MAD HONEY by JODI PICOULT and JENNIFER FINNEY BOYLAN

Nothing is what it seems. No one is who they seem. Everyone has a past and everyone has secrets. So what happens when the past and the present collide? Chaos.

Teenagers are cruel. We know that. Intolerant of anyone who is not the norm. This is a story of a lot of people who look pretty on the outside but are rotten on the inside. It’s a story of being true to yourself, no matter the cost. It’s a story of a mother’s love for her child and what she will do to protect that child.

There were quite a few topics front and center in this book. Domestic Abuse, Trans hate crimes, Intolerance, and judgment.

Maybe there were too many topics. Told from Olivia’s point of view and from Lily’s point of view we go from past to present. I have to say there were so many subplots that I didn’t care about a bit. Some of it was a little unbelievable. Wrapped up in a bow. Unfortunately, I didn’t feel a connection to any of these people and they all seemed a bit shallow.

NetGalley/October 4, 2022, RHPG/Ballentine

TAKE MY HUSBAND by ELLEN MEISTER

A dark comedy!

Only one thing stands in the way of Laurel Applebaum’s happiness…Doug Applebaum.

Ever found yourself fantasizing about single life? No husband to cook for, clean for, and basically, you feel like you’ve adopted a man-child? Yes, yes I have. And this dark comedy is just that.

Laurel has had enough of Doug. And to tell you the truth about 3 chapters in I also had had enough of Doug. And when she receives a phone call from the hospital telling her he has been in an accident, her imagination takes over and she feels maybe, at last, he is gone! But, alas, he is just needier!

While Laurel works herself to death at a supermarket and comes home to do everything but wipe his bum!

This takes a few dark turns, but really after Coved, isn’t everyone ready to get rid of a spouse?

Only in your head of course, because murder is illegal. And in the end, Laurel will discover her strength and how to put her own needs ahead of those who won’t lift a finger to help themselves.

I have to admit to yelling more than a few times, “Just leave him!”. But as I have been married twenty years I can say it just isn’t that easy. I really enjoyed this one!

NetGalley/August 30th, 2022 by MIRA



Lucy by the Sea by Elizabeth Strout

Pulitzer Prize-winning author Elizabeth Strout brings us more of Lucy!

From Pulitzer Prize-winning, #1 New York Times bestselling author Elizabeth Strout comes a poignant, pitch-perfect novel about a divorced couple stuck together during lockdown–and the love, loss, despair, and hope that animate us even as the world seems to be falling apart.

As the world grinds to a slow halt with a pandemic, Lucy is told by William to pack up and be ready to leave. Now. She thinks he is overreacting and he is in a full-blown panic!

Staying in a small house in Maine with her ex-husband isn’t Lucy’s idea of a good time. She misses her home and the city and her daughters, who have also taken refuge out of the city. She is also still mourning the death of David. Isolated in Maine for who knows how long, they make the best of it. They even make friends, at a social distance. But the day-to-day enforced solitude is grinding. People get on each other’s nerves.

But there is so much more, as in all of her books. How do we show empathy, kindness, and most importantly, forgiveness? Lucy will learn much about her own strengths and weaknesses and will discover that love is love and no matter how far apart we are, love stays strong.

I am always in awe of this author’s writing. The characters aren’t perfect by a long shot! But that is where we learn to do better.

NetGalley/September 20, 2022, Random House/Penguin


Personally, I was thrilled to find out the author will be in Dallas and then tickled pink to find out she will be in OKC as well! I’ll report back



THE BODYGUARD by KATHERINE CENTER

The Bodyguard

Hannah Brooks doesn’t look like a bodyguard. But looks are deceiving. She can take down a grown man any day of the week. Right now she’s hoping to land the coveted London job. Her kind of boyfriend, Robby, is also in the competition.

Imagine her surprise when her next assignment is guarding Jack Stapleton, a famous actor, who is as different from Hannah as can be. She does not want this job and on the first day, she discovers her kind of boyfriend kissing her kind of best friend.

Jack has a stalker even though after a tragic accident a few years ago, he moved to North Dakota and has been laying low.

Now he’s in Houston, where his mother has requested his presence while she undergoes cancer treatments. The only problem is he doesn’t want his family to know about a said stalker or the bodyguard.

Against all of Hannah’s wishes, the team comes up with the idea of having her pretend to be his girlfriend. This is not at all what she wants to do. Even her ex kind of boyfriend says it will never work. She’s too plain. Ouch!

The more time they spend together the more Hannah is wondering if she should be protecting her heart! Because this charade is beginning to feel very real.

No one can make me laugh and then sob like Katherine Center. Her characters are so believable and just uplifting. She is truly one of a kind!

NetGalley/July 19th, 2022 by St. Martin’s Press



Bet on It by Jodie Slaughter

Bet on It

Aja Owens is a woman I can relate to. Having panic attacks in the frozen food section of the Piggly Wiggly. Trying to pretend everything is fine if she can just breathe through it and not see anyone she knows. Unfortunately, the attractive man behind her needs his ice cream.

Later when she goes to the Bingo place, her elderly lady sitting next to her has brought her grandson with her. And yes, it’s the ice cream guy. The man who saw her panicking in the store. And he wants to know more about her. She’s not so sure she wants anyone in her life.

Walker Abbott lives in Charleston. There is not one thing he likes about his grandmother’s home, Greenbelt. Well, except for the peach cobbler at the local diner. He’s helping his grandmother and counting the days until he can get out of this town. Until Aja.

He is going to shake up her world until she shakes up his.

This was funny and emotional and had a lot of anxiety that I could identify with. Cute story with some funny characters and Bingo.

NetGalley/July 12th, 2022 by St. Martin’s



NERUDA ON THE PARK by CLEYVIS NATERA

An exhilarating debut novel following members of a Dominican family in New York City who take radically different paths when faced with encroaching gentrification

A beautiful debut novel. Eusebia and her husband, Vladimir, along with their daughter, Luz, have lived in Nothar Park which is a predominately Dominican part of New York for twenty years. Having come from the Dominican Republic.

Eusebia is considered an elder in the community and she isn’t happy about the gentrification going on around them. Especially when the owner of their building decides to go condo and sell the units. So they must move out or be bought out. They are both proud of their daughter, a lawyer in a fancy firm downtown.

All the while behind Eusebia’s back, Luz is helping her father design the perfect house in the Dominican Republic for him and his wife when they retire. They have worked hard and sacrificed for their dreams and their daughter.

After an accident, Eusebia is even more determined than ever to keep her neighborhood as it is. She enlists her group of women friends and they come up with a plan that may get them all killed.

Meanwhile, Luz has lost her job and fallen hard for the man leading the demo project. This pits mother and daughter against each other and will lead to dangerous results.

It’s hard to believe this is a debut novel. Natera’s writing weaves together themes of family, identity, and community and what we are willing to sacrifice for those we love.

It is a beautifully told story.

NetGalley/May 17th, 2022 by Ballantine Books





Starry-Eyed Love by Helena Hunting

Spark House #2

It’s great to be back at Spark House again. London Spark has finally broken up with her boyfriend. And now fun London has come out to play with her sisters, Avery and Harley. Celebrating out on the town. When a handsome stranger walks up to the table with eyes only for London, she tells him she has a boyfriend.

London doesn’t even have time for love. She handles the business aspect of Spark House and isn’t so keen on it, but it’s been a family business for a long time. London really enjoys the creative side of things. And with her Etsy shop going strong she already barely gets any sleep.

Luck or fate? When London takes a meeting with a huge media company that wants to sponsor them and their green ineciatives. But London isn’t big on meetings. Her anxiety overwhelms her to the point that she is nervously making origami stars again. All the time. So going to meet with these people has her in a state. But once she gets going, it’s not so bad.

Until a gorgeous man in a gorgeous suit walks in looking stunned. London thinks he looks familiar but can’t place him. He, however, has no problem placing her.

When Jackson takes over the account so he can spend more time with London, his team is shocked. This is not the Jackson they know. He doesn’t have relationships or work directly with the client.

But oh the spark between these two. What’s the answer to not mix business with pleasure? Put someone else in charge. But these two have painful past experiences and aren’t exactly spilling them all at once.

There was so much stress going on for London. Her anxiety, her sisters whom she loves but isn’t happy with Avery not willing to hire help. Jackson comes with his own baggage and a woman who thinks he belongs to her. Sparks will fly in all directions.

I loved the first book and I loved this one too. It’s nice once in a while to read a love story.

NetGalley/ May 10th, 2022 by St. Martin’s Griffin





the home-wreckers by mary kay andrews

Your next beach read is here courtesy of Mary Kay Andrews.

Hattie Kavanaugh has been a widow for seven years. Her husband died young and tragically. It’s left Hattie with some emotional baggage and guilt. Hattie has gone to work with her father-in-law, Tug, and her best friend Cass, flipping houses. And she is good at it.

She loves saving Savannah’s beautiful old homes and has not heeded Tug’s advice to never fall in love with a house! She fell in love with one that didn’t have a chance and has felt guilty about it ever since. Now she is on a mission to find a house and recoup their losses.

Mo is on a mission to find a new angle for a home television reality show about flipping. He offers her a show to help with expenses if she can get a house. Pawning her ring, calling her dad, Hattie is going to get that little beach house on Tybee!

The only catch is the company chooses the designer. Trae may look good for the camera but he is about as deep as a thimble. Once they begin things go from bad to worse and it’s looking as if someone doesn’t want them here at all.

While the network wants them to have a love angle as well, Hattie isn’t buying that. She would rather have the producer, Mo. With time running out on the rehab a body turns up. Great. What has Hattie gotten herself into?

If anyone can write a book about fixing up houses it is MKA. I don’t know how she does it but she is always fixing up something. This was a great take on the reality genre and the ugly side of that. It’s also a murder mystery which I loved.

NetGalley/ May 3rd, 2022 by St. Martin’s Press


Smile and Look Pretty by AMANDA PELLEGRINO*BLOG TOUR* @amandapeliss @harpercollins@parkrowbooks @netgalley

Smile and Look Pretty

Four best friends, all with jobs as assistants to bosses who really are horrid. While they meet to gripe about them it just doesn’t seem enough.

Cate decides to write a blog where they can anonymously tell stories about these bosses and they all jump in. With help from Lauren, Olivia, and Max, these women are fed up and not going to take it anymore. They are all talented in their fields but keep getting looked over for promotion or have to put up with some pretty rough things because they are women.

But soon the blog catches fire. It seems the network of assistants and others are also fed up and are willing to name names.

Soon the New York Times runs a story on the blog and before long they have some hard decisions to make. And boy do they ever make them! Taking their lives and futures into their own hands and exposing the worst of the worst.

I read this so fast! Having once been an assistant I can say it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Babysitting his house while he was on vacation, meaning finding care for my child. Picking up laundry and even sending flowers to his wife and girlfriends on holidays. So I was all in with this book.

I loved every one of these brave women and hope you will too.

NetGalley/ March 8th, 2022 by Park Row

Here is a sneak peek at Chapter 1!


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

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

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

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

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

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

She didn’t extend him the same courtesy.

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

“Be specific.”

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

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

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

Seems logical, Cate thought. Sign.

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

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

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

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




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

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

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

perimeter of the room were seven desks, perfectly positioned outside each boss’s glass office so that each assistant was always being watched. Like fish in a bowl.

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

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

“Seems that way,” Cate responded.

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wow,” Lauren said when she spotted Cate.

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

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

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

“Whatever,” Lauren said with a sigh. “Should we just start?” She motioned toward the waitress

and, when she arrived, ordered another pitcher of margaritas in Spanish.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What if they all said no?

the santa suit by mary kay andrews

The Santa Suit

From May Kay Andrews, the New York Times bestselling author of Hello, Summer, comes a novella celebrating the magic of Christmas and second chances in The Santa Suit.

Ivy Perkins is moving on from Atlanta, her ex and her half of the business. Looking for a fresh start away from everything. She has pretty specific wants. A white farmhouse with land. So sight unseen, she purchases what looks like an adorable farmhouse in North Carolina.

Four Roses Farm must have used photoshop, because the house is going to need a lot of work. It looks as if the former owners just up and left everything behind.

As Ivy is clearing out, she finds a beautiful Santa suit. It’s old and well-made and in the pocket she finds a note from a little girl, written long ago. This little gem becomes a mission for Ivy. Who is this little girl? And why all the Christmas stuff?

The former owners, the Roses, were the town Santa and Mrs. for a long time. They did a lot to help the community and even though Ivy isn’t really a Christmas person, the town may change her mind.

With some help from a hot realtor and a new friend, she may find not only her purpose but love again.

A lovely Novella of the magic of Christmas and the enduring love of family. This really lifted my spirits at a time when we all need a little of that.

NetGalley/September 28th, 2021 by St. Martin’s Press