This Week At Silver' Reviews

Three great reads reviewed and others featured this week.

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FEATURING: The Other Typist by Suzanne Rindell

 

HISTORICAL FICTION - CRIME

Have YOU read this book yet?

If not, I hope you do.

If you have, how about that ending? Were you puzzled?

The book focused on the lives of the two main characters, Rose and Odalie, with Odalie being "the other typist."

The author was exploring relationships and human interaction....something we all have in our lives and need to deal with.

The ending is incredible and will have you re-thinking all that happened.

FULL REVIEW: https://tinyurl.com/y2fjh498

PUBLICATION DATE: APRIL 1, 2013

Showcase of The Honeymoon Homicides and Two $25 Gift Cards to Bookshop.org

THE HONEYMOON HOMICIDES

by Jeannette de Beauvoir

June 17 - July 12, 2024 

Virtual Book Tour

SYNOPSIS:

A Sydney Riley Provincetown Mystery

Despite an unforeseen disaster ruining her carefully planned wedding reception, hotelier Sydney Riley is undaunted as she and her brand-new husband Ali leave for their honeymoon in the dunes of Cape Cod’s National Seashore. But even in this deserted location, Sydney uncovers clues that might have a bearing on the wedding fiasco. Despite hoping for a new life, she’s drawn into yet another murder investigation—this time to protect Ali, who’s been called away on a secret and dangerous assignment.

Can Sydney find the murderer(s) before Ali is harmed, or will a week in the dunes be her only memory of their married life?

 

BOOK DETAILS:

Genre: Cozy with an edge; Amateur Female Sleuth.
Published by: Homeport Press
Publication Date: June 13, 2024
Number of Pages: 188
ISBN: 9798986865447
Series: Sydney Riley (Provincetown) Mystery, 10th in a Series of Stand-Alone Books
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads

READ AN EXCERPT:

Chapter One

The victim generously waited to be murdered until the final vows had been spoken and we were officially declared married. And that’s pretty much the best thing I can say about my wedding.

Not that it hadn’t begun auspiciously. I used to be wedding coordinator at Provincetown’s Race Point Inn—of which I was now co-owner—and so I had considerable experience wrangling vendors, petulant family members, and weather forecasts. And my partner Ali and I had reached an uneasy compromise with my mother in terms of the size and lavishness of the affair—no small feat, as my mother is abnormally addicted to big weddings. We were in addition juggling two religions and two cultures, as Ali is Muslim and his parents and extended family are all Lebanese. And we had somehow navigated all that.

What we hadn’t reckoned with, of course, was the body falling through the awning onto the terrace and, of course, the screams that followed.

***

“Sydney, you are not going to make this stop you,” was what Mirela said.

“Stop me from doing what?” I probably sounded distracted, mainly because I was distracted. The police, in the persons of a bunch of uniformed officers and my sometimes-sort-of-friend Julie Agassi, who was the head of Provincetown’s small detective unit, were swarming all over the place, putting up tape and directing people away from the immediate area. The rescue squad was there, too, though what they thought they could do to help a man who seemed to have broken every bone in his body and spread a great deal of his viscera around the patio was unknown. The wedding guests, in various stages of shock and occasional hysteria, had allowed themselves to be herded into the inn’s restaurant, already set up for the wedding dinner.

My mother was demanding loudly how such a thing could have been allowed and asking about suing the owners, apparently forgetting for the moment that I was one of them. My newly minted husband, Ali, was dealing with his parents, who’d seen more than enough of this kind of violence before they’d permanently fled Beirut and were dealing with some sort of PTSD shock.

And now my best friend Mirela was giving me… what? A pep talk?

“You should go now,” she said. “Leave for the honeymoon. You and Ali. There is no dinner. There is no dancing.”

“We weren’t doing dancing anyway,” I said blankly. After the initial shock, it was dawning on me that I was standing twenty feet from a corpse, wearing a bloodied wedding gown, and realizing—priorities being priorities—that I was not going to have, after all, a wedding feast catered by Adrienne the diva chef, who kept our restaurant’s Michelin stars intact and who has made P’town a destination for world-class dining. “This,” I said to Mirela, “is the worst wedding I’ve ever planned.”

She tossed the blonde hair escaping from her up-do—not that she looked any less gorgeous a little bedraggled—and peered at me. “Are you feeling all right?”

“No,” I said.

She took my elbow and turned me away from the scene unfolding on the terrace. “What you need,” she said firmly, “is a drink.”

“What I need is fourteen drinks,” I said. “But I should check on my mother—”

“The last thing you do is check on your mother,” she said. Mirela and my mother are not what you might call simpatico, mostly due to my mother’s criticisms of Mirela’s single status and her underappreciation of Mirela’s art (which earned her grudging respect only when she learned that the work routinely sold in the six-figure range).

“It doesn’t look like anything,” was her response to the abstract paintings that were now exhibited worldwide, and, “I don’t understand why she can’t find a husband.”

Mirela steered me to the bar area, already filling up with wedding guests in various stages of shock and all, apparently, requiring alcohol. She caught the bartender’s eye—a skill all the Bulgarians I’ve ever met have perfected—and he uncorked a bottle of wine and handed it across to her. She grabbed it without letting go of my elbow, and pulled me out of the restaurant and over to the small lounge area that had the advantage of having a door, which she closed behind us right away. “Here,” she said, handing me the bottle, and rooting around in a cupboard for a glass.

I was looking at the label in some dismay. “This is Châteauneuf-du-Pape,” I protested.

“Of course it is.” Her voice was brisk. “You need a drink.”

“A deplorable reason to drink this,” I insisted. It’s my favorite wine ever.

“Even more deplorable, sunshine,” said Mirela, “is that your guests will drink it if you do not.”

I sat down on the couch. I was understanding what romance writers were talking about when they used terms like “crumple.” I took a swig of wine straight out of the bottle, heaping blasphemy on blasphemy. “Where’s Ali?”

“He will find us.” She gave up trying to locate a glass and slanted a look over. “You are regaining color,” she informed me.

Which was more than we could say about the fellow out on the inn’s patio.

When the door opened, it wasn’t Ali standing there, but Julie, officious and sharp, her blonde hair and blue eyes making her look, always, like some kind of ice princess. “I thought you might be hiding somewhere,” she said.

I gave a weak gesture with the wine bottle. “Join the party,” I said.

She narrowed her eyes. “Are you drunk?”

“Not yet.”

“Then hold off.” She half-turned and spoke to someone behind her, and another cop came in, pulling the door closed behind him. He looked around the room, fast, the way cops do when they go anywhere, and found a straight chair and pulled out a notebook.

I know about what cops do. My husband is one of them. “It’s an odd word, isn’t it, husband?” I said. “Sounds sort of like a thump.”

Julie ignored me and said to the uniform, “Interview Sydney Riley, eight-fifteen pm.” She sat on a chair she pulled over close to the couch, snapping her fingers in front of my face. “Focus, Sydney,” she said.

I sighed and put the bottle on the floor. Not too far away, just in case.

She still wasn’t sure of me. “Can you go find Ali?” Julie asked Mirela, who nodded and slipped out the door. Even Mirela knows not to argue with her. “Tell us what happened here,” said Julie.

I was having some trouble focusing on her. How can you feel drunk on one swig of wine? “I got married,” I said. “Somebody died.” I paused. “Who was he?”

“Not one of your wedding guests,” Julie said, almost absently. She was looking at a list, probably supplied by Mike, the Race Point Inn’s co-owner. He’s frighteningly competent. “Unless he was a last-minute addition? Do you know someone named Barclay Cargill?”

“That can’t be a real name,” I said automatically, then realized she was serious. “No. No, I’ve never heard of him.”

“He was staying at your inn.”

I stared at her. “We have eighty rooms,” I said. “I’m not the manager. You really think I know everybody?”

“You may remember him.” She produced her iPhone, flipped around a bit, then extended it to me. The man in the photo had dark hair and a beard that were starting to turn gray; what was most remarkable was that he was wearing a three-piece suit. People in P’town don’t wear three-piece suits.

Some people in P’town don’t wear much at all.

Julie retrieved her phone. “He’s an attorney,” she said.

She’d gotten her information remarkably quickly. “Okay,” I said. “So did he jump, or was he pushed?”

She was unamused. “You’re being remarkably flippant about someone’s violent death.”

“I’m remarkably flippant about anyone who gets murdered in the middle of my wedding.” I plucked at my ivory lace overskirt. “Just thought I’d remind you, in case you thought I was wearing this for a costume party. If he weren’t already dead, my mother would have killed him by now.”

She sighed. Julie sighs a lot when she’s around me. She’s even been known to refer to me as Provincetown’s answer to Miss Marple, and she doesn’t mean that in a good way.

It’s not exactly my fault that when someone gets murdered I end up having something to do with figuring it out. Julie thinks there’s some sort of cause and effect, but there really isn’t. I just know a lot of people—and it’s a small town.

But having a murder committed during my wedding? That was taking this whole amateur sleuthing thing just a little too far.

As though reading my thoughts, Julie said, “All right. You don’t know this man. Good. Can I take it that you won’t be trying to figure out what happened to him?”

The events of the past hour were starting to turn nasty on me, and I really wanted to be with Ali, not Julie. “No more than you are,” I said sweetly. It was a jab, of course: in Massachusetts, possible homicides are investigated by the state police, not the local force. I knew it was a sore spot with Julie, who thinks she’s better at it than they are. She can secure the scene, take preliminary statements, and assist the Staties when they arrive. “Is that all? Because—”

The door swung open and I’ve never, I think, been happier to see anyone. “Are you all right?” asked Ali. He didn’t even wait for me to respond. “She can give her statement later,” he said to Julie.

“She needs to do it while it’s fresh in her mind,” Julie said.

“Like most of our guests, she didn’t see anything until the individual was already on the ground,” said Ali. “She doesn’t need this now.”

“Maybe you two could stop talking about me like I’m not here?” I asked, my voice sharper than I’d meant it to be. Ali came and sat beside me, carefully moving the bottle of Châteauneuf aside so he wouldn’t knock it over. He knew I’d need it later; it wasn’t exactly an occasion for Champagne, despite all the Veuve Clicquot that Martin, the maître d’, had waiting for us on ice.

Not that Ali drank alcohol, anyway.

I slid my hand into his; for all my rather aggressive petulance, I was feeling a little lost and a little sad. It was finally dawning on me that someone had died. At my inn. At my wedding.

Ali looked, of course, wonderful. He annoyingly always does. He has beautiful dark eyes and beautiful olive skin and dark hair that curls ever so slightly and is always just a little too long, and designer stubble that makes him look sexy and a little dangerous.

Well, he is an agent for Immigration and Customs Enforcement. The danger is real.

Julie was giving up. She jerked her head towards the other cop, who closed his notebook, stood up, and left the room. “You may be needed later on,” she said to me. “Both of you, in fact. Should the state police have any questions about the individual.” Oh, yeah, I’d hit a nerve.

I liked that business about the “individual.” I’d come way too close to saying something about him crashing the party. It must have been the shock; I hadn’t had nearly enough wine to account for it.

“We’re leaving in the morning,” I said.

“You can’t—” she started, automatically, and I interrupted her. “Honeymoon,” I said firmly.

“We’ll be back next week,” said Ali.

Even Julie Agassi knows when she’s beaten. She gave us one last stern official look, and fled.

“Well,” said Ali, putting his arm around my shoulder. “How do you like married life so far?

***

Excerpt from The Honeymoon Homicides by Jeannette de Beauvoir. Copyright 2024 by Jeannette de Beauvoir. Reproduced with permission from Jeannette de Beauvoir. All rights reserved.

AUTHOR BIO:

Jeannette de Beauvoir is the author of mystery and historical fiction—and novels that are a mix of the two—as well as a poet who lives and works in a cottage beside Cape Cod Bay. She is a member of the Authors Guild, the Mystery Writers of America, the Historical Novel Society, and Sisters in Crime.

CATCH UP WITH JEANNETTE DE BEAUVOIR:

JeannettedeBeauvoir.com
Goodreads
BookBub - @JeannettedeBeauvoir
Instagram - @JeannettedeBeauvoir
Pinterest - @JeannettedeBeauvoir
Facebook - @JeannettedeBeauvoir

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COVER REVEAL - The Story Left Behind by Patti Callahan Henry

 

Inspired by a true literary mystery, New York Times bestselling author of the mesmerizing THE SECRET BOOK OF FLORA LEA returns with the sweeping story of a legendary book, a lost mother, and a daughter’s search for them both.

 

In 1927, eight-year-old Clara Harrington’s magical childhood shatters when her mother, renowned author, Bronwyn Newcastle Fordham, disappears off the coast of South Carolina. Bronwyn stunned the world with a book written in an invented language that became a national sensation when she was just twelve years old. Her departure leaves behind not only a devoted husband and heartbroken daughter, but also the hope of ever translating the sequel to her landmark work. As the headlines focus on the missing author, Clara yearns for something far deeper and more insatiable: her beautiful mother.

 

By 1952, Clara is an illustrator raising her own daughter, Wynnie. When a stranger named Charlie Jameson contacts her from London claiming to have discovered a handwritten dictionary of her mother’s lost language. Clara is skeptical. Compelled by the tragedy of her mother’s vanishing, she crosses the Atlantic with Wynnie only to arrive during one of London’s most deadly natural disasters—the Great Smog. With asthmatic Wynnie in peril, they escape the city with Charlie and find refuge in the Jameson’s family retreat nestled in the Lake District. It is there that Clara must find the courage to uncover the truth about her mother and the story she left behind.

 

Told in Patti Callahan Henry’s lyrical, enchanting prose, THE STORY SHE LEFT BEHIND is a captivating novel of mystery and family legacy that captures the profound longing for a mother and the evergreen allure of secrets.

#TheStorySheLeftBehind #coverreveal 

THE STORY SHE LEFT BEHIND will be in stores everywhere on March 4, 2025, from @Atria Books. Pre-order NOW!

https://bit.ly/AtriaTSSLB 

FEATURING: A Long Time Gone by Karen White

MYSTERY - CHICK LIT - SOUTHERN

Mothers staying, mothers leaving, daughters staying, daughters leaving.

When Vivian Walker returns after nine years, she happens upon the scene of an uprooted tree with human bones exposed.  She also finds her mother who is in the early stages of dementia.  Whose bones could they be?  Why did the skeleton have half of a necklace that when complete would say:  I Love You Forever.

The secret and the bones found is one of the major themes and a theme that has a great twist.  As the mystery of those buried bones became unraveled, the story took on an even better turn.

FULL REVIEW:  https://tinyurl.com/52xtx4jn

PUBLICATION DATE:  JUNE 3, 2014

Spotlight of One-Star Romance by Laura Hankin

PHOTO SOURCE:
TYPORAMA
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ONE-STAR ROMANCE

LAURA HANKIN

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ALL INFORMATION IN THIS POST IS COURTESY OF TARA O'CONNOR | SENIOR PUBLICIST | BERKLEY, AN IMPRINT OF PENGUIN RANDOM HOUSE.

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ONE-STAR ROMANCE is an enemies-to-lovers story about a struggling novelist forced to walk down the aisle at her best friend’s wedding arm-in-arm with the man who gave her book a very public one-star review on Goodreads.

 

Inspired by Laura’s similar real life maid-of-honor experience (we encourage you to watch her hilarious viral TikTok about the encounter), Hankin’s latest is a relatable and heartfelt story perfect for fans of Emily Henry and Rebecca Serle.

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June 18, 2024

Berkley Trade Original

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PRAISE FOR ONE-STAR ROMANCE:

“Hankin performs a magic trick with this book, turning the most unlikeable (and relatable) of characters into flawed protagonists worth rooting for. Natalie and Rob are the definition of “right person, wrong time,” and because the story spans multiple years, we get the pleasure of seeing them make mistakes, grow up and grow together. It’s real, refreshing and romantic.”—The Washington Post

“One-Star Romance will go down in history as the most ironically named novel ever. I give five giant stars to this funny, twisty and emotionally authentic story of true love and long friendship. I absolutely adored it.”—Annabel Monaghan, bestselling author of Same Time Next Summer

“Laura Hankin takes a nightmare premise for any writer—the dreaded one-star review—and with her signature charm and humor weaves it into a perfect dream.”—Steven Rowley,New York Times bestselling author of The Celebrants

“ALL OF THE STARS! Is it mean to take so much pleasure in two characters bumbling their way through life? If so, call me a monster because I fell HARD for Natalie and Rob. These two imperfect humans trying (and often failing) to figure out this whole adulting thing felt so real and relatable. Flat-out fun, laugh out loud funny, and voicey as hell, this is the book I will be shoving into friends’ hands this summer and demanding they fall in love with these characters, too!”—Becca Freeman,author of The Christmas Orphans Club

"Fans of not only romance but women’s fiction as well will enjoy this multilayered, realistic novel from Hankin."—Library Journal

"Hankin's rom-com has all the workings of an entertaining story, and it's bound to leave readers rooting for its main couple by the end. It's an unconventional setup for an enemies-to-romance story, but that's precisely why it's so great."—Screen Rant

**Praise Taken from Author's Amazon Page**

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ABOUT ONE-STAR ROMANCE:

Maid of honor and struggling novelist Natalie is different as can be from best man and ivory-tower academic Rob.

What should be the melding of friend groups at the wedding of their favorite couple turns into a rivalry when Natalie finds out minutes before walking down the aisle that Rob rated her book one star on Goodreads.

When the reception ends, they hope they’ll never meet again.

But as Rob and Nat slip from their twenties into their thirties, they’re forced together whenever their fast-track best friends celebrate another milestone.

Through housewarmings and christenings, life-changing triumphs and failures, Natalie and Rob grapple with their own choices—and learn that your harshest critic can become your perfectly imperfect match.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Laura Hankin is the author of Happy & You Know It and A Special Place for Women.

Her musical comedy has been featured in The New York Times, The Washington Post, and more.

She splits her time between NYC, where she has performed off-Broadway, and Washington, D.C., where she once fell off a treadmill twice in one day.

Find her on Instagram @LauraHankin

**Photo and Author Information Taken from Her Amazon Page**

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Spotlight of A Collection of Lies by Connie Berry

PHOTO SOURCE:

TYPORAMA
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A COLLECTION OF LIES

CONNIE BERRY

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ALL INFORMATION IN THIS POST IS COURTESY OF KATELYNN DREYER | PUBLICIST | KAYE PUBLICITY 

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In book #5 of the Kate Hamilton series, we join American antiques dealer Kate Hamilton as she follows bloodstained clues to discover the truth about the murder of a modern-day Victorian gentleman.

This story is a fascinating blend of old and new, where the past and present collide in a deadly game of whodunit. 

**Although this is book 5 in the series, it can be read as a standalone**

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June 18 

Crooked Lane Books

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PRAISE FOR A COLLECTION OF LIES:

“Berry’s fifth Kate Hamilton novel combines a cold case and contemporary murder in an outstanding traditional mystery.”—Library Journal, Starred Review

“Connie Berry had me at 'Devon,' but then added a history museum, a bloodstained dress, and an antiques dealer sleuth—and I realized I had a page-turner of a story on my hands. A Collection of Lies is a welcome addition to the traditional mystery genre. More, please.”—G. M. Malliet, Agatha Award–winning author of the DCI St. Just and the Rev. Max Tudor mysteries

“What a wonderful addition to Connie Berry's Kate Hamilton series. A Collection of Lies ticks all the boxes: an evocative English countryside setting, a deliciously twisty plot, unique and engaging characters, and elegant prose. A winner from start to finish.”—Jane K. Cleland, Agatha-award winning author of Jane Austen’s Lost Letters

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ABOUT A COLLECTION OF LIES:

As Kate Hamilton and her new husband, DI Tom Mallory, honeymoon in Devon, a local history museum asks them to trace the provenance of a bloodstained dress said to belong to a Victorian lacemaker accused of murder.

If genuine, the dress and its puzzling connections to a nineteenth-century Romani family who camped on Dartmoor will be the centerpiece of a new historic crimes exhibit—exactly Kate’s kind of mystery.

But matters turn deadly when a shot is fired during a fundraising gala, injuring the man who donated the dress.

The injured donor, Gideon Littlejohn, is a cyber-security expert who lives and dresses as a Victorian gentleman, but everyone believes the real target of the attack to be another attendee—a controversial politician intent on rooting out local corruption. 

This belief is overturned when Gideon is found dead in a pool of blood. But then the politician receives a death threat.

Who was the real target? 

Who would want to kill both a man with an obsession for history and a tough-on-crime politician?

When asked to assist in the investigation, Kate races to discover the truth as it becomes clear the killer isn’t going to come quietly.

************

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Connie Berry is the author of the Kate Hamilton mysteries, set in the UK and featuring an American antiques dealer with a gift for solving crimes.

Like her protagonist, Connie was raised by antiques dealers who instilled in her a passion for history, fine art, and travel.

During college she studied at the University of Freiburg in Germany and St. Clare's College, Oxford, where she fell under the spell of the British Isles.

In 2019 Connie won the IPPY Gold Medal for Mystery and was a finalist for the Agatha Award's Best Debut.

She's a member of Mystery Writers of America and is on the board of the Guppies and her local Sisters in Crime chapter. 

Besides reading and writing mysteries, Connie loves history, foreign travel, cute animals, and all things British.

She lives in Ohio with her husband and adorable Shih Tzu, Emmie. 

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SOCIAL MEDIA:

Instagram

Facebook 

Twitter 

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Spotlight of Rakiya by Ellis Shuman

PHOTO SOURCE:
TYPORAMA
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RAKIYA

ELLIS SHUMAN

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ALL INFORMATION IN THIS POST IS COURTESY OF THE AUTHOR.

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The stories in Rakiya are based on the author's experiences in Bulgaria.

Along with his wife, he lived and worked in Sofia for two years (2009-2010), and took that opportunity to travel around the country.

They quickly became enthralled by Bulgaria’s stunning natural beauty and were thrilled to learn about Bulgaria’s traditions and culture; to taste and enjoy Bulgarian cuisine; to meet and make friends with native Bulgarians, and to try, and ultimately fail, at learning the Bulgarian language.

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June 17, 2024
GenZ Publishing

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PRAISE FOR RAKIYA:

"Shuman's vivid descriptions of Bulgaria's beautiful landscapes and cultural traditions are a testament to his deep love and understanding of the country. Through his evocative prose, readers are transported to a land rich in beauty and history, gaining insights into the everyday lives and struggles of its people."

"Rakiya: Stories of Bulgaria" is a masterful collection that will appeal to anyone interested in exploring new cultures through literature. Ellis Shuman's storytelling is both poignant and powerful, making this book a must-read.' - Betty Taylor, Goodreads

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ABOUT RAKIYA:

A mother pickpocketing tourists in order to support her daughter. 

An elderly war veteran ashamed of his actions during the Holocaust.

Two brothers hunting a killer bear.

A Syrian refugee working in a Sofia bakery.

A femme fatale disappearing at an international writers’ conference.

And two neighbors competing to see who makes the best alcoholic drink.

This collection of heartwarming and culturally illuminating stories, presented in the voices of native Bulgarians as well as those visiting Bulgaria for the first time, introduces readers to Bulgaria—its majestic mountains; picturesque villages; and rich history and traditions—and leaves them wanting more.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Ellis Shuman is an American-born Israeli author, travel writer, and book reviewer.

His writing has appeared in The Jerusalem Post, The Times of Israel, and The Huffington Post.

His short fiction has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize, and has appeared in Isele Magazine, Vagabond, The Write Launch, Esoterica, Jewish Literary Journal, San Antonio Review, and other literary publications.

He is the author of The Virtual Kibbutz, Valley of Thracians, The Burgas Affair, and Rakiya.

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SOCIAL MEDIA:

Blog

https://ellisshuman.blogspot.com/

Social media

Twitter: @ellisshuman

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ellisshumanauthor/

LinkdedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/ellis-shuman/

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