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 Her slacks had been replaced by jeans that were so oversized they surely must have belonged to Carl, because there was no way she’d have owned them herself.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

The Hayloft: A 1950s Mystery (and Music!) by Alan Cook - Young Adult On... Another Personal Favorite!

I have great faith in the people of the United States

to do the right thing in the long run.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“It’s what keeps me going.”

Apparently Ralph stayed behind and was there all alone.” None of this made any sense. “Does Dad know?” I asked. “I just called him,” Mother said. “He’s on his way home.” My father was the brother of Aunt Dorothy and the uncle of Ralph. I asked more questions, but my mother had given me all the information she had. If it were anybody else, I might have almost believed it—but Ralph. Ralph was indestructible. He climbed the highest trees, dove off the biggest rocks. We were the same age, but he did everything a little bit better than I did—and a lot more flamboyantly.

I heard our car pull into the driveway and turned off the radio. I was tired of hearing about communist-hunting by the House Un-American Activities Committee, anyway. And tired of listening to pop songs that had lost their music and meaning since Ralph died.

(My song selection based upon words; all others in book)

I admit, when I saw the 1950s mystery designation, I immediately bought it--for less than a dollar I surely got my money's worth...and more! By now you all know that I love books with music as part of the background story...So prepare to spend time with me as you read this review...

The book opens as Gary is isolated with measles and his family are coming back from the funeral for his first cousin, Ralph. Gary is confronted with his not being able to be there, but also with the confusion as to how he could possibly have died the way that he did. He fell off a balcony at his school... Gary didn't believe it and so, this quickly turned into somewhat of a cozy mystery as Gary was determined to find out exactly what happened--he wondered who else had been with Ralph that night and whether he was pushed!

A jukebox in the corner blasted out the Bill Haley and the Comets version of “Rock Around the Clock.” Rock and roll was still new, and some adults saw it as the latest form of teenage depravity. There had been a jukebox in the Atherton cafeteria that took nickels. Sylvia told me this one was free. Ralph had listened to this jukebox...

Gary's home room was in the cafeteria so music was playing quite often and some of the girls even did the Charleston. He laughed wondering how they'd learned those steps!

Gary met Sylvia on his first day at Carter. She was the class president and assigned to show him around the school. But before she came, Gary had been greeted by his new principal, Dr. Graves...

But Dr. Graves, first, spent time talking about Gary's being transferred to Carter, noting that it was at his discretion that he be accepted... And, he then mentioned that Sylvia would be coming in soon and that he needed Gary to work with him secretly. He noted that Sylvia's father had undergone a congressional investigation related to whether he was a communist... Dr. Graves wanted him to watch Sylvia and report back on anything that seemed suspicious...

Now that Ralph was gone, there was only one reason Gary was happy to be at Carter... He had fallen "in love" with the head cheerleader when they played at his old school... Even though she was, of course, dating the football hero here, he couldn't forget about her great beauty... But he got to know her through Sylvia while keeping one of those secrets... In the meantime, Gary began asking questions, and even risked going to a dance, alone, hoping to learn more...

I didn’t think anybody would hear me if I rang the doorbell, and the door was unlocked, so I walked in. The music instantly became much louder. I followed the sound to the living room where cigarette smoke curled lazily toward the ceiling. A fire in an old brick fireplace produced more smoke, most of which went up the chimney. Several couples were dancing on a hardwood floor, darkened with age, doing some version of the swing or dirty bop. The music was coming from a phonograph playing 45 RPM records. The girls who were dancing wore skirts with several crinolines underneath, which flashed when they spun. I saw a couple of poodle skirts. 

The boys, who outnumbered the girls, were dressed as their version of juvenile delinquents: blue jeans, T-shirts with rolled-up sleeves and a cigarette pack on one shoulder. A couple of them wore black leather jackets. Most wore their hair long. 

I immediately felt out of place with my short hair and neat clothes,especially because I didn’t recognize anybody. Then Willie materialized from someplace near the table that had been set up as a bar and grabbed me by the arm. He had a cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth and had obviously been drinking. He pulled me over to the table where I recognized his brother, Dennis, larger and stockier than Willie, but with the same hair. When Dennis spotted me in tow of his brother, I stuck out my hand and said, “Gary Blanchard.” He shook my hand and said, “You’re the new kid. Have a beer.” He pulled a bottle out of a tub filled with ice, opened it deftly, and handed it to me. I took a sip. It was cold and slid down easily. One beer wouldn’t impair my driving ability. Although there were a few older boys and girls there, including Dennis, who had probably flunked a grade or two, I was willing to bet that most of the partygoers were under eighteen. And that included me. There wasn’t a parent in sight. No adults—just booze and broads. It reminded me of a definition I had heard of the difference between a good girl and a nice girl. A good girl goes on a date, goes home, goes to bed. A nice girl goes on a date, goes to bed, goes home. Although the saying was mostly wishful thinking, as was most sex talk at the high school level, it was tempting, if perhaps unfair, to imagine which kind these girls were. 

I had briefly thought about asking Sylvia if she would like to come, thinking that she needed to get out, just as I did. Now I was glad I hadn’t. And what was I doing here? I obviously didn’t fit in. I wouldn’t stay long. Willie was probably the youngest one at the party, and he was sitting by himself. I went over and sat down beside him on a folding chair. “Nice party,” I said. He smiled at me, a little bleary-eyed. “I have a question for you,” I said. Might as well take the opportunity to try and get some information. I continued, speaking loud enough to be heard over the pounding beat of the music, “I…I’m interested in Ralph Harrison. You said there was something funny about the way he died.” Willie took a drag on his cigarette and said, “Did I say that?” Of course, he had been in a drunken stupor at the time, just as he was now. I tried a different tack. “You said he taught you to walk on your hands.” Willie’s face brightened. “Ya wanna see me walk on my hands?” “No thanks.” Even if he succeeded, I was afraid he’d leave a trail of destruction in his path. “You must have known Ralph very well. How did you meet him?” Since they were two years apart in school. “He was on the varsity baseball team when I went out for JV. We both played catcher.” “Who’s the coach?” “Mr. Jarvis.” One of the gym teachers. 

“Dr. Graves sometimes comes to our practices.” “Oh.” I recalled Dr. Graves had said he watched swimming classes too. “Yeah, he knows a lot about baseball. He used to play semi-pro. He would give us tips.” “It sounds like Dr. Graves takes an interest in sports.” “That and he has favorites among the guys. Ralph was one of them. I’m another.” “What, do you brown-nose him?” “Naw, don’t have to.” “So what does he do?” Willie stubbed out his cigarette in an ashtray sitting on an end table. He picked up a pack of Camels from the table, offered me one, which I refused, then took one for himself. He lit it with a lighter, also from the table. He inhaled deeply and blew smoke out through his nostrils. He looked at me and said, “Promise you won’t tell anyone?”

~~~ 

And then the unthinkable happened. Sylvia's father was fired from his job. He had admitted that he had once joined the Communist party, but once he realized what it was all about, he left. That didn't matter to anybody in the surrounding area of Carter. Both the father...and Sylvia...were ostracized!

Gary and Sylvia had become closer, as friends, and moving toward more... But all of a sudden both Dr. Graves, Gary's father...and the Communist Craze was coming between them. At first he would sit with her at lunch and had been driving her to school... Then that was forbidden...

And somewhere along the way, a family heirloom, a necklace, was discussed, which immediately led to the young teens of the family on treasure hunts... And they began in The Hayloft!

And then as school was nearing the last day, a special program was held on the estate of one of the students. Gary was putting his clues together, but was it too late for him to find the murder of his cousin because, suddenly, he was caught in a trap from which he may never be able to escape!

The climatic ending is exciting, nail-biting, and certainly unexpected! As Gary turns into a school hero as the final dance occurs... And, in appreciation of this writer's fantastic storytelling, I want to close with a scene I had highlighted early in the book...the writing drew me in for a short escape before tragedy started... song by one of the most famous singers of the time ... Nat King Cole...

On Saturday afternoon, Carter played Atherton in football. At Carter. I knew I should be rooting for Carter, but my heart was still with Atherton. However, I decided that I had better sit on the Carter side of the field, since I attended Carter High now. Besides, the visitors’ bleachers faced west, and the spectators had the afternoon sun in their eyes. I was sure the field had been designed that away on purpose.

It was unseasonably warm—shirtsleeve weather. Perhaps too early to be called Indian summer, since it was officially just barely autumn, but the leaves were starting to turn to their autumn colors. The reds and golds made it the most beautiful season of the year—except for winter when a blanket of white covered the ground. And spring, when new green life appeared. And summer, when yellow grain filled the fields scraped flat by an ancient glacier. It was the kind of day that made me almost forget about my problems and just be happy I was alive.

Until I saw some Atherton people I knew across the gridiron. That brought a pang in my heart that I had been trying to quell. I arrived just before the game started, by design. The Carter stands were pretty much filled. The Carter band played the school fight song in the middle of the field with more enthusiasm than skill. The band members stood in the shape of a large C. I walked along in front of the bleachers, looking for a friendly face. The first one I saw was Sylvia’s. I turned away, feeling like a traitor. The band stopped playing, and I heard my name called. It was Sylvia...

And it was with Sylvia that he now had his last school dance... 

I was glad when the dance was over, but for different reasons. I finally got to dance with Sylvia again, to the band’s version of “Autumn Leaves.” Appropriate.

GABixlerReviews

False Awakening by Arianna Fox - Young Adult Novel Becomes Personal Favorite For This Adult!

“To the world it will be a surprise How a smart man will succeed and rise And you must stop him at all cost Or hope will eternally be lost He wants a new world – his very own When his company has fully grown.”

Taryn Johnson was completely in shock. She kept opening her mouth to say something, but the truth is, she had no idea what to say. So, she just stared blankly at Chris. Chris exhaled slowly. “I’m sorry. I can’t help you. If you’re here to recruit me because of some secret that I have or know or something, you’re out of luck. I don’t even have this secret. And I’m not a good asset for you, Taryn. Certainly not because of some poem that my dad read to me when I was, like, 9 years old.”

 To say Taryn was disappointed would be an understatement. She looked around the room hastily, clearing her scratchy throat and trying to smile, although it didn’t turn out anything like a smile. “Is there anything I can get you?” Taryn asked. “Tickets back to the States? Coffee? Everyone loves coffee, right?” Taryn snorted a little. Chris just stared downward. “Nothing? Okay.” Taryn frowned as she sat back on her chair and looked at some papers on her desk. “Wait!” Chris finally raised his head and met her gaze. “What do you mean by ‘tickets back to the States’? Are we not in the U.S.?” Taryn smirked a little, swiveling in her chair to face the old, green wooden door. “Go outside and take a peek.” Chris’s gaze followed hers. He quickly stood up and opened the door. His pupils dilated; his heart rate and pulse quickened; his face paled. What he saw was something very few have seen in person before, except as photos in coffee table books or postcards. What he saw was completely breathtaking and almost … otherworldly. He’d seen those pictures and recognized the scene before him. Suddenly he became aware of how he’d been laboring to breathe in the thin air. “I’m in the Himalayas,” Chris whispered, his eyes widening at the familiar mountain peaks, snow-capped, graceful, and majestic. “I’m in the Himalayas!” he shouted as he turned toward Taryn. Taryn joined him on the front porch of the creaky old house. “We’re in the Himalayas,” she confirmed. “It’s where our base is. But there’s no way I’m telling you which mountain it’s on,” she laughed. “Unless you join us, of course. Which, apparently you won’t.” 

“I won’t because I can’t, Taryn,” Chris repeated, annoyed that he cared how she, a stranger, felt. “I don’t know any secret that you’re talking about. Okay?” Taryn looked down thoughtfully, thinking whether she really did believe him. After a few seconds, she slowly looked back up at him and nodded. “Okay, Chris. Okay.” Chris looked at Taryn, his eyebrows scrunched in confusion. He saw a fresh scar on the right side of her neck that he hadn’t seen before in his vision or any of the other times he saw her. He swallowed unsurely as his mind drifted to the fact that she was able to track him down and spy on him in all those dreams of his. He swallowed, ready to ask the question yet dreading the answer that would follow. “Taryn,” Chris asked. “How did you find me in all those dreams? I just don’t understand.” 

“What I am about to tell you is considered ‘CLASSIFIED’ in our logbooks,” Taryn explained, “but I don’t consider it exactly ‘classified’ anyway.” Taryn sighed. “We use our computers. We know what’s been happening to you. We know about the dreams. Your dream-inside-of-a-dream predicament is caused by Erik Kane and his subordinates. Every time I try as hard as I can to reach you, they try as hard as they can to stop me from reaching you and they ‘pull the plug’ in your brain, so to speak. The problem is, though, with every ounce of battery power we use to find you, the more they can track us down and find our base.” She shook her head as if denying the possibility. “I barely understand how they do it, so don’t ask for details. It’s sort of like if you get a phone call from the FBI or CIA or any police, and they’re able to track your call and location as long as you’re on the line. So, yeah, they’re basically everywhere.” She gave him a hard stare. “Those dreams are the key, but I can’t explain. You’ll have to figure it out.”

~~~

“Dreams feel real while we’re in them. It’s only when we wake up that we realize Something was actually strange.” - Dom Cobb, Inception

Ok, Ok, it had to happen sooner or later, but I was very impressed when a writer who was 11 when she first published the book, created a character who most of us will recognize! You know, a man who is running for president of the United States and actually has the goal of taking over the entire world... Yeah that one! The characteristics of Eric Kane were so noticeable for me that I was all in on moving forward to the ending...which turned out to be an interesting twist... And an ending statement, "We will be the Coalition of Guardians" which I hope means that there will be at least one, or more, books following!

I'm giving a special shoutout of Kudos to this amazing young writer and highly recommend her book for those between the ages of 9 and 18...or, any book addict you know who reads anything and everything... Seriously any scifi or fantasy reader will enjoy the plot and characters...

Most of the main characters appear to be teens, but could clearly be intellectually and physically prepared for super-hero status, while others are older but as members of the group who had earlier been formed, again with special skills--each one slightly different.

Chris Coleman is the main character and by profession an engineer who enjoys participating in creating gadgets of all kinds such as a thermal jacket that could be regulated hot or cold... Chris was actually on his way to work when he suddenly braked, knowing that something physically was happening to him--everything was spinning. But, as he sat in he middle of the road he realized that his head wasn't spinning--the world was spinning around him! Actually, my first thought was Vertigo! But, it proved to be something much more complicated! 

He had been dreaming. a dream so real that he could hear the horns blaring and people screaming for him to get out of the way! But in that dream, there was a woman with piercing eyes watching him, seriously, but he just thought she was frustrated with the delay...

Shall we say that was his first encounter, of a different kind?

Because even while he got dressed and went outside, he was still groggy as he began to drive. Chris was fearful that he would be ok. And, almost immediately he remembered what his father would always tell him when he was afraid:

Do you remember what you do when you’re scared, or worried, or sad? You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and think to yourself, “I got this.” I believe in you, son.

But when he got to work and was interacting with his co-workers, he noticed a woman watching him--who later was gone. His friends teased him about his new imaginary friend... But he could see her in his mind, almost like a dream and she was telling him that she needed his help!

And, then, readers, you will be taken completely out of the plot as a journalist log book is thrown into the mix, as if, like we see on television, the journalist is attempting to record what is happening, but sometimes hasn't even a clue of what is going on... Then at other times, he will be providing new info to we readers... And, really, folks, isn't that the way we get our world news? This one concept, thrown in by the writer, reveals a level of creativity that is simply fascinating...

Readers will begin to be on edge as dreams are described and cries for help are heard, one of which seemed to be coming from a little baby in a crib! What is going on? And, soon, Chris was astounded when he woke up, looking around and could see mountains! Where was he? Later, he would remember that Eva, one of the other engineers with whom he's been friendly, had surprised him by giving him a shot. But he had been feeling woozy, blacking out, and waking up, not sure whether he was dreaming...or not...

But, at least, this time, there was somebody there to talk to. Taryn Johnson, a member of a group calling themselves The Rebellion... She then went on to tell him about the danger presented by Erik Kane who was head of a large corporation and who was now running to be president of the United States...

Chris nodded after a few moments of thinking. “Okay, fine! I’ll wait, but not for long.” He paused and sighed. “Erik Kane,” he murmured, “the billionaire businessman?” At her nod, he shook his head as if to clear it. This was getting weirder by the minute. Chris looked up at Taryn. “Now, why in the world do I need to stop Erik Kane of all people?” Taryn gave him a cold and serious stare. “Erik Kane is not just some hotshot businessman. His father … how do I put this? His father, Dominic Kane, is a murderer and a liar. He tricked us all into electing him President of the United States, but he really used that position to help him elevate himself. He wanted world dominance, but two terms in the White House wasn’t quite long enough to achieve it. He even started the process—don’t you remember that big nuclear scare? Yeah, that was Kane. So now that his son Erik is running for President, we need to make sure we defeat him before he begins Phase Two of his plan for ruling the world just like his father did.” “Consider your words marked, Taryn, but I’m still confused as to what he does, or did, that’s so evil that we have to stop him—him, the son of the former President, for crying out loud. And why me?” Chris tried at his old point again. “Didn’t his father do the evil things, not Erik himself?” “It’s not what he did, Chris,” Taryn said. “It’s what he wants.

I know this sounds corny or cheesy, like one of your favorite action movies, but Chris, please just listen to me. The rules he’ll put into play are wicked and cruel. And he’s a smart man, too smart for any of us to try to defeat him individually. Somehow he seems to know our every move; whenever we go on a special mission to try to track him and his base down, we lose several men. Good soldiers, too. Those that are gone are gone because of Erik Levi Kane.”

Sorry, folks, but that's about all I dare to share...You really have got to read the book to move into and out of the dreams, always wondering is this a False Awakening...or am I really in a lot of trouble?! The scenes are both intriguing and fun to consider as Chris little by little learns...the...secret...he...has!

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