AMBUSH - Next in Series by Barbara Nickless - Produces WOW Effect!

The call came late on an August evening while Jeremy Kane was upstairs, rocking his infant daughter. When the phone buzzed, Kane shifted Megan in his arms and pulled his cell from his pocket. An out-of-state number he’d never seen. He pressed a button and silenced the call. 
Megan’s breath hitched as if she would fuss, and Kane rubbed her back. She swallowed her cry and nestled into his shoulder, her tiny hand a petal against his throat. His bum leg ached. Closing his eyes, he shifted his weight. He inhaled the baby’s clean, sweet scent and listened to his older daughter singing softly in the next room. At moments like these, the war and its aftershocks seemed very far away. 
Still, Kane knew there were some things you couldn’t fix. No matter how much help you had. No matter what interventions people ran on your behalf. No matter how hard you tried.
Some things stayed broken. A bum leg. A bad memory. But he believed in work-arounds. If you had the sense God gave a goat, you learned to trim back, cut down, reroute. You accepted that no plan came with guarantees, and when life blocked one lane, you found another. He had his family. He mostly had his health. And he had a good job as a security officer for Denver’s Regional Transportation District—the RTD. 
The gig wasn’t the life he’d dreamed of before the war. It wasn’t medical school. It wasn’t a bright, sunny office and a steady stream of patients and a world that admired a man’s intelligence and awarded him money and accolades for his dedication. 
But there were compensations. Like these times with his girls. The phone buzzed again. Same number. A cold thread wriggled its way into Kane’s thoughts. Lester Crowe. For Crowe, the war was always right there. In his face or on his back. In his dreams, and always on his mind. When things got too dark, he would call Kane from someone’s cell or use the phone in whatever dive bar he found himself in when the shakes hit. Kane answered with a soft hello. “Someone’s been following me,” Crowe said without preamble. “Trying to smoke my ass.”
An icy fear knifed into Kane’s neck, right at the base of his skull. He kept his voice soft. “Hey, Crowe, you okay?” 
“I was until some fancy suit started following me. Watching me eat my food and scratch my ass. Watching me every time I take a shit, I swear. Not safe anywhere. It’s fucking Iraq all over again.” 
A week ago, Kane would have tried to talk Crowe down from whatever mental ledge his war buddy had crawled out on. But that was before Kane began digging into the past. Before he learned just how wrong things had gone in Iraq. And how it had spilled out over here. Maybe someone had noticed his online research. The drive-bys and photos. Maybe he’d endangered his entire fireteam. 
“Crowe—” Megan woke with a mewling cry. Kane stood and jounced her in his arm. He walked to the window, taking a sentry’s position above the quiet street. “What are you talking about?” 
“Some nutso shit, man.” Kane caught the rumble of a truck through the line. A horn honked. Then Crowe said, “It’s like we’re the heroes in a fucked-up movie. And Iraq is the monster that won’t stay dead.” 
“Where are you? I’ll come and get you. Doesn’t matter where you are.” 
“I’m calling from a pay phone. Only way that’s secure. An hour from now I’ll be in another state. You hang with your family, take care of your own. Stay on watch and be careful. These guys are serious trouble. They’re probably listening in right now.” 
Kane did not want to go down the path his friend had taken. “Crowe, c’mon. You been smoking something?”
“I’m telling you. It’s Iraq, back with a mouthful of teeth. We should never have done what we did. It was wrong, man. It was so wrong.” 
Kane swallowed down the panic and reminded himself this was, after all, Crowe. Unstable in the best of times. Crowe had gone radio silent right after he returned to the States. And a man didn’t disappear from his Marine brethren unless there was something very wrong with what was bouncing around between his ears. But still. Kane considered what he’d learned this last week. Covert deals, illegal weapons, faked reports. There were enough pieces missing that he couldn’t yet make out the overall image. But what he could see made him think that what Crowe had going on was less PTSD than self-preservation. “You been to see anyone, Crowe? You know, just to talk. You sound—” “Paranoid?” Crowe snorted. “Don’t give me that bullshit. These dudes will hand everyone on our team their asses and make us thank them for the pleasure. It’s something to do with that Iraqi kid whose mom got killed. He’s in the middle of this clusterfuck.” 
This was a sucker punch. “Malik?” 
“He saw something over there. Those weapons. Remember that?” The panic clawed free and tried to pull Kane down. Megan began to fuss. He walked her back and forth across the room, struggling to pull up an image of the small boy who’d been adopted by the Marines after his mother’s murder. “You think they’re after you because of—” He stopped himself, abruptly aware that if Crowe’s fear was grounded in reality, someone really might be listening. “Because of that?” he finished weakly. 
“Only thing I can think of. Look, I gotta go. Stay on watch, brother. Remember what we used to say? Just ’cause you’re paranoid don’t mean they’re not out to get you.” Crowe disconnected. 
Kane’s thoughts flew in a hundred different directions. No question, Crowe was crazy. He saw things no one else did. He babbled on about conspiracy theories and space aliens. He’d never learned to rest his head anywhere for more than a night or two. Then again, given what Kane had learned, maybe right now Lester Crowe was the sanest man on the team...

AMBUSH
Sydney Parnell Series

By Barbara Nickless

I was committed to this series as soon as I met and was mesmerized by the lead character, Sydney Parnell. There's not another female main character like her! First, she was a Marine...and proves to be all that everybody says Marines are. Second, she volunteered to care for the dead during her service--and ghosts are with her constantly, especially for those she'd had to kill in battle...

See Reviews of 

Blood on the Track

Dead Stop

Now she is a cop with the railroads. In this book, however, we are taken back to that time during the war when it all had started. It was bad; it was wrong. Most said. What Sydney remembered most was that she had cared for the boy of a mother who had been killed that day. And then she'd been forced to leave him. She had never been able to forget, or forgive herself, for that. And, now, she'd learned where he might be. She left for Mexico immediately, alone, and on the hunt.

But, while there, she learns that her friend and co-worker, Jeremy Kane, was murdered. Kane had also been a part one of the Marines who had responded to orders and believed they were doing what was right for America... Was there somebody working to eliminate that entire team? It wasn't a new idea. She even called the individual, Alpha, to pinpoint exactly who had authorized that mission... And she was always on alert...

The local assigned investigator for the case was thankful to have Sydney offer to help. It appeared that Kane had been killed by a homeless man and since Sydney did a lot of interaction with the homeless in the area, she was surprised that she had never seen the man before... But, almost immediately after studying the crime scene photos and videos, she was certain that the man had not been a homeless man, but had dressed as one as a disguise...which meant, he would have totally changed his appearance, and could be anywhere now.

I appreciated the twist when Sydney finds evidence that Kane had collected and used it to work the case. Sydney's lover, a homicide cop, Cohen was involved to some extent, and they discussed everything that happened. Until he realized that she should have already told him much earlier, what she was now sharing. And it was going to get tougher for them before this all ended...

Since Cohen and I had been together, I’d wanted to make our relationship normal. Create a bond that wasn’t hobbled by my past. A “how was your day at the office, dear?” kind of relationship. 

But he was right. I was way too skittish to walk all the way into the room. “I’m sorry,” I said. 

“It’s not what you did in Iraq. As a cop, I know we’re all just trying to do our best. And I know that sometimes it’s impossible in the moment to perfectly draw that line between right and wrong. I get that.” 

My pulse throbbed in my temple. “What, then?”

“It’s how you handled it with me. You’ve buried yourself so far behind your walls that even when both our lives were in danger, you wouldn’t let me in. Wouldn’t tell me what was going on. And now . . . now I don’t know if I can trust you to have my back.” 

A needle slid into my heart. “I thought I could handle it on my own.” 

“That’s exactly the problem. You think you have to handle everything by yourself. You should have included me, Sydney. Dammit.” He turned to face me. Anger and pain and hurt swam in his eyes, eddies in a dark current. His entire body slumped, as if gravity had finally gotten a grip on him. 

“Can you try not to die while I’m gone?” 

My eyes filled. “Marines are hard to kill.”

~~~

On the other hand, outside of her personal life, one of the points that makes Sydney so special, is that the author has created her so that Sydney is well-respected, liked, and trusted. so that, even in Mexico, she was able to make contacts that would help in any way needed... 

And whenever there is danger or facing enemies in order to do what is right, Sydney will be the first, or among those that move in for the battle. What happens in Mexico brings both terrible deaths, as well as a renewal of peace of mind. But no event there could top the major surprise that occurs when Sydney follows the tracks discovered by Kane... as well as responding to the kidnapping of her cop lover... (only one hint for those who've been reading the series.)

Nickless writes exciting books--no doubt about it! They are edgy, where her main characters take risks and somehow make it through. Brave heroes are the central point, but it is also pointed out that, really, those in the Marines have seen things that not even homicide cops have seen--and many still live with all that has gone down during their service. Nickless presents a reality that we all know that...nobody...should have to go through. Yet some are called to protect and serve.

But when it's never over for some of them...those Marines get mad...they get angry that, now, after all those years, what they were told to do is no longer an acceptable action to be forgotten. No, because, those that made those things happen don't want to pay. They want to continue the money-making schemes that criminals are always looking for...

This is edge-of-the scene action in two different settings with different characters, but all surrounding what one brave boy, Malik, did while he watched his mother be murdered...he recorded it...

In order to get justice for the loss of his mother...

Fortunately, with books we don't have to make comparisons between which book to choose, most of the time. But, I would say that the author has outdone herself on this one...WOW Effect for me! Unique story, unique situations, unique main characters. Can't get any better! I can't wait until the next book comes! Highly recommended.


GABixlerReviews

Barbara Nickless promised her mother she'd be a novelist when she grew up. What could be safer than sitting at a desk all day? But an English degree and a sense of adventure took her down other paths--technical writer, raptor rehabilitator, astronomy instructor, sword fighter, piano teacher and journalist. Now an award-winning author, she spends her free time snowshoeing, caving and hiking the Colorado Rockies. Connect with her at www.barbaranickless.com.

Rage is Back! In Devil in the Dark by Chris Lindberg!

Read Review  of Chris Lindberg's First Novel!

Check out Code of Darkness

Prologue

He had no recollection of the days anymore. He'd stopped counting them when hunger had taken over his every waking thought. His stomach growled incessantly; his ribs pressed outward against his skin.

In his time here, he'd been reduced to a shell of his former self. A beggar waiting for his next meal.

And there would be no escape, he knew; he woulc die in this God-forsaken place, if not from starvation, then disease, or torture.

The night watchman had begun his rounds of the prison camp. The sound of his footsteps could be heard in the deathly still hallways outside.

He had no idea how many others were here, American or otherwise. The only things he saw were the concrete walls that surrounded him, the dirt floor beneath him, the sliver of light that came through the meager opening that passed for a window, the white bucket in the corner, and the boots of the night watchman who brought him his one meal and jug of water each day. 

Anything else happened only under the black hood.

His stomach rumbled loudly; his mouth began to water. His lone meal of the day was only moments away. Cold beans, one uncooked potato, one dented metal jug of water. Every day the same.

He heard the sound of boots outside his door. Instinctively, he crawled to the tiny opening just in time to see the familiar, dirt-caked brown boots of the night watchman who slid his meal through.

Then he saw a second pair of boots appear. Black. Unfamiliar. SNAP!

Before he could understand what was happening, the night watchman's face appeared in the opening as he crumpled straight to the floor, the man's wide, expressionless eyes staring back into the tiny cell, before being dragged from view. The steel doorknob rattled with another snap, this time the sound of metal, and the knob fell to the floor as he realized it had somehow been broken off from the other side.

As the door swung open, he moved back instinctively, ready to give them a fight as he'd always done before they pulled the black hood over his head.

But as the figure came into view, he realized it was not one of his captors. Rather, a lone man stood before him, almost a foot shorter than he was. The man wore what looked like black fatigues, but ones that bore no markings, military or otherwise. He didn't appear to be carrying a weapon, either. The dim light that crept in from the hallway outside reveaed the blackest eyes he'd ever seen in a man.

"Sergeant First Class Otis Charles Brown, USMC?" the man addressed him in a deep, raspy, almost angry voice.

"Yes sir," he replied, willing himself up to stand at attention.

"Come with me," the man said. "We're getting you out of here."

~~~

Meet Rage

Rage is the main character we met in the first book, Code of Darkness. He is a special forces officer who is kept and used for only the worst types of situations. Because of his basic skills and expertise, I thought of Lee Majors...but the Hulk also came to mind... Fortunately, medical specialists had discovered a medication that, when taken at the right moment, would prevent the potential Hulk persona from going into, well, a rage! This is one...cool...character. And this latest story is one...cool...story! Quite worthy, in my opinion, of being made into an outstanding thriller movie!

Enrique Castillo was moving slowly toward the border checkpoint he went through every day to head for work. But this time was different, his visa to work at the Broadway Chicken Farms processing plant had been stolen and his family was depending upon his income to keep living. He had no choice, he thought, he could not lose his job, so he paid $250 to purchase a replica passport and ID made from an Idaho driver's license. The thought being that nobody would check on an Idaho license... Enrique was not, however, a brave man, especially when his mother had been placed in the hospital and he had a young sister alone at home...

And he had one major point against him. He was related to the head of the largest drug cartel in Mexico... Being stopped with a false license could lead to discovery of his real name, and drug smuggling would undoubtedly be suspected!

Otis Brown was back at his home in Texas, living with the local sheriff, his father, and his mother, until he would be able to be cleared for duty. He had been rescued from a Taliban prison camp... Not able to relax, he had a position as Border guard. 

He was in the midst of checking out Enrique's license, thinking to hold him, when it happened. The entire complex was bombed! Otis' instincts as a Marine had led him to look toward the hill--he had seen men with RPGs! He didn't have time to do anything other to yell "Down!"  He grabbed Enrique and they dove over the concrete barrier next to them. He had saved Enrique, but Otis was knocked out...

And without thinking, Enrique made the worst mistake of his life. He fled the scene...

The bombings, of course, set off a series of events--quite similar to what is already happening in today's world... Can't tell much more, but thought I could give a few bullets to prepare you...

• Enrique is on the run, being accused as part of the bombing activity...
• Otis is talked into joining a citizens vigilante group and winds up in Mexican territory and is captured...
• U.S. Military, having verified that the drug lord did the bombing, and with the approval of the Mexican President, invades Mexico. But government paid informants to the drug lord warn of the upcoming attack. Both helicopters and crew are destroyed, except Rage, who was thrown clear from the wreckage... He has lost his memory, and has no medication...
• RAGE is on the move, alone in Mexico...

Whew! This is the most exciting thriller I've read in awhile. The details of the drug lord's reign over "his" town are graphic and horrific. Everybody who reads the book will want him...taken out!

The plans for military force are realistic, with differences of opinion of what should be done...And especially about the possible loss of one of their greatest asset...

The violence is extremely graphic, the only salvation for me being that the good guys win...

This is exhilarating action. The climatic ending lends even more impact to the story! The timeliness of the novel makes this a must-read for those of you following the "wall" planned...Hopefully, this book will be the only "fictional" stories that occur in the future related to drugs and bombed border crossings into the U.S.


GABixlerReviews

Chris Lindberg lives in the Chicago suburbs with his wife and two children. Besides writing, he enjoys traveling, bicycling, running, grilling, any kind of vintage music, college football, and just about any activity with his kids. Devil in the Dark is the follow-up to his first novel, Code of Darkness.

Lonesome Cowboy - Presented by Frank Lowe - Shares Romantic Drama and Inspirational Story...

He knew he should never have come back here. The fogged mirror in the dressing room reminded Cowboy Red of two things. They'll either arrest him for kidnapping, or they'll arrest him for murder. Red took a long drag on his cigarette, exhaled through his nostrils and stubbed the butt in the ashtray. He grabbed a towel, attacking the moisture on his neck and under his arms. The air conditioning was losing the battle against the late summer humidity.

The pressure of two strong hands on his shoulders caused him to jump. The young man's smile appeared in the mirror above Red's face. "You got two steel bars here. "What's going on? You been tense ever since we got here." Red tried to relax into the gentle massage, "Think about it, dad. I mean, aside from the money, there's all this publicity." The young man teased, "You ought to be happy I got us this gig..."

The Blue Ridge Boys opening act blasted over the dressing room speaker as Red pulled his jeans from the hanger and stepped into them..."Dad, I'm sorry I nagged you into taking this gig but it'll be over in a week...

That wasn't what bothered Red. It was this town and the ghosts of the past that could get raked up; a past Red hadn't had the courage to share with his son...

~~~

Lonesome Cowboy

By Frank Lowe

The lights on the stage went out. A spotlight speared a shaft of light on two microphones at the front of the stage. Out of the darkness Red and Kyle emerged, coming into sharper focus as they entered the brilliant pool of light. The volume of the applause startled them. It gradually grew louder as others congregated at the outdoor arent. They'd never played to an audience this size. Their act had none of the flash and fireworks of the bigger country-western acts. There was no backup band, no light show, no dancing Cowgirls. Red's ex-manager had suggested that Red ought to move around the stage more; put a little action into the act. Red told him he wanted people to listen, not watch him cuttin' up all over the place like he had worms.

They raised their guitars. With an imperceptible nod from Red they dove into their opening number, a fast, hard driving rendition of one of the old classics Red and Kyle did so well, but were rarely heard, "Wabash Cannonball."

...After their final number they bowed and turned to leave the stage. Kyle wasn't sure it would happen with this crowd. There was a smattering of applause which was overcome by the voices from the back of the crowd. Kyle relaxed. The chant was a familiar ritual, complicit between Red's fans and the performer; both knew the result. It started with a few voices and grew until male voices overwhelmed the feminent command, "Lonesome! Lonesome! Lonesome!"[Note that the song in the book is different from that song by Elvis, but just as beautiful...]

Kyle smiled at his father as he hung back at the edge of light. Red walked back to his microphone, nodded agreement and waited as the audience hushed in expectation. This was a song Red couldn't...wouldn't sing in this town. He had written it on the painful night twenty-five years ago; the night he had slipped away from her forever. He never thought it was much of a song. He never understood why people liked it so much, but the CD with "Lonesome Cowboy" on it outsold all their others. Kyle said it was the beautiful music, and way he sang it, like it was so personal.

Red turned, motioning Kyle to his microphone. Kyle shot him a quick, "What the hell?" glance as he obeyed. Red took off his Stetson and place it carefully on the back of Lyle's head. Kyle shot silent questions at his father. "Don't know how many times some of you have heard me sing that song, but none of you ever heard it this way. Go on, Kyle," Red backed into the darkness, leaving Kyle facing the hushed audience

Kyle had never sun this song in public, hardly ever done a solo. He took a deep breath, looked up in the light as he strummed the opening chords. It wasn't that he didn't know it. He had heard it every time they played a gig. In a firm voice, began the verse.

Been riding all night trying to forget

What we learned never could be.

He loved that moody, bluesy melody. As a kid Kyle had gone to every performance his mother would allow, singing along with Red as he watched.

Can't quit wonderin' where you are

Are you wanderin' a lonesome trail, too?

Red had taught him the guitar, encouraged him to wrong songs.

Lonesome Cowboy on a lonesome trail,

Without you, there's no home for me...

~~~

The first word  that comes to mind to describe this Drama is lovely...appealing to both men and women in sharing of deep love for both friends and loved ones. Although listed as a thriller--I would not consider it that, rather a family drama that has a number of fascinating characters, and two sets of cultural backgrounds that sets up a wall between two lovers. Can it be breached?

Kyle, the son of a country singer, becomes the primary character. He has admired and been best friends with his father since he was young and had quickly begun to learn guitar and sing with him. Then he had become their manager. Without knowing it, Kyle had scheduled them to play in Red's home town! With that, it brought not only an unexpected welcome for Red's return, but also many surprises for Kyle, one of which

was that they had been using an alias name!

Kyle was finding details out as old friends came to talk to Red and became more and more anxious about what had happened many years ago in this town...

Red had chosen not to sing Lonesome Cowboy for his own loss, but in having Kyle sing solo that first night, it started a following and subsequent movie career that may have fulfilled Kyle's long-term goals, but certainly made him realize that things were moving too fast... But there wasn't a choice now, for Red had a stroke and was rushed to the hospital, with the later recommendation that he give up working. Now Kyle was the only bread winner for the two of them...

Readers will like Kyle. While he's comfortable as his father's sidekick, he was not anxious to be on his own. Yet, because of his quiet, relaxed performances that complemented his beautiful voice and his good looks, his following of fans grew and grew. When he was offered a film, he felt he had to accept to keep money coming in. But even then, his warmth and kindness, plus his ability to speak Spanish, soon made he and the director friends. With his help, they were able to salvage a movie that really had less than a great story.

In the meantime, with the acceptance of Red's return, except by a few people who weren't well liked by the community, Kyle was able to continue their gig and the two men decided to make their stay permanent...

Which led to meeting Miranda and her wealthy family from Mexico. Kyle fell in love with Miranda at first sight. Without going into details, however, a tragedy occurred which resulted in the family's return to Mexico. He and Miranda kept in touch, but Miranda early had told Kyle that she would never be able to marry someone who was not Mexican... But Kyle was not willing to accept that decision...

The book has two sub-plots about love between men. This is the second book I've read with a similar theme where confusion has arisen, apparently because of the changes in homosexuality laws, that seems to have denigrated or sullied the potential of close friendships between men that has nothing to do with sex. How sad. Fortunately, the author has shown both the positive and negative sides so that readers realize that philia (friendship) love between men is quite natural and does not lead to eros (sexual) interaction. Kudos to the author for spotlighting this important matter.

Lowe's descriptive talent for the two primary settings, peopled with appropriate complementary characters moves this story forward in a gripping fashion to attract readers' immediate attention. The intrigue of the hidden as well as the continued movement by Kyle into new challenges kept my interest piqued and anxious. I'm not a fan of the usual soap opera drama common to television, so I do want to point out that the book is definitely family friendly and will reveal deep loves, family loyalty and dedication. A heartbreaking as well as heartwarming story well worth your consideration.


GABixlerReviews


Frank Lowe is an actor, and published and produced playwright who lives in Brooklyn, New York.


Note: Branson was substituted for the fictional Wonderland because of the description in the book. The Hacienda is located in Mexico...

Fling! by Lily Iona Mackenzie

I apologize for the incorrect sizing of paragraphs so small that it is hard to read...I tried and tried to get them saved but the BLOGGER Program continued to change my instructions!!!

A Goddess* may take many forms based upon various cultures. But nobody expected Bubbles, a 90-year-old Canadian woman traveling with her daughter, to be mistaken for one...Especially when the small town people crowded around her, seeking her blessing for rain!

Feather and Heather each take one of Bubbles' hands, and the three women wade through the chest-high water into the tunnel. It gradually becomes darker, opening up into a cave-like, circular enclosure, supported in the center by a post. Hot springs gush out of a crevice in the stone wall, and ribbons of light pass through a few narrow openings in the ceiling, creating a strobe light effect.
The water is even warmer in the cave and supports Bubbles. She feels lightheaded and free, a girl again, buoyant, the weight of her years dropping away. She hops around without much effort, the skirt on her white bathing suit floating on the pool's surface, resembling a lily. She's always liked water, and she does the dead man's float, her bones turning to jelly, making her think of cherry Jell-O. She could use a nice dish of it right now, whipped cream on top.
Later, Feather leads the way to the changing rooms...Bubbles leaves there wearing her mother's mantilla and Feather's caftan. Feather stares at Bubbles, started. Except for the glasses, she resembles images she's seen in some of her goddess books...
Heather drifts over to the stand and orders a round of cervezas in Spanish. The vendor delivers them, falling to his knees in front of Bubbles, whose mantilla flutters behind her. He removed his hat, bowing over and over. She giggles, inching her skirt up a little higher.
"Give me your blessings,
Eineeuq, Queen of Heaven. I am your slave," he says in Spanish. The vendor falls prostrate in front of Bubbles, shaking in awe...
Feather can't believe it...He thinks Bubbles is a goddess. Feather looks at her as if for the first time. She does look queenly...

~~~

Fling!

By Lily Iona Macknezie

Perhaps because I've traveled quite a bit in my life and am quite happy to stay at home these days, I couldn't image thinking about traveling to Mexico at the age of 90!

Of course, I also couldn't imagine that my own mother's ashes had been lost for many years--in the dead-letter bin--and the government of Mexico was demanding to know when I would be picking her up... Well, let's just say that I'd quickly figure out I was in a fantasy, LOL! Actually, the umbrella of Women's fiction was insufficient for me. I had a hard time getting into the story, not knowing where it might go. The front cover includes the statement "A madcap journey of an aging mother and her adult daughter from cold Protestant Canada into the hallucinogenic heart of Mexico's magic..." Well, magic and hallucinogenic gave me some clues but even while I was reading, I wasn't sure whether there had been a huge festival, where everybody was drugged and the story evolved from that event...

In fact, I went all the way to the ending before the book's story pieces fell into place... In fact, there is almost too much being said that readers may miss by getting caught by the frivolity of the various scenes. Can we hide serious issues behind humor? Can we learn to forgive what once was totally unforgivable?

Bubbles was born to a mother who had left her when she was young, running off with a man... Bubbles then did the same to Feather. 

Feather had wound up in a hippie camp where she, among other things, learned to smoke pot and to begin developing her artistic skills as a sculpture. Feather had maintained contact with Bubbles by phone, but rarely saw her. In fact, she was already scheduled to travel to several places in Mexico to study more in support of her future creations.

When Bubbles called her about having to pick up her mother's ashes in Mexico City, Feather had adapted her trip to accommodate her mother's traveling with her.  

Coatlicue. Primordial earth goddess,
mother of the gods, the sun,
the moon and the
stars displayed in Mexico City.~~~

Though Feather hadn't included the capital city in her travel plans because of the dangers lurking there, she realizes it could be the centerpiece for her summer research. An eight-ton statue of the moon goddess that the Aztecs worshipped stands in the Great Temple in Mexico City. Carlos Castenada's books have further convinced her there's something mysterious going on south of the border. That's why she hoped to find a shaman--male or female--who could guide her. That had been her plan until Bubbles talked her into this made expedition to pick up her grandmother's ashes. Feather hadn't anticipated Bubbles being the shaman she sought but who knows. In Mexico, anything could happen. Still, she feels her wings have been clipped again. Weighed down by Bubbles' demand to travel with her, Feather also feels guilty for resenting it, knowing this could be their last trip together. Even so, she had anticipated a summer free of responsibility, with time to explore and expand and try out new modes of art. Pushing the envelope. Throwing off the restraints of teaching and being in control.

Bubbles' abundant energy suddenly makes her feel old, though it dawns on her that she'll be orphaned one of these days. Though Bubbles seems immortal at times, she can't go on forever. That thought makes Feather think of the upcoming Mexico trip differently. It could be an opportunity for them to make a deeper connection before...She doesn't want to finish the sentence.

~~~

What she hadn't planned on was her mother pouring a cup of water into her grandmother's urn of ash...and having a woman, about her own age, soon appear as a passenger on the back seat... which is my only clue of what is coming!

Bubbles, on the other hand, is thinking about the "possibilities" in Mexico... 

Bubbles hums, "I'm gonna wash that man right out of my hair." relieved that it's Ernie who is now underground and not herself. They buried him a few weeks earlier. The two had tied the knot when she was seventy, in her prime. They met at a singles' dance, and it was love at first sight. Nine years her juuior, he was quite a dresser in his white tux with a red bow tie and red cummerbund. All the women wanted to get their hands on him, but he chose her.
If she had known then what she knows now, she never would have married the bastard. He couldn't get it up the whole time they were together, and he ran her ragged. It's a wonder she isn't in the grave instead of him.
"Mother, get me my dinner. Mother, I need some razor blades," Mother this, Mother that. It drove her crazy. He also put a good dent in her savings.
When she viewed him for the last time at the funeral home, she had asked for a few minutes alone with the body, wanting to leave something for him to remember her by. The others tiptoed out of the viewing room, and she stared for a few minutes at that face she'd grown to hate. The crooked Popeye nose with the black hair growing out of the nostrils. The mouth permanently twisted in a cruel smirk. Well, she'd get the last laugh on him. A waste of twenty good years. She could have met someone else and had a nice life...
Bubbles had leaned over the coffin and picked up his left hand, the fingers stiff and resisting. She wrangled with the wedding band she had bought him until it flew off, landing on the  floor. She bent over, snatched it up, and dropped it into her coat pocket. He wasn't going to the grave with her ring on his finger...

~~~

Bubbles turns away, her feet moving to the rhythms of "La Cucaracha," a tune that she hums. She dances around the room in the arms of a handsome Mexican with a thin, black mustache. He's wearing one of those floppy sombreros. After bumping into the TV set, she falls, out of breath, only the couch, laughing and grabs and letter from Mexico's dead-letter office, fanning her face with it, feeling hot suddenly, though she shouldn't be getting hot flashes at her age. She still can't believe it. Her mother's ashes? She's heard how bad the mail service can be in Mexico from Feather, who sent her a post card once from Puerto Vallarta that reached her two years later. Everything manana. But seventy years? Holy smoke. It's just like her mother to make a surprise visit.

~~~

There is much to ponder regarding family relationships in this book--about family that has already died and those for whom death may be near. When we are disappointed or hurt by a parent, is there a way to rekindle the love that once existed--before the hurt occurred. Bubbles is 90 and thinks nothing about her possible near death, while her daughter, recognizing her age, is more aware of it, while at the same time, considering what time she has lost in finding her own way...

I identified more with Feather, a serious woman, living her life as she is able, but still cognizant of others in her life--yet knowing that the loss of her mother at a difficult time led her to grow up faster than normal and to resent what she had lost...On the other hand, it is Feather who finds her "Shaman." I loved this character! He had gone to college to learn about Agriculture to help his own community and then started to learn to become a Shaman to actually care for them. The fact that he had never learned everything he should have been taught allowed for a really funny set of things that constantly happened around him--bits of magic that just happened because he'd not learned how to control his powers. That alone, created a levity for Feather that seemed to change her, becoming more youthful as she fell deeper and deeper in love.

It is the way death was looked at, in the end, that won over my full support for the book. What occurred in the book is pure fantasy--or was it? Who knows, when we reach 90 and head for Mexico, we might also be caught up in the festival where Bubbles' presence resulted in rain sufficient to save the crops... And, of course, then prepare for the Dia de los Muertos festival...

 As night falls, they all move in procession from the square to the cemetery. Bubbles leads the way, holding on to Victor's arm. He carries a pail of water from her fountain...As they pass among the graves, the children strew them with flowers. Bubbles dips her fingers into the water and sprinkles it about, some of it landing on the ground, some on the people. No one minds...Later, rockets will flare, dancikng will resume, and the merrymaking will continue into the night. Laughter and children's voices will float above them all, Bubbles' the loudest.

~~~

Do check this one out! 

GABixlerReviews

*(Please note that I had a hard time correlating the gods/goddesses mentioned in the book with those I tried to find through research...I have no idea whether I've been successful in that endeavor.)

Writing requires exertion, the ability not to give in when we've received yet another rejection. Some people call this perseverance. But is that what it takes to keep writing in the face of adversity, rejection, and lack of recognition? The word sounds so duty bound, so driven. To me, a better word is discipline because at the root is disciple, though there are many lovely variations on this word that I actually prefer: student, follower, learner, devotee.

I'm devoted to following the intricacies of language and where it takes me. I'm ardent about words and what they evoke in our minds and imaginations, the worlds they create. And I'm constantly learning, a student of the writer's craft, eager to open myself each day to the endless possibilities this calling presents. No wonder I love to write!

About me? Born in Edmonton, I was raised in Calgary and currently live in the SF Bay Area. A high school dropout and a mother at 17, in my early years, I supported myself as a stock girl in the Hudson's Bay Company, as a long distance operator for the former Alberta Government Telephones, and as a secretary (Bechtel Corp sponsored me into the States). I also was a cocktail waitress at the Fairmont Hotel in San Francisco; briefly broke into the male-dominated world of the docks as a longshoreman (and almost got my legs broken); founded and managed a homeless shelter in Marin County; co-created THE STORY SHOPPE, a weekly radio program for children that aired on KTIM in Marin County; and eventually earned two Master's degrees (one in Creative writing and one in the Humanities). I've published reviews, interviews, short fiction, poetry, travel pieces, essays, and memoir in over 145 American and Canadian venues. Fling! was published in July 2015. Bone Songs, another novel, will be published in 2016. My poetry collection, All This, was published in 2011. Visit my blog at lilyionamackenzie.wordpress.com.

Very Cool Novel Jaffa Resonance, by Patrick Delaney Uses Sound and Vibrations to Help Find Secrets! Top 10 Favorite!

Català: Volto Santo, cathedral de Lucca. 

Seven centuries after commemoration to the sea, the Volto Santo revealed its sacred presence off the coast of Tuscany. The holy relic drifted out of a thick sea fog aboard an unmanned sailing ship. Shifting winds held the vessel offshore, declining every attempt to board her. Finally, with divine guidane, the Bishop of Lucca was able to gain the deck of the ship, and there redicvoer the Volto Santo. At least, that is the legend.


The Jaffa Resonance

By Patrick Delaney

Dr. Patrick Delaney is a neurologist and clinical professor of neurosciences--what better way to introduce us to his world than by having one of the lead characters who begins to experience a change around him...What was happening? He was attending Dr. Richard Donovan who had befriended him when Sean Casey had first come to work there. He stopped himself from remembering and brought himself back to the task--"the twinkle that had been Donovan just wasn't there." Casey knew that his friend was no longer in this body. He recognized that odds were against him regaining consciousness...

Casey remained silent in the room. The weight of the ophthalmoscope and reflex hammer in his pocket were a familiar tug at his lab coat. YThe bell of his stethoscope hung snuggle against his shirt. The state of the art ICU bed beeped as it electronically adjusted the pressure contours of the mattress. The ventilator hissed rhythmically across the roo. Telemetry hummed. The blood pressure cuff inflated automatically.
Then it was happening again: the electrical currents around him subtly altered. Sounds and vibrations began to coalesce. Casey's own respirations and pulse synchronized with the rhythms of the ventilator and other life support. The tone without music wasstruck. The pulsating sensation from earlier in the desert returned. Casey was alone in the room, everything vibrating and alive. Then the room expanded offering too clear contours. Yet the closeness remained. It continued for several minutes. He savored it, tuning in his own body.
Cool air fromC the outside corridor brought him back into the familiar bustle of the ICU...
~~~

His very essence was here. Nicodemus marveled
at the craftsmanship that had rendered such a
faithful likeness. He gazed at the face of the man
he had known so well, and whom he missed so
greatly. Placing the chalice of his blood within
the wooden carving had been a masterful touch.
An insightful tribute to my friend Jesus, he
thought. And now it was to be hidden within the
sight of thousands, yet wholly
unreachable...
~~~

There are just a few ancient history scenes to back up the story regarding the origin of Volto Santo off the coast of Tuscany and then later at the time of Christ's Crucifixion when Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea took responsibility of the body taken from the cross and moved to the burial site.

Although that is not the thrust of the novel, it did clearly state that, for me, I knew little about that time. I recognize that holy books hold much of the story, but there are many small issues that would never come to light without research and expertise of those who have followed up and documented things that happened. Invariably, many of us are met with amazement--and then more questions. But the presentation of background for this treasure hunt was both intriguing and meaningful to any who look to the past for building their lives... Notice in particular the time frames covered in the Prologue.

Casey had been pulled in to the search by Alexis, his friend's sister. When Jose had disappeared, she did what he had told her to do...find his friend, Casey. But as soon as Casey saw Alexis, he had the beginning of a personal reason for helping her...I'll not mention anything further except when you read the last part of the book, I'm not sure I know what happened--is it a setup for a sequel or...

The two contacted the school where Jose was doing his research and found out more about it...then decided the best thing to do was to go where he had last been seen...
But there was a dangerous man they would encounter and who probably was the man who had murdered her brother.. He was known as "Flame in His Face--Guerrero" and he had been identified in a brief note that they found in Jose's apartment...Drugs were only the commercial side of his activities...

Through the vibrations, Casey was able to lead them to the Curandera, the medicine woman, and some of what they told them was that:

"Long ago, the god Itzamana placed the Chiruwi plant in the Earth to make our planet peaceful and good. Itzamana protected and nurtured the plant, as a gift to the first people of the Earth. Just as the people needed the Chiruwi for continued peace and harmonty, the plant as the early sign of the god needed the worship and love of the people...But when the people became consumed with other desires and ambitions, they became less attentive to the gift of the Chiruwi plant. This angered Itzamana..."

But then she told Casey personally, "You brother, are cause and effect...for you know that what you seek cannot be found with logic. You hesitate to search for a vision that is beyond reason. Only by immersing yourself, by plunging into the unknown, will you find what you seek." 

Much was told to them but they still needed to proceed...for Alexis had seen a vision that drove her to discover if it were true!

By the time they had left the Yucatan Peninsula, Guerrero and a number of his men, had followed Casey and then drowned, not being able to escape...

More and more involved, including Jose's professor, were in danger as they got closer and closer. Fortunately, additional help had revealed itself instead of just following them! Good thing because they were headed to Jaffa Harbor to try to review it historically and identify "what went where" at that time...

This has to be added to my top ten for this year... the combination of ancient treasure with the concurrent details of the hunt, plus the background taking us to the time Jesus lived and died was exciting... But add to that a mysterious "vibration" that can only be heard by a few... Whew! So much just has to be followed to get the whole story...else the ending is just too boring! LOL I'm being optimistic and looking forward to seeing more of Patrick Delaney! If you enjoyed the Librarian series, with a mystical, fascinating touch...check this one for sure!


GABixlerReviews

Patrick Delaney, M.D. is a neurologist and clinical professor of neurosciences at the University of California, San Diego. He is actively engaged in teaching medical students and physicians from around the world. The son of a philosopher, he enjoyed a rambunctious childhood with ten brothers and sisters. He now lives in San Diego, California with his wife Tracy. The Jaffa Resonance is his first fiction novel.