were not wanted. They are not loved.” Her words stung like always.

“What if I love them? Will they go to Heaven if I love them?”

Her wrinkled lips tightened across her yellow and cracked teeth, insidious. “You must atone,” she answered instead. Then smiled, not with empathy but with pleasure; she was happy to deliver this punishment, glad of the chance to remind me of her power.

“I love them, Grandmama. I love them,” I professed with fierceness. I hoped it would be enough. To save their souls. To save my own. “I love them, Grandmama,” I proclaimed with all my earnest heart. To prove it, I smothered the tops of their heads with kisses. “I love them, Grandmama.” I kept repeating this. Kept kissing them as Bone Layer grabbed the lid to my pine box. He held it in his large hands, waiting for Grandmama to move out of his way.

“You believe me, don’t you?” I asked her. Fear and prayer filled every ounce of my body. If I loved them enough, they’d go to Heaven. If I atoned, maybe I would, too. I squeezed my eyes tight and swore my love over and over and over.

She frowned down on me. “I believe you, child. For sin always enjoys its own company.”

She promptly stood. Her black dress swished across the ground as she moved out of the way. Then Bone Layer shut out the light, fastening the lid to my box.

Muffled sounds of dirt scattered across the top as he buried me alive.

Excerpted from IN THE HOUR OF CROWS by Dana Elmendorf. Copyright © 2024 by Dana Elmendorf. Published by MIRA Books, an imprint of HarperCollins.

About the Author:
Dana Elmendorf was born and raised in small town in Tennessee. She now lives in Southern California with her husband, two boys and two dogs. When she isn’t exercising, she can be found geeking out with Mother Nature. After four years of college and an assortment of jobs, she wrote a contemporarty YA novel. This is her adult debut.

Author Website / Instagram / Goodreads / Facebook