Pride Reads: A Spindle Splintered by Alix E. Harrow

There are numerous lists (yay!) of amazing books to read during Pride Month, and all year long! Here is one of my favorites!

Available Now

I absolutely loved this story! LOVED IT! If you love fairy tale retellings, especially ones that point out every sexist and problematic element, then is the perfect book for you.

On Zinnia Gray’s twenty-first birthday, she finds herself dying, surrounded by rose petals, at the top of a tower. Now, Zinnia has been dying since the day she was born. Genetic abnormalities caused by environmental pollutions has caused irreparable damage to her body and Zinnia knows she has maybe one more year left to live. After a birthday party thrown by her absolute best friend Charm, Zinnia finds herself faced with a spinning wheel just like a real-life Aurora.

What Zinnia doesn’t anticipate, is finding herself transported to a fairy tale world with another Aurora-like character, Princess Primrose who is destined to fall into a deep sleep for 100 years on her twenty-first birthday.

So what happens when you combine two real-life Sleeping Beauties who don’t feel compelled to follow the story written for them? They set out to write their own.

This is a short little novella that packs a huge emotional punch. I loved this book from the very first page and found myself laughing out loud and cheering on Zinnia and Primrose as they fought for their freedom. I’m a huge sucker for books with awesome friendships and Zinnia finds a fast ally in Primrose but also has the world’s best friend in Charm, her friend since elementary school. They are all fiercely protective of each other and have no problem calling each other on their nonsense. Charm doesn’t let Zin get too down and Zin doesn’t let Charm get too lost in searching for an answer to Zin’s illness. I found myself relating to the overprotectiveness of Zin’s parents and Zin’s need to break away and become her own person with the little time she had left. Some tears were definitely shed during this book but it was easily balanced by all the amazing one-liners and banter between the characters.

A Spindle Splintered is an excellent feminist retelling of one our most loved and problematic fairy tales. It’s subversive, funny, dark, and full of wildly beautiful illustrations.

If you would like to add this novella to your shelf, you can find ordering information here:

 
 


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Houseplants and Their Fucked-Up Thoughts: P.S. They Hate You by Carlyle Christoff

Available now

Yes, I totally clicked on this book for its title and I’m not going to feel bad about it. While perusing the spring catalog I stumbled across this gem and instantly thought of my sister. She’s a Fancy Plant Lady and I know better than to try and buy her actual plants as gifts. Her bookish tastes also run towards humor so I knew this would be a perfect fit for her.

Spoiler, she hasn’t seen the book yet but I know she’ll love it.

The book is organized into three sections: The Popular Crowd, The Drama Queens, and The Bitches. Each plant is given a witty description, watering instructions, and if it’s edible or not. It’s snotty, snooty tone is quite funny and it’s small, consistent color palette is very pretty and soothing. I showed it to the Hubs and he spent a good 20 minutes flipping through it and reading aloud his favorite parts.

Perfect for giving as a gift or to set out on a (probably child-free) living room coffee table, this is a book that is certain to elicit giggles.

Thank you to The Collective Book Studio for an advanced digital copy of this book. All opinions and mistakes are my own. This post may contain affiliate links, including Amazon Associate Links, and I may earn from qualifying purchases.

Plain Bad Heroines by Emily M. Danforth (Re-Post)

It’s Spooky Season! Enjoy some of my favorite horror novels from the past few years.

Originally posted December 2020

Available Now

I have been on a creepy book kick lately and I’ve been lucky to have read a string of excellent books. Plain Bad Heroines kicks it up even further by being a creepy book about a book. Actually, it’s a book about a movie being made that is based on a book all about an obsession with another book. 

I swear. 

So, in the early 1900’s, at the Brookhant’s School for Girls, two girls became obsessed with a memoir written by Mary MacLane. Their obsession led to not only their own tragic and horrific deaths, but the deaths of three more people tied to the school. A century later, the abandoned school is now the center of a novel written by the brilliant and precocious author, Merrit Emmons, who was only 16 at the time. Her novel about the young women obsessed with not only each other, but the writings of Mary MacLane, is going to be adapted into a gothic horror film. As production begins on the movie, tensions between Merrit and the two young movie stars rise and mysterious events put everyone in danger. 

This book is a chunker - the hardcover edition clocks in at 617 pages and there is a lot of story to be found in those pages. I’m not exaggerating on the book about a movie about a book about a book. A lot of story. The book is constantly changing. In one chapter, you will be reading about the brutal murder of a young woman decades in the past, and in the next, read about a romantic and chaotic first date between two enigmatic young women in the present. There are so many elements of a classic gothic horror. There’s the dark and dilapidated boarding school where young women are sent to become ladies, but really discover that women are great at kissing. There are tragic and mysterious deaths that could be explained away as male violence, or, a curse. Layered on top of our gothic horror story is a coming of age novel about a young actress who needs to break away from her mother and make her own way in Hollywood. But how do you keep your wits about you when it seems that a curse is following you, you’re possibly in love with your co-star, and you know that writer thinks you’re unqualified? Like I said, there’s a lot of story.

I absolutely loved the writing style in this book. It read like you were listening to one of your best friends tell their famous local legend, while sitting by a fire and enjoying a boozy cocktail. It’s very conversational and snarky, with such compelling and campy writing that you are instantly swept up in the soap opera feel of what is really, a quite tragic story. The book is it full of black and white illustrations of our young, plain, bad heroines in all their tragic glory and has some of the best footnotes ever included in a book. Many provide historical context, many are just the narrator being sarcastic and hilarious and I’m pretty sure I sent screenshots of at least 10 pages to my boss within the first 20 pages of reading the book.

The characters are very well developed and incredibly interesting. Merrit is very prickly and slightly obnoxious while Harper Harper, yes that’s her name, is a glamorous and gorgeous chameleon of a character. To me, Harper was the hardest to figure out. Was she just an excellent actress and we never saw the real woman within? Was she just such a quick thinker that she could turn the acting on and off? She’s a puzzle. Meanwhile, Audrey is in a little bit over her head but really wants to make it as an actress and is far stronger than she believes. All three women are smart, interesting, and driven. They’re also all gorgeous, queer, and know that there is something going on at Brookhants. 

This book checked off a lot of my reader wheelhouse boxes-there’s a creepy school full of rich girls and their rich girl problems. It’s fast paced and the multiple timelines slowly reveal all the deliciously creepy scariness that follows everyone involved with Mary MacLane’s book. The characters are interesting and compelling and I was quickly invested in everyone’s survival. This book is also incredibly fun. It never takes itself too seriously, is very campy, and was an absolute delight to get lost in. I highly, highly recommend this for anyone who loves gothic horror, star crossed lovers, and a ton of snark. 

If you would like a copy for yourself, or to buy as a gift for your favorite book lover, you can find ordering information here: 

 


























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#BlogTour! Take My Husband by Ellen Meister

ABOUT THE BOOK:

A witty, insightful domestic comedy about one woman's unexpected, thought-provoking journey out of her marriage as she realizes how much better off she would be if her husband had not survived a serious car crash.

When Laurel Appelbaum gets a call at work from the local hospital informing her that her unemployed husband Doug has been in a serious car accident, she is in shock. Summoned immediately to his bedside, she doesn't know in what condition she will find him. As she rushes to the ER, her mind is full of dire thoughts of this abrupt and unpredictbale end to her marriage...that is until she remembers the large life insurance policy they are carrying in his name.

Suddenly Laurel can't help but imagine what a life on her own might look like...a new little cottage perhaps, the dog she has always wanted but can't have because of Doug's allergies, and the money to travel to see their only son. By the time she arrives she is ready to assume the role of grieving widow, only to find Doug sitting on a gurney, annoyed that she has taken so long to come pick him up. All of the tiny assaults on her freedom and dignity that have chipped away at their marriage and her happiness over the years flood in. She realizes now that she is finally ready to journey out of her marriage because the life really at stake is her own. She just has to figure out how to do it.

Read on for an excerpt from Take My Husband:

Laurel Applebaum heard a familiar ringtone as she shuffled toward the lockers at Trader Joe’s, tired and spent after a full day on her feet. Was that her phone? Her first instinct was to rush, but she stopped herself. It was probably her husband, Doug, with one of his inane emergencies, like running out of chocolate-covered almonds. God forbid he should go ten minutes without a snack.

The phone rang again, but still Laurel didn’t pick up her pace. She could have—there was always a little reserve left in the tank—but she decided to indulge in her end-of-the-day crankiness, even though she might pay for it later, when Doug started whining about his deprivations. For now, for this one moment she had to herself, it felt like a miniature vacation.

Sometimes, Laurel told herself she should get a job where she could sit all day, like her sister-in-law, who answered phones in a doctor’s office. Then Laurel would look at her co-worker Charlie Webb, who was more than twenty years her senior and the fastest cashier they had. Always smiling, he was beloved by staff and customers, and Laurel thought of him as a cross between Kris Kringle and the philosophical deathbed guy from Tuesdays With Morrie. He made her laugh. And want to be better.

By the time Laurel opened her locker, the ringing had stopped and started up again. She pulled her purse from its hook and fished out her phone. Sure enough, DOUG was on the caller ID.

“Hi,” she said wearily, hoping she conveyed enough pathos with the single syllable to elicit some sympathy.

“Laurel Applebaum?” said a woman’s voice.

A chill swept through her. Something was wrong.

“Yes?”

“I’m so glad I finally reached you. I’m calling from Plainview Hospital. Are you Douglas Applebaum’s next of kin?”

“That’s my husband,” she said, her scalp prickling, her whole body suddenly alert. An instinctive chill had her in its grip. “Is he okay? What’s wrong?”

“He was brought in by ambulance after a motor vehicle accident. We’re still assessing his condition, but he’s unconscious. Right now the doctors—”

“I’m not far,” Laurel said. “I’ll be there in ten minutes. Less.” She dropped her phone into her purse and grabbed her jacket. Dear god, was this really happening? And why did it take a near tragedy for her to remember how much she loved him?

I have to do better, she thought, a lump taking shape in her throat. I have to.

“Is everything okay?” asked Charlie Webb. He had been standing close by, which wasn’t unusual. Sweet as he was, the old guy was just this side of stalkerish when it came to Laurel.

She chalked it up to a harmless crush. To Charlie, Laurel was still in the blush of youth. But she understood that his age filtered her through a softening gauze. To most men, she was all but invisible—a fifty-two-year-old woman who maintained only the last vestiges of attractiveness. It had been at least ten years and as many pounds since anyone told her she resembled Diane Lane. Granted, she didn’t make the effort she used to, but she simply couldn’t see the point.

She looked into Charlie’s kind face. “I don’t think so,” she said, her eyes watering. “Doug’s been in an accident. They wouldn’t have called me unless…” She searched his expression, hoping she didn’t have to finish the sentence.

He nodded and took her by the shoulders. “You’re going to be okay,” he said slowly, “no matter what. You are here and you’re fine. You only have one job right now, and that’s to drive carefully. You understand?”

The cadence of his speech slowed her rocketing heart, but she was suddenly so overcome by his concern she couldn’t speak. So she gave him a quick hug, and dashed out.

Laurel slammed the door of her twelve-year-old Altima, considering Charlie’s advice as she pulled her seat belt across her torso. Drive Carefully, she thought, turning the words into initials. It was something she often did to settle herself, playing a game where she tried to think of famous people to match the letters. DC=Don Cheadle, Dana Carvey, Diahann Carroll.

Calmer, she realized Charlie was right—she didn’t need to tear out of the lot. Reaching the hospital two minutes faster was not going to make a difference. Because realistically, she thought as the bulge in her throat swelled and tightened, Doug was probably already dead. She could almost feel it in her bones. He was gone, the life snuffed from his body. That was why she had been summoned. The hospital probably had a policy against giving next of kin the news over the phone.

Once she got there, she would be pulled into a private room by a doctor and a social worker. They would tell her they did everything they could, and ask if there was anyone they could call for her. She thought about her mother, elderly and detached, who would be no help at all. Then, of course, there was Doug’s sister, Abby, who was just the opposite. She would want to push in and take over.

Laurel bristled at the thought as her salty tears began to dry on her face, contracting the skin on her cheeks. Abby. God, she was annoying. The woman had an answer for everything. And usually, it was wrong. Maybe Laurel wouldn’t call her right away.

But no, Abby could be helpful if she stayed in her damned lane. Laurel would just have to be strong, assertive. She would give Abby a list of people to call. That would make her feel useful and important. Keep her out of Laurel’s hair.

And then, well, Laurel would have to make the most difficult call of all—to her son, Evan, who lived on the West Coast and was expecting his first child. He’d want to fly to Long Island for the funeral, but what about his wife, Samara? She was having a difficult pregnancy and might not be allowed to fly. Maybe Evan wouldn’t even feel comfortable leaving her.

It was painful to consider, and Laurel shook her head. She was making this too complicated. Of course they would both come to the funeral.

The thought of seeing them lightened her heart. She’d been depressed about not being able to fly out there for the birth of their child. Money was just so tight, with Doug still out of work. And he had insisted it was foolish for them to get any further in the hole on their credit cards. But now…now she’d be free to buy a ticket without getting into a fight about it. At least there was that. She would finally get her wish of being there for the birth of her first grandchild, to hell with credit card debt.

And then Laurel had a thought that made her gasp. She hadn’t remembered it until this moment. Doug had a huge life insurance policy—$850,000. So much money! It would solve everything. She’d be able to pay off all the credit cards. She could sell the house, and move to a cute little apartment, all by herself, and live off the savings. My place, she would call it. The decor would be soft and cool, in shades of aquamarine and sand. She imagined getting up in the morning without thinking about making Doug breakfast, setting out his vitamins and medication, picking up his damp towels from the bathroom floor, washing the dishes he left in the sink, swiping his crumbs off the counter. There were always so many damned crumbs. But now, she might even get a little dog. Doug was allergic so she had never been able to, and the thought of it filled her.

Laurel stretched in the seat, thinking how lovely it would be to quit the long shifts at Trader Joe’s and give her aching back a rest. And with no job, she would be able to stay home with a new puppy to train it.

And then there was her mother, who desperately wanted Laurel to spend more time with her. This could be just what their relationship needed. Laurel imagined her mother being so grateful for the extra attention she might even summon the courage to take a break from her vintage doll collection and leave the house. Laurel warmed at the thought, the tension in her throat easing.

And of course, that would be nothing compared to holding her first grandchild. How she loved newborns! Their impossibly tiny noses, their kernel-sized toes, the smell of heat rising off their velvety little heads. She imagined a baby girl with Evan’s silky dark hair.

By the time she parked at the hospital, Laurel was trying to work out whether it made sense to get a dog right away, or if she should wait until after the birth of the baby, so she wouldn’t need to worry about finding someone to care for it while she was in California.

She stopped the thought in its tracks. This wasn’t about her, it was about Doug, and she needed to be sadder. He was her husband. They had been married for nearly thirty years. Laurel tried to picture the early days of their courtship, recalling when they first met. She had just landed her first real job, working in the marketing department of a trade magazine publisher, when one of the women in her office offered to fix her up with a friend of her husband’s. “A solid citizen,” the woman had said, and Laurel took it to mean he was someone she could trust.

The phrase stuck with her all these years because it had defined Doug from their very first meeting. He was an honest and decent man who had gone into his father’s business. Eight years older than Laurel, he had a boyish face, unruly hair that charmed her, and an irresistibly corny sense of humor. Even on that first date, she didn’t mind that he was overweight. It made her feel safe to be with someone who wasn’t all that attractive to other women. Here was a man who would always be faithful. And also, he thought he was the luckiest guy in the world to be dating someone so very pretty. She was even flattered by his jealousy. It made her feel like a princess.

When he proposed six months later, Laurel was dizzy with joy. She was young—barely twenty-two—but she had always dreamed of being a wife. And she was being offered a sparkling emerald cut diamond solitaire ring by a man who wanted her so desperately he couldn’t wait to make it official. She’d been so overcome she could barely choke out the word yes.

Laurel parked and pulled a tissue from her purse, well aware of what she was doing—digging into memories to feel appropriately sad. It worked. Her heart felt leaden as she slammed her car door and hurried to the emergency room entrance.

“I got a call about my husband, Douglas Applebaum,” she said to the woman at the desk. “He was…in an accident.” She arranged her face into a stoic expression so the receptionist would understand she was prepared for whatever bad news was about to unfold.

But the woman remained impassive as she tapped at her computer, asked for ID, and then printed out an adhesive name badge. “Observation unit 4B,” she said, handing it to Laurel.

“What?” Laurel asked, confused. She had expected someone to come out and greet her.

The woman pointed a long nail embedded with a diamond chip. “Straight down that hall, all the way to the end. Make a right, show your badge to the security guard.”

For a lingering moment, Laurel stood transfixed by the glamorous manicure, a covetous urge growing tight in her gut. She hid her raw, unmanicured hands behind her back as she recalled better days, when she would indulge in mani-pedis with her friend Monica, as they laughed and gossiped.

And then, just like that, the nostalgia was replaced with furious reproach. How could she possibly be so shallow? Especially now, when there was so much at stake.

Guilt brought her back to the present, where she tried to focus on the instructions she had just been given. Dazed, Laurel did as she was asked, going through door after door until she found herself in a room full of patients in reclining chairs, separated by curtains. Some were alone, others had a loved one sitting close by in a plastic seat, crowded into the tiny space. Medical professionals buzzed around the middle of the room, going from patient to patient. The air was too hot, and smelled like disinfectant.

Laurel followed the signs. 1B, 2B, 3B, and then she stood before 4B, where two nurses in lavender scrubs hovered over a patient, blocking her view. One was leaning across him, pulling off a Velcro blood pressure cuff, and the other adjusted a bag of clear liquid hanging on an IV pole. The patient said something to make both nurses laugh, and then they took a step back, as if sensing Laurel’s presence.

And there he was, lounging in the reclining chair, a purple bruise across his forehead.

Laurel stopped and blinked, taking it in. The IV bag was connected to his arm by a thin tube. He wore the faded plaid shirt she’d been trying to get him to throw out, his belly hanging over his belt.

“Doug?” she asked, trying to make sense of the tableau before her. There was, she knew a term for what she was experiencing. Cognitive dissonance. Still, she couldn’t understand what she was looking at. That is, until he spoke.

“Did you bring me a snack?”

 

Excerpted from Take My Husband by Ellen Meister. Copyright © 2022 by Ellen Meister. Published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Ellen Meister is the author of several novels including THE ROOFTOP PARTY, LOVE SOLD SEPARATELY, DOROTHY PARKER DRANK HERE; THE OTHER LIFE and others. Ellen is also an editor, book coach, ghostwriter, and frequent contributor to Long Island Woman Magazine. She teaches creative writing at Long Island University Hutton House Lectures and previously at Hofstra University. Her latest novel is TAKE MY HUSBAND. For more info visit ellenmeister.com.

SOCIAL LINKS:

Author Website Instagram  Twitter  Goodreads

Take My Husband 

Ellen Meister

On Sale Date: August 30, 2022

9780778309871

Trade Paperback

$16.99 USD

400 Pages

Wolf Gone Wild by Juliette Cross

Available Now

Cue all the squeeing! This book is amazing! It’s incredibly funny, completely nerdy, and the chemistry between our characters is electric! I absolutely loved this book and stayed up way past my bedtime because I couldn’t put it down. It’s truly laugh out loud funny and would be the perfect beach/vacation/escapist read when you want to add some joy into your day.

After he is unable to shift for months, werewolf Mateo Cruz is desperate for help but the witches that are best at providing magical assistance have a strict No Werewolf rule. But Mateo is truly suffering and while the Savoie sisters are tough, they aren’t cruel. After discovering that Evie Savoie brings peace and calm to his inner wolf, Mateo hires her to spend time with him each day so he can focus on his metal sculpting and complete his latest art piece before the deadline. But, of course, Evie’s beauty, bright personality, and complete geekiness capture Mateo’s heart and he quickly finds himself falling hard for the powerful witch. Evie also finds the handsome and talented artist irresistible and is determined to find a way to break the hex that is ruining his life.

This book is truly fabulous. I loved how open and honest Evie and Mateo were with each other. Their conversations are full of witty banter that is a delight to read, but they also have some really vulnerable discussions that are true #couplegoals. In this version of New Orleans, the supernatural community exists in the shadows with very few humans knowing of its existence. Evie and her sisters come from a long line of powerful witches and their coven has been in power for decades. They are fiercely loyal to each other and those they love and it really showed in the way that they took Mateo’s situation so seriously and how quickly they dropped the “no werewolf” rule when he needed their help. I loved the quirkiness of their home. The sisters have some interesting pets that create some chaos throughout the story and I’m hoping they pop up again in future books. We all need a little Zombie Cat in our lives.

I love how Evie was allowed to be her full geeky self and it was seen as fun and endearing and not as weird and immature. I mean, spoiler, her ex was a jerk about it but he’s an ex for a reason. Mateo dives right into it because it brings Evie joy and all he wants is for her to be happy. She just gets to be her full quirky self with her fun comic book t-shirts and I loved that for her. There is a really fun scene at a restaurant that had me giggling the entire time. Also, this book is hot as hell! Very, very well done.

Loved it! Absolutely loved it!

If you would like to add this super fun and super steamy book to your shelf, you can find ordering information here:

 



This post may contain affiliate links, including Amazon Associate links, and I may earn from qualifying purchases.

The Kaiju Preservation Society by John Scalzi

Available Now

I’m not one to regularly read the author’s notes at the end of books but I was very intrigued about how this story came to life. In his note, Scalzi calls this book “a pop song” and it’s the perfect descriptor. It’s pure fun, truly escapist, and full of light. The title gives you all you need to know! Kaiju are real and they need someone to help keep them safe. And, learn from my mistakes-start reading those author’s notes! They’re full of fun stuff.

After being ruthlessly fired from an office job at a food delivery start-up, Jamie Gray ends up working as a “Deliverator,” or delivery person, for the same start-up at the beginning of the pandemic. With money running out and roommates fleeing, Jamie is just desperate enough to take a job offer from an old acquaintance. What they think will be a grunt job doing little more than lifting things turns out to be the wildest adventure imaginable.

Jamie Gray is now a member of the Kaiju Preservation Society and it’s their job to help ensure the survival of the kaiju found on an alternate Earth. For all kinds of science reasons, kaiju are real and exist on an alternate Earth accessible via a secret military base in Greenland. In order to keep kaiju safe and healthy on their side of the dimensional border, the KPS, or Kaiju Preservation Society, spends their days researching and studying the kaiju. But the world the kaiju live in is far more dangerous than our Earth and with something wanting to kill you at every turn, Jamie and the other members of KPS are constantly on the lookout for killer insects and poisonous creatures. Just as Jamie begins to find a rhythm on this new Earth, a threat comes for the kaiju and the members of KPS that threatens both versions of Earth.

I loved this so much! It’s wildly funny and entertaining and I read the entire book in one sitting. The story moves quickly and is full of funny characters and bonkers scenarios. This book is truly refreshing. It doesn’t take itself too seriously and still manages to be full of heart and adventure. It’s action-packed, fast-paced and an absolute gem.

I loved this witty adventure and if you would like to add it to your shelf, you can find ordering information here:

 

This post may contain affiliate links, including Amazon Associate links, and I may earn from qualifying purchases.

#BlogTour! Smile and Look Pretty by Amanda Pellegrino

ABOUT THE BOOK:

A juicy, fun yet piercing debut novel, Smile and Look Pretty tells the story of four assistants working in media who band together to take on their toxic office environments in the ultimate comeuppance—pitched as Sweetbitter meets Whisper Network.

Online they’re The Aggressive One, The Bossy One, The Bitchy One, and The Emotional One. In real life, best friends Cate, Lauren, Olivia and Max all have one thing in common—they’re overworked, overtired, and underpaid assistants to some of the most powerful men in the media and entertainment industries. When they secretly start an anonymous blog detailing their experiences, their posts go viral and hundreds of other women come forward with stories of their own. Confronted with the risks of newfound fame and the possibility of their identities being revealed, they have to contend with what happens when you try and change the world.

Gripping, razor-sharp, and scathingly funny, Smile and Look Pretty is a fast-paced millennial rallying cry about the consequences of whistleblowing for an entire generation, and a testament to the strength of female friendship and what can be accomplished when women come together.

Smile and Look Pretty : A Novel 

Amanda Pellegrino

On Sale Date: March 8, 2022

0778311120

Trade Paperback

$16.99 USD

368 pages

Read on for an excerpt from Smile and Look Pretty by Amanda Pellegrino

1

The signs were always there. He was late to a few meetings. He started happy hour at 2:00 p.m. He promoted from within. 

The signs weren’t noticeable at first. Until they were. 

He was late to Marjorie’s meetings, not Ben’s. He offered scotch on the rocks to the guys. Most of his former male assistants were now editors. 

It took years of working with him for Cate to learn those things. To realize they were signs. 

But he had a reputation. That she knew from the beginning. 

“You’ll need a thick skin,” he’d said on her first day. A warning. 

She didn’t extend him the same courtesy.

Cate could tell you every book Larcey Publishing had ever released in its twenty-year history, and how old she had been when she first read it. The red LP stood out on all the spines in her dad’s “home office,” which was really the walk-in closet of her parents’ bedroom converted into a small library lined with bookshelves, the clothing rails outfitted with a plank of painted wood to form a desk. When she got home from school, she’d sneak into her parents’ room and read whatever book was on her dad’s nightstand that week—no matter how age inappropriate the title. By the time she was ten, she knew she wanted to spend her life helping people tell stories. Important stories that no one would hear otherwise.

Matthew Larcey was a literary prodigy, not just to her dad, but to the world. Before he was thirty, he was known as the next Maxwell Perkins and by thirty-five he used that acclaim to start his own publishing house. Jobs there were the only ones Cate applied to during her senior year of college. She started as a production assistant ten days after graduation, and when the position of Matt’s executive assistant opened a year later, she was the first to apply.

Matt’s assistant at the time was a lovely girl from Texas named Eleanor, who tried and failed to suppress her Southern accent. (Cate later learned Matt forbid y’all from conversations. Sign.) She interviewed Cate in a conference room with dull gray walls and two suicide-proof windows that looked out onto Sixth Avenue, forty-nine f lights below. Cate wore her go-to black dress with a leather trim and had prepped in the bathroom a few minutes before: whispering her elevator pitch while applying more mascara; detailing her current responsibilities as an assistant while running some Moroccan oil through her frizzy hair; listing her favorite books while swapping out f lats and a cardigan for heels and a blazer.

Twenty minutes into the interview, Matt Larcey walked in, wearing jeans and an AC/DC T-shirt with a small hole in the neck. Eyes wide, Cate and Eleanor watched him slowly sit down at the opposite side of the long conference table, typing on his phone. Despite having worked there for a year, Cate had never met the company’s founder. He wasn’t good-looking in the traditional sense—he was far too old for Cate anyway—but his salt-and-pepper hair paired with his tailored jeans emitted a kind of effortless power that Cate found enigmatic. She felt reassured knowing he had smile lines. Maybe it meant he wasn’t as difficult as his reputation implied.

Eleanor’s gaze darted to Matt and then back to Cate. “Um, as I was saying—”

“Did you tell her why you’re being replaced?” he interrupted, looking up at them. His phone buzzed against the table four times while Eleanor went as red as the LP on the company’s logo.

“I wasn’t available enough,” she said quietly. 

“Be specific.” 

Eleanor took a long breath and offered Cate a tight-lipped smile. “I was on vacation and missed an urgent email.” 

Cate wanted to crawl under the table and come back when the tension was gone.

“If I’m working, you’re working,” Matt said. “That’s the deal.” 

Seems logical, Cate thought. Sign

“I know why you’re here.” He looked at Cate with an arched brow. “You’re a reader. Right? That’s what your Twitter bio says? You want to publish something that matters. The next great American novel, a book that will change the course of literature forever.” 

Eleanor seemed to be shrinking in front of them, getting smaller and smaller with every word. 

“If that’s what gets you through the day, great,” Matt continued. “By all means, try to find the next Zadie Smith. If you play by the rules, maybe you will. But there are a lot of others out there who would kill for this job. So don’t think you’ll get any favors. If you earn the book, you’ll get the book. Otherwise it will be you here picking out your own successor.” 

When Eleanor appeared at Cate’s cubicle a few weeks later, offering her the job, Cate immediately accepted. Because she was a reader. She did want to find the next great American novel. And, despite its founder’s reputation, Larcey Publishing was the best place to do that.

Exactly two years later, Cate sat at her desk in the forty-ninth f loor bullpen, moving her eyes slowly across the f loor-to-ceiling color-coded bookshelves packed with LP titles, thinking about how she was officially the longest lasting assistant in Larcey’s history. When she had first started, each day she would look up from her desk at the wall of books in awe, like a tourist admiring the Chrysler Building, and dream about the day books she discovered and edited would join those shelves. Now, she had trouble remembering why she wanted to work there so badly in the first place. 

She let out a deep breath. A wall of color-coded bookshelves was pretty to look at until you realized how painful it was to put together. 

The executive assistants’ desks were located in the EAB, or Elusive Assistant Beau monde, as Cate called it before she got the job with Matt. It actually stood for Executive Assistant Bullpen, but hardly anyone knew that. To Finance they were Evil Annoying Babies; to editors, Eager Ass-kissing Brownnosers; and to Marketing, Expendable Agenda Builders. Whatever they were called, she was one of them. In the center of the rectangular room were two circular velvet couches around a glass coffee table with a bouquet of f lowers Cate was somehow in charge of buying and maintaining each week. Lining the perimeter of the room were seven desks, perfectly positioned outside each boss’s glass office so that each assistant was always being watched. Like fish in a bowl. 

Cate glanced over her shoulder toward the shadows behind the now-curtained glass wall of Matt’s office, listening to the mumbles of the third editor in two months getting fired, and wondered—as they all did at that point—when she should expect the email from HR inviting her to meet them in Matt’s office at 6:30 p.m. on a Thursday. 

Lucy, the CFO’s assistant, wheeled her chair toward Cate. “Maggie, huh?” she said, folding her long blond hair behind her ears as if that would help her gossip better. 

“Seems that way,” Cate responded. 

“Do you know what happened? I thought the self-help category was doing well.” 

Cate shrugged. “I’m not sure.” She tried to look busy, maximizing and minimizing documents, opening and closing her calendar. Lucy was a great work wife, but she only got the job because her third cousin twice removed was Stephen King’s neighbor or something. This made her a “must hire,” thus untouchable. And Lucy knew it. She was more often found scooting across the bullpen in her white wheelie chair spreading rumors than actually working. 

“Of course you know, Cate. You’re probably on the HR email.” 

As Matt’s assistant, Cate was on all his emails. About the rounds of golf he planned next week. About every book that each editor wanted to acquire this season. About all the firings. She knew that Maggie, a self-help editor, was being fired for considering a position at Peacock Press. Not only were they Larcey’s main competitor, but Cate once heard a rumor that Matt dated its publisher in college, and she broke up with him in favor of his rugby-playing roommate. Either way, the rivalry seemed personal. They had offered Maggie $10K more and a nearly unlimited budget to acquire all the self-help books she could get her hands on. Cate knew everything. And that power was not something she was about to give up for Lucy. It was all she had.

“I guess self-help isn’t doing as well as we thought,” Cate said. 

Before Lucy could reply, Maggie threw open Matt’s door. The entire room started furiously typing as Maggie stomped past the EAB, two suited HR reps scurrying behind her. Lucy picked up the first paper she could find on Cate’s desk and examined it so closely you’d think she’d just discovered the Rosetta Stone. 

As soon as Maggie was out of earshot, Lucy said, “God, that was awkward.” She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I heard she’s going to Peacock.” 

“Do you really think it’s Peacock?” Spencer Park whispered from his desk. “What, are they trying to poach everyone?” 

“Poaching the people you want is more cost-effective than buying a company and paying for all the people you don’t,” Lucy responded. Cate could have sworn Lucy’s head cocked toward Matt’s office for the latter part of that statement. 

Lucy returned to her desk and everyone went back to normal until a few moments later, when the heavy glass door behind her opened again. Cate didn’t need to turn around to know it was Matt leaving. Her back might be facing his office all day, but she knew his movements by heart. In the same way, she imagined, he probably knew hers. 

Matt moseyed to the front of her desk, moving his worn, expensive leather briefcase from his right hand to his left. He’d been kayaking that weekend, and he always got blisters on his dominant hand when he kayaked. Cate hated that she knew that. “Why are you still here?” he asked, as if his I’m working, you’re working, that’s the deal speech didn’t play on a loop in her head 24/7. As if that wasn’t why she kept her phone on loud all the time, why she woke up panicking in the middle of the night about missing an email, and why she was that girl who showed up to bars on Saturdays hiding her laptop in her purse. 

“Just finishing up some work.” Cate glanced at her nearly empty inbox. She was supposed to be on her way to The Shit List, a much-needed weekly vent session with her friends. Instead, she was going to be late. Not that that was unusual for her. If Matt was there, Cate was there, after all. 

He looked at Cate, then at the other assistants, all furiously typing again to seem occupied. “Looks like everyone else is working a lot harder than you are right now.” 

Well, I’m talking to you, Cate wanted to say. I stopped typing to talk to you. 

What actually came out of her mouth was, “Have a good night.” 

She watched him walk across the EAB and offer a wave and a smile to three executive assistants standing at the bookshelf, peeling some titles off the wall. “You all work too hard. This place would be in shambles without you,” he said to them before turning the corner toward the elevator bank. 

After answering a few more emails, Cate poured some whiskey into her Bitches Get Stuff Done mug, grabbed her Board Meeting Makeup Kit out of the bottom drawer of her desk and walked into the bathroom. She was already going to be fifteen minutes late to The Shit List; what was another fifteen to look presentable and rub some slightly off-colored concealer on the under-eye circles that seemed to grow darker throughout the day? 

She had discovered the necessity of a makeup kit on her second day as Matt’s assistant. He had a board meeting, which was one of the only times she saw him in a suit. 

“At exactly four fifteen, I need you to come into the meeting and bring me a cup of coffee,” he said. “Just put it in front of me and walk out. Don’t look at me. Don’t look at anyone. Just in and out. And, you know—” he looked her up and down “—look…presentable.” 

Cate could feel her cheeks flame as he walked away. She didn’t wear a lot of makeup, but she did always at least look presentable for work. 

“Here,” said the CMO’s assistant at the time. She dropped a small pink-and-white Lilly Pulitzer bag on Cate’s desk. “That’s code for put on some makeup.” 

“I have makeup on.” Cate rubbed her cheek as if the pressure from her fingers could force blush to suddenly appear. 

She nudged the bag forward. “Not the kind men notice.” 

Reluctantly, Cate unzipped it and inside found one of everything: powder foundation, mascara, eyeliner, eye shadow, blush, red lipstick. No variety. Bare minimum to look like the maximum. 

“Put it on my desk when you’re done. You should keep a board meeting kit here, too. This won’t be the only time you’ll need it.” 

After two years of board, author, and literary agent meetings, dropping things off at home for his kid, picking his wife up in the lobby, and countless other occasions for which Cate was told to “look presentable,” getting ready for margaritas with her friends was the only time she used the kit to show herself off, rather than be shown off. 

Happy two-year-work-aversary, Cate thought to herself as she put her makeup bag back in her desk. She took another look at the bookshelf on her way out. Two years too many. 

The weekly calendar invite for The Shit List pinged on Cate’s phone as she darted up the Union Square subway staircase. The late May humidity combined with 6-train rush hour crowd left small beads of sweat on her upper lip and made her curls wild and frizzy. She passed the produce market closing up shop for the night and the men playing chess under the streetlights. 

When Cate arrived at Sobremesa, she waved at the hostess and then at their favorite bartender as she beelined past the crowded bar to join everyone at their usual booth in the back. Sobremesa was a strange place: corporate but lowbrow. That was strategic. Find a bar where they were the only group under forty so no one around would recognize their bosses’ names when Lauren said Pete, an Emmy-winning screenwriter, had been avoiding her all day; or Max complained that Richard, a morning news anchor, had stared at her butt for the entire live shoot; or Olivia yelled about Nate, a washed-up actor who refused to realize he was no long relevant. They didn’t need their work gossip on Page Six. 

Cate stopped when she saw the three of them in their usual spot, laughing at something Olivia said, a half-empty pitcher of spicy margaritas moving between them. Lauren was squinting through her black-rimmed glasses, always refusing to consider a new prescription until she got promoted and could afford the co-pay. Olivia’s topknot bounced side to side on her head as she spoke enthusiastically with her hands, one of her dramatic tendencies as a budding actress. Max sat in the corner, plucking salt crystals off the rim of her glass and licking them off her pointer finger. 

“Wow,” Lauren said when she spotted Cate. 

“What?” Cate sank into the booth next to her. Lauren was making too much eye contact, the way she did when she was annoyed. Max poured the remainder of the pitcher into a fourth glass and pushed it toward Cate. 

Lauren took a long sip from the tiny straw before saying, “Nice shirt.” 

Shit. Cate was wearing Lauren’s top. The black T-shirt she told Lauren she’d wash and return to her closet three wears before. The one that now had semipermanent white deodorant circles under the armpits and was ever so slightly stretched out around the chest to fit Cate’s larger cup size. “Sorry,” she said to Lauren, who would hold a grudge until the freshly cleaned and folded shirt was back in her dresser. It would be at least a month before Cate could borrow anything from Lauren again, which was a bummer because she’d had her eye on a black pleated midiskirt for a date next week. 

“Whatever,” Lauren said with a sigh. “Should we just start?” She motioned toward the waitress and, when she arrived, ordered another pitcher of margaritas in Spanish. 

In the center of the table was a small stack of cash to which Cate added her five-dollar contribution. She ripped a napkin into quarters and handed them out, scribbling onto the thin paper, the words bleeding together. I booked Matt’s $37,000 first-class tickets for his family’s Kenyan safari an hour after realizing that unless I get a raise or my student loans disappear into the ether, I can’t afford to go home to Illinois for Thanksgiving for the fourth year in a row. Then she crossed out the latter half. No one she knew could ever afford to leave New York then, which was why the four of them always ended up doing Friendsgiving instead. It wasn’t the same as cooking with her mom and then watching her dad unbutton his pants to fall asleep in his La- Z-Boy in front of the football game, but it was something. 

After everyone finished scribbling on their napkins, the storytelling began. 

Lauren complained about wheeling an industrial printer covered in blue tarp from the writers’ trailer to Pete’s trailer parked four long city avenues away during a thunderstorm. Then, upon showing up to work drenched, was asked by one of the writers to get coffee for everyone since “she was already wet.” 

Olivia had spent an entire day this week trying to sneak into the W Hotel Residences by schmoozing a young security guard so that she could do Nate’s laundry there because he liked the smell of their detergent. “It’s The Laundress,” Olivia said, rubbing her temples as if the mere mention of the brand’s name gave her a headache. “It’s what he uses too. Bought it for him myself. But he insists it’s different.” 

Max had to pretend Sheena’s five-year-old son was hers so she could pick up his ADD medication before the anchor’s weekend getaway to a resort in New Mexico. The pharmacist had seemed skeptical, but Max couldn’t return to the newsroom without it. “I made a comment questioning how we still live in a world where young motherhood is challenged,” Max said. The pharmacist had stopped asking questions. 

The best part about their four-year friendship, Cate found, was the lack of explanations. They didn’t have to preface names in their stories with “my boss” or “my friend” or “the cashier at my bodega.” They never needed to fill anyone in on what they missed. Because they didn’t miss anything. They knew everything about each other’s lives. Cate knew that Lauren hadn’t brought a guy home in at least a year and hadn’t had sex in at least that long as well. She knew that Olivia rolled her eyes at her Southern Peachtree roots but would secretly perk up whenever a familiar accent was within earshot, reminding her of home. And Cate knew that Max’s parents wielded enough old money power and privilege to get her promoted anywhere, but Max insisted on earning it herself. 

Knowing everything about her friends also meant knowing everything about their bosses. Lauren’s boss kept bottles of tequila, whiskey, and gin underneath the couch in his trailer. Cate could tell by looking at a paparazzi photo of Olivia’s boss in People Magazine whether it was a coincidental shot or he had Olivia tip them off about his whereabouts. Cate could recognize by Max’s outfit whether she expected Richard, the handsy morning anchor, to be in the office that day. 

Once all the stories were told and the napkin scraps circled the tea light on the table like a strange sacrificial ceremony, Lauren said, “Can I make the executive decision that Olivia wins?” Everyone agreed; folding your boss’s stiff boxers, regardless of how good they apparently smelled afterward, should win you more than twenty dollars. 

Cate took the piece of napkin in her hand and looked down at her chicken scratch handwriting. This was her life. These were the things she spent her days doing. It was her two-year anniversary as Matt’s assistant, and the day went on just like any other. Cate wasn’t expecting a cake with her face on it or anything. But some kind of acknowledgment would have been appreciated. Something that said couldn’t do it without you or I hope these two years have been worth it or, at least, a simple thank you. 

What did Cate learn about the publishing industry from booking Matt’s vacations? What did she learn by organizing the papers on his desk in alphabetical order? What did she learn from spending a week every November opening up his cabin in Vermont for the season? She did learn that he spent $600 every year on a new Canada Goose coat; that the couch in their basement was incredibly uncomfortable to sleep on; and that his wife kept a dildo in the bottom drawer of her nightstand (but what did Matt expect, sending his poorly-paid assistant to his rich vacation house?). 

And what had happened while she’d been 340 miles north, spraying salt all over the cabin’s front walkway? Spencer filled in on Matt’s desk and was asked to “sit in on” three author meetings and one board meeting. She’d met only one author in two years, and the closest she came to board meetings was delivering coffee with strict instructions not to speak. Did anyone tell Spencer to “look presentable”? 

For the last two years, Cate had only focused on what was at stake: money, access to stamps for mailing rent checks, free food after author meetings, a foot in the door for her dream job. But it was starting to feel…fine. Uninspiring. Empty. What was she working toward? 

Cate took one last look at the napkin before dipping the bottom right corner into the tea light’s f lame. She held it between her fingers, watching Matt Larcey’s name burn in her hand as the text slowly turned to ashes and fell onto the wooden table. 

After she swept the ashes to the f loor, Cate held up her margarita. “Here’s to the day when we can make money without doing something degrading.” 

Their glasses met in the middle, and Cate looked at her friends, the assistants busting their asses, making the rules from behind the scenes. What if they all got together? What if they called bullshit? 

What if they all said no?


Excerpted from Smile and Look Pretty by Amanda Pellegrino, Copyright © 2021 by Amanda Pellegrino. Published by Park Row Books.


ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Amanda Pellegrino is a TV screenwriter and novelist living in New York City whose writing has appeared in Refinery29 and Bustle. Smile and Look Pretty is her debut novel.


SOCIAL LINKS:

Author Website: https://www.amandapellegrino.com/

IG: https://www.instagram.com/amandagpellegrino/?hl=en

Twitter: https://twitter.com/amandapellss?ref_src=twsrc%5Egoogle%7Ctwcamp%5Eserp%7Ctwgr%5Eauthor 


BUY LINKS:

Bookshop.org

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Grave Reservations by Cherie Priest

Available now

This is hands down, one of the best books I’ve read this year. It’s hilarious, full of heart, quirky, and just an absolute delight.

When Seattle police detective Grady narrowly misses a plane crash due to a last minute flight change by his travel agent Leda, he knows he has found the one person who can help him solve a cold case. With her ability to see flashes of memories while holding objects, Leda makes a perfect partner. But Leda hasn’t really spent a lot of time honing her ability and uses it mainly as way to draw customers to a friend’s bar where she performs karaoke inspired by objects people bring her. Can her unpredictable gift help solve Grady’s cold case and possibly, the case of her murdered fiancé?

I loved this book so much! It was full of hijinks and amazing friendships where everyone has great quippy banter. Leda was a really fun character. She has this amazing gift of seeing flashes of memory when she handles objects and has a devoted following at her friend’s bar where she gets to drink for free while she wows crowds with her Klairvoyant Karaoke. Her day job is the owner-operator of Foley’s Far-Fetched Flights of Fancy and I think that is one of the best fake business names I’ve ever heard. That business name? Tells you about everything you need to know about the tone of the book. Even though our characters are searching for a killer, it’s done in a very light-hearted and sarcastic way. Leda and her best friend Niki take over the bar’s whiteboard to create a “murder board” and manage to wrangle all the bar’s employees to help in solving the murder of Leda’s fiancé and another victim. Detective Grady Merritt takes his job very seriously and truly wants to solve the case, but also feels deep down that trusting Leda is key to finding his murderer. There are some great scenes where Grady and Leda are trying to question witnesses but it devolves so quickly into chaos.

The story moves along very quickly and I was completely enthralled from start to finish. It’s so well plotted with so many twists and funny moments that I never wanted to put it down. Luckily, I had this with me on vacation last month and was able to read it in pretty much one sitting. The humor is great, the friendships were delightful, and the plot never gets to gruesome. Sorry, I just want to keep you telling it’s delightful because that’s the best description-it’s just absolutely delightful. If you like Darynda Jones and any of her series, you will love this.

Seriously, pick this book up. It’s amazing. If you’d like to get your own copy, you can find ordering information here:

 
 

Thank you to Netgalley and Atria Books for the opportunity to read and review this title. All opinions and mistakes are my own. This post also contains affiliate links, including Amazon affiliate links, and I earn from qualifying purchases.

A Spindle Splintered by Alix E. Harrow

Available Now

I absolutely loved this story! LOVED IT! If you love fairy tale retellings, especially ones that point out every sexist and problematic element, then is the perfect book for you.

On Zinnia Gray’s twenty-first birthday, she finds herself dying, surrounded by rose petals, at the top of a tower. Now, Zinnia has been dying since the day she was born. Genetic abnormalities caused by environmental pollutions has caused irreparable damage to her body and Zinnia knows she has maybe one more year left to live. After a birthday party thrown by her absolute best friend Charm, Zinnia finds herself faced with a spinning wheel just like a real-life Aurora.

What Zinnia doesn’t anticipate, is finding herself transported to a fairy tale world with another Aurora-like character, Princess Primrose who is destined to fall into a deep sleep for 100 years on her twenty-first birthday.

So what happens when you combine two real-life Sleeping Beauties who don’t feel compelled to follow the story written for them? They set out to write their own.

This is a short little novella that packs a huge emotional punch. I loved this book from the very first page and found myself laughing out loud and cheering on Zinnia and Primrose as they fought for their freedom. I’m a huge sucker for books with awesome friendships and Zinnia finds a fast ally in Primrose but also has the world’s best friend in Charm, her friend since elementary school. They are all fiercely protective of each other and have no problem calling each other on their nonsense. Charm doesn’t let Zin get too down and Zin doesn’t let Charm get too lost in searching for an answer to Zin’s illness. I found myself relating to the overprotectiveness of Zin’s parents and Zin’s need to break away and become her own person with the little time she had left. Some tears were definitely shed during this book but it was easily balanced by all the amazing one-liners and banter between the characters.

A Spindle Splintered is an excellent feminist retelling of one our most loved and problematic fairy tales. It’s subversive, funny, dark, and full of wildly beautiful illustrations.

If you would like to add this novella to your shelf, you can find ordering information here:

 
 


This post contains affiliate links, including Amazon, and I may earn from qualifying purchases. All opinions and mistakes are my own.

Blog Tour! Pug Actually by Matt Dunn

Welcome to my stop on the Pug Actually Blog Tour! I have a wonderfully funny and delightful rom-com starring one of my favorite dog breeds, the goofy and noble pug. But Doug is no ordinary pug. He is on a mission to help his human find the love of her life and nothing will get in his way!

Doug’s human, Julie, has been adrift since she lost her mom (which is strange, because she’s usually pretty good with directions). Doug just wants Julie to be happy, and he doesn’t think she’s going to get there while she’s seeing her married boss, Luke. What’s worse, she’s saying if things don’t work out with Luke, she might end up like her lonely cat-lady neighbor. Horrified by the prospect of a sad Julie and untrustworthy feline companion, Doug decides it’s time for an intervention.

Despite his short legs and some communication roadblocks, Doug sets out on a quirky, sweet, and hilarious mission to find his rescuer the love she deserves. Though he doesn’t totally understand the strangeness of human relationships, he knows he can’t give up on Julie - after all, being a rescue dog works both ways…

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Read on for an excerpt of Pug Actually by Matt Dunn:


According to Luke, he’s “about to leave the office.”

Despite what he just said to whoever is on the receiving end of the furtive cell phone call he’s making, Luke’s actually sitting in his car right outside the house I share with my best friend Julie. Which proves he’s lying. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Julie hasn’t heard his latest lie, of course. Her hearing isn’t as good as mine. She has heard the car pull up, waved to him, acknowledged his “on the phone” mime through the window, and left her front door ajar so she can return to the particularly gripping part of EastEnders we’ve been watching, where a mean-looking bald gentleman has just instructed the pasty-looking character he’s been threatening to beat up that he “ain’t worth it.” An appraisal that—if it referred to Luke—Julie and I would have wildly differing opinions about.

I take the opportunity to sneak out through the open door, trot along the path, and sit just the other side of the garden gate, where I can eavesdrop on what’s sure to be the latest twist in a saga way more complicated than the television shenanigans in Albert Square.

“Sure,” Luke says, after a moment, “Chinese or pizza?” which makes my mouth water, especially when he adds, “Chinese and pizza it is.” Then I’m brought sharply back to reality, because at his, “Love you, too, sweetie,” I realize he’s talking to his wife, and remember that not only is he a liar, but he’s a philanderer as well.

Luke finishes the call and checks his hair in that reflective device stuck to the car windscreen that Julie only ever uses to help her apply her makeup when she’s driving, smells his breath in his cupped hand and peers up and down the street as if looking for someone. Then he climbs out of his car, walks a pace or two away from the curb, and swivels around quickly to click the vehicle shut with the remote, as if he’s firing a gun in the opening credits of a James Bond film.

With a frown, he walks back up to the driver’s door and wipes a barely-visible smudge from the paintwork, then he takes a step backward and admires the vehicle—one of those sporty-looking coupes that, mechanically, is the same as the “family” model. Style over substance, as Julie’s dad would no doubt point out. Therefore pretty much the kind of car you’d expect Luke to drive.

With a last check of his cell phone, he switches it off, slips it into his pocket, and strides confidently toward Julie’s gate, hesitating when he spots me waiting for him in the garden.

“Doug,” he says.

It’s an observation rather than a greeting, so I give him a look, reluctantly step to one side so he can get past, then tail him back toward the house, nipping in through the front door before him, just in case he tries to shut me outside.

“Sweetie?” he shouts, as he regards me warily, and it occurs to me I rarely hear him call her “Julie”—a sensible tactic if you’re seeing multiple women, I imagine.

“In here,” replies Julie, from the living room, and Luke strides along the hall, peering around the house like a potential burglar, though if I know him, there’s only one thing he’s interested in getting his hands on.

I follow him into where Julie’s sitting expectantly on the sofa, taking up a defensive position at her feet as she switches off the TV. This is worrying: EastEnders isn’t over yet, and under normal circumstances, even if the house were falling down, she’d probably try and hang around, dodging falling masonry, until the end credits were rolling. Then again, as Luke’s all-too-regular off-hours presence here often reminds me, he and Julie aren’t exactly “normal” circumstances.

“This is a pleasant surprise!”

“Couldn’t stay away.” Luke collapse-sits onto the sofa next to her, then hoists his feet up onto the coffee table as if he owns the place. “You know me.”

I exhale loudly as I take up a guard position beneath his legs: If she really knew Luke, I doubt she’d let him in the house, let alone on the sofa. It took me long enough before I was allowed to sit there.

“Can I get you anything?”

“Just this,” says Luke, leaning across to plant a wet one (as Julie’s dad describes the way I do it whenever anyone raises me to face level) on Julie’s lips, and I have to look away. I don’t know why, but I find this “kissing” thing Luke and Julie insist on doing unsettling—possibly because of the weird hum of pleasure he makes every time. “I was just passing. Realized how much I missed you.”

“Passing?” says Julie, dejectedly, then she does a double take, and a look flashes across Luke’s face, and Julie’s expression mirrors it. Then I realize why he’s come round, and it shocks me so much it’s all I can do not to let out a disgusted bark. From what I can work out given his earlier phone call, he’s going to have a “quickie” with Julie, then calmly pick up takeout and bring it home to his wife.

“Yeah.” Luke licks his lips, an action which makes me shudder. “I’m not interrupting any plans, am I?” he asks, though I’m pretty sure he already knows the answer to that question. Julie rarely has any plans. Mainly because—given Luke’s situation—she can’t make any.

“No, just…” Julie nods at the TV. “Priya’s going to be here in a bit. Game of Thrones is on.”

“Oh yes. The Dragon Lady.” He rolls his eyes, and I’m not sure whether he’s referring to a character from the program or Priya. Luke’s not her biggest fan. And the feeling is definitely mutual.

“I can call her,” says Julie, already reaching for her phone. “Tell her to come later. We can watch it on DVR.”

“Don’t worry. I can’t stay.”

“Oh.” The disappointment in Julie’s voice is so obvious, Luke can’t help but give a little victory smile.

“For long,” he adds, looking pointedly at his watch.

“Oh,” says Julie, again, followed by another, but this time, an I-get-it one, which makes me suspect she’s “up for it,” as I’m sure Luke would probably describe her. It’s at that moment I decide I can’t just stand idly by and let him get away with this. So as Julie shimmies across the sofa to straddle him, and Luke reaches up and starts unbuttoning her blouse, I squeeze myself out from underneath his still-outstretched legs, leap up onto the sofa, and force my way between the two of them.

“Doug!” Julie gives me a stern look. “Down!”

I’m wishing I could say the same thing to Luke, but before I can decide what my next move’s going to be, he picks me up—rather ungently, it has to be said—and sets me back on the floor.

“Yes Doug, down!” Luke sniffs his fingers, makes a face, then surreptitiously wipes his hands on a cushion, which irks me even more, particularly since I’ve already had my bath this month. “Now, where were we?” he says, reaching for Julie’s buttons a second time.

As he busies himself with the contents of her blouse, he simultaneously blocks my route back up onto the sofa with his legs, and I fear I might be stymied, until I remember a tactic that Eddie, the Jack Russell star of the reruns of Frasier Julie and I love watching, often uses. I dart under the coffee table, leap up onto the armchair opposite the sofa, position myself in Luke’s direct eye line, and fix him with my most disapproving stare. After a moment my strategy works, because he opens his eyes midkiss (which is even creepier than the noises he makes), catches sight of me over Julie’s shoulder, and breaks away from her.

“Something the matter?” asks Julie.

Luke glares back at me. “It’s Doug.”

“What about him?”

“He’s staring at me.”

“What?” Julie turns to look at me, so I hurriedly put on my best, most irresistible pug eyes, wrinkle my forehead to the maximum, then angle my head for good measure.

“He’s not staring. He’s a pug. That’s just how it appears.”

“It’s disconcerting.”

“Well, just shut your eyes.”

Julie leans down to kiss him again, and Luke does as instructed. But sure enough, a few seconds later, he half opens one of them, to find I’ve resumed my visual assault.

“He’s doing it again.”

“Luke…”

Luke wriggles out from underneath her, sits upright, and places a cushion in his lap. “I’m sorry. I just can’t. Not with him…”

Julie sighs, then she gets up from the sofa, picks me up and carries me through to the kitchen.

“Sorry, Doug,” she says, depositing me on the floor by my bowl, before tipping some food into it, hurrying back into the living room, and shutting the door behind her.

“Now, where were we?” I hear her say, perhaps a little impatiently, then everything goes quiet, so I pad over toward the door. It’s one of those opaque-paneled ones, so all I can see is the outline of the two of them cavorting.

I sit down and fix my gaze on my best guess of where Luke’s face is, and stare as hard as I can at him through the frosted glass. And it seems to work, as it’s only around thirty seconds before Julie says, “What now?”

“He’s still doing it.”

“Pardon?”

“Doug. Staring at me. Through the kitchen door.”

“What, with his X-ray vision?”

“You know what I mean.”

Julie sighs in a way that demonstrates that it’s evident she doesn’t. “What do you want me to do. Put him outside?”

“Would you?”

I whimper at the prospect so plaintively that it’s only a matter of seconds before Julie opens the kitchen door, picks me up, and carries me over to the armchair. Though my victory is fleeting, as she heads straight back to the sofa, and resumes her straddling of a somewhat disgruntled-looking Luke.

“Tell you what.” Julie walks her fingertips suggestively along the arm of the sofa. “Why don’t we take this into the bedroom?”

Luke frowns, perhaps wondering whether Julie’s suggesting some light furniture removal, then the penny evidently drops. “Good idea,” he says.

“Right. I’ll just nip into the bathroom, and you…” Julie nods in the general direction of the bedroom.

I sit there innocently as she jumps up from the sofa and heads off along the hall. But the moment she shuts the bathroom door behind her, I leap down from the chair, sprint out of the living room, and—almost losing it on the sharp corner thanks to the combination of my short legs and Julie’s polished wooden laminate flooring—get to the bedroom ahead of him. And I’m already sitting defiantly on Julie’s bed by the time Luke appears in the doorway.

“For fu…!”

He narrows his eyes at me, then glances at his watch again, perhaps working out just how late he can get away with arriving home by blaming it on the length of the wait for the takeout. Then—and admittedly it’s the one flaw in my plan—he raises both eyebrows in a gotcha way, and shuts the bedroom door, trapping me inside.

Hurriedly, I jump back down from the bed, run to the door, and place an ear against it. From what I can work out, Julie’s finished in the bathroom, and I hear Luke tell her that, actually, the sofa’s just fine with him. There’s a giggle (Julie), then the sound of a belt being undone, then silence, followed by some sounds that I’d rather not report. Aware that I’ve run out of options—and I’m not proud of myself—I begin to whine. And whine. Then I start to bark insistently, upping the volume every third-or-so bark, until finally there’s a frustrated-sounding “For crying out loud!” from Luke, quickly followed by footsteps, and a slightly-flushed-looking Julie opening the door.

“What’s the matter, Doug?” she says, as she picks me up and carries me back into the living room. “How did you get yourself shut in there?”

I glance pointedly over to where Luke is sitting on the sofa, adjusting his clothes while giving me what I believe is known as “the evil eye,” but Julie misses the inference.

Luke sighs resignedly, in the manner of someone who’s realized he’s not going to get what he wants. “Right. Well…” He glances at his watch a third time, then hauls himself reluctantly up from the sofa. “I ought to…”

“Don’t go.” Julie sets me gently back down on the floor, then takes a pace toward him. “We haven’t even…”

“Yes. Well. Whose fault is that?” huffs Luke.

He’s meant that it’s mine, but judging by the look on her face, Julie appears to have taken his last comment personally. “Sorry. No. You’re right,” she says, sulkily. “You get off home to your wife like a good boy!”

As Luke swallows loudly, I snort as incredulously as I can. There’s only one good boy here, and (spoiler alert) it’s me.

“Sweetie, don’t be like…”

Julie shrugs off his attempt at a hug, and I brace myself for the inevitable. They’ve had this conversation—or rather, argument—several times before, and each time Luke tells Julie he just can’t leave his wife yet, I sense a little something die inside her.

True to form, she’s got tears in her eyes, and though I’d like to rush over and comfort her, I stop myself. She needs to feel bad about Luke, and sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind.

“Don’t ‘sweetie’ me!” she snaps. “You promised!”

“And I will.” Luke perches on the arm of the sofa. “I told you, now’s not the right time. I just need to get all my ducks in a row, and…” He fires off finger pistols in rapid succession, and I can’t help but snort again. “But I understand,” he continues. “If you can’t wait, then perhaps we ought to…”

“No, I didn’t mean…” Hurriedly, Julie takes his hand, as if she’s the one who should be apologizing. “I get that this is hard for you. Really, I do. But you can’t blame me for wanting us to be together?”

She smiles down at him, a pleading expression on her face, and Luke kisses the back of her hand, as if bestowing some kind of papal blessing. Then he stands up and sighs dramatically as he takes her in his arms. “It’s what I want too,” he says. “But try and look at things from my point of view. I just want to do right by everyone, you know? You, me, and Sarah…”

At the sound of Luke’s wife’s name, Julie winces, then she nods, though if you ask me, the only person Luke has ever intended to do right by is himself.

“Okay,” she says, reluctantly. “So I’ll see you on Monday?”

Luke looks shocked for a moment, as if there’s some important date he’s forgotten, then he lets out a short laugh. “You mean at work?”

Julie nods again, and Luke grins like someone who knows he’s still in the driving seat—and not just of the showy coupe parked outside. “Right,” he says, patting his pockets to locate his car keys, his mind probably already on which pizza topping he’s going to choose. “Well, say hi to Priya for me.”

“Sure,” says Julie, though all three of us know she won’t, unless she wants a lecture.

“I’ll see myself out,” Luke says, and even though that’s probably directed at me, I still make sure to escort him off the premises. I wouldn’t want him to take anything. Especially advantage of Julie.

Though my fear is, that’s exactly what he’s doing.

Excerpted from Pug Actually by Matt Dunn, Copyright © 2021 by Matthew Dunn. Published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.


Matt Dunn's romantic comedy novels include The Ex-Boyfriend's Handbook (shortlisted for the Romantic Novel of the Year Award and the Melissa Nathan Award for Comedy Romance), A Day at the Office (an Amazon #1 bestseller across several categories), Thirteen Dates (shortlisted for the Romantic Comedy of the Year Award), and Kindle #1 Bestseller At The Wedding. He's also written about life and love for The Times, Guardian, Glamour, Cosmopolitan, Company, Elle, and The Sun.

Connect with the Author:

Author Website

Twitter: @MattDunnWrites

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Blog Tour! The Wisteria Society of Lady Scoundrels by India Holton

Available Now

If you have ever found yourself wondering what is the best knife to hide in a corset or the most effective poison to administer to a traveling dignitary during a seven course meal, then Reader Friends, do I have the book for you. While The Wisteria Society of Lady Scoundrels is a fabulous romp full of humor and adventure, it also serves as a guide for those wondering how to be the most civilized and proper murderer and thief. For example, a pirate should always make sure to leave the house equipped with a hat, parasol and gloves to ensure that they do not succumb to The Great Peril. The Great Peril of freckles, that is. 

It just isn’t done. 

When a washed up bottle leads to the discovery of a spell that can move objects, no matter the size or weight, a former book club became the grand Wisteria Society of Lady Scoundrels. The Wisteria Society takes their pirating extremely seriously and takes great pains to raise their daughters as proper Lady Pirates. One such young lady, Cecilia Bassingthwaite has been eagerly, but not too eagerly, awaiting her formal induction to the Society. Having learned how to kill with a teaspoon, steer a flying house and always pour the tea before the milk, she is ready to join the ranks of this illustrious society. However, someone is trying to assassinate her, and not in any type of clever way, and between fending off attempts of murder and locating a new novel, there just hasn’t been the time. 

When the members of the Society are kidnapped, Cecilia must use her wits and the help of an unlikely ally, whose identity seems to change more often than his waistcoat, to save her aunt and the other Society members. 

I have never been more thrilled to find out a book is the first in a series. The Wisteria Society of Lady Scoundrels is one of the most enjoyable reading experiences I’ve had in a long time. It’s incredibly funny and thoroughly enjoys mocking it’s own genre, while at the same time, is a love letter to historical romance. It is a wonderfully madcap steampunk adventure filled with magical elements that shows not only the strength of women, but the power they hold when they come together. 

Thoroughly entertaining, The Wisteria Society of Lady Scoundrels is the fantastical romance of the summer. 

Don’t believe me? You should. I would never lie to you. The lovely folks at Berkley have sent an excerpt to share with you and I can’t wait to hear everyone’s thoughts. 

Enjoy!

THE WISTERIA SOCIETY OF LADY SCOUNDRELS by India Holton

Berkley Trade Paperback Original | On Sale: June 15th, 2021

Excerpt

There was no possibility of walking to the library that day. Morning rain had blanched the air, and Miss Darlington feared that if Cecilia ventured out she would develop a cough and be dead within the week. Therefore Cecilia was at home, sitting with her aunt in a room ten degrees colder than the streets of London, and reading aloud The Song of Hiawatha by “that American rogue, Mr. Longfellow,” when the strange gentleman knocked at their door.

As the sound barged through the house, interrupting Cecilia’s recitation mid-¬rhyme, she looked inquiringly at her aunt. But Miss Darlington’s own gaze went to the mantel clock, which was ticking sedately ¬toward a quarter to one. The old lady frowned.

“It is an abomination the way people these days knock at any wild, unseemly hour,” she said in much the same tone the prime minister had used in Parliament recently to decry the London rioters. “I do declare—¬!”

Cecilia waited, but Miss Darlington’s only declaration came in the form of sipping her tea pointedly, by which Cecilia understood that the abominable caller was to be ignored. She returned to Hiawatha and had just begun proceeding “¬toward the land of the Pearl-¬Feather” when the knocking came again with increased force, silencing her and causing Miss Darlington to set her teacup into its saucer with a clink. Tea splashed, and Cecilia hastily laid down the poetry book before things ¬¬really got out of hand.

“I shall see who it is,” she said, smoothing her dress as she rose and touching the red-¬gold hair at her temples, although there was no crease in the muslin nor a single strand out of place in her coiffure.

“Do be careful, dear,” Miss Darlington admonished. “Anyone attempting to visit at this time of day is obviously some kind of hooligan.”

“Fear not, Aunty.” Cecilia took up a bone-¬handled letter opener from the small table beside her chair. “They will not trouble me.”

Miss Darlington harrumphed. “We are buying no subscriptions today,” she called out as Cecilia left the room.

In fact they had never bought subscriptions, so this was an unnecessary injunction, although typical of Miss Darlington, who persisted in seeing her ward as the reckless tomboy who had entered her care ten years before: prone to climbing trees, fashioning cloaks from tablecloths, and making unauthorized doorstep purchases whenever the fancy took her. But a decade’s proper education had wrought wonders, and now Cecilia walked the hall quite calmly, her French heels tapping against the polished marble floor, her intentions aimed in no way ¬toward the taking of a subscription. She opened the door.

“Yes?” she asked.

“Good afternoon,” said the man on the step. “May I interest you in a brochure on the plight of the endangered North Atlantic auk?”

Cecilia blinked from his pleasant smile to the brochure he was holding out in a black-¬gloved hand. She noticed at once the scandalous lack of hat upon his blond hair and the embroidery trimming his black frock coat. He wore neither sideburns nor mustache, his boots were tall and buckled, and a silver hoop hung from one ear. She looked again at his smile, which quirked in response.

“No,” she said, and closed the door.

And bolted it.

Ned remained for a moment longer with the brochure extended as his brain waited for his body to catch up with events. He considered what he had seen of the woman who had stood so briefly in the shadows of the doorway, but he could not recall the exact color of the sash that waisted her soft white dress, nor whether it had been pearls or stars in her hair, nor even how deeply winter dreamed in her lovely eyes. He held only a general impression of “beauty so rare and face so fair”—¬and implacability so terrifying in such a young woman.

And then his body made pace, and he grinned.

Miss Darlington was pouring herself another cup of tea when Cecilia returned to the parlor. “Who was it?” she asked without looking up.

“A pirate, I believe,” Cecilia said as she sat and, taking the little book of poetry, began sliding a finger down a page to relocate the line at which she’d been interrupted.

Miss Darlington set the teapot down. With a delicate pair of tongs fashioned like a sea monster, she began loading sugar cubes into her cup. “What made you think that?”

Cecilia was quiet a moment as she recollected the man. He had been handsome in a rather dangerous way, despite the ridiculous coat. A light in his eyes had suggested he’d known his brochure would not fool her, but he’d entertained himself with the pose anyway. She predicted his hair would fall over his brow if a breeze went through it, and that the slight bulge in his trousers had been in case she was not happy to see him—¬a dagger, or perhaps a gun.

“Well?” her aunt prompted, and Cecilia blinked herself back into focus.

“He had a tattoo of an anchor on his wrist,” she said. “Part of it was visible from beneath his sleeve. But he did not offer me a secret handshake, nor invite himself in for tea, as anyone of decent piratic society would have done, so I took him for a rogue and shut him out.”

“A rogue pirate! At our door!” Miss Darlington made a small, disapproving noise behind pursed lips. “How reprehensible. Think of the germs he might have had. I wonder what he was after.”

Cecilia shrugged. Had Hiawatha confronted the magician yet? She could not remember. Her finger, three-¬quarters of the way down the page, moved up again. “The Scope diamond, perhaps,” she said. “Or Lady Askew’s necklace.”

Miss Darlington clanked a teaspoon around her cup in a manner that made Cecilia wince. “Imagine if you had been out as you planned, Cecilia dear. What would I have done, had he broken in?”

“Shot him?” Cecilia suggested.

Miss Dar¬ling¬ton arched two vehemently plucked eyebrows ¬toward the ringlets on her brow. “Good heavens, child, what do you take me for, a maniac? Think of the damage a ricocheting bullet would do in this room.”

“Stabbed him, then?”

“And get blood all over the rug? It’s a sixteenth-¬century Persian antique, you know, part of the royal collection. It took a great deal of effort to acquire.”

“Steal,” Cecilia murmured.

“Obtain by private means.”

“Well,” Cecilia said, abandoning a losing battle in favor of the original topic of conversation. “It was indeed fortunate I was here. ‘The level moon stared at him—¬’ ”

“The moon? Is it up already?” Miss Darlington glared at the wall as if she might see through its swarm of framed pictures, its wallpaper and wood, to the celestial orb beyond, and therefore convey her disgust at its diurnal shenanigans.

“No, it stared at Hiawatha,” Cecilia explained. “In the poem.”

“Oh. Carry on, then.”

“ ‘In his face stared pale and haggard—¬’ ”

“Repetitive fellow, isn’t he?”

“Poets do tend to—¬”

Miss Darlington waved a hand irritably. “I don’t mean the poet, girl. The pirate. Look, he’s now trying to climb in the window.”







Thank you to Berkley and Netgalley for the opportunity to read and review this title. All opinions and mistakes are my own. This post may also contain affiliate links and I earn from qualifying purchases.




Talk Bookish to Me by Kate Bromley

Available Now

This cover is so cute!

This cover is so cute!

Readers, this book is so much fun! It’s a super light and funny rom-com that will be a perfect book for a day at the beach or reading in the park. I found myself laughing out loud and the banter between characters is *chef’s kiss*! 

Kara is a romance writer on a strict deadline for her next book. Frustrated by writer’s block, Kara is pouring her focus into being the best maid of honor her best friend could ask for. At the pre-wedding party, Kara runs into her college ex Ryan, the man who broke her heart and inspired her career as a romance novelist. Of course, Ryan just happens to be the best friend of the groom, a fact that no one knew about until that night. And wouldn’t you know it, fate keeps pushing Kara and Ryan together in unexpected ways, causing the two to rehash their past and try to move on as friends for the sake of the wedding. 

And guess what? Sparks fly and Kara is suddenly inspired to write her novel! That’s right, Ryan is the breakthrough that Kara needed to get her novel done on time and before her long awaited trip to Italy. But how can a man who has so thoroughly broken her heart inspire such a steamy historical romance novel? How can the two maintain a civil relationship while also spending so much time together for the wedding? Why is he still so handsome and funny? Can you love a man’s dog more than him?

That’s right, there’s not just a complicated and super hot romance developing between Kara and Ryan. There’s also an adorable and loveable pooch who just wants to sleep on your bathroom floor and listen to Celine Dion. 

I loved this book! It’s such a fun and light read that was entertaining from start to finish. The chemistry between Kara and Ryan was electric and their banter was beyond anything I’ve read before. As a booklover, I loved how much Kara loved her books and was completely unapologetic about her love of romance novels. Duke, our loveable goofball pooch, was a delight in this book. It’s quite possible that I loved Duke more than Ryan and I don’t feel bad about it at all. The final conflict in this book was such that I didn’t know how the author was going to be able to bring them back together but she really pulled it off. This is a great second-chance romance and I couldn’t recommend it more!

Interested in owning a copy for yourself? You can find ordering information here:

 





Thanks to Netgalley and the Publisher for the opportunity to read and review this title. All opinions and mistakes are definitely my own. 

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Thirsty Mermaids by Kat Leyh

Available Now

I love when the perfect book just falls right into your lap. While searching for graphic novels that were published in the last year, I came across this gem and instantly fell in love. Thirsty Mermaids is a fun and funny look at the quirks of humanity and the strong bonds of a found family. 

Three slightly tipsy mermaids have run out of booze in their shipwreck and do what any slightly tipsy person would do: cast a spell to grow legs so they can hunt down another bottle of bubbly. As the three friends, Pearl, Tooth, and Eez, explore their new surroundings, they quickly discover that finding that delicious boozy buzz is harder than they anticipated. After conquering the two biggest challenges, clothing and money, the trio finds a bar called “The Thirsty Mermaid” and begin a magical night of partying and drinking. The magical night quickly comes to an end when morning brings the trio a hangover and a distinct lack of fins. Trapped in their human bodies, Pearl, Tooth, and Eez are temporarily saved by the kind bartender Vivi from the previous evening who teaches them the joys of breakfast. 

Now very sober, the mermaid pod discovers they don’t have access to the magic they need to turn them back. Stuck on land for the foreseeable future, the trio is lucky enough to have a guide to human life in Vivi. Of course, hilarity and chaos ensues as the three learn of job applications, money, and how to be good roommates. 

This is a wildly funny and warm graphic novel. It includes a diverse cast of characters who tackle big issues like capitalism, body dysmorphia, and racism. They genuinely care about each other and went out of their way to support and love one another. There is a beautiful scene where Vivi’s sister confronts her about taking in the mermaids and the possibility of being taken advantage of and you can tell that Vivi doesn’t make the decision lightly. Her trusting and kind nature shows in all the ways that she guides our chaotic trio through the messiness of human life. 

I really loved the artwork and color choices. The mermaids are all so different from one another and definitely not your classic mermaid princess. They are bold and beautiful and proud of what their bodies are capable of. Thirsty Mermaids is a fun and wild romp that will keep you giggling!

If you would like to add this chaotic trio to your bookshelf, you can find ordering information here:

 



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Plain Bad Heroines by Emily M. Danforth

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I have been on a creepy book kick lately and I’ve been lucky to have read a string of excellent books. Plain Bad Heroines kicks it up even further by being a creepy book about a book. Actually, it’s a book about a movie being made that is based on a book all about an obsession with another book. 

I swear. 

So, in the early 1900’s, at the Brookhant’s School for Girls, two girls became obsessed with a memoir written by Mary MacLane. Their obsession led to not only their own tragic and horrific deaths, but the deaths of three more people tied to the school. A century later, the abandoned school is now the center of a novel written by the brilliant and precocious author, Merrit Emmons, who was only 16 at the time. Her novel about the young women obsessed with not only each other, but the writings of Mary MacLane, is going to be adapted into a gothic horror film. As production begins on the movie, tensions between Merrit and the two young movie stars rise and mysterious events put everyone in danger. 

This book is a chunker - the hardcover edition clocks in at 617 pages and there is a lot of story to be found in those pages. I’m not exaggerating on the book about a movie about a book about a book. A lot of story. The book is constantly changing. In one chapter, you will be reading about the brutal murder of a young woman decades in the past, and in the next, read about a romantic and chaotic first date between two enigmatic young women in the present. There are so many elements of a classic gothic horror. There’s the dark and dilapidated boarding school where young women are sent to become ladies, but really discover that women are great at kissing. There are tragic and mysterious deaths that could be explained away as male violence, or, a curse. Layered on top of our gothic horror story is a coming of age novel about a young actress who needs to break away from her mother and make her own way in Hollywood. But how do you keep your wits about you when it seems that a curse is following you, you’re possibly in love with your co-star, and you know that writer thinks you’re unqualified? Like I said, there’s a lot of story.

I absolutely loved the writing style in this book. It read like you were listening to one of your best friends tell their famous local legend, while sitting by a fire and enjoying a boozy cocktail. It’s very conversational and snarky, with such compelling and campy writing that you are instantly swept up in the soap opera feel of what is really, a quite tragic story. The book is it full of black and white illustrations of our young, plain, bad heroines in all their tragic glory and has some of the best footnotes ever included in a book. Many provide historical context, many are just the narrator being sarcastic and hilarious and I’m pretty sure I sent screenshots of at least 10 pages to my boss within the first 20 pages of reading the book.

The characters are very well developed and incredibly interesting. Merrit is very prickly and slightly obnoxious while Harper Harper, yes that’s her name, is a glamorous and gorgeous chameleon of a character. To me, Harper was the hardest to figure out. Was she just an excellent actress and we never saw the real woman within? Was she just such a quick thinker that she could turn the acting on and off? She’s a puzzle. Meanwhile, Audrey is in a little bit over her head but really wants to make it as an actress and is far stronger than she believes. All three women are smart, interesting, and driven. They’re also all gorgeous, queer, and know that there is something going on at Brookhants. 

This book checked off a lot of my reader wheelhouse boxes-there’s a creepy school full of rich girls and their rich girl problems. It’s fast paced and the multiple timelines slowly reveal all the deliciously creepy scariness that follows everyone involved with Mary MacLane’s book. The characters are interesting and compelling and I was quickly invested in everyone’s survival. This book is also incredibly fun. It never takes itself too seriously, is very campy, and was an absolute delight to get lost in. I highly, highly recommend this for anyone who loves gothic horror, star crossed lovers, and a ton of snark. 

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The Madwoman and the Roomba by Sandra Tsing Loh

Available June 2, 2020

Adulting is hard. We all say it. We brag about doing laundry and putting it away the same day. Sometimes, the same week. But there is something to it. Not everyone is completely prepared for being an adult. The list of our responsibilities is endless and no matter how hard we try, we still screw up the things that seem so simple.

I was immediately drawn to this book for it's title. As a proud owner of a robotic vacuum, and well aware of it's pitfalls, think dog poo, I had to know what was going to happen when you paired said vacuum with a madwoman. Sandra Tsing Loh has turned 55 and is discovering that your age plays no part on your ability to adult. Parenting, careers, homeownership, friendships, and bills are still just as challenging at 55 as they are at 35. Raising an emotional teenager is always difficult, being 55 doesn't give you the magical ability to read their minds and figure out what they are truly trying to communicate. You can also be a little jealous of your friends who can magically plan flawless vacations, drive nicer cards, and get their kids into the best schools.

Loh holds nothing back in her essays on life, love, children and friendship in this hilarious and engaging collection. I was able to find something in each essay to connect to even though I couldn't be further away from a California living author and professor.

If you love glimpses into other's lives, this is a delightful collection covering everything from comic book conventions to finding your inner goddess.

Thank you to Netgalley and the Publisher for the opportunity to read and review this title. All opinions and mistakes are my own.

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Get a Life, Chloe Brown by Talia Hibbert

Available Now

This book was the perfect comfort read during the shelter-in-place order issued by our governor.  I was looking for something that guaranteed a happily ever after with lots of fun and snark, and this book delivered on all points.

After a near death experience, Chloe Brown decides her safe and decidedly dull life needs some excitement. Creating a list of experiences that are sure to make her future eulogy far more interesting, Chloe is determined to check each box on the list-as soon as she feels up to it.  Struggling with fibromyalgia and chronic pain, Chloe spends much of her time managing her pain level and symptoms. When her seemingly prickly, but incredible handsome building superintendent Red finds her in a tree helping a scared kitten, the two set out on an unlikely friendship. Trading business consulting for help completing her list, Red and Chloe discover there is no way their relationship can remain strictly professional. Falling in love with a passionate artist wasn't on Chloe's list, but sometimes exceptions just have to be made.

This book is so good! This is one of those books that is equal parts light-hearted and emotional growth. Talia Hibbert does an excellent job at balancing out the hurt and trauma from horrible past relationships and the need and desire to be happy and live a full life.  The dialogue between Chloe and Red was perfect, and one of my favorite parts is the email exchange between the two discussing Red's website. Red has only ever seen Chloe at her less than best so to watch him draw out the fun and sassy side of her was incredibly entertaining. I also found everything so relatable-nothing was ever over the top or felt unnecessary. The story moves quickly with lots of insight into Chloe's daily life. I really loved how much care Hibbert took in describing the different ways that Chloe has had to adapt to her ever changing body and it's unpredictable aches and pains. As someone who has dealt with chronic pain for over six years, I understand how hard it is to balance out being clear minded but in pain, or being pain free but feeling high as a kite. It's hard to make a good impression on anyone when you're constantly exhausted and hurting. Red was so accepting of Chloe's needs and was just the most perfect, handsome, sexy artist.

Insert deep sigh here.

It's just a perfect book. That's it, that's the review. It's perfect. Get it, read it, tell me what you think of it.

I'm using this time of staying at home to balance out  my bookshelves.  I'm slowly working my way through my unread Book of the Month shelf and enjoying every minute of it.  Get a Life, Chloe Brown was my November 2019 pick and again, why did I wait to read it??? If you're interested in starting up a Book of the  Month membership, you can help us both out by using this link: https://www.mybotm.com/5f24d9c326b8?show_box=true

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