The Look-Alike by Erica Spindler

The Look-Alike

Thriller, Psychological Drama, and Mental Illness. It sounds like a recipe for staying up past your bedtime!

Erica Spindler is a master at twisty, mental thrillers.

Ten years ago Sienna Scott was taking a shortcut from the library at college. Wearing a white coat with the hood pulled low, she could barely see for all of the snow coming down. Until she sees the red that shouldn’t be there, and a dead girl wearing the same coat as Sienna.

Sienna’s mother has had mental health issues since shortly after Sienna’s birth. Paranoid delusions, fear of someone hurting her child. She has been locked up in her own house since Sienna left and is getting worse. But what if they really are out to get you? Are you still paranoid?

Sienna is still dealing with the thoughts she has that the girl’s death was meant for her. She just can’t shake that feeling and when her mother agrees with her, the seed is planted.

Shortly after the murder, she was sent to London to live with her aunt. Her father afraid she would turn out like her mother, asked her half-brother to look after her after his death. Since Sienna has been gone so long, he has mainly been taking care of her mother, but now he needs help and Sienna returns.

This was one crazy ride! I suspected everyone at some point. Compulsively readable, a cast of great characters and a great ending!

Well Done!

NetGalley/ January 28th, 2020 by St. Martin’s Press

 

 

 

WINTER OF DESPAIR by CORA HARRISON

Winter of Despair (A Gaslight Mystery #2)

A Gaslight Mystery #2

Dickens and Wilkie are back in the second installment of the Gaslight Series. Along with some of our favorite characters from the first book.

It’s the year 1853, in November and Dickens and Wilkie have been summoned by Inspector Fields to the scene of a murder. The murder of a well-known artist whom they recognize immediately. Wilkie’s brother Charles has worked with the artist who now lies dead along with a painting that has also been slashed beyond recognition. The only thing they know is the title of Winter of Despair.

But they also find several other paintings of people indulging in rather sinful behavior. What makes it difficult is there are no faces. Just hints of hair color or style, clothing style are there. Hoping to flush out the killer Mrs. Collins hosts a dinner with all of the artist’s subjects and there are certainly enough poorly behaved people to go around. But which one is the killer?

Sesina is still working for the Collins family and Charley is her favorite. He’s fragile and is acting awfully suspicious. Sesina is going to make it her business to make sure he is not accused of killing the said artist.

Full of intrigue, history and amateur sleuths, this new series is turning out quite well!

What I love most about this series is these are real people and real events. The story is a wonderful mix of facts and speculation that makes a good read.

NetGalley/ January 7th, 2020 by Severn House Publishers

 

 

 

 

 

THE GOD GAME by Danny Tobey

The God Game

You are invited!
Come inside and play with G.O.D.
Bring your friends!
It;’s fun!
But remember the rules. Win and ALL YOUR DREAMS COME TRUE.™ Lose, you die!

When Charlie gets an invitation to the G.O.D. Game, his friend Peter accepts for him. And soon their little band of misfits and computer hackers are all playing.

At first, things seem all right. G.O.D. is saying all the right things. But from the beginning, Charlie is suspicious and not really wanting to play along. When the game begins commanding they do bad things, they all want out, except one. But remember the only way out is death. But does it have to be their own death?

At first, I thought this was going to be like the television show, God Friended Me. It was not. It’s not like Stranger Things, or any other show it’s currently being compared to.

There were some good undercurrents going on. The AI believed it was God. The chaos with the Trump controversy. Can one person make the entire world bend to his will? Are we only in it for ourselves? Under the story, there were good pieces you could pick out underscoring our lack of compassion and lack of any moral compass. If the AI got all of its knowledge from watching us, we are in for a sad state of affairs.

NetGalley/ January 7th, 2020 by St. Martin’s Press

 

New Releases for the New Year!

Great Book Releases on the last day of the year!

The Moonshiner’s Daughter by Donna Everhart debuts today!

Sealed Off by Barbara Ross debuts today!

The Beautiful Love Lettering by Kate Clayborn debuts today!

Matchmaking Can Be Murder by Amanda Flower debuts today!

And do not forget Good Girls Lie by J.T. Ellison which came out yesterday!

Our last day of the year for reviews. But don’t worry because January starts out with a Bang!

xx P)

GOOD GIRLS LIE by J.T. ELLISON *Release Day* Blog Tour

Good Girls Lie

“There are truths, and there are lies, and then there is everything that really happened, which is where you and I will meet.”

I am a sucker for a good boarding school thriller/mystery!  This tale of teenage girls at a prestigious boarding school just for girls, The Goode School, is anything but good! These are some seriously privileged and mean girls.

After her parents’ deaths, Ash is shipped off to The Good School. She has changed her name to avoid the publicity of the deaths and all she wants is to study and stay under the radar. Not going to happen. Someone always knows someone who can find out what you want to stay hidden.

The school is full of children of wealth and privilege whose parents are high profile people with little time for their own children, much better to send them to a snooty school that seems perfect on the outside but rotten on the inside. Including the Dean!

I am not sure there was one decent character in this book! Girls start to seriously hurt each other and then the deaths begin. Ash is sure she knows who is behind it, but will anyone believe her now? And is she even Ash??

And once secrets begin to spill out, everyone is left exposed. I loved every wicked minute of this one!

NetGalley/December 31st, 2019 by MIRA

JT Ellison Author Photo credit Krista Lee Photography - vertical (1)

1
THE HANGING

The girl’s body dangles from the tall iron gates guarding the school’s entrance. A closer
examination shows the ends of a red silk tie peeking out like a cardinal on a winter branch, forcing her
neck into a brutal angle. She wears her graduation robe and multicolored stole as if knowing she’ll never
see the achievement. It rained overnight and the thin robe clings to her body, dew sparkling on the
edges. The last tendrils of dawn’s fog laze about her legs, which are five feet from the ground.
There is no breeze, no birds singing or squirrels industriously gathering for the long winter
ahead, no cars passing along the street, only the cool, misty morning air and the gentle metallic creaking
of the gates under the weight of the dead girl. She is suspended in midair, her back to the street, her
face hidden behind a curtain of dirty, wet hair, dark from the rains.
Because of the damage to her face, it will take them some time to officially identify her. In the
beginning, it isn’t even clear she attends the school, despite wearing The Goode School robes.
But she does.
The fingerprints will prove it. Of course, there are a few people who know exactly who is
hanging from the school’s gates. Know who, and know why. But they will never tell. As word spreads of
the apparent suicide, The Goode School’s all-female student body begin to gather, paying silent,
terrified homage to their fallen compatriot. The gates are closed and locked—as they always are
overnight—buttressed on either side by an ivy-covered, ten-foot-high, redbrick wall, but it tapers off
into a knee-wall near the back entrance to the school parking lot, and so is escapable by foot. The girls of
Goode silently filter out from the dorms, around the end of Old West Hall and Old East Hall to Front
Street—the main street of Marchburg, the small Virginia town housing the elite prep school—and take
up their positions in front of the gate in a wedge of crying, scared, worried young women who glance
over shoulders looking for the one who is missing from their ranks. To reassure themselves this isn’t
their friend, their sister, their roommate.
Another girl joins them, but no one notices she comes from the opposite direction, from town.
She was not behind the redbrick wall.
Whispers rise from the small crowd, nothing loud enough to be overheard but forming a single
question.
Who is it? Who?
A solitary siren pierces the morning air, the sound bleeding upward from the bottom of the hill,
a rising crescendo. Someone has called the sheriff.
Goode perches like a gargoyle above the city’s small downtown, huddles behind its ivy-covered
brick wall. The campus is flanked by two blocks of restaurants, bars, and necessary shops. The school’s
buildings are tied together with trolleys—enclosed glass-and-wood bridges that make it easy for the girls
to move from building to building in climate-controlled comfort. It is quiet, dignified, isolated. As are the

girls who attend the school; serious, studious. Good. Goode girls are always good. They go on to great
things.
The headmistress, or dean, as she prefers to call herself, Ford Julianne Westhaven, great-
granddaughter several times removed from the founder of The Goode School, arrives in a flurry, her
driver, Rumi, braking the family Bentley with a screech one hundred feet away from the gates. The
crowd in the street blocks the car and, for a moment, the sight of the dangling girl. No one stops to think
about why the dean might be off campus this early in the morning. Not yet, anyway.
Dean Westhaven rushes out of the back of the dove-gray car and runs to the crowd, her face
white, lips pressed firmly together, eyes roving. It is a look all the girls at Goode recognize and shrink
from.
The dean’s irritability is legendary, outweighed only by her kindness. It is said she alone
approves every application to the school, that she chooses the Goode girls by hand for their intelligence,
their character. Her say is final. Absolute. But for all her goodness, her compassion, her kindness, Dean
Westhaven has a temper.
She begins to gather the girls into groups, small knots of natural blondes and brunettes and
redheads, no fantastical dye allowed. Some shiver in oversize school sweatshirts and running shorts,
some are still in their pajamas. The dean is looking for the chick missing from her flock. She casts
occasional glances over her shoulder at the grim scene behind her. She, too, is unsure of the identity of
the body, or so it seems. Perhaps she simply doesn’t want to acknowledge the truth.
The siren grows to an earsplitting shriek and dies midrange, a soprano newly castrated. The
deputies from the sheriff’s office have arrived, the sheriff hot on their heels. Within moments, they
cordon off the gates, move the students back, away, away. One approaches the body, cataloging;
another begins taking discreet photographs, a macabre paparazzi.
They speak to Dean Westhaven, who quietly, breathlessly, admits she hasn’t approached the
body and has no idea who it might be.
She is lying, though. She knows. Of course, she knows. It was inevitable.
The sheriff, six sturdy feet of muscle and sinew, approaches the gate and takes a few shots with
his iPhone. He reaches for the foot of the dead girl and slowly, slowly turns her around.
The eerie morning silence is broken by the words, soft and gasping, murmurs moving sinuously
through the crowd of girls, their feet shuffling in the morning chill, the fog’s tendrils disappearing from
around the posts.
They say her name, an unbroken chain of accusation and misery.
Ash.
Ash.
Ash.

2
THE LIES

There are truths, and there are lies, and then there is everything that really happened, which is where
you and I will meet. My truth is your lie, and my lie is your truth, and there is a vast expanse between
them.
Take, for example, Ash Carlisle.
Six feet tall, glowing skin, a sheaf of blond hair in a ponytail. She wears black jeans with rips in
the knees and a loose greenand-white plaid button-down with white Adidas Stan Smiths; casual,
efficient travel clothes. A waiter delivers a fresh cup of tea to her nest in the British Airways first-class
lounge, and when she smiles her thanks, he nearly drops his tray—so pure and happy is that smile. The
smile of an innocent.
Or not so innocent? You’ll have to decide that for yourself. Soon.
She’s perfected that smile, by the way. Practiced it. Stood in the dingy bathroom of the flat on
Broad Street and watched herself in the mirror, lips pulling back from her teeth over and over and over
again until it becomes natural, until her eyes sparkle and deep dimples appear in her cheeks. It is a full-
toothed smile, her teeth straight and blindingly white, and when combined with the china-blue eyes and
naturally streaked blond hair, it is devastating.
Isn’t this what a sociopath does? Work on their camouflage? What better disguise is there than
an open, thankful, gracious smile? It’s an exceptionally dangerous tool, in the right hands.
And how does a young sociopath end up flying first class, you might ask? You’ll be assuming her
family comes from money, naturally, but let me assure you, this isn’t the case. Not at all. Not really. Not
anymore.
No, the dean of the school sent the ticket.
Why?
Because Ash Carlisle leads a charmed life, and somehow managed to hoodwink the dean into
not only paying her way but paying for her studies this first term, as well. A full scholarship, based on her
exemplary intellect, prodigy piano playing, and sudden, extraordinary need. Such a shame she lost her
parents so unexpectedly.
Yes, Ash is smart. Smart and beautiful and talented, and capable of murder. Don’t think for a
moment she’s not. Don’t let her fool you.
Sipping the tea, she types and thinks, stops to chew on a nail, then reads it again. The essay she
is obsessing over gained her access to the prestigious, elite school she is shipping off to. The challenges
ahead—transferring to a new school, especially one as impossible to get into as The Goode
School—frighten her, excite her, make her more determined than ever to get away from Oxford, from
her past.

A new life. A new beginning. A new chapter for Ash.
But can you ever escape your past?
Ash sets down the tea, and I can tell she is worrying again about fitting in. Marchburg,
Virginia—population five hundred on a normal summer day, which expands to seven hundred once the
students arrive for term—is a long way from Oxford, England. She worries about fitting in with the
daughters of the DC elite—daughters of senators and congressmen and ambassadors and reporters and
the just plain filthy rich. She can rely on her looks—she knows how pretty she is, isn’t vain about it,
exactly, but knows she’s more than acceptable on the looks scale—and on her intelligence, her
exceptional smarts. Some would say cunning, but I think this is a disservice to her. She’s both booksmart
and street-smart, the rarest of combinations. Despite her concerns, if she sticks to the story, she will fit
in with no issues.
The only strike against her, of course, is me, but no one knows about me.
No one can ever know about me.

SEALED OFF by Barbara Ross

Sealed Off (A Maine Clambake Mystery, #8)

A Maine Clambake Mystery #8

In Sealed Off, we are back in Busman’s Harbor, Maine visiting with the Snowden family and their Clambake Business. It’s October and they are finishing up for the year with only six bakes left.

Julia has hired her boyfriends’ brother, recently released from prison, to help with the fires. Lately, she has been noticing that there is a bit of tension in their close-knit group. Not one but two men are vying for Emmy’s attention and it’s beginning to feel awkward.

When Julia and Sonny find one of the interested parties dead in the woodpile, it’s not looking good for the ex-con.

At the same time work is continuing on the family manor although that turns up more mystery. A secret room, a secret diary and enough curiosity to kill several cats! Julia and friends get down to solving both mysteries, sad as they both may be.

I love this series. Barbara Ross is a wonderful storyteller alone or with her writing partners in crime! About the only thing, I love more than murder and mayhem is a good historical mystery! Secret rooms? Diaries from the 1800s? Sign me up!

NetGalley/ December 31st, 2019 by Kensington Publishing Corporation

 

 

 

 

Love Lettering by Kate Clayborn

Love Lettering

In this warm and witty romance from acclaimed author Kate Clayborn, one little word puts one woman’s business—and her heart—in jeopardy . . .

Meg Mackworth has a special relationship with letters. Hand -lettering is what gave her the nickname Planner of Park Slope. Meg is the person who designs all those lovely planners, calendars and invitations in the most lovely and appropriate fonts. She sees the hidden meaning in signs, and even sneaks some into her work. And that is what will get her in trouble.

A year after Meg customized wedding invitations for Reid and Avery, Reid has tracked her down wanting to know the meaning of the word he found hidden in the invitation.

You see, Reid is a numbers guy. Seeing patterns in numbers. He has questions and Meg doesn’t have time for them. But maybe she could help him and maybe he could help Meg unblock her creative brain before her huge deadline.

He seems very uptight and regimented. Which he is, but he is also a genius who graduated from college at 15. Little by little he and Meg form a bond. Just when everything is looking up she and Reid encounter Avery, the former fiance’ and daughter to Reid’s boss. It’s at that point that Meg believes Reid isn’t over Avery and she backs off.

In an explosive turn of events, Meg could lose everything she has worked so hard to achieve and her chance at love. But everything is not what it seems and Meg and Reid both will have to step way out of their comfort zones to have any chance of a life together.

A romance with a bit of a kick at the end. I wanted to read this book because of the lettering. And it did not disappoint.

Well Done!

NetGalley/ December 31st, 2019 by Kensington Books