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Tuesday, April 30, 2019

SPOTLIGHT: Murderabilia by Carl Vonderau @JKSlitpublicity @CarlVonderau @midnightinkbook

 Murderabilia 
by Carl Vonderau


“Murderabilia”
Carl Vonderau | July 8, 2019 | Midnight Ink
Paperback | 978-0738761305 | $16.99
Ebook |  978-0738761701 | $11.99
Thriller

Carl Vonderau’s debut thriller tells more than a simple story: It comments on the culture surrounding the children who grow up in the shadows of serial killers. Murderabilia (July 8, 2019, Midnight Ink) carries secrets and deception, characters haunted by their mistakes of their families, and the “art” of murder.

William McNary is a private banker who keeps his clients’ secrets — and some of his own. His father is Harvey Dean Kogan, the infamous serial killer known as “The Preying Hands,” responsible for killing thirteen women who abused children in the Chicago area. He brutally butchered them and then arranged their bodies for his disturbing black and white photos. These pictures started the “murderabilia” market, which William can’t seem to escape. Thirty years later, William has carefully constructed his life to exclude his father’s name and history. But a threatening phone call from a man claiming to be his brother shatters his idyllic life and makes him fear for his family’s safety.


Carl Vonderau grew up in Cleveland in a religious family that believed that God could heal all illness. He left that behind him when he went to college at Stanford and studied economics. Somehow, after dabbling in classical guitar, he ended up in banking. Carl lived and worked in Latin America, Canada, and North Africa, and conducted business in Spanish, French and Portuguese. He also secretly wrote crime novels. Now, a full-time author, he also helps non profit organizations. He and his wife reside in San Diego, where their two sons live close by. Check out more at  http://carlvonderau.com/.

Tell us about “murderabilia.” What is it and what do you think of the institutes that purchase murderabilia for display?

Murderabilia is art and objects owned by killers, like paintings produced by John Wayne Gacy or Charlie Manson. There are murder museums in L.A. and New Orleans and online auction houses that deal in murderabilia. I find it extremely creepy. This art directly or indirectly glorifies killing and the killers. Many states have passed laws to prohibit it, but this fascination seems impossible to outlaw.

Murderabilia has an important message about children of serial killers. What do you hope readers hear from the novel? Politicians? Children in the same position?

I hope that they come to realize that these children are also victims. There are hundreds of children of killers living through post traumatic stress disorder caused by their parents’ crimes. For the rest of their lives, they must deal with terrible guilt and public shaming. I hope that anyone reading this book will empathize with their lives.

How did your work abroad impact the international aspects of Murderabilia? Was it always your intention to write international settings into the book?

Most of my banking career revolved around international work. I’ve worked for many years in Latin America and was doing business for a Canadian bank in North Africa shortly before the Iraq War. I think that international points of view are distinctive but also universal. I didn’t start out writing the book with these settings. But as I explored my protagonist’s past, the settings in Colombia and Algeria offered ways to pull him out of his world so that he could have new perspectives on his family and on love.

Can you comment on why you chose to have the protagonist of Murderabilia a photographer and how photography became therapeutic for survival?

It started with his father, the serial killer. I needed his “hobby” to be both artistic and so despicable that his family would erase him and his art from their lives. In early drafts I didn’t develop how those photographs affected his son, my protagonist. Both Jackie Mitchard, who helped edit the book, and an early agent, urged me to explore this. I realized that my character would search his father’s photographs for clues as to why he didn’t see the evil in his father, and what caused it. But no explanation was complete. He then seized his father’s art to make it his own. He shot photos to take back the narrative of his life. In color rather than black and white like his father.

You’ve expressed a strong passion for nonprofits like the YMCA and San Diego Social Venture Partners. How has your work with nonprofits made literary communities stronger?

I think one of the strong values in both nonprofits and the world of fiction is the appreciation of other points of view. With the Internet and cable news, we can tunnel into increasingly narrow perspectives. But we still crave to broaden our conceptions of life. Through a book, the reader gets into another person or culture’s shoes. Nonprofits delve into other’s lives all the time. It is how they understand people enough to help them.



Religion informs the family upbringing of your protagonist. How did his mother’s fundamentalism function in this novel?

Religion both insulates and wounds the protagonist and his sister. Their mother’s denial of the existence of evil helped enable her husband to kill. Her refusal to even talk about her husband—as if he never existed—prevents her children from processing their feelings. At the same time, her denial is a saving grace. She never lets her children consider that they might carry any part of their father. This shields them from some of the guilt they might otherwise feel, as well as from the suspicion that his murderous genes hide inside them. Denial is both a harmful and saving act.


@ATBR2019 Review: The Missing Years by Lexie Elliott @berkleypub @elliott_lexie @jessmapreviews

The Missing Years 
by Lexie Elliott


Publisher: Berkley
Publish Date: April 23, 2019
Hardcover
320 Pages
Standalone
Genres: Mystery, Thriller

An eerie, old Scottish manor in the middle of nowhere that’s now hers.

Ailsa Calder has inherited half of a house. The other half belongs to a man who disappeared without a trace twenty-seven years ago—her father.

Leaving London behind to settle the inheritance from her mother’s estate, Ailsa returns to her childhood home, nestled amongst the craggy peaks of the Scottish Highlands, joined by the half-sister who’s almost a stranger to her.

Ailsa can’t escape the claustrophobic feeling that the house itself is watching her—as if her past hungers to consume her. She also can’t ignore how the neighbourhood animals refuse to set one foot within the gates of the garden.

When the first nighttime intruder shows up, Ailsa fears that the manor’s careless rugged beauty could cost her everything.
 

My Review:


This is my second Elliott book.  I had to take a look at my review for the last book of hers that I read, The French Girl, and it seems I have the same feelings with this book as I did with that. "I will say that maybe this is made for a slower pace.  Those that like the accelerated pacing with hanging chapters and a quick flip may not be prone to this.  I usually am not too much of a fan of a slower paced book.  HOWEVER, this one still kept me intrigued.  I was happy to go with Alisa on this journey.  There is no huge revelation or kick you in the pants WTF moment.  Instead, it was like reading a very well put together movie drama... but it did lack in some suspense.  I was hoping for just a little more.... something, but that's just my personal taste."

There's a lot more character development and I would include the house, Manse, as a character.  My favorite as a matter of fact. Elliott has a way of making a book extremely atmospheric.  The descriptions and small history lessons made for the feeling of being immersed in this slightly dark and foggy read.

There are moments of creepy, sinister suspense that made me believe it would continue in that direction or trip me up in some manner, but it never quite got there.  It stays in its own consistent manner but there are little spikes that come in every once in a while. I will say I didn't quite expect that ending to happen and it's always lovely to be surprised.

Anyone who loves that slow burn with supernatural undertones will absolutely love this read.  

★★★☆



Jessica's Review:


Right off the bat, I know this one has already divided a lot of readers. I feel like it was the same way with her debut novel, THE FRENCH GIRL. I'm personally a fan of when this happens because there are so many discussions and it really motivates some readers to pick it up and see how they feel about it. Before beginning I had seen some glowing reviews and some where it just didn't click with them, so I was anxious to see where I fell. I really enjoyed this one!

From the beginning we are treated to an overall eerie and uneasy vibe. A creepy Scottish manor in the middle of nowhere. Sounds like an ideal place, right? Ailsa has just inherited half of a house, while the other half is owned by her father that disappeared almost three decades ago. Once she arrives and gets settled in, she notices some odd things starting to happen. You know something is wrong with a house when animals refuse to cross onto the property - never doubt the instincts of animals. I don't want to go into too many more details so that I don't spoil some of the events that take place!

This story had so many unsettling elements and plenty of suspense to go around. What I think some readers aren't a fan of is that this is more of a slow building suspense. Lots of questions raised and I think Elliott did a great job bringing it all together for the reader. The characters were well-developed and she perfectly sets the scene and creates an atmospheric read. If you haven't read her debut yet, I highly recommend doing so and then pick this one up (these aren't in a series, but I think both are intriguing reads).

4 stars


#ATBR 2019 REVIEW: Before She Was Found by Heather Gudenkauf @parkrowbooks @hgudenkauf @jessmapreviews

Before She Was Found 
by Heather Gudenkauf


Publisher: Park Row Books
Publish Date: April 16, 2019
Paperback
368 Pages
 Standalone
Genres: Psychological Thriller, Suspense

My Review:


I have been a fan of Gudenkauf since I read Not A Sound.  There's just something about her writing style that really resonates with me and keeps me glued to each and every word.  I was actually surprised to find that this was a YA thriller - but it's only YA in terms of the twelve-year old girls that are the main three kids involved in this creepy storyline.  Outside of that, I did not feel that it read like your typical YA at all.  Don't get me wrong, I'm a fan of YA books, and also psychological thrillers (as you all well know) - have them marry up and here we are folks! 


There were definite Slender Man undertones that I thoroughly enjoyed along with a bit of sinister Mean Girls vibe.  At the age of twelve, you're going through that awkward stage, and if you're not one of the "popular" people at school, then you are unfortunately a target for bullying and this is largely a big subject throughout this book.  Are they really your friends? Why are they so nice one day and a complete asshole the next? Who can anyone really trust at that age? All of these girls have got something going on. Jordyn, the popular mean girl.  Violet, the new girl that just moved into town and Cora, the townie who is quiet, bullied and just want to know what it feels like to have a friend.  Enter the world of the internet and this can take bullying to a whole new level.  It's scary how much you need to try and monitor your children, but it's impossible to track their every single move.  


The book is written in various formats, text messages, police interviews, journal entries, etc.  Personally, when this is done well (and it is here), I absolutely love this kind of format to read.  And listen, this is a very somber, dark read.  The issues within the book may be triggering for some people, or could be just a little bit too much.  Wasn't for me but I could see how possibly could be.  I actually didn't see that ending coming.  It didn't give me that overall OH SHIT moment, but I was definitely a bit surprised. I also appreciate that Gudenkauf doesn't veer away from some cringe worthy scenes - uff that bathroom scene kinda got to me (yay!).  


I don't know if this is my favorite by Gudenkauf but I'm still giving it 5 stars because I absolutely loved the intricacy in which Gudenkauf pulled everything together.  Unfortunately, this is also an all to realistic read.. and that's pretty damn scary. (And I love it).


★★★★★

Jessica's Review:


It's no secret that I'm absolutely fascinated with urban legends, especially ones like Slenderman. Gudenkauf brings us a suspense/mystery in a small town where three twelve year old girls get sucked into the town's own Slenderman-esk urban legend.

The book starts off with a bang - a 12 year old girl getting brutally stabbed and her head repeatedly smashed on the railroad tracks as a shadowy figure watches on in the tall grass. This is only in the first few pages! We alternate between multiple perspectives throughout this book. Told in the form of police interrogations, text messages, online chats, journal entries, and more. The author unfolds the events leading up to the horrific attack by the train depot.

Cora was always a more isolated girl; not many friends and she seemed to become a target for bullying from fellow classmates, especially Jordyn. Violet moves to town and begins a friendship with Cora. When a class project on urban legends puts the three girls in a group together they begin to research the story of Joseph Wither. The town's local urban legend about a young boy that disappeared by the train depot and has said to be responsible for multiple disappearances of local girls throughout the years.

When Cora enters a chatroom online someone claiming to be Joseph Wither begins talking to her. Giving her information that only he would know and telling her that they should go away together. The culmination of the events leads us to the night of her attack and I was not expecting the ending. Gudenkauf did a fantastic job throwing us off the trail on who actually did it. I guessed a few times and was completely wrong.

This is one of those books that's terrifying because it is entirely realistic and possible. It is nearly impossible to keep track of what kids are doing online and who they are talking to. Impressionable young girls become easy targets for people and this is a prime example. There was one part that had me physically cringing and I love when a book can do this to the reader. I cannot believe I haven't picked up a book by Gudenkauf yet, but that will definitely change!

5 stars


SPOTLIGHT and EXCERPT: The East End by Jason Allen @EathanJason @harlequinbooks


The East End 
by Jason Allen


THE EAST END opens with Corey Halpern, a Hamptons local from a broken home who breaks into mansions at night for kicks. He likes the rush and admittedly, the escapism. One night just before Memorial Day weekend, he breaks into the wrong home at the wrong time: the Sheffield estate where he and his mother work. Under the cover of darkness, their boss Leo Sheffield -- billionaire CEO, patriarch, and owner of the vast lakeside manor -- arrives unexpectedly with his lover, Henry. After a shocking poolside accident leaves Henry dead, everything depends on Leo burying the truth. But unfortunately for him, Corey saw what happened and there are other eyes in the shadows.

Hordes of family and guests are coming to the estate the next morning, including Leo's surly wife, all expecting a lavish vacation weekend of poolside drinks, evening parties, and fireworks filling the sky. No one can know there's a dead man in the woods, and there is no one Leo can turn to. With his very life on the line, everything will come down to a split-second decision. For all of the main players—Leo, Gina, and Corey alike—time is ticking down, and the world they've known is set to explode.

Told through multiple points of view, THE EAST END highlights the socio-economic divide in the Hamptons, but also how the basic human need for connection and trust can transcend class differences. Secrecy, obsession, and desperation dictate each character's path. In a race against time, each critical moment holds life in the balance as Corey, Gina, and Leo approach a common breaking point. THE EAST END is a propulsive read, rich with character and atmosphere, and marks the emergence of a talented new voice in fiction.



Jason Allen grew up in a working-class home in the Hamptons, where he worked a variety of blue-collar jobs for wealthy estate owners. He writes fiction, poetry, and memoir, and is the author of the poetry collection A MEDITATION ON FIRE. He has an MFA from Pacific University and a PhD in literature and creative writing from Binghamton University, and currently lives in Atlanta, Georgia, where he teaches writing. THE EAST END is his first novel.

Twitter: @EathanJason

Excerpt
After sunset, Corey Halpern sat parked at a dead end in Southampton with his headlights off and the dome light on, killing time before the break-in. As far as he knew, about a quarter mile up the beach the owners of the summerhouse he’d been casing for the past two weeks were busy playing host, buzzed from cocktails and jabbering beside the pool on their oceanfront deck, oblivious that a townie kid was about to invite himself into their mansion while they and their guests partied into the night.
Smoke trailed up from the joint pinched between Corey’s thumb and forefinger as he leaned forward and picked up a wrinkled sheet of paper from the truck floor. He smoothed out his final high school essay, squinting through the smoke-filled haze to read his opening lines:
In the Hamptons, we’re invaded every summer. The mansions belong to the invaders, and aren’t actual homes—not as far as the locals are concerned. For one thing, they’re empty most of the year.
The dome light flicked off and he exhaled in semidarkness, thinking about what he’d written. If he didn’t leave this place soon, he might never get out. Now that he’d graduated he could make his escape by taking a stab at college in the fall, but that would mean leaving his mother and brother behind, which for many reasons felt impossible, too abstract, the world outside this cluster of towns on the East End so unimaginably far away….

If only he could write as he saw things, maybe this place wouldn’t be so bad, though each time he’d put pen to paper and tried to describe these solo hours at the ocean, or anything else, the words remained trapped behind locked doors deep inside his head. Sitting on his heels, he reached up and pressed the faint bruise below his right eye, recalling the fight last weekend with that kid from North Sea and how each of them had been so quick to throw punches…
_________________________________________________________________________
A few miles later, with Iggy Pop and The Stooges blaring from his door panel, it made perfect sense to take the night to a whole new level and rob his mother’s bosses before they came out from the city; before Gina came home crying after one of the longer, more grueling workdays; before he joined her for the summer as the Sheffields’ servant boy. Iggy reinforced the necessity of the much higher risk mission—the need to do it now—as he belted out one of his early-seventies punk anthems, the lyrics to “Search and Destroy” entering Corey’s brain and seeping much deeper inside his chest as a truth he’d never been able to articulate for himself. His fingers tapped steadily on the wheel when he turned off Main.
He drove slowly for another block or two, his pulse beating in his neck as he turned left at the pyramid of cannonballs and the antique cannon on the edge of town. A couple blocks later, he downshifted around the bend, rolled to a stop and parked beside a wooded section of Gin Lane. From there he didn’t hesitate at all. He hustled along the grass bordering the roadside, past hedgerows and closed gates and dark driveways, until the Sheffields’ driveway came into view. A life-size pair of stone lions sat atop wide stone bases and bookended the entrance, two males with full manes and the house number chiseled onto their chests. Corey knew the lions held a double meaning. His mom’s boss put these statues out here partly because they looked imposing, the type of decorations kings used to choose, but also because they stood as symbols of August birthdays, the same astrological sign as Mr. Sheffield’s first name—Leo.
He stood still for a moment, looking between the bars of the tall iron gates crowned with spikes. Beginning tomorrow morning, and then all throughout Memorial Day weekend— just as he had the past few summers—he’d spend long days working there. Gina would be so pissed if she could see him now. She’d at least threaten to disown him if she ever found out he’d broken in, but that would be a hollow threat anyway, and he’d already convinced himself that she’d never know. The Sheffields should have paid her more to begin with, even if she didn’t have a deadbeat husband like Ray pissing her meager savings away on his court fees and gambling debts. But the memory that sealed Corey’s decision tonight had been replaying in his mind for almost a year—the dinner party last summer, when Sheila Sheffield yelled at his mom right in front of him and about ten guests, berating her for accidentally dropping a crystal chalice that she said cost more than Gina’s yearly salary. While Leo and the grown Sheffield kids looked on dumbly and didn’t bother to make a peep, Corey had followed Gina into the kitchen and stood a few feet away from her, unable to think of what to say to console her while she cried. Ever since then, he’d wanted to get back at them all.
Fuck these people, he thought.
He would rob them, and smash some windows on his way out so they wouldn’t suspect anyone who worked there. All he had to do was make sure not to leave any evidence behind, definitely no fingerprints, and he’d take the extra precaution of scaling the gates rather than punching in the code.
He wriggled his fingers into his gloves. Crickets chirped away in the shadows, his only witnesses as he looked over each shoulder and back through the bars. He let out a long breath. Then he gripped the wrought iron and started to climb.
Moonlight splintered between the old oak branches and cut across his body like blades. It took only a few seconds to grapple up the bars, though a bit longer to ease over the spear-like tips while he tried to shut out a nightmare image of one of them skewering his crotch. Relieved when his legs reached the other side unharmed, he shimmied down the bars like a monkey and dropped, suddenly hidden from the outside world by the thick hedge wall. Poised on one knee, he turned to his left and scanned the distant mansion’s dark windows, the eaves and gables. The perfectly manicured lawn stretched for acres in all directions, a few giant oaks with thick limbs and gnarled trunks the only natural features between the faraway pines along the property line and a constellation of sculptures. A scattered squad of bronze chess pieces stood as tall as real-life soldiers, with two much larger pieces towering behind them—a three-ton slab of quartz sitting atop a steel column and a bright yellow Keith Haring dog in mid stomp on its hind legs, each the size of an upended school bus or the wing of a 747, all the sculptures throwing sharp shadows across the lawn when Corey rose to his feet, leapt forward and ran toward the Sheffields’ sprawling vacation home.
His sneakers crunched along the pebble driveway, his steps way too loud against the quiet until he made it across the deeper bed of beach stones in the wide parking area and passed through an ivy-covered archway, still at top speed while he followed the curved path of slate down a gentle slope, and then pulled up at the corner of the porch. Breathing heavily, he grappled up the post and high-stepped onto the railing, wiping sweat from his forehead when he turned to face Agawam Lake. The moon’s light came ladling down onto the water like milk and trailed into the darkness of the far shore, while in the reeds beside the nearest willow tree a pair of swans sat still as porcelain, sleeping with their bills tucked at their breasts.
No one will know, he thought. The crickets kept making a soft racket in the shadows. The swans seemed like another good omen. But then a light went on inside one of the mansions directly across the water, and Corey pulled his body up from the railing, thinking he should get inside before someone saw him. He quickly scaled the corner porch beam and trellis while trying to avoid the roses’ thorns, even as they snagged his sleeves and pant legs. Then, like a practiced rock climber, in one fluid motion he hoisted himself from the second-story roof up to the third-floor gable. He crouched there, looking, listening. The house across the water with the light on was too far away to know for sure, but he didn’t see any obvious signs of anyone watching from the picture windows. Probably just some insomniac millionaire sipping whiskey and checking the numbers of a stock exchange on the other side of the world.
Confident that he should press on, Corey half stood from his crouch and took the putty knife from his back pocket to pry open the third-story bathroom window, the one he’d left unlatched the previous day when he’d come there with his mother. The old window sash fought him with a friction of wood on wood, but after straining for a few seconds he managed to shove the bottom section flush with the top, and was struck immediately by the smells of Gina’s recent cleaning— ammonia, lemon and jasmine, the chemical blend of a freshly scoured hospital room. Balanced at the angle of the roof, he stared down at the neighboring properties once more. Still no sounds, no lights, no signs that anyone had called the cops, so he turned and stretched his arms through the window and shimmied down until he felt the toilet lid with both gloved hands and his sneakers left the shingles, all his weight sliding against the sill as he wriggled in.
Although he hadn’t been sure whether he’d ever go through with it, he’d plotted this burglary for weeks, the original iteration coming to him during Labor Day weekend last year. The first step had been to ask Gina if he could clean the Sheffield house with her for a few extra bucks before the summer season began. She’d raised an eyebrow but agreed, approving at least of her teenager’s out-of-character desire to work, and throughout the past week, whenever she’d left him to dust and vacuum the third floor, he’d had his chance to run recon and plan the point of entry. He knew she wouldn’t bother to check the latch on a closed window three stories off the ground, not after she’d scrubbed and ironed and Pledged all day. And more important, by then he knew those upper-floor windows had no seal-break sensors. He knew this because a few days earlier he’d left this very same window open before Gina armed the alarm, and afterward nothing happened—no blaring sounds before they pulled away, no call or drive-by from a security officer. So tonight, again, the security company wouldn’t see any flashing red lights on their computer screens. Not yet anyway, not until he smashed a window downstairs and staged a sloppy burglary scene on his way out.
Despite knowing that nobody would be out till Friday, his footsteps were all toe as he crept from the dark bathroom and into the hazy bluish hall, and yet, even with all this effort to tread lightly, the old floorboards still strained and creaked each time his sneakers pressed down. Trailing away from him, a black-and-white series of Ansel Adams photos hung in perfect rows, one on either side of the hall, hundreds of birch trees encased in glass coverings that Corey had just recently Windexed and wiped. Every table surface and light fixture and the entire length of the floor gleamed, immaculate, too clean to imagine the Sheffields had ever even set foot in here, let alone lived here for part of the year. He’d always felt the house had a certain coldness to it, and thought so again now, even though it had to be damn near eighty degrees inside with all the windows closed.
After slowly stepping down one set of stairs, Corey skulked along the second-floor hall, past the doorway to Mr. and Mrs. Sheffields’ master bedroom and then past Andy’s and Clay’s rooms, deciding to browse Tiffany’s bedroom first, his favorite room in the house. The Sheffields’ only daughter had a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf full of hardcover novels, stage plays and poetry collections, a Super 8 projector, stacked film reels and three antique cameras. He’d spent as much time as possible in this room during his previous workdays, mainly staring at the paintings mounted on three of the walls, and now lingered once more looking at each textured image, surprised all over again that a rich girl had painted these shades of pain, these somber expressions on the faces of dirty figures in shabby clothes, compositions of suffering he’d have expected from a city artist teetering between a rat-hole apartment and a cardboard box in an alley. They all had something, that’s for sure, but one portrait had always spoken to him much more than any of the others. He stood before it and freed it from its hook.
At the window he noticed the light had gone off at the mansion across the lake and figured the insomniac must have drunk enough for sleep. Although he knew he shouldn’t, he flicked on Tiffany’s bedside table light to get a better look at the girl in the painting, her brown eyes, full lips, caramel skin, her black hair flowing down to divots between her collarbone and chest. He knew Tiffany had painted it, but also that it wasn’t a self-portrait. She looked nothing like the girl she’d painted. Anorexically skinny, Tiffany had dyed-blond hair and usually wore too much makeup. In one photo with her parents and two older brothers, while the rest of the family had dressed in country club attire, she had on a tank top and frayed jean shorts, dark sunglasses, the only one of them with any tattoos, the only one barefoot on the grass.
Corey searched her shelves until he found the photo of Tiffany’s best friend, the girl from the painting, Angelique. He’d seen her at the estate plenty during the previous summers, and last Labor Day weekend they’d talked many times, their conversations lasting longer and seeming to have more depth until finally he summoned the courage to ask her out. Her long pause had made him wish he could disappear, and then those four awful words, I have a boyfriend, had knocked the wind out of him just before he nodded with his eyes to the ground and walked away. Reliving the disappointment, he killed the lamplight and lay on the bed with her photo on his chest, and then, stupidly, closed his eyes…

Excerpted from The East End by Jason Allen, Copyright © 2019 by Jason Allen. Published by Park Row Books.


Review: Lost You by Haylen Beck @crownpublishing @HaylenBeck

Lost You 
by Haylen Beck

Thank you to Crown Publishing and Astoria Bookshop for this free advanced copy. 


Publisher: Crown Publishing
Publish Date: August 6, 2019
Hardcover
320 Pages
Standalone
Genre: Psychological Thriller

A provocative and unputdownable psychological suspense about two women locked in a desperate fight over a child each believes is rightfully hers

Libby needs a break. Three years ago her husband split, leaving her to raise their infant son Ethan alone as she struggled to launch her writing career. Now for the first time in years, things are looking up. She's just sold her first novel, and she and Ethan are going on a much-needed vacation. Everything seems to be going their way, so why can't she stop looking over her shoulder or panicking every time Ethan wanders out of view? Is it because of what happened when Ethan was born? Except Libby's never told anyone the full story of what happened, and there's no way anyone could find her and Ethan at a faraway resort . . . right?

But three days into their vacation, Libby's fears prove justified. In a moment of inattention, Ethan wanders into an elevator before Libby can reach him. When the elevator stops and the doors open, Ethan is gone. Hotel security scours the building and finds no trace of him, but when CCTV footage is found of an adult finding the child wandering alone and leading him away by the hand, the police are called in. The search intensifies, a lost child case turning into a possible abduction. Hours later, a child is seen with a woman stepping through an emergency exit. Libby and the police track the woman down and corner her, but she refuses to release Ethan. Asked who she is, the woman replies:

"I'm his mother."

What follows is one of the most shocking, twist-y, and provocative works of psychological suspense ever written. A story of stolen identity, of surrogacy gone horribly wrong, and of two women whose insistence that each is the "real" mother puts them at deadly cross-purposes, Lost You is sure to be one of 2019's most buzzed-about novels.

My Review:


I love it when a book stays at the same pace throughout the entire read.  Beck brings us two mothers fighting for the same child.  There's nothing like a mother's love or a woman scorned - meld the two together and you're getting a high dose of crazy! Libby wants nothing more than to have a child and will go to any lengths to have one.  How far is too far and when does it become at the expense of the child?

This book touches on surrogacy, legalities of adoption, two women fighting for the child that they claim is theirs and the path they both get set on due to one terrible mistake stemming from multiple decisions made on both of their parts.  

There were definitely some "yeah, ok" moments but who cares? I absolutely don't mind suspending some reality for the sake of entertainment. Crazy enough though, all of this could probably happen.  In this day and age I honestly wouldn't be surprised.  

As a woman who would love to be a mother but it isn't in the cards for me to do it biologically, I can absolutely feel for Libby and the want of a child so badly.  (Disclaimer: I would never go to the lengths that she did but she's a special kind of crazy.)  The subject of surrogacy and illegal adoptions are unfortunately all too real in this world.  Women being taken advantage of due to their need for money, a better life, etc. being lured in to be a surrogate for those who can afford to pay a ginormous amount of money to make their dreams come true.  How do you know you can go through with this if you've never felt a human growing inside you before?

I will say that I like Here and Gone just a tad bit more.  Beck seems to like stories about women and their mothers.  There's moments that you wonder how this could actually happen.  How did she/he/they get away with ANYTHING.  If you loved his first book, you'll like this one as well.  It's fast paced, twisty and one similar to one you may have read before... but well worth the read in my opinion.

★★★★

Wednesday, April 24, 2019

REVIEW: The Devouring Gray by Christine Lynn Herman @disneybooks @christineexists

The Devouring Gray 
by Christine Lynn Herman

Thanks to NetGalley and Disney Hyperion for this advanced copy.


Publisher: Disney Hyperion
Publish Date: April 2, 2019
Kindle Edition
369 Pages
Series: The Devouring Gray #1
Genres: Fantasy, YA, Paranormal, LGBT

Branches and stones, daggers and bones, They locked the Beast away. 

After the death of her sister, seventeen-year-old Violet Saunders finds herself dragged to Four Paths, New York. Violet may be a newcomer, but she soon learns her mother isn't: They belong to one of the revered founding families of the town, where stone bells hang above every doorway and danger lurks in the depths of the woods. 

Justin Hawthorne's bloodline has protected Four Paths for generations from the Gray—a lifeless dimension that imprisons a brutal monster. After Justin fails to inherit his family's powers, his mother is determined to keep this humiliation a secret. But Justin can't let go of the future he was promised and the town he swore to protect. 

Ever since Harper Carlisle lost her hand to an accident that left her stranded in the Gray for days, she has vowed revenge on the person who abandoned her: Justin Hawthorne. There are ripples of dissent in Four Paths, and Harper seizes an opportunity to take down the Hawthornes and change her destiny—to what extent, even she doesn't yet know. 

The Gray is growing stronger every day, and its victims are piling up. When Violet accidentally unleashes the monster, all three must band together with the other Founders to unearth the dark truths behind their families' abilities... before the Gray devours them all. 

My Review:


Family secrets and bloodlines, monsters, a cat, Four Paths and teenagers (and their families) that protect it... how could you go wrong with this story?!  I did see a quote somewhere where fans of The Raven Boys series and Stranger Things would love this - SOLD! Though after reading, I can somewhat see the reference to The Raven Boys in re to the characters and dynamics but the only similarity I would even notice about Stranger Things is this monster in a different world ala the Upside Down that keeps coming after them. Um..... close enough I suppose! And now that I think on it, maybe it's almost too similar-ish? Hmmm... I'll need to think on that one.

Here's the thing you guys and gals, there is a lot of information to take in.  As a first in a series, it holds true to building the world and introducing you to the characters.  (Hello Isaac - the only redeemable one in my humble opinion.)  The first third of the book can feel a bit tedious because of this.  However, it does get more interesting toward the halfway to end point.  Lots of POVs and the only reason it could feel muddled at times is because of the format - but I think that's just my ARC copy and hopefully it's not like this in the final.  In my copy, it seems to all blend together and jumping from one person to another.  I could quickly figure it out thankfully, but it did cause some squinting at times on my part.

I just love stories like this - different kinds of powers, a monster everyone is afraid of, dissension in the ranks... fight fight fight!  The various story lines woven throughout help to build the story - developing the past of the founding families blending to the present.  I'm satisfied with the ending and think the series will only get better.  Pretty damn good for a debut. Let's see where the author takes us in book two.

★★★☆



Tuesday, April 23, 2019

BLOG TOUR: The Missing Years by Lexie Elliott @berkleypub @elliott_lexie

The Missing Years 
by Lexie Elliott

Thank you Berkley for this free copy and stop on the blog tour. 

HAPPY PUBLISHING DAY!


Publisher: Berkley
Publish Date: April 23, 2019
Hardcover
320 Pages
Standalone
Genres: Mystery, Thriller

An eerie, old Scottish manor in the middle of nowhere that’s now hers.

Ailsa Calder has inherited half of a house. The other half belongs to a man who disappeared without a trace twenty-seven years ago—her father.

Leaving London behind to settle the inheritance from her mother’s estate, Ailsa returns to her childhood home, nestled amongst the craggy peaks of the Scottish Highlands, joined by the half-sister who’s almost a stranger to her.

Ailsa can’t escape the claustrophobic feeling that the house itself is watching her—as if her past hungers to consume her. She also can’t ignore how the neighbourhood animals refuse to set one foot within the gates of the garden.

When the first nighttime intruder shows up, Ailsa fears that the manor’s careless rugged beauty could cost her everything.
 

My Review:


This is my second Elliott book.  I had to take a look at my review for the last book of hers that I read, The French Girl, and it seems I have the same feelings with this book as I did with that. "I will say that maybe this is made for a slower pace.  Those that like the accelerated pacing with hanging chapters and a quick flip may not be prone to this.  I usually am not too much of a fan of a slower paced book.  HOWEVER, this one still kept me intrigued.  I was happy to go with Alisa on this journey.  There is no huge revelation or kick you in the pants WTF moment.  Instead, it was like reading a very well put together movie drama... but it did lack in some suspense.  I was hoping for just a little more.... something, but that's just my personal taste."

There's a lot more character development and I would include the house, Manse, as a character.  My favorite as a matter of fact. Elliott has a way of making a book extremely atmospheric.  The descriptions and small history lessons made for the feeling of being immersed in this slightly dark and foggy read.

There are moments of creepy, sinister suspense that made me believe it would continue in that direction or trip me up in some manner, but it never quite got there.  It stays in its own consistent manner but there are little spikes that come in every once in a while. I will say I didn't quite expect that ending to happen and it's always lovely to be surprised.

Anyone who loves that slow burn with supernatural undertones will absolutely love this read.  

★★★☆