Double Crossed: Unraveled - A Personal Memoir by Kelsey Carlee - Watch for a Second Discussion Post

I found this book on the Reviewers Roundup Wall at Facebook. I studied the cover carefully. It was unique and I love Unique! I could even tell somewhat about what the book would be about. I didn't read a book description or anything else. I bought it based upon the cover... and those strange little dots and dashes that began on the cover and continued throughout the book. I was hooked immediately.

-... ....- 

I once lived in a nice neighborhood in the northern part of Seattle. I was born and raised in that area, but my family moved to a different part of the city which fundamentally altered my life. I attended an expensive private school that didn’t offer sexual education. I was an honors student with straight A’s and brought up Catholic through the influence of my maternal grandparents. In October of 2000, I was accepted to read at Northwest Bookfest, but I attended the Ambaum Recovery Center for inpatient treatment instead. My admission was for using marijuana, which started socially during lunchtime with the kids at my school as I entered my junior year. I toughened up and expeditiously adapted to having no privacy. I learned a lot during my stay as multiple boys grabbed my crotch under the table. One of them was kicked out for it because I couldn’t stop myself from crying hysterically. 

When I could get the words out of my mouth to tell the counselor what he’d done to me, they removed him from the premises. I had a roommate named Shauna who had a petite build and curly brown hair. She showed me “the ropes,” as she referred to them. I implored the staff to let me go home if there was any way possible, but there wasn’t. I committed to waiting out my thirty days instead of walking out as I’d watched others do since my arrival, going against medical advice. In mid-November, a girl named Bunny, who I’d become close friends with, used my gel pens to draw the word Bunny in bubble lettering on the blue cover of my Alcoholics Anonymous book. She jotted down her number inside and said she wanted to get together with me. The morning of my release was referred to as a wake-up in the facility. Bunny hugged me and exclaimed, “hit me up on the outs!” I couldn’t have been any happier to be free of that place. We’d used the A.A. books within the center to write to each other when parting, much like yearbooks. The nickname “Lil Bunny” was something we had called each other while in treatment, and it ended up sticking, as she’d later become one of my best friends. Upon discharge, I was transferred to Ambaum continuing care drug and alcohol center in Ballinger for outpatient treatment...

On January 2, 2001, I first met Howie in the outpatient program we mutually attended. The walls of the room were covered in our collage projects for sobriety. The teenagers present took turns giving short introductions about themselves and explaining their artwork. When Howie had his turn to share, he started by saying that he’d had a severe substance abuse problem. He confirmed that his drugs of choice were weed, alcohol, and mushrooms while sitting directly across the long table lengthwise. He had a tremendously confident expression as we held eye contact. I found that his gaze was impossible to break as we stared at each other for a seemingly ridiculous length of time. The fluorescent light fixtures were buzzing above, and it was suddenly as if no one else was in the room but us. Howie stood and held up his project, which had just a few carelessly cut images glued onto the paper. I was fixated on him the whole time he spoke as our eyes stayed locked for the entire time. It was the first day that my mother had let me take her vehicle by myself because I’d just received my driver’s license. It was January 3, 2001, and it was also the initial instance that I dropped Howie off at his house in Seattle. After the group session, some of us had decided to go to Denny’s, the local diner just down the street. Jay would often take the bus from the south end and attend meetings at the EDL, where I’d met him. I suggested that he meet me after treatment, as he did not participate in Ambaum. He’d taken the bus to Blue Diamond Village to meet with both me and my group of friends from treatment. I invited Jay to tag along as a passenger in my parent’s vehicle with my other friends Bunny, Howie, Matheson, and Michael. I let him know that I could either meet him there or that I’d come back and get him. I called him out on being bonkers when he said he wouldn’t mind riding in the trunk as he jumped in and closed it on himself. He’d spared me the extra trip because there wasn’t enough seating in my parent’s vehicle, but the curb had been higher than I’d anticipated as I’d come around the curve into the parking lot at Denny’s. I was fretful as I stopped the vehicle and discovered that the rear passenger tire was flat. All I could think about was if he was all right in the back. I was very relieved when I pulled into the parking space, and he got out and doubled over with laughter at my reaction. I knew that my mother would give me a hard time about the tire later, so at the urging of my friends, I resolved to try and enjoy the restaurant. We went into Denny’s and chain-smoked in the booth section with the patterned sheet metal wall next to the fifties style barstool area. We ordered glasses of soda with strawberry dessert chunks in them and sucked them through the straws, which was Bunny’s idea. All of us delinquent teens at the table formed the straw wrappers into balls and flicked them at each other. The waitress came to the table to take our food order and rolled her eyes at us as she walked away...

~~~

I was not even through the first chapter, and I found I was personally invested in this young girl who had to be in her early teens when she was moved into a private catholic school where, at least it seemed to me, all hell began to break lose and Kelsey was a girl, all alone... I saw quickly that her parents seemed not to be really involved with her life. Yet, I also saw nonverbal signs that I knew were important... The major one that she had been allowed to start taking out the family car as soon as she got her license. All of her friends were jealous because their parents were not willing to do the same. Yet, even as Kelsey wrote, there was not once in her entire story that she ever referred to that vehicle as anything but "her parents car." I would say that even she was unsure exactly why she was being allowed to drive a car, even while she was in rehab for drug and alcohol abuse... Something was wrong! I wanted to stop reading the book right then and try to help...

But it only got worse. As things were happening faster, I could almost see Kelsey trying to slow things down--trying to prevent what she was being pulled into, perhaps because she was the only one that could drive??? I was afraid for her. I had a right to be. If you choose to read this book, please read it because you have a young teen for whom you are concerned. Parents and Grandparents especially. In my opinion, her grandparents acted in good faith when they sponsored her private schooling... But I can guarantee that they did NOT do any checking of references about the quality of the school and its teachers. Note that the reports about sexual assault of children by priests was already well known by the time this was happening... 

During the years that Kelsey was going through her teen years, getting deeper and deeper, once in a while her mother would text her that she was concerned that they were no longer as close as they once were... Remember she was in her teens... 

I can remember my mother, while waiting for me, wondering what I was doing for so long, she got out of the car and came to find me... Of course, I lied to her, hurrying from the restroom where I had run to, but I knew that I was just goofing off, flirting with a guy I was interested in... I had to be in my early 20s, but I knew not to cross my mother when, I knew, she was right to question... About the lying? I'll wager that every child in America had done that... What is the guidance we may remember--I sure do... but it sometimes takes time for it to sink in, doesn't it?

When I was a child, I spoke and thought and reasoned as a child. But when I grew up, I put away childish things. --I Cor.

Now, I have to ask, what in the world would a mother be doing texting a young girl who is in rehab but living at home?! Why was Kelsey on her own so much, with a car, at 16, having just got her license, and thus, with little experience? Notice that in the excerpt above, she wasn't even able to deal with a tire deflating! I was fuming! In fact, I'm more mad now than before. While reading I was so involved in wanting to see something good happen! I think it is relevant, though, that there was little written about either of her parents or grandparents, other than the early reference that she was relocated into a new environment in which she was forced to face everything new, on her own... (She has written two other books, which I'll be reading. Given the quality of writing for this book, I'm confident that the things that confused me will be clarified...) 

On the other hand, I hope that, because of its content, that parents will not "ban" the book... It is obviously one that will reveal what teen girls, and boys, are facing in today's world...Reading somebody else's experiences just could save another girl, or boy, from the same problems or mistakes...

Right now, I want you to stop and click to an article on Human Trafficking, that in my opinion, every person in America should be reading and responding to... Here is the cover of the book spotlighted... I know one thing, I never felt a time when I didn't feel that my mother would be concerned enough to help me through anything...

I was therefore very, very disappointed when, when Kelsey needed her most of all, her mother chose not to believe her daughter rather than two young men who were slick liars and conmen...and had just not only kidnapped her from her home, but again abused Kelsey... Please know that this book is not an easy read. However, it certainly is recommended. We all need to know that we are not alone in facing unimaginable issues--but can make it through them--ultimately stronger for the experience. A strong female who can stand on her own and, realize, no matter what, she can and should say No when she wants too!  We must work to ensure that happens! I've already downloaded the two other books from this author. Her reviews are good; her bravery is outstanding! 

Plan to come back to spend time with Kelsey, Rory and me as we talk about the issues covered in Double Crossed where three women of different ages, explore their early years of becoming women.  I was not surprised at what we found...Will you Be?

GABixlerReviews

Dead to Rights - First in New Mackenzie Owens Mystery Series - by Jasmine Webb - A 2024 Personal Favorite For Me!

Apparently, my mouth speaks before my brain has the time to decide whether or not that’s a good idea.”

“It’s only people who are too scared to tell the truth who worry about that sort of thing,” Maggie replied. 

“That’s how I’ve always seen it too,” I said with a small smile. “As far as grandchildren go, I suppose you could be worse.”

I loved this Book! It has all of my favorite things - Book series, a book shop, kitten, cozy mystery and a family simpatico friend with a major age difference... Reminded me of my Great-Niece and myself... (pic is at her wedding)

Maggie looked like she’d just walked out of a Vanilla Ice music video, if Vanilla Ice’s target market had been septuagenarian white people who lived in cozy tourist hamlets on the British seaside. Her slacks had been replaced by jeans that were so oversized they surely must have belonged to Carl, because there was no way she’d have owned them herself. She’d made a belt for them out of a piece of rope that had probably been used to hold up a set of blinds in the past. On top, she had on a soccer jersey, a weird purple-and-green one with ‘AIA’ written in white letters across the front. Over that was a massive gold chain, and on her head was a pair of oversized Ray Bans. She’d finished off the outfit with a baseball cap flipped backward. “Everything,” I replied. “Everything is wrong with that. No one is going to sell drugs to you. You could not possibly look more like an undercover cop right now.” “I don’t look like a cop, I look cool,” Maggie snapped at me. “I’ve got it all: the oversized clothes, the football shirt, the gold chain. I look like someone who would buy drugs.”

“You didn’t know about me at all?” I asked quietly. Maggie had implied as much yesterday, but I wanted to be sure. “No. He never mentioned you. It wasn’t until after his death that Alfred told me about you. Carl didn’t want me to know, he said. But you seem to have done all right for yourself despite the lack of a father figure.” “My mom worked hard to provide for me as a single parent. Although most people would disagree with you. I was always getting in trouble at school. Apparently, my mouth speaks before my brain has the time to decide whether or not that’s a good idea.” “It’s only people who are too scared to tell the truth who worry about that sort of thing,” Maggie replied. “That’s how I’ve always seen it too,” I said with a small smile. “As far as grandchildren go, I suppose you could be worse.” 

“Do you have any others? Grandchildren, I mean.” “No. Carl was my only child, and you’re the only one he had. As far as I know, anyway. But I assume he would have named any others in the will too.” “Have you lived here your whole life?” “Most of it, yes. I moved here with my first husband at nineteen after growing up in Truro.” “What happened to him?” “He died. Christmas Day, 1972. I couldn’t have asked for a better present from Santa.” “Well, this got dark fast. Did you kill him too? There seems to be a pattern here. Am I going to end up on a true-crime podcast?” “He slipped on a patch of ice and hit his head when he insisted on going out. His whole family can attest to the fact that I was in the living room after having told him it was too dangerous and that he really didn’t need to bet on the horses on Boxing Day. But James insisted, and the universe had different plans for him.” “Was he Carl’s father?” “No. That was my second husband, Tim. I married him in 1974. I already lived here. Carl was born the year after that. He died when Carl was one.” “How?” “He was too into coffee.” Maggie obviously didn’t want to talk about it. Maggie grunted, and I cracked a smile at her moxie. “Too bad for you. 

Can’t divorce your grandkids. By the way, tea sucks.” “That’s your American upbringing. Never learned to enjoy a proper cuppa. Very disappointing. I’m not sure we’ll be able to live together if you don’t like tea.” “If that’s a deal-breaker for you, you’d never make it these days. I once had a roommate who secretly decided to breed snakes in her room as a side hustle and didn’t tell any of us. She got drunk one night, opened the terrariums to feed them, and passed out without closing them properly. You can guess how that ended.” “Did you evict her?” “No, because she paid the rent on time, and as far as roommates go, that’s far from the worst story you’ll ever hear.” “Well, I’ve never had a roommate. I lived with my parents until I married James. Then, after his death, I lived alone in the house we owned until I married Tim. We worked hard to buy property.” “Yeah, I could have worked hard and saved too, when homes cost six dollars.” “Oh, please. It was a little bit more difficult than that.” “Your first down payment probably couldn’t buy a footlong at Subway anymore. Believe me, if homes still cost the same as they did back then, I’d have one. It sounds better than finding out about your roommate’s snakes at three in the morning.” “I imagine it would.” 

The two of us stood across from each other in frosty silence. This felt a bit like the end of the Cold War. We weren’t actively trying to kill each other anymore, but there was very little trust there. “What are your thoughts about the bookshop?” I asked. “I haven’t got any. Thought it was a waste of time. A vanity project. Carl wasn’t making any money from it. He pretended otherwise, but I know the truth. It’s not a real business. You ask me, you should have stayed in America, where you had a job that you say you did well. Although if you were willing to drop it to come here and run a bookshop, I’m not sure how much sense you really could have.” “If the universe drops a bookstore into your lap in the most beautiful part of England and says ‘Here, this is yours now to do with what you want, oh, and you also get a house with it,’ there isn’t a millennial on this planet who would say no to that. I’m literally living the dream that has existed in a whole bunch of memes.” “What is a meme?” 

“Do you not use the internet at all?” “Of course I do. I’m old, not a Luddite.” “Then how do you not know what a meme is?” “I choose not to partake in social media, as I find it to be a vain expression of self-gratification that serves no use to anybody.” “Well, you’re not entirely wrong. But so you’re not sitting there on Facebook adding a new status that just says ‘how to download PDF to computer’?” “I am not, and I’m offended you asked. I know how to use the internet.” “Questionable, since you don’t know what a meme is.” “I’ve told you, I’m not interested.” “I’m not interested in tea, but I can still tell you’re drinking Earl Grey. Just because you’re not interested in something or are ignorant about it doesn’t make it unimportant.” 

“Touché,” Maggie replied. “Anyway, a meme is a usually funny photo that works its way around the internet, often with small changes to make the meme fit the topic. And a lot have to do with having the opportunity to change your life by going somewhere romantic in a way that’s completely unrealistic. Like getting left a bookstore in Cornwall, along with a house. That doesn’t happen to people in real life. Most of the time. So when the universe dropped it into my lap, I figured I had to do it. When else will I ever get the opportunity to do something like this? Never. There will always be other marketing jobs. But this? No, this is once in a lifetime. 

The memes just never mentioned sharing with a psychopathic grandmother you didn’t know you had.” “Please. I’m not a psychopath.” “You don’t drink coffee. Oh, and you already tried to kill me once.” “Tea is far superior.” “So you’re not going to be involved in the bookstore at all?” “No. If it were up to me and you weren’t around, I’d be closing it down permanently.” “What’s wrong with it?” “Everything. No one reads books anymore, and those that do are doing so on those newfangled e-readers or their phones.” “I don’t think that’s true. Sure, reading electronically is on the rise, but there are lots of people who still enjoy the smell of a fresh paperback. The sound of flipping through the pages of a new purchase. The slightly grainy feel of the paper beneath their fingertips.” 

“Well, even if you’re right, the problem Carl had was he thought he was in Central London. Honestly, you’ve never seen a more boring selection of books in your life. It was as though he simply went through the Sunday Times every week and ordered every book that’s on the bestsellers list without bothering to look at any others. Bestsellers only.” I nodded. “There’s no way that would work here. This is a small village, a cozy town, that requires a more curated touch.” “Precisely right.” “Where did the money come from for Carl to start his business? And why did he do it?” “He trained in finance and worked in the City in London. He moved back here to be with his childhood friends. He told me he grew tired of the fast-paced life in the City and wanted to come homes. Put all of his money into the bookshop, thinking it would be a hit. It wasn’t.” “It was losing money?” “I assume you know virtually nothing about my son’s finances?” “No. Only that I own half of this house and bookstore.” “There was almost nothing else. If he hadn’t died, I expect this next year would have been his last in business. He’d have found himself with no other choice but to close up shop and to move back to London. 

It’s why I think you should give up before you start, frankly. The store is a money pit. Save yourself what little you have left. It might be nice to dream of a romantic life on the internet, but reality is quite a bit different.” I shrugged. “It’s not like I have anything else to do. I might as well give it a shot. I didn’t see much of the village yesterday, but I get the impression marketing specialists with a degree in graphic design aren’t in very high demand around here.” “No, you aren’t wrong. All the same, there are better ways to spend your time than to essentially light what little money you have on fire.” “I could always spend it all on avocado toast instead,” I replied. Maggie cracked a smile. “As far as I’m concerned, it’s all yours. But don’t get your hopes up. Do you know where the shop is located?” “I’m told its right in the center of town.” “Exactly. I haven’t been there since he passed, but you would have been sent a key. It’s yours to do with as you wish.”

~~~

Through a series of secrets, mistakes, and, ultimate revelation, our main characters--Mack and Maggie met one day. It was a happy day for both of them, since they both thought they had just received an inheritance. Maggie had lost her son recently, while Mackenzie (Mack) had learned that her father, with whom she had never had a relationship, had died and left her his estate...

Mack had just been fired, due to nepotism, but was thrilled to learn that she had just been awarded her dream... A Bookstore! So she had quickly made all arrangements to leave America! She would be traveling to Cornwall... She was excited about the beauty of her new environment, and quickly found her new home, opened the front door with the key she had been sent by the law office and was thrilled to be walking into her new home...

Only to be immediately threatened by somebody who was seriously making an effort to murder her! Long story short, Mack and Maggie was to inherit half of Carl, Maggie's sons, inheritance. The law office had made the mistake, which they immediately made light of... After all, they were relatives and surely could easily share the house and bookstore! NOT! At least that was the immediate reaction from both of the women. Maggie had the even bigger shock since she had never known she had a granddaughter. Mack had never known of any relatives so she was simply happy to have an unexpected gift at the best time...

Actually, Mack and Maggie soon knew that it would be a necessity, both had sold their previous homes. They would have to accept the confusion and try to make the best of it... But, let's face it, Maggie had been prepared to attack, perhaps murder Mack... And so it was quite easy for her to continue to blame Maggie. Maggie more or less just said, "live with it." So they did...

At least until Mack had gone to the bookstore to see what needed to be done to get it up and running. Only to find a man, dead on the floor, with a knife sticking out of him. She did check to be sure he was gone, and then called Maggie: 

I pulled out my phone and called Maggie. I didn’t know what else to do. “Don’t tell me you’ve got lost in a two-street village,” she answered. “Don’t tell me you’re the one who left a body in your son’s bookshop,” I replied.

The next time she went into the Shop was after the police had released it and she was beginning to clean and paint... Suddenly there was a loud noise. Mack immediately stopped, telling herself that she refused to consider that the stop was also haunted--already!

Instead... she found a kitten which had fallen from the furnace piping...

Soon she was purring and kneading biscuits on my thighs.

 

Mack looked around and could not find either the mother cat or other kittens... Suddenly she was being told that a cat or kitten would just appear whenever one was needed... but Mack wasn't sure that Maggie

would be interested in yet another member of the family, but that worry was soon put to rest as Slightly Burnt Toast (Toast for short) was soon chowing down and letting both of them know where she found the most

comfortable to sleep... and I might as well finish that subplot, that Toast's pawprints were soon enshrined on the Bookstore floor, and she was there looking out the windows on the day the shop was to reopen then jumped up on the table in the front window where dozens of new books were displayed, and quietly went to sleep until the first customer came through the door!

Ok, with a cozy, you have probably already guessed that Mack and Maggie were going to be the amateur investigators... and they proved to be very good at it. At least until Mack was attacked while taking a brief hike, while waiting for an appointment, and wound up being pushed into the water and fighting to stop from drowning! Everybody accepted that it was probably the killer who had tried to stop the investigation. But that didn't help in identifying just who it could be!

For me, I had no chance to solve the mystery when it turned out that Mack had discovered a book, but it was in code...Could Maggie figure it out, since she was a local? Soon the two were going all over the surrounding area, talking to anybody and everybody. And, actually, making a number of new friends who were excited by all the new events occurring in their slow, sleepy town... And, suddenly Mack knew who it was... The giant twist that had her looking for books was a fun and fascinating way to identify the guilty one. I "thought" I knew...and was wrong!

Yep, I love a book which keeps be guessing up until the reveal... And, as soon as I finished it, I downloaded the next in series! So, be on the lookout when you see Toast pop up next at Book Readers Heaven... I have to tell you an interesting truth about this book. I had read several important books straight in a row, and was feeling depressed... It only took the first scene of this book that had me laughing and happy... That's what this book will bring you! So if you are just tired of your reality--whatever that may be--I'm willing to say that if you are a cozy lover, this is a must-read to make you laugh and enjoy page after page after page!

GABixlerReviews

What's Happening at Book Readers Heaven! Honing in on Today's Writers and Readers

 

I'm now spending most of my days and nights reading or writing. Sometimes it seems I can't read fast enough, or, rather, that I can't write fast enough to share and talk about what is happening in America...

More and more people are taking an active role in sharing about what is most bothering them... Often, but not all of the books I read lead to the next one, or reference what was written about in one of my recent books... More and more, I feel God's presence in my reading. What do I mean by that? Well, I recently made an appointment for a colonoscopy. It had been past-due, for various reasons, for a checkup after I had pre-cancerous polyps removed. In one of the books I then read, there was a character who was going to a doctor for the same reason and was prayed for... I knew this was a confirmation for my appointment and I claimed that everything would be fine this time. Yes, God is now a continual presence in all that I do. I feel the heat of His Holy Spirit and know that what books I read are speaking to readers across the nation and sometimes the world...

So, it was around 3 this morning that I woke and pulled my reader to continue reading my latest book. I was shocked even more so as a new issue arose in the writer's life. By the way she wrote, I knew that she, too, was being led by God... Why? because it was another book on the theme of my memoir... Plus, I was in the midst of doing a writer discussion merge for another book by Kelsie Carley which will be featured soon.

My reader ran out just at a crucial point, so I grabbed another reader. It too was out of power, So I got dressed and turned the television on, pulled up a recorded news item for Velshi. During that hour, I picked up 3 new books to get. One had been on the best seller list for over 8 years. Now it was being banned... Two others relates to another obsession of those in the republican party... And we are learning that this was always what the party was about, even if those in the public didn't recognize what was happening.

Fetal Personhood? Is this really what will happen! In 2024? Let's think about it from the standpoint of women...and their faith... We have seen what is happening to people who need health care when a pregnancy is going wrong... Can you imagine what God is thinking about republicans that treat people as...if they didn't matter? Let's consider those who speak from the reality of Trump...

Wow! This video popped up and I've watched about half of it so far... All I could think about is the message that I've been sharing often: "What you do unto the least of these, you do unto ME..." Here we have a 90+ year old woman who has lost her water after a golf course was built by Trump... Yeah, there's proof that the water was affected... Yeah, Trump, Jr. has been involved... Yeah...but the poor woman still doesn't have water years after... In the movie, she laments for America not knowing just how badly he lies and knows not to trust him. The entire family is a con and many Americans have been conned! Mainly those who are, even now, donating to pay for legal fees as Trump is found guilty one after the other of cases that are costing millions! I sure hope YOU are not one of those paying for his legal fees for being a rapist, for running a corrupt organization...and for defamation... The man cannot keep from lying and anybody who supports him is paying for his legal fees... Hard to understand, Hard to believe...

This is what I believe. There is much that is wrong in America... But I believe God is acting through people to spotlight the specific issues that have led us to where we are today... And I'm going to be writing about those issues... Are you interested in participating in that exploration?

For some of the discussions, I will be using my sister blog, Just My Personal Opinion...I will be marking it as a blog with Adult Content. We will be talking about sex in all sorts of ways, none of which relates to actual intimacy. We will be talking about how we treat "our neighbors" these days... We will be talking about violence and the use of guns in particular... If you have any issues that need to be discussed more fully, plan on following that blog and adding a comment of topics that may be important to you. I mentioned that I'm now working on a discussion based upon a book.. Some of it may need to move over onto the other blog for instance... if we do, I'll be providing a link to move directly to the rest of the post... Any suggestions or comments about how this might work will always be welcomed!

God Bless,

Gabby

Scream Catcher - By Vincent Zandri - Be Prepared...

 

Part IV Darkness: My Old Friend

Assembly Point Peninsula Friday, August 18, 12:01 A.M. Then a noise. Something that sounds like a thick strip of metal slapped against hardwood. The slap is not something that goes bump in the night. The slap vibrates from out of the stormy darkness; from out of the lower regions of the log home. It penetrates the density of the humid summer air. At the same time the foreign noise acts like a spring. It triggers eyelids, drawing them wide open. Just a quick solid slap that, should it occur during daylight hours might not register a second thought. But that now in the deep night becomes cause for serious alarm. The slap comes and goes so swiftly that by the time the first wave of adrenalin rush passes, Jude begins to believe he must have imagined or dreamt it in the first place. It only makes sense to believe that after falling asleep, the subconscious took over, decided to play a dirty trick on his brain. Because who really wants to believe that someone or something is breaking into their home in the middle of a blacked-out night? 

A glance at his watch tells him he's been asleep for almost two hours. He throws a glance over his shoulder at Rosie. She hasn't stirred an inch. So it seems. But then the darkness of the night is so absolute he can't see ten feet in front of his face even with the now fading candlelight. Or perhaps it's just the effects of having been asleep—the eyes not yet adjusted to light no matter how dim. Get a hold of yourself, Parish. Don't let the demon get the best of you. He almost feels himself smiling at the stupidity of it all. Smiling at the overactive thump, thump, thump of his carotid artery and the moist sweat that coats the skin beneath the down comforter. All is well, he attempts to convince himself. Until a second sharp slap rings out in the night.

I wasn't prepared for Zandri's Scream Catcher. I'd read this author before, but had never experienced the darkness, the blackness of the darkness, the inevitability of awareness that you are not alone. The awareness that you are so scared that you could not move, yet knew you must... Memories when you had previously failed came to stand beside you, cringing, as you did then, knowing that you should try to save the two people... Knowing that you didn't then... And when the screams came, for you knew that they would come, that you would not also scream. You would be silent, listening, hoping that you would escape once again, even if you hated yourself. But you'd be alive! Was it enough? He still wasn't sure. He had used a book to provide him the catharsis that they said would help him come back to his former self. All that book had done was to share his secrets to those who could now take advantage of his fear, his stone-cold fear that left him hiding in the dark, even while listening to the screams. The screams that haunted him... And, now, again, the screams that were now surrounding him, he was frozen, unable to move... Could anybody ever help him? Certainly not the Scream Catcher...

Mack lights another cigarette, exhales the smoke through his nostrils. "This is the part of the backstory where the weird takes a turn for the surreal," he goes on. "Lennox is a militarily trained computer hacker. A talent he's incorporated into the design and development of first-person video kill games." "Kill games," Jude repeats, his son's numerous video game systems flashing through his mind. "Video kill games meaning violent video games." "Video games that kids play precisely because of that violence. The plots are all the same: shoot and destroy; stalk and destroy; fight and destroy; Kung Fu and destroy. In clinical terms, impersonal perspective stealth action games that thrive on intense graphic violence. Their popularity is growing so large and fast that kids now spend more money on them than they do the movies. A fact that hasn't gone unnoticed in Tinsel Town."

 "Wow Mack, for an old timer, you've been studying up." "You have no idea." Immediately Jude pictures his son Jack sitting up on his bed, big brown eyes glued to the TV, a plastic game controller in his hands. When was the last time they had gone to see a movie together? "With kill games," Mack goes on, "the aggressor characters and their victims are modeled on real life human beings. At least in the physical sense. But what the thrill-kill game can not possibly convey is the sensitive nature of the human condition. Therefore, gone is the sense of fear, anger, adulation, panic, love, guilt . . . all those emotions one might naturally take for granted especially when associated with a man or woman in grave danger—a person fearing for his or her own life." "Computers trying to mimic human beings," Jude adds. "And failing miserably," Mack insists. "First-person kill games lack the human element. They lack emotion and most of all a conscience. Let's face it, they're interactive cartoons. No one knows this better than Lennox. In his world, the killing of an innocent man or woman is not an act against civil and social mores. It represents a payoff, plain and simple. The more kills a player accomplishes, the more satisfied the player feels about him or herself, the more he or she desires." "Okay so Lennox designs violent video games and at the same time he likes to kill people. But where do the two come together, Mack? How exactly does a make-believe video game make the leap to becoming a real life murder?" Pulling the spent cigarette from between his lips, Mack drops it into the coffee cup, stares into it, waits for the dousing hiss. "Through his Black Dragon alter ego, Lennox has sought out a way to capture the elusive human

element." 

"Home again, home again," sings the beast. "Jiggidy jig."

~~~

Oh, Scream Catcher is just a game! Sounds cool, where can I get it? Are YOU a gamer?  Indeed, the main character realizes that his son plays games so often that he appears to have some type of addiction for certain ones... And then realizes what the creator has done to ensure that more and more games are being sold... Instead of children seeing that it is not real, that kills are merely being a winner on this game... the creator is trying to make it much more real... By catching screams...

I honestly don't know whether to declare this book a thriller like no other... Or, to point out that it is adult only content, hoping it will be a lesson for readers to pay more attention to game content!

All I can say is... Be Prepared...

GABixlerReviews

Rita Mae Brown & Sneaky Pie Brown in NY Times Bestselling Series - Feline Fatale: A Mrs. Murphy Mystery!

 

Teresa led Harry to the living room. “I’d know your voice anywhere.” Aunt Tally held out her hand for Harry to immediately hold. “Your ears are good.” “That’s about all that’s left. Sit down.” She looked at Teresa. “Hot chocolate. Two. Harry loves chocolate. Sit down. Tell us what you’re doing.” Harry sat in an armchair across from the white-haired lady. Given her advanced age, Aunt Tally looked good. She was in her favorite wing chair with a heavy checkered throw over her legs, propped on a hassock. “This snow will be off and on. I’ll come back tomorrow, too. Without Blair here to do outside chores like this, you and Teresa will be stuck.” Aunt Tally waved her hand, still bejeweled. “Mim can organize all this. She’ll drop by today. By the way, how about Reverend Jones selling the farm to Cynthia Cooper?” “Be good for both of them.” “I like having a law enforcement person for a neighbor.” Aunt Tally smiled. “Oh, Teresa, put the cups down there.” She pointed to the coffee table, which Teresa moved closer to them. “How’s that?” “Good.” Aunt Tally smiled then turned to Harry. “Ordered spring seed yet? Seems far away but spring will eventually come.” Harry shook her head. “Prices are so high right now, I don’t know if I can overseed. Maybe they’ll drop by March or April, but I don’t know. What are you thinking?” “Same as you. Outrageous costs, but having lived here all my life, I want to keep it up. I’ll find the money. Big Mim’s been in charge of my estate for years. I have to admit my sister’s daughter is good with numbers. So was my sister. You don’t remember her, do you?” “Not very well, I’m afraid. I remember she wore such pretty sundresses in the summer. I remember the colors. Speaking of memories. 

Pewter, the fatty, pushed books off my shelf. A picture of my grandfather was on the floor, too. I picked it up. He is sitting at his station in the destroyer. He was so handsome when he was young. I only remember him as an older man. Still good looking.” Aunt Tally leaned forward. “We were the same age. He might have been a year or two older. I was born in 1920. When the war broke out he enlisted right away. As I was sent to private school, the dreaded Miss Porter’s,” she giggled, “I didn’t know him that well until the war was over.” She paused. “You resemble him greatly. Bring me the picture sometime.” “Did he ever talk about the war?” “Only to say he was scared when they were attacked but one does one’s duty. Those were his words. He also mentioned that he would have felt better had he been firing an antiaircraft gun. Sitting down below deck with the radio and telegraph, he didn’t know what was going on. He also said the noise was deafening. He had to press his headphones tightly to his ears. He was a brave man. They all were.” “Yes. I wish I had asked questions but I was too young to know much about that war, his life.” 

“Funny, I often wish I had asked my grandparents things, but I was too busy going to dances. The 1930s are always written up as being terrible. Not if you were young. There were parties, discovering life, listening to the big bands. Oh, I loved that.” She sipped her hot chocolate. “You know, Harry, you are the only person who knows how much I loved your grandfather.” Harry thought a moment. “It was such a different time. Today perhaps you could be together. Then,” she put down her own cup, “it had to be so painful.” “I never married because no man lived up to Larry. Forgive me. Old stories.” “I’m glad you can talk to me. And yes, you would have lost a lot of social status.” “Poof. I could have cared less, but my mother and my aunt did. They were keen to see me engaged to that ridiculous Chicago department store heir. An idiot, but a rich idiot. All I could think of was Larry. If I couldn’t have him then I’d stay single. But you know, and I never told this, he taught me how to operate a ham radio. I had to take tests, learn Morse code, and get a license. Learning about radio waves did not thrill me. Talking to Larry did. No one knew because if anyone walked into my room, I’d quickly turn the radio down and say I think I’ve got someone in Washington. That’s about one hundred miles. Two hundred miles was pretty much the radius. For a good reason.” “I think one still has to get a license. I wonder what happened to Grandpa’s radio?” 

Aunt Tally replied, “Your mother would never have thrown it out. It has to be packed away somewhere or your mother gave it away.” “I bet Susan’s mother would know. They were best friends.” “Well, if you find it, consider getting a license. You might need to go to class, but if you find Larry’s radio, you can talk to me. I still use mine. I like to listen to what’s out there. People really talking, you know. Not like cellphones or such. It’s different. Maybe once a month I’ll sit in my little room off the kitchen and use the radio, gives me comfort.” She put her cup back on the coffee table. “And it makes me think of him.” She stopped. 

“I’ll try to find his radio.” Harry heard the door open in the back. Teresa had hurried to it. Within a minute Big Mim came down the hall. “Harry.” “Mim, so good to see you.” “Come see my four foals. Born early January. Well, you would know. Your husband was there.” She sat in a chair. Big Mim, in her early seventies, wore a warm, wonderful Navy officer’s sweater. The turtleneck kept her warm. This white sweater was over a heavy skirt, plaid, and a pair of knee-high boots. Her earrings sparkled, gold domes, her engagement ring after all these years could dazzle, given its epic proportions. Mim turned out, no matter the occasion. She was born knowing how to throw herself together. Harry so envied that ability, as she lacked it. Susan would occasionally dress her. “I would love to see them. He remarked on the bright chestnut filly. Said you needed sunglasses to look at her.” Mim laughed. “She is bright. If she turns into a foxhunter instead of a running horse, no one will miss her.” Teresa brought a cup for Mim. “Thank you, dear.” Aunt Tally commented, “Harry plowed the new snow.” “Oh, Harry, I would have seen to that, but thank you so much. This snow crept up on us. Watching the news, I noticed piles of snow pushed up in parking lots, even in Richmond. 

Watching the news I got an earful from Amanda Fields. You must have seen it. I heard you and Susan were there when Ned introduced his bill. Sensible, by the way.” Aunt Tally lifted an eyebrow. “What? What did Ned introduce?” Both Harry and Big Mim explained. “How extraordinary,” came the response, then Aunt Tally grinned. “I do give her credit for hitting Aidan with her high heel. Evens up the fight.”

~~~

I've been reading Rita Mae Brown for over a decade, although I might not have written reviews for all of them... As Sneaky Pie Brown knows, I do sneak in my favorite type of book--with cat characters--quite often, even though I don't take the time to review them. So, somewhere along the years, I missed the addition of a new dog to the Haristeen family... And he happens to play somewhat of a lead character in this one--as a service dog! Pirate is a not-yet-grown Irish Wolfhound...who lives with Mrs. Murphy, Pewter, and Tucker...

Actually, though, I was more impressed when I read the book description that, Brown, like so many others,  are writing about politics in one way or another, so I admit that I wondered how politics could be brought into this cozy book series... I wasn't disappointed, although I have to admit that I was, on the other hand, disappointed when the ending fell short, in my opinion, with what actually happened... I'm assuming it was done on purpose; but I'm already quite disgusted in how the real political world is keeping we citizens hanging with so many delaying tactics that are being allowed, that I wanted to know exactly what had happened. After the book had already ended...

Harry is our female lead character and other than being married to a vet whose last name is Haristeen, I never learned how she began to be called Harry, but her work habits could be what started it... First she was the postmaster for the town and now she is "only" a farmer, one who talks tractors more than any woman I've ever met...LOL... And, as we all are, she has been upset over the high prices that are being charged for everything! This is a good lead into the political environment, which parallels what we know mostly as those outlined for present-day republican and democrat platforms. 

So the first issue that arises in the surrounding area of Virginia is that climate change, as recognized by the democratic party, is bringing harsher winters and thus Ned Tucker, husband to Susan, Harry's long-term best friend, and who has been elected into the State legislature has co-sponsored a bill to designate funds to handle snow removal by contractors, indicating that it would be cheaper than having to purchase all necessary equipment in various parts of the state to ensure roads are routinely cleared and ready for all citizens... Of course, those that analyze which party supports which issues, quickly knew that the republican party would oppose this bill. In fact, a newly elected representative, who was once a tv reporter, was first to speak against anything that would increase spending...

It was obvious that everyone affected would begin to take sides. In the meantime, Harry just did her routine activities, which, with snow coming down steadily, she worried about all of her animals, as well as those friends who may need assistance. Thus, it was Harry who had, after plowing out her driveway, went on to her oldest neighbor. Aunt Tally was housebound, with a live-in nurse, so Harry came to plow her driveway out in case of an emergency. And, of course, she took the time to stop in and visit...

Aunt Tally was known and called by that name by anybody who knew her. But it was Harry, to whom she had shared a secret from her past...  Tally who was now 103 years young, was in love with Harry's grandfather. They were a couple doomed to remain separate due to their families, yet continued to love each other. In fact, after Harry had told her she had found a picture of him as a communications officer and promised to bring it over to show Tally when she asked to see it, Tally then started talking about their having continued to talk over a ham radio! And, that, even now, Aunt Tally continued to talk to people over her set! The two women got so excited talking that Harry started wondering whether she could learn how to use it...and, more, whether her grandfather's radio was still somewhere in storage. 

When it was found, Harry soon learned that her former post office partner also had a set and she even used it to practice choir selections with members who did not drive, but could still make it to church on Sundays!  Harry was soon at Miranda's house to learn more and to hear them singing together! Wow! this was something that could never be done on cell phones! And, so, Harry soon had a book of signals and was learning the codes...

Most of us know that young people have been used in political institutions to provide, not only a entrance into a place that each wishes to enter, but, also to help busy legislators as they need messages taken, or to do other small tasks...what we call fondly as "go-fers."  I was surprised, though, at the young age of the students that were selected--age 14!  Reid Rider was such a student and he loved every minute of being there. Readers, though, learn early that there might just be some concerns about their activities, when Reid, who had been given money to buy some things, also had the keys to a car tossed to him...

Reid Ryder died in a car accident, the car sliding out of control and the young boy was not able to stop. There were signs of alcohol and drugs. His parents were quite vocal in defending their son--he had NOT been into anything like what they had found... His death was the beginning--what else was going on?

A special thank-you to the author for spotlighting one of my growing concerns about politics! The never-ending request for money!

No one can be poor and be in politics.” “True. That’s why it will never be truly representative. But we do the best we can. The cost of elections I find destructive. If the Canadians can have a six-week election period…don’t know what it is for the Brits…we can, too. The amount of money wasted on elections is a sin. Ned and I have drawn a line. He’s leaving if it spirals upward. His life is already jammed with fundraisers. Who has time to govern? He’s in his second term. Our district generally turns out. Some people are swayed by what I call anger politics, but most really want good roads, good schools, job opportunities, affordable housing. Sensible. But again, we have drawn the line. You can have all the rights in the world, but if you can’t eat, what good are they? That money now spent on elections should go to county food kitchens.” Harry let that settle in. “You’re right, but what I think drives a lot of today’s anger is status anxiety. How do you like that word?” Susan laughed. “Coming from you, very impressive.” “People don’t want to lose their place. They want to move up the totem pole. Granted, I’m not much for politics, but people don’t change. We’re the same as we were millennia ago; we now have central heating, running water, we don’t have to walk to the well, but nothing is truly different, just easier.” “Nuclear weapons are different.” “They are, and we can all go up in smoke, but if you think about it, in every age there was some new military development that scared people.” “We are over the edge now,” Susan firmly stated. “In a way, a strange way, that’s why this absurd feud distresses me. The huge problems in the world, well, perhaps the Virginia statehouse isn’t going to fix them, but we have things we need to do for our state. Having two representatives waste time needling each other doesn’t solve a thing.” “No, but it brings them both to the public’s attention. And I bet it gets people giving to their election campaigns. To change the subject, I am not buying a new pair of work boots unless I can try them on. I’ll keep you posted.” “No you won’t. You’ll drag me with you. Now, my opinion would mean something if you were buying those red-bottom heels. Timberland work boots? Maybe not. You’ll look like you always look, whether in an ancient pair or a new pair.” “That’s not very flattering. I’d like to think I’ll look better.” “You will.” Susan laughed. “Maybe you should look at a pair of inexpensive heels, so next time we go to Richmond you can click down the hall. People will think there is competition for Amanda.” A long pause followed this. “I don’t think she’s ever going to have competition. Okay, back to it. I’m going over tomorrow to check on Aunt Tally. I know she’s all right, but given the weather, she can’t get out. Teresa could drive her somewhere, but walking her to a restaurant or, say, Talbots is not a good idea. Slick. And given the nights, frozen until more salt is put on the sidewalks.” “You’re right. I’ll make scones. Aunt Tally has always liked my scones.” “Me too.”

Maybe this series is getting too old? The mystery was fairly easy to spotlight. There was, it seemed, way more animal chatter than necessary. The plot flowed too easily, and like I said, there was a quick climax of villain identification, with very little final closing of the what and the why. Too many things left hanging. Sorry, folks, I didn't find it a book I wanted to recommend... Even though it is the first that I didn't recommend... So, you might want to move to the right-hand column, type in the author name and check out others in the series to give you a better knowledge of the series... After all, this is just my opinion, for one book...

GABixlerReviews 

Secrets Lurking in Pinecrest By T. E. Killian Series Book 2 A Cozy Mystery With A Forest Service Investigator Main Character!

 

Sunday morning in Pinecrest brought a calm serenity, as families made their way to the little church nestled against the backdrop of tall pines and towering mountains. For Mary, it was a cherished routine to attend the service with her best friend Abby. As they entered the church foyer, familiar hymns filled the air coming from speakers on the walls. Mary exchanged warm greetings with familiar faces. The two women took their usual seats, and as they settled in, Mary’s eyes caught something unexpected — Mike, accompanied by his parents, finding seats not too far away. The coincidence brought a gentle smile to Mary’s face. She hadn’t expected to see Mike at church. Yes, she knew his parents were members, but this was the first time she’d seen him there. After the service, as the congregation dispersed, Mary lingered for a moment, scanning the crowd. It didn’t take long for her gaze to find Mike and his parents. With a subtle nod to Abby, she made her way toward them, hoping to catch Mike before he left the church. “Good morning,” Mary greeted, the words carrying the warmth of familiarity. “Mike, I’m glad to see you here this morning.” Mary noticed that Mike’s parents looked at each other, then stepped over to where Abby was standing. Mike’s eyes met hers, a hint of surprise giving way to a welcoming smile. “I guess I’d forgotten that you came here.” Mike’s parents were now exchanging pleasantries with Abby. As conversations flowed seamlessly, they all began making their way into the foyer. Once they were there, Preston met Abby, and they approached Mary and Mike. Abby, always the one to make plans on the spur of the moment, suggested, “Why don’t we all go to The Supper Club for dinner? It’s been a while since we’ve all sat down together.” The idea met with unanimous agreement, and soon, the group made their way to The Supper Club. The bell above the entrance jingled lightly as they stepped inside, greeted by the comforting aroma of home-style meals, which the restaurant always served on Sunday afternoons. In the foyer, as they waited for a table, the four younger people were standing together. “So, what brings you to church today, Mike?” Mary asked, her tone light and curious. Mike chuckled, his eyes reflecting a sense of ease. “Just felt like a good day to be here. Sometimes, it’s nice to step into a quieter space.” Abby chimed in, “Well, we’re glad you joined us. Church, then lunch—it’s like a Pinecrest tradition.” She turned to her fiancé and said, “And, of course, it’s a much more pleasant experience now that Preston is the pastor.” Mike’s parents decided that instead of trying to get a table for six, they took one table and the four younger ones took another table nearby. Seated at a corner table, menus in hand, the group settled into the easy banter that came with years of friendship and community bonds. The conversation flowed seamlessly, blending tales of the week’s events with plans for the upcoming ones. Mike, Mary, Abby, and Preston found themselves in a moment where they set aside the trials of the week for the simplicity of shared company and the comforting clatter of plates and cutlery. The restaurant, with its warm ambience and the comforting aroma associated with it, became a haven for shared stories and laughter. Seated around a corner table were Mary, Mike, Abby, and Preston, their conversations weaving seamlessly between tales of the week’s events and the subtle beauty of Pinecrest life.

Once they finished their meals and laughter echoed, the talk shifted. The air around Mike seemed heavy, a cloud of concern settling in his eyes. Abby, perceptive as always, gently prodded, “What’s on your mind, Mike? You seem a bit troubled.” Mike sighed, glancing briefly at Mary before meeting Abby’s eyes. “It’s my fiancée, Celina. I’m worried about her. She came here Friday and left for home early this morning. I’m afraid she just doesn’t like it here. She was unhappy the whole time she was in Pinecrest.” Abby, always the caring friend, leaned in. “Was she angry when she left?” He hesitated, as if wrestling with unspoken thoughts. “I’m not sure. She said she needed to go home early. She was staying at my parents’ house and before I could get there this morning, she was gone without even saying goodbye.” Preston, the pastor with an innate sense of empathy, spoke softly, “Relationships can be challenging, especially when big changes are involved. Have you talked to her about it?” Mike nodded, his gaze drifting to Mary for a moment before returning to the group. “I tried, but she wouldn’t talk about it. I just want her to be happy, but I don’t know if Pinecrest is the place for her.” As the afternoon progressed, they left The Supper Club, the cool October air greeting them as they stepped outside. Abby and Preston, ever the thoughtful friends, suggested dropping Mary off at her trailer. As they stood outside her door, Abby’s eyes gleamed with a conspiratorial glint. “Mary, spill it. What’s going on between you and Mike?” Mary, surprised, tried to cover it up. “Nothing, really. We’re just friends and you know he’s engaged.” Abby wasn’t buying it. “Come on, Mary. I’ve known you too long to believe that. There’s something more there, isn’t there?” Preston, with a gentle smile, added, “Abby’s right. We’ve seen the way you two look at each other. There’s a connection that doesn’t need words to confirm.” Mary, feeling a bit embarrassed, shrugged. “We’re just friends. But it hurts to know he’s engaged.” Abby, with an arched eyebrow, pressed on. “And if he wasn’t engaged?” Mary hesitated, her thoughts flickering between Mike and Marcus. “It’s complicated, Abby. You know Marcus is interested, and I’m just not sure...” Abby interrupted, “I really don’t think Marcus is the problem. Is he Mary?” Mary nodded, the admission hanging in the air. “He’s a great guy, but it’s just not the same.” Preston, always the wise counselor, offered, “Life is too short to settle for something that doesn’t make your heart race. Maybe it’s time to have an honest conversation with both of them.” As Abby and Preston departed, leaving Mary alone with her thoughts, she didn’t like the lonely feeling that overcame her. The trailer, usually a haven, felt like a confining space. She paced, pondering the tangled threads of her emotions. Marcus was kind, reliable, and interested in her. Yet, whenever her thoughts drifted to a future, it was Mike’s face that emerged. The connection they shared, the unspoken moments — all those thoughts lingered in her heart. As the night came on, Mary sat by the window, watching the shadows play on the quiet streets of Pinecrest. The weight of her feelings and the uncertainty of the path ahead left her restless. The sound of the wind in the pines outside seemed to echo the murmurings of her heart. Marcus, the safe choice, needed her full attention. Mike, engaged and troubled, existed in a realm of unspoken possibilities. In the quiet solitude of her trailer, Mary found herself at a crossroads, torn between the steady rhythm of the familiar and the uncharted melody of something more.

~~~

Mary had held a secret love for Mike since their teens when all of them were part of the same group of students graduating... Mike went on to become a ranger and had moved to a new assigned area where after a number of years, he became engaged to a young woman living there. Mike had returned through the years, as Pinecrest Station was his home base and by then Mary had started working for the Station as dispatcher, and anything else needed. She enjoyed the job...

But her best friend, Ashley was now engaged and both were thinking about just how different it would be once she married--to the new pastor, no less, which meant that she'd be called to be involved even more at church. Ashley knew of Mary's first love, but kept on her, suggesting that she needed to forget him, and start dating more often. And so when she was asked to go to dinner, she went! And enjoyed it... What she didn't know that when Mike came back and saw Mary at the Station, she was quite changed from his memory... In fact, he couldn't stop looking...

Mike was now an investigator and was called on to deal with illegal aspects that were slightly beyond the normal duties of rangers... In fact, when he got back into Pinecrest, he quickly was told to be on the lookout for poachers that had been seen in the area. Mike would be patrolling throughout the forest, based upon reported sightings... He was busy, so he was caught off guard when his fiance came to visit without prior notice. He was living in a trailer, so she had to be hosted at his parents home. There really wasn't any place where she could stay and be happy. Nor was she thrilled to realize that her normal fine dining activities with Mike were at locations where home cooking was the routine... Everybody could tell that she was unhappy; however, Mike had been transferred to Pinecrest and would probably remain for at least 3 years...She ultimately decided that she wasn't willing to share Mike's life if it meant it would be in Pinecrest...Somehow, it didn't bother Mike as much as he thought it would...

And when the first dance of the season came in Pinecrest, it seemed just natural that the "new" foursome, which matched Mary and Mike, was fine for everybody, especially Mary... You know, she never did tell him that she'd been in love with him since she was 15... LOL

So, soon the investigation of poaching gets even more of a problem when there was news that drugs also were being passed through their little town... and Mike as the Forest Service Investigator, was right in the middle of it... And, while he was dealing with all of that, a surprise occurred in Mike's life. His first wife had died and he was awarded total custody for his beautiful daughter... This latter event brought the entire town into the lives of this brand new threesome, resulting in one of the most heartwarming stories that the town had ever celebrated! Enjoy! And, if you liked this story, type in T. E. Killian in the search box in the right column for 3 equally delightful books!

GABixlerReviews

The Horoscope Writer by Ash Bishop - A Delightfully Screwy Murder Mystery... Until It Was No Longer Funny...

 . . . and there is a Catskill eagle in some souls That can alike dive down into the blackest gorge And soar out of them again . . .

Abbattista simply laughed again. “Come in, Bobby. I’ll answer your questions about the tiger, but first I want to show you what we were doing.” Abbattista led Bobby through an indoor/outdoor recreation room with an indoor/outdoor pool. Diffused light filtered through the staggered wood roof and made the water sparkle. The pool was roughly twenty yards wide everywhere except the center, which branched out another five yards to accommodate lap swimming. Above the pool was a loft full of recreational equipment. Bobby noted several frames on the wall as he passed. Abbattista’s degree (in English Literature) from Princeton University; a series of horse racing pictures—one a giclée of a photo finish, the horse in focus stretching its neck for the tape; a picture of Abbattista decades younger with President Ronald Reagan at some kind of rally; a Latin phrase that read Mensus eram coelos, nunc terrae metior umbras. Mens coelestis erat, corporis umbra iace; and finally, a dollar bill, framed off-center in a cheap wooden frame. In the context of the other materials, Bobby thought the dollar quaint, and a little bit cheesy, but maybe Abbattista was that kind of guy. The Latin phrase was stenciled onto a small two-inch plaque. With Abbattista and Timur walking a few steps ahead of him, Bobby took the plaque from the desk and put it in his pocket. They continued outward, through a glass door separating the recreation room from the backyard, the lawn sloping toward the Pacific Ocean. Ahead, Bobby could see four other men standing near a chalked circle in the grass. Each of them held a bamboo shaft. Behind them a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree view of the ocean signaled the end of the property. The men were an odd bunch. One was nearing seventy years old. He was wearing a servant’s uniform, stripped down to a white tank top undershirt and black dress pants. He had sweated through his undershirt, making it transparent, and his hairy, soft, brown chest was showing. Two of the men were younger than Bobby, in their early twenties. One of them spun the bamboo stick casually in circles, his eyes never leaving Bobby’s. The fourth man was enormous. He had the kind of body that could only be achieved through a careful diet, constant weightlifting, a healthy dose of powders, proteins, herbs, and vitamins, and also jabbing a syringe full of steroids into your thigh once or twice a week. His hair hung down over his eyes in tight brown ringlets, and he had circles of blood splattered on the chest and sleeve of his shirt. Abbattista spoke to the old man in the tank top, “Tamba! Give me your stick, please.” Tamba handed his bamboo shaft to Abbattista and looked at him expectantly. “We have a new sixth; you may go back to work.” “Thank goodness,” Tamba said. Abbattista threw the shaft to Bobby who caught it instinctively. 

“Are you familiar with the fourteenth century poem, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight?” “I’m a little behind in my reading of fourteenth century poets.” “What poetry do you read?” “Busta Rhymes?” “You’re even a little behind on your hip-hop,” Abbattista said. “Sir Gawain is not a very interesting piece. It has a little bit of fun homosexual subtext. A tiny bit of chaste heterosexual eroticism. Some decent alliteration if you can get into the old English. They made a movie recently. It was . . . okay.” Bobby remained silent. He watched Abbattista, who was beaming with a great sense of satisfaction and anticipation. “What’s remarkable about the poem,” Abbattista continued, “is that it gives us our first real indication of the effects of feudalism on Anglo-Norman society. The knights in Sir Gawain are bored. They lack the physical challenges of farming or defending the realm; they lack the instinctual struggle for survival that was characteristic of the heroes in earlier poems such as Beowulf and Gilgamesh. So, not having real problems, they begin to challenge one another to complex social and physical gaming. I can decorate my wife more beautifully than you can, or I can make a ludicrous promise and then work an entire year just to keep it, all in the name of honor. We’re doing the same thing here. We’re gaming.” 

“Are you bored, sir?” Bobby asked. “Why don’t you step into the circle, Bobby?” Bobby looked at Abbattista. He glanced around at the other men, who were all looking back at him. Then he stepped into the chalk circle. “Charles, get in there with him, please.” The big mass of muscles swept curly hair out of his eyes and joined Bobby in the circle. Bobby raised his bamboo shaft and held it between himself and Charles. “Bobby, you and Charles try to stay in the circle. We’ll try and get you out.” “You better be able to cover my back,” Charles said in thick, clipped English. Bobby realized he wasn’t fighting Charles, but rather alongside him. He spun completely around and set himself square. From both his ten o’clock and two o’clock, the young men were advancing, bamboo held upright. Behind Bobby, Timur and Abbattista advanced on Charles. One of the young men came in first, swinging his stick low at Bobby’s feet. Bobby brought his own down fast enough to deflect the blow, but the other man stepped quickly in to level a shot at Bobby’s head. Bobby got the stick just high enough to send the swing glancing harmlessly above him. The first man struck again, a quick shot at Bobby’s shoulder. It connected and Bobby felt pain course through his chest and up into his throat. The second man darted in again, jabbing the end of his shaft at Bobby’s neck. Charles spun in a circle to defend Bobby, deftly parrying away a weak jab by Abbattista. In a fluid motion, Charles smacked the second young man solidly on the nose, splitting it. The man stumbled back; blood appeared beneath his palm and dripped onto his chin. “I owed you that one, Rife,” Charles grumbled. The first man advanced again on Bobby. Bobby easily parried his attack and then struck back, connecting a weak strike on the man’s kneecap. The young man with the busted nose, Rife, came forward, fire in his eyes. He hit Bobby’s bamboo shaft so hard it almost vibrated out of his hand. While Bobby was trying to reset himself, the other man struck him on the shoulder, sending him to his knees. Bobby stood up again quickly and swung a wild arc; his attackers dodged backward, out of the circle. 

“When does this end?” Bobby said, his breath ragged. “When you’re out of the circle or we give up trying to get you out.” Charles turned his head to whisper to Bobby, “Abbattista’s stick is thicker and heavier, be ready for that when he comes at you.” Bobby didn’t have time to respond. Rife was advancing again. He and the other man were coming at him at the same time from different angles. He could hear the clacking of wood against wood as Timur and Abbattista struck at Charles. Bobby wanted to walk out of the circle, but he doubted he’d get his interview if he did. Rife struck Bobby in the calf. Bobby instinctively lowered his staff to defend his legs, and the other man took advantage of the opening, swinging a berserk thrust at Bobby’s head. Bobby felt the wind whoosh past his face and realized that had it connected, he’d be concussed, at best. When Rife darted in for another blow, Bobby planted his shaft in the dirt and swung himself around it. Rife’s strike glanced harmlessly off Bobby’s bamboo, and he wasn’t positioned to protect himself from Bobby’s legs. Bobby connected firmly with Rife’s kneecap, and the other man crumpled to the ground. 

“Well done, Bobby,” Abbattista said. “We haven’t seen that move, even from our Olympic fencer.” Rife lay groaning on the ground. “Should we make sure he’s okay?” Bobby asked. Abbattista lowered his shaft and walked to where Rife lay. He leaned over him and wiggled his kneecap. Rife groaned loudly in protest. “I’ll get the medic.” Abbattista motioned toward the house. When Bobby turned to see where he was pointing, instead he saw Timur’s bamboo shaft, winging its way directly into his face. Bobby managed only to look upward, catching the full brunt of the impact on his chin rather than his nose. The first thing he saw was an explosion of stars, then all the color drained out of the backyard, and then the grass came up fast and cradled his body. Far off in the distance, just before he blacked out, he heard Abbattista say, “Well, I guess nobody said stop, did they?”

~~~

Point your reader in a certain direction, and they’ll do the rest. The less educated and disciplined they are, the more their imagination will compensate.”

I thought the above quote was very telling, even more so these days... If we read, choose certain games to always play, watch only one type of television; e.g., only those with some kind of violence in it, we begin to form a certain bias, a certain body of knowledge that, if allowed, will form our perception of life from then on... Imagine, if you would, that those who read their horoscope each day, or the conservative Fox news daily, or even the Old Testament routinely, that you may have kept your mind from exploring the heights and breadth of the knowledge that is available to all of us...

Thus it was for the past  Olympian Winner, who had left the physically oriented world to embark upon his true desire--to write--that he was confronted with just how many people shared his personal goal, while, at the same time, newspapers were losing status as the predominant news source as television and the Internet had shown that it could reach people faster and more reliably... The only problem being that, often, the one things that had been ensured in the printed world was that it was research and documented before it went to print... Now, those who chose different reasons or goals for their programs often found that truth was not even relevant...

But for a mystery, a murder mystery in particular, there at least needed to be a body... Thus, The Horoscope Writer opens when Detective Leslie Consorte was called to a crime scene--one that began at one point and extended at least three miles--quite gruesome! But that was not why Bobby Morgan Frindley. Age 26. BA. Journalism. University of Southern California. GPA: 3.72 was reading the newspaper. He was looking for a job and was trying to write a resume for a news media internship, but got no further than his name and education. He had no experience. But wasn't that what an internship was for? He would try for it! Even so, as he entered the building, he whispered, "said, “God? I know I haven’t prayed since July. I know I don’t really deserve a favor, per se. But, uh, please help me get the job here? Amen.”

But it was his notoriety as a champion that got him recognition from the editor, no less... who had been his fan--even cheered for him! But then didn't see him as working there. Until he heard somebody scream, the horoscope writer quit! Suddenly Milo had a new writer right in front of him... So, while, Bobby might have even read his horoscope that morning before he had left home, he acknowledged that he knew nothing about astrology, or how to read them... Soon, he was writing his first horoscope, for himself: Writing as Ask Ambrosia:  Bobby wrote: “Libra—You will make significant forward progress only to find yourself suddenly lost in a strange, new land.”

He was given one bit of worthwhile advice. Contact a local astrologer and see if she would help him slide into his new role. Bobby hit it off well with her, maybe too well, since he was willing to admit he was more than half-way in love with his neighbor across the street... only problem she was married and her husband was in the service... Bummer! Still the astrologer agreed to help him... But it was one of those bad nights for his neighbor and she begged Bobby to dance and keep her awake... And then notice of an email caught their attention...

Before he even could get started, Bobby received a message. It was a list of horoscopes along with a warning. If he didn't print them, one of the predictions would come true. If he ignored them, all of them would come true... 

Bobby couldn’t resist her drunken enthusiasm. Music filled the apartment, and they danced together on the landing just outside her small kitchen. Bobby swung his arms and elbows, grooving his feet in wild, drunken patterns. Sarah laughed and spun in a loopy circle, shuffling around the small makeshift dance floor. When she finally collapsed next to him on the couch, they were both sweating. He thought the night was over, but Sarah struggled to her feet again and dragged Bobby by hand to the laptop. Bobby was flushed from landing the job, and the alcohol, and Sarah’s attention. He wasn’t quite ready for the good day to end, despite growing steadily loopier from fatigue. Sarah opened the web browser, found the Ask Ambrosia email, and hit the Reply button. She said, “The inaugural email of the new Lady Ambrosia is ready, Captain. You dictate, I’ll write.” Bobby cleared his throat and began to dictate, “Dear Whac-a-mole." Sarah giggled. “You want me to read you the message again? To help you organize your response?” “Yeah. Just read the best predictions though.” Sarah peered into the glowing monitor. “Well, someone’s obviously trying to do your job for you. There are twelve wonderfully imaginative predictions here. The first says: ‘Aries—Mars, the planet of initiative, is your ruler and subruler.’” Sarah paused dramatically, a smile twitching onto her lips. “‘As an indirect result of those energies, you will be torn apart by an endangered Indonesian tiger.’” Sarah burst into fits of laughter. She was drunk, Bobby reminded himself. So was he. She continued, “The next one is: ‘Taurus—You are both fierce and gentle. A white bull. But you are too young, on the cusp of the third house. Your immaturity and lack of foresight will lead you to great harm. In fact, you will be gang-raped on the property of the Theta Rho Kappa fraternity house at San Diego University.’ I really don’t like that one, it’s not funny or anything; it sucks. I’m sorry I read it. There’s a short one about a brush fire. It’s the Virgo.” Sarah glanced at Bobby and their eyes locked. She blushed, then looked quickly back at the screen...

It had been during that drunken night, that they had gone too far... not only with each other, but, as Sarah, laughing, thinking it was all in fun, had sent those horoscopes forward to print!

Setting off chaos and madness as first, one horoscope came true...and another... predictions of violence or fortune--it didn't matter because everybody "believed" what was being written! Soon the terror was affecting everybody! Now police vehicles were appearing from all directions, as horoscopes proclaiming treasure started hunts across the lands... It didn't matter that violence was a part of all of it!

I have to ask, is this a sign of our times, when fake violence in fiction is no longer just fake. That it is being incited for other purposes, mostly by people who are no longer able to separate out good and evil. This is a book that clearly ensure readers know the difference... Because Bobby has God behind him...

“But there is something you haven’t done yet. You haven’t shaken my belief in the existence of God. When I threatened you over the phone two nights ago, you said I hadn’t ever met the horoscope killer; you said how could I believe that I was that special? But I had met you. I’d even had dinner with you...  I’d had my own experience with performance-enhancing drugs. I’d even recognized their effect on the body of the tiger. Every step of the way, God showed me exactly what I needed to see. God brought me to this moment for the purpose of stopping you.”

I have to ask, is this a sign of our times, when fake violence in fiction is no longer just fake. That it is being incited for other purposes, mostly by people who are no longer able to separate out good and evil. This is a book that clearly ensure readers know the difference... Because Bobby has God behind him...

This extraordinary novel not only gives you a mystery to solve, a question about those who choose astrology to guide their lives, but, more importantly, lets us know that when we call upon His name, in faith that God will provide needed guidance, He will do exactly that. It's unique, it's scope is expansive, and, yet, exactly what we need to know today... God's Truth. God's Love.

GABixlerReviews

This extraordinary novel not only gives you a mystery to solve, a question about those who choose astrology to guide their lives, but, more importantly, lets us know that when we call upon His name, in faith that He will provide needed guidance, He will do exactly that. It's unique, it's scope is expansive, and, yet, exactly what we need to know today... God's Truth. God's Love.

GABixlerReviews