Monday, January 31, 2022

February TBR

Welcome back my friends to my reading corner where we talk about books, the good , the bad, the ones I think you will be interested in . So pull up a chair , get yourself a drank and stay a while .These are in no order except the first two are my first 2 books to start off February 


second book is my first buddy read of this month with my good friend Sharon and it's a re read for me 


Now these are in no order at all ,
This is my second buddy read for February 

This one is so far my biggest book for the month since its 552 pages 

Sunday, January 30, 2022

Lost Graves

 Welcome to my blog tour stop for Lost Graves which is been hosted by Bookouture



Rating : 5
Would I recommend it? Yes
Would I read more of this series ? Yes
 Would I read more by this author? Yes

First off  like always I  want to say a  huge  thank you to the publisher Bookouture   , the author S.A.Dunphy , and to NetGalley for the invite to join this blog tour as well as letting me read and review it.

Wow this story  makes me want to stay out of the woods all together. He brings been watched from the shadows to a hole new level. Another  thing I loved was the use this  time  of Irish folklore that also helped give it a feel of not been alone. And makes you wonder  if there could  be some truth to the stories after all. Everything about this story give me the shavers . Can hardly wait to see what happens in book 3 because this series always surprises me . 


Buy Links:
Book Description:

The only sound in the forest was the wind through the branches; the only light came from the campfire. Jessie stood up, suddenly gripped by a powerful sense of dread. There was something – someone – beyond the darkness, through the trees…

When single father Joe Keenan and his young son Finbar make camp for the night in the ancient forest of Leitrim, little do they imagine their rural escape is about to turn into a nightmare. For deep in the woods they find a corpse… As the remains of dozens more victims are uncovered by police, it becomes clear this is the burial site of a serial killer who has obviously been active, unnoticed, for years.

Arrested for the murders, while his beloved son is sent into care, Joe pleads his innocence to no avail. But criminal behaviourist Jessie Boyle is convinced the killer is still out there. Determined to reunite Joe and his son, Jessie’s investigation turns towards the local community. Who knows the shadowy depths of the forest well enough to hide not just one, but many bodies?

Then someone else goes missing, and the situation takes a terrifying turn: it’s clear the killer is escalating their gruesome spree. Forced to enter the woods alone to save a life, Jessie runs from a killer so skilled at hiding and so clever at hunting, it will take every ounce of her strength to make it out alive…


Author Bio:
Shane Dunphy (S. A. Dunphy) was born in Brighton in 1973, but grew up in Ireland, where he has lived and worked for most of his life. A child protection worker for fifteen years, he is the bestselling author of seventeen books, including the number one Irish bestseller Wednesday’s Child and the Sunday Times Bestseller The Girl Who Couldn't Smile. His bestselling series of crime novels (written under the name S. A. Dunphy) feature the criminologist David Dunnigan. Stories From the Margins, his new series of true crime books written for Audible, has been critically acclaimed and the second title in the series, The Bad Place, is an Audible True Crime bestseller. 





Friday, January 28, 2022

Good Rich People

Welcome to my showcase for Good Rich People which is been hosted by Penguin Random House 

Buy 

Penguin Random House : https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/634633/good-rich-people-by-eliza-jane-brazier/GOOD RICH PEOPLE by Eliza Jane Brazier

Amazon : https://www.amazon.com/Good-Rich-People-Eliza-Brazier-ebook/dp/B093GB8T2S/ref=sr_1_1?crid=1EPYJ19SOLWYR&keywords=good+rich+people&qid=1643353461&s=digital-text&sprefix=Good+rich+%2Cdigital-text%2C431&sr=1-1

Berkley Hardcover | On sale: January 25, 2022


Excerpt


LYLA


I get so bored sometimes, I think I will do anything to stop it. I decide to make Graham dinner. He blames me for what happened.


We don't have anything in the kitchen except Mo‘t-dozens and dozens of bottles that Graham's mother, Margo, keeps giving us, daring us to celebrate.


I decide to make spaghetti because it's European and I think I can manage it on my own. The housekeeper got spooked and left, so we've been ordering in. I need to hire someone before Margo does, but I like how our house looks with a little dust. It looks like people actually live here

I go to my closet to choose an outfit for the market. Everything in my closet is shades of gray. I've always wanted a signature color. Margo's is white. Graham's is blue. He says it's a power color. All of my underwear is blue.


I select a gray cashmere top and gray cashmere bottoms. Not the same shade of gray, because I don't want to look like an insane person. I accessorize with the exact right amount of diamonds and the hot pink gator Kelly bag I won in a game with Margo.


I stop to check my reflection in the full-length mirror. Sometimes I am scared by how beautiful I am. Every inch of me is buffed and primed. My face hangs exactly right. My muscles are taut and organized. I am scared because I don't want to lose it: the shaped nails, the tip of my nose, the sapphire glow of my eyes. I am sad because I want everyone to see it, but I don't want to see them. I want them to know how lucky I am but I don't want them to have access to me. It's a real problem.


I pass through the living room on my way out. It's Monday and light is streaming through the wall of windows, onto the travertine dining table, the gold bar chairs, the carved silver accents. The house is decorated to Graham's taste because I don't have any. I acquired his taste the day we got married. It was easier that way. Marriages fail because people are different. I want to be the same. Look the same, feel the same, have the same appetites. I want to cross the stars for us.


I pass through the courtyard on my way toward the gate. The flowers stink. The fountain gurgles uselessly, like a body choking on its own blood.


Our house looks like a handful of glass tumbling down a hill. Our front facade is modern, stoic, but when you step inside, the house stretches, open-plan, back and back forever, until it reaches a wall of windows. What you can't see from inside is the structures, the plinths underneath that hold it up, allow for the illusion of those never-ending floors.


In the hills, people will build anywhere. The more perilous the precipice, the more insecure the foundation, the more they need to build something on it. It's a challenge, a victory of money over matter.


Our house is built on the edge of a cliff.


And underneath it, between those concrete plinths, is a hidden guesthouse. It was built to hold up the house above. Margo once used it to store her exotic shoe collection, but now we use it to store a person.


I exit the gate and lock the door behind me. I can see Margo's tower above, chiseled to a point. Margo's house is like a castle, with all the requisite wars and rumors of wars. Graham says one day we'll live there, when he inherits everything, but I have no doubt that Margo will live forever to spite me.


I sometimes wish we would move somewhere, start our own life with our own money. But there is a little-known fact about people with money: They are beholden to people with more money. So although Graham could afford his own house and his own life, his mother has more money. His mother has money that makes our money look poor.


When you're rich, you can control everything. Except the richer.


Graham is afraid of losing his mother's money. Maybe even losing his mother-who knows? So we live in a glass house beneath her fortress, in a tidy alcove in the hills above Los Angeles, the ugliest and most beautiful city in the world, depending on where you're standing.


There is a little village square with a market just three blocks away but I have to drive. The streets in the hills are narrow and uneven and there are no sidewalks. Only mad people walk in


LA. For my birthday, Graham gave me a gray Phantom. It's terrible to drive in the hills. I've scraped the back end four or five times and cracked the rear lights but Graham won't fix them because he thinks it's funny.


It takes me ages to get it out of the garage and even longer to navigate the narrow streets of the hills because inevitably cars appear going the other way and I have to honk until they back up. People are such assholes.


I finally make it under the stone archway that signals the village. It's designed to look like a European enclave, all stone streets and storybook architecture. It really just looks like an abandoned fairy tale.


When Graham and I first moved in, we walked to the village market together at dusk to buy a bottle of red wine. The memory itself has very little to offer-it was dark and we were holding hands-but what I remember is not the night itself, but the promise of the future contained in it, how I thought that we would do this again, perpetually: walk beneath the arches in the semidark, kiss in the stone corner of the vintage boutique, pretend we were a couple out of time. I remember saying, This is so magical. It's like we're somewhere else. It's like Disneyland!


Now I drive beneath the arches and I think, We never came again. Not once. Graham works. We order everything in. If I ask him to go for a walk, he says, Are you kidding? Rich people don't walk. Their shoes aren't designed for it.


I get to the market and find handmade pasta, but the sauces are all wrong. There is a clerk beside me filling the shelves-a teenager with a constellation of zits from his ear to his throat.


"Excuse me?" I hold out the priciest pasta sauce. "Why is this so inexpensive? Is there something wrong with it?"


The attendant looks flummoxed, like he has never been asked such a question. "Uh . . . I'd have to ask."


"Do you have anything more expensive?"


He blinks. "Uh . . . you could buy two?"


"You should make it from scratch." A familiar woman approaches from farther down the aisle. I've probably seen her in the neighborhood. I turn to face her. She has three necklaces around her neck, so I know she's crazy. One is a star, one is a circle and one is a cactus. I've seen the star necklace before, but it's a popular design.


"Me?" I can't believe she's talking to me. Her under-eye area is clogged with mascara dust. She has wrinkles but she is probably younger than me. She just doesn't have a doesn't have a good doctor.


"It would be more expensive if you bought all the ingredients separately." She crosses her arms. She carries a shopping basket, but it's empty.


I set the pasta sauce back on the shelf, stamp my foot, throw up my hands. "I have no idea what's in pasta sauce!" I say, like nobody does.


"I can help you"-she shifts her hip-"if you want." She purses her chapped lips. Those three necklaces glitter with menace. But Graham would be so impressed if I made my own pasta sauce. Even more impressed if I had someone make it for me.


The corner of my Kelly bag is digging into my side, so I adjust it. "Oh, would you? I would so appreciate it." She nods eagerly. I indicate my cart. "Would you mind? It's so hard to carry a bag and push a cart." I frown.


She hesitates, face closing. She doesn't know what it's like having to carry a Kelly bag everywhere. It's not like I can just put it in the cart!


She sighs and swings her plastic basket into my cart. I follow her to the produce section. She finds me the priciest tomatoes, precut garlic, red onions. It's a good thing I'm there, because one of the onions looks dirty and I make sure she swaps it out. As she shops, she explains to me how to mix everything together. Of course, I don't pay attention. I hate listening to people when they talk.


"Got it?" she asks when all the ingredients are in my cart.


"No," I say blithely. She shifts from foot to foot. "I'll never get it! We used to have a housekeeper who did all this, but we had to let her go," I lie. "She was very religious." That part is true. She suggested we were all going to hell. I privately thought hell couldn't be worse than Margo. At least in hell you don't have hope.


"I could help you," the woman says, "if you want." She adjusts her empty basket. "I'm actually looking for work."


I find myself considering it. She seems to know her stuff, and I do need to hire someone before Margo does. It looks like I would be doing the woman a favor. Her hair is knotted. Her eyes lack sleep. Her nail beds are dirty and uneven. She'd be very lucky to work for us. There are far worse places to be.

Her necklaces remind me of something, but I can't remember what.

Maybe it's someone I used to know.

Or maybe it's me.


Description

A Good Morning America 'January Book That Can Get Us Through Anything'


A Most Anticipated Novel of 2022 by The New York Times, Good Housekeeping, Harper's Bazaar, Entertainment Weekly, New York Post, PopSugar, Shondaland, Yahoo!, and Crime Reads


A destitute woman deceives her way into the guesthouse of a Hollywood Hills mansion and inadvertently becomes a target in the twisted game of the wealthy family upstairs in the next intoxicating novel from Eliza Jane Brazier.


Lyla has always believed that life is a game she is destined to win, but her husband, Graham, takes the game to dangerous levels. The wealthy couple invites self-made success stories to live in their guesthouse and then conspires to ruin their lives. After all, there is nothing worse than a bootstrapper. 

 

Demi has always felt like the odds were stacked against her. At the end of her rope, she seizes a risky opportunity to take over another person’s life and unwittingly becomes the subject of the upstairs couple’s wicked entertainment. But Demi has been struggling forever, and she’s not about to go down without a fight.  

 

In a twist that neither woman sees coming, the game quickly devolves into chaos and rockets toward an explosive conclusion.

 

Because every good rich person knows: in money and in life, it’s winner take all. Even if you have to leave a few bodies behind.



ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Eliza Jane Brazier is an author, screenwriter, and journalist. She currently lives in California, where she is developing her books for television.

Tuesday, January 25, 2022

SAVAGE ROAD

 Welcome to my showcase for SAVAGE ROAD  which is been hosted by Berkley | Penguin Random House

Excerpt from SAVAGE ROAD by Christine Feehan


Seychelle turned her head toward Savage, her thick braid moving across the pillow as she looked over her shoulder at him. Light came through the open window. She refused to close the damn thing, no matter what he said about security. She liked it open, and he liked the way the moonlight managed to shine perfectly on her.


Laughter was in her eyes, that totally relaxed look she got on her face whenever they were here in her home—her little cottage by the sea she loved so much. He had tried to re-create a space on the bed in his master bedroom just like hers, but he’d failed. She still wasn’t as relaxed, all tension gone, ready to tease him and play like they had for months before they made their relationship official, not in his master bedroom.


In retaliation, he nipped her hip and then soothed the sting with his tongue. “I’ve been a fucking choirboy for an entire day.” That laughter was killing him. He loved the sound of it.


“You can’t say choirboy and fuck in the same sentence and be a choirboy.”


She sounded all prim and schoolmarmy, which made him smile. His first reaction was to roll over so she was sprawled over the top of him and he had access to her bottom. That was his usual response when she teased him like this, but he didn’t want any bruising, not when he’d made up his mind to ease up and give her a few days to adjust. He would always be a controlling bastard, wanting everything his way, and maybe taking one thing at a time was the best way to go.


“Babe, told you I was going to hell. Might as well do anything I want. And that’s mild in comparison to all the things I think about saying and doing.”


Her laughter was contagious. “You should have seen your face last night when the Red Hat ladies showed up at the bar to hear me sing. All those darling ladies, Zyah’s grandmother leading the way. She’s so cute, by the way. I adore her and she adores you. Obviously, the two of you have a past, and she made it clear last night that you, Destroyer, Maestro and Player are her little darlings.”


“You’re going to get yourself in trouble if you bring that up,” he growled against her pristine skin,


settling his teeth against her in warning.


She didn’t pay him heed in the least. “Who knew you were so popular, Savage? All those sparkly hats and all of them wanting to dance with you. I had more requests for songs. The other bikers in the bar last night were quite enthusiastic about making certain the right music was requested. Everyone had ideas. I even saw Jackson and Jonas slip in. They were grinning from ear to ear, and at first it looked as if they might have been there on official business.”


That did it. At the mention of the cops, there was no way he was going to be a saint. Savage rolled and took her with him, so that she sprawled over the top of him, her sore, bare ass in the air, legs on either side of his hips. Her amazing blue eyes laughed right down into his, causing his heart to perform some silly, weird melting sensation. He rubbed her bottom, hoping she would consider that a threat.


“You didn’t tell me I had so many rivals for your affection. I went into that blind. All those ladies giggling. They brought cookies, Savage. There were plates of cookies with your name on them.”


If a man like him had the ability to blush, he might actually have done it when the Red Hat ladies marched in with their crazy purple-and-red hats and their wild clothing, as if each had tried to outdo the others in outlandish skirts and layered dusters. Secretly, he applauded them for their carefree apparel and their insistence on living out their lives the way they chose. If they wanted to go to a biker bar dressed as a cross between fairy godmothers and something out of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, more power to them.


Ten of the Red Hat women had shown up, all bearing plates of cookies. And then Zyah, Player’s wife. She had come along to keep an eye on her grandmother. Anat Gamal, her grandmother, had unofficially adopted all of Torpedo Ink as her grandchildren. Savage wasn’t going to admit to his woman that he might really be one of the favorites, because she would give him no end of grief over it. She was already far too amused over how the evening had played out.


“I shared the cookies with you, you little monster,” he pointed out. He kissed the hollow of her neck. She always smelled so good—a wild strawberry fragrance that was just so subtle.

From SAVAGE ROAD published by arrangement with Berkley, an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC. Copyright © 2022 by Christine Feehan.


When Savin “Savage” Pajari and Seychelle Dubois first met, their connection was instant, their attraction undeniable. Their relationship has been full throttle since day one.  Even though months have passed, the passion and love between them has only increased.

Savage completely owns what he is: a sadist in the bedroom who can only get off on his partner’s pain. He believes he’s not a good man, but he loves Seychelle with a fierceness that shocks him. He wants all of her, but only if she gives herself freely with eyes wide open.

Seychelle never imagined the lure of mixing pain with pleasure, or how much she’d crave Savage’s darkness. She’s been shaken to her core, but Seychelle is committed to Savage and their life together—even though he’s keeping a piece of himself back. And to truly make their relationship work, he has to give her everything that he is, just as she is doing for him.

Savage knows that what he really needs could break his woman if she isn’t ready. She agreed to come into his world, and he’s not about to give her up. He has to find a way to let her see the monster inside without pushing her away. But the real Savage might be more than Seychelle can bear...and he knows he wouldn’t survive losing her.

Christine Feehan is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of the Carpathian series, the GhostWalker series, the Leopard series, the Shadow Riders series, and the Sea Haven novels, including the Drake Sisters series and the Sisters of the Heart series. Learn more online at christinefeehan.com.

 


Saturday, January 22, 2022

The Widow's Last Secret

 Welcome to my blog tour stop for The Widow's Last Secret which is been hosted by Bookouture


Title: The Widow's Last Secret

Author: Lora Davies 

Rating: 4 

Would I recommend it? Yes

First off  like always I  want to say a  huge  thank you to the publisher Bookouture  , the author Lora Davies  , and to NetGalley for the invite to join this blog tour as well as letting me read and review it.he author writes a story that flows together beautifully and the way she describes her characters as well as the places makes them come to life. And it'll bring you to tears the more you read about the life and struggles of Bella Farrow in and around England 1846. another thing that helped was the drama , and the tension you feel while reading about how dangerous it was to work on building the first  railway lines in the UK and the effect it had on the people  as well as the land itself where they're planning to build, how much the workers made doing that time , how hard it was to find jobs and the only work you could and might get was the railway. 

 

Buy link

Amazon: https://geni.us/B09JTRG1PVsocial

Apple: http://ow.ly/EyON50Gv5TI

Google: http://ow.ly/JeUw50Gv89z 

Kobo: http://ow.ly/9REL50Gv5TG

 

Victorian England, 1846: A gripping and powerful story about one woman’s incredible courage in the face of heartbreak, and a secret that – if revealed – could destroy everything.


Six years ago, Bella Farrow lost everything. Desperate and starving, she made a terrible mistake that forced her to abandon her home, her livelihood and her family. And when the only person she trusted – her beloved, steadfast husband – was killed in a tragic accident, Bella was left alone. She had to make her own way, while keeping her past hidden upon risk of imprisonment, or worse…


Now Bella is living a quiet life under a secret identity and making a good, honest living. But then a young, handsome man named James Earlham comes to town, and everything changes. Their instant connection disturbs her heart, her peace and her safety. Because Bella knows that for their love to flourish, she will have to reveal the secret that has remained hidden all these years – and put her trust in James.


Bella’s heart tells her to confess everything. But can she be sure James is really who he says he is? Can Bella truly be herself with him? Or is she putting her life in the hands of the one person who could betray her?


A page-turning novel about secrets, mistaken trust and the impossibility of hiding from your past, The Widow’s Last Secret is a must-read for fans of Kerry Barrett, Kate Morton and Tracy Rees




About the author

For as long as I can remember, I have been happiest with a book in my hands. From hiding under the covers with a torch as a small child so that I could stay up reading, to studying English at university so that I could get my hands on even more books - I guess it was only a matter of time before I went from reading books to writing them. It wasn't a straightforward path; my passion for gripping plots and rounded characters led me first to work as an actor and theatre director, but after a Creative Writing course at my local bookshop, I was hooked. After completing a Masters at Royal Holloway, University of London, I finished my first novel, Daughter of the Shipwreck. I live in Brighton where I get inspiration from the incredibly rich history of the city and the inspiring and beautiful natural environment.

 

Author social media

Twitter: @DaviesLora

Website: https://www.loradavies.com/

Friday, January 21, 2022

Find the Girl

 Welcome to my blog tour stop for Find the Girl which is been hosted by Bookouture


Book: FIND THE GIRL 
Author: Helen Phifer 
Pub Day: Jan 19th 2022 

Title: Find the Girl

Series:(Detective Morgan Brookes #5)

Author" Helen Phifer

Rating: 5

Would I read more by this author: Yes

Would I read more of this series? Yes

Would I recommend it ? Yes


First off  like always I  want to say a  huge  thank you to the publisher   Bookouture , the author Helen Phifer , and to NetGalley for the invite to join this blog tour as well as letting me read and review it. This book was just what I need to to read especially after reading Eney Meeny by M.J.Arlidge, and I was feeling a little bit in a reading slump , but this book got me out of it as soon as I started to read it, it was prefect in the  way that it had that creepy setting of been alone in the woods but not totally alone, of having a serial killer that came as he wanted to , and you had no idea who is was and where he was , he wasn't afraid to be caught . And all you could do was just set back and enjoy the ride and hope that the missing girl was found before the next one went missing ,


Buy Links:






About the Book: 

The tent door flutters in the warm breeze, opening towards the silent woods beyond. A silk eye mask lies on top of the empty sleeping bag, blood-red spots ruining the cream fabric…When a woman disappears from Forest Pines campsite, Detective Morgan Brookes scrambles a search party. Sara Fletcher has never missed a lunch date with her best friend and when Morgan finds a large rip in Sara’s tent, she knows that something terrible must have happened. About to lose hope after hours combing through the acres of dense forest, the excited bark of a tracker dog leads Morgan to female remains, partially covered by leaves and dirt – but the bones don’t belong to Sara.Morgan trawls through missing persons files until she finds three cold cases with chilling similarities – three other victims dating back twenty years who were taken from campsites while they slept, by a killer the police called the Travelling Man. The post-mortems indicate he kept them alive for 72 hours, meaning every second is crucial to find Sara alive.Morgan’s team is terrified that this twisted murderer has returned. But Morgan also can’t ignore the fact that a merciless killer from her own past has recently escaped from prison… Could they be chasing the wrong man? If she’s correct, how deep will she have to dig to save Sara and other innocent women like her before time runs out for them all?A completely unputdownable, heart-in-your-mouth crime thriller. Fans of Angela Marsons, Lisa Regan and Rachel Abbott will be glued to the page!



Author Bio

Helen Phifer’s love of reading began with Enid Blyton, before progressing on to Laura Ingals Wilder and scaring herself with Steven King. If she can’t write for any particular reason she finds herself getting itchy fingers and really irritable. She loves reading as much as writing and is also very fond of chocolate, Prosecco, The Lake District, New York, white Zinfandel wine, her children and grandchildren, her friends, porn star martini cocktails, Stephen King, watching scary films, Marilyn Monroe, Melissa McCarthy, Idris Elba, Simon Baker, Spandau Ballet, The Munsters and coffee. In no particular order.

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Good Half Gone

 Welcome to my show case for Good Half Gone which is been hosted by Harlequin “911, WHAT IS your emergency?” “Hello? Help me, please! They t...