Eleanor Dash has made a career writing mystery novels and is struggling with her next book, mainly because she intends to kill off her main character, who happens to be based on a real life man, Connor Smith. In the midst of a book tour through Italy filled with fans, friends, enemies and two ex-lovers(1), people start dying. And everyone has a reason to want someone on the tour dead. Add in a crazy stalker, a pretty hapless inspector, and footnotes(2), and it’s an entertaining trip for the reader.
(1) One of whom happens to be the aforementioned Connor. (2) Seriously, it’s worth reading for the footnotes alone. Eleanor’s comments had me laughing through the whole book.
Thank you to St. Martin’s Press, Minotaur Books and NetGalley for an advance copy.
Tea pairing: Nah, it’s Italy. Obviously I’m pairing this one with red wine and pasta!
This is one of those books that’s been on my TBR list for decades. Mainly because I saw the movie as a kid and it has haunted me ever since. Those don’t always hold up, but Something Wicked definitely did. Still just as creepy and twisted as I remember.
I’ve loved Ray Bradbury since I read Dandelion Wine, which has always felt like summer to me. (I still read it occasionally at the start of June.) Something Wicked, on the other hand, is most definitely October. It’s every scary thing a child’s mind can think of, brought to life. It’s the allure of the carnival with that slightly terror-filled feeling that lurks behind it.
Thank you to the Simon Books Buddy program for a free copy. It’s definitely going in my reread collection!
Tea pairing: Since this one is a throwback to my ten-year-old self, it gets paired with good old fashioned Coca-Cola and popcorn. We didn’t drink a lot of soda, but it was definitely a treat for movie nights. I recall watching Something Wicked This Way Comes in the early days of cable TV, so probably with a soda and a bowl of popcorn (made in a popper, not a microwave).
Interestingly enough, it was released the same year as Poltergeist, which I’ve always pinpointed as the beginning of my love of all things horror. It’s entirely possible that Something Wicked had a hand in that as well.
Thank you to NetGalley and Alcove press for an advanced copy of this book. All opinions are my own.
A book described as “Practical Magic” meets “Gilmore Girls”? Sign me up! I’m not sure that’s how I would describe it, though. Did it have magic? Absolutely. Awkward family dynamics? Sure. A curse about heartbreak? Yup. So I guess it could very loosely fit that description. But it wasn’t at all what I was expecting.
Main character, Sadie, knows that she is cursed to have four heartbreaks and the last will affect her magic. Enter Jake, her first love – and the cause of her first heartbreak – who arrives back in town just as she receives bad news about her grandmother. Add in an AWOL twin brother and a best friend who may have feelings for said twin, and you’ve got a pretty good cast of characters. Everyone in town seems to have their own little magical flair, which I enjoyed. I also enjoyed the recipes at the end of each chapter. (Although, let’s be serious, I have no talent in the kitchen, magical or otherwise, so I’ll probably never make any of them.)
Long story, short, though, this wasn’t really my cup of tea. It ended on a bit of a cliffhanger which makes me think it is meant to be the start of a series. And I love a good series, but I don’t love when the first book feels too much like a set-up for the next. Will I read the next book if it is a series? Most likely.
Bottom line – three stars for me. It kept me interested enough to keep reading, and I’d recommend if you like a book with a touch of magic.
Clara’s search for her father’s identity leads her to dig into her mother’s past. It takes her back to Nazi Germany, her mother’s history and the porcelain maker of Dachau. As she discovers what her mother had to do to preserve both of their lives, she finds her way to the truth of her identity, and that of her father. If you’re a fan of historical fiction, and specifically WWII fiction, you’ll enjoy this one for sure. Thank you to NetGalley and St Martin’s Press for an advanced copy!
It was the setting that first made me request this book from NetGalley – Cape Cod is one of my favorite places on the planet. A story of siblings with a troubled relationship, their bipolar father, and an unknown young woman who seems to be seeking them out. As Adam approaches his 70th birthday, he feels he’s on the verge of a scientific breakthrough…and goes off his meds. Meanwhile, his son Ken is launching a campaign and daughter Abby is a talented artist hiding a secret. With all of the different relationship dynamics – Ken and Abby, Adam and his kids, Ken and his wife, Steph and her wife – it kept me reading right up until the big climactic birthday party. Thank you to NetGalley and Avid Reader Press/Simon & Schuster for an advanced copy. All opinions are my own. My tea pairing for this one is actually hot chocolate, because my childhood memories of the Cape include chilly August nights with a cup of hot cocoa. After a walk to Sundae School for ice cream, of course.
Picture it: Providence, 1993. I’m midway through my third year at Rhode Island College and living my best life. If I had a chance to go back and live for a week at any time in my past, this would be it. No stress, no fear, no obligations except class and a work study job that was, let’s say “flexible” with my sometimes spotty attendance. And honestly, this is the picture of me that I have in my head – slightly tipsy, sitting on a table, pregaming for a night out with my suite mates.
It was at this point in my life that I realized I was never going to be a kindergarten teacher. (Imagine me, this kindergarten teacher.) The only classes I really liked were my English classes, and I was writing other people’s papers for beer money. Declaring English as a major was a no-brainer. I knew I wanted to be a writer, but I’d figure out the actual job thing later.
After years of Aqua Net and way too much eyeshadow, I embraced grunge wholeheartedly. I stopped blow-drying my hair and filled my wardrobe with flannel. And, oh, how I loved my Docs and my Chucks. (I still love my Chucks – I own several pairs – though sadly my favorite college pair was finally given a proper burial somewhere around 2014.) And I had ridiculous crushes on guys who played drums in bands. Sadly, they were usually more interested in my friends.
Gone, but not forgotten
As much as I loved Nirvana, Pearl Jam and the Chili Peppers, I still adored the classic rock I grew up on. And I was borderline obsessed with Jim Morrison. I wanted to know everything about him. Wilderness was a favorite.
I’d loved James Michener since reading Centennial and Hawaii the summer before ninth grade, but The Drifters spoke to me in a totally different way. A bunch of twenty-something’s, roaming around Europe during the 60s. (I was also mildly obsessed with the 60s and protests against Vietnam mainly due to a Peace Studies elective I was taking.) My original copy was pilfered from my parents’ book collection. Coincidentally, it was originally published in 1971, the year my Dad graduated from Rhode Island College.
And Stranger in a Strange Land – I think this is one of those books that I just read at the right time in my life. I borrowed it from the library and adored it so much that I went out and bought a copy just so I could read it again. And again and again. (The book in the photo is new – pretty sure the original fell in the pool a couple times and was falling apart.)
I wasn’t drinking tea so much in those days. I leaned more to Bud Light, cheap vodka and shots of anything. Spuds McKenzie was the start of a shot glass collection – acquired on a family trip to the Anheuser Busch brewery in New Hampshire. Butterscotch Schnapps and Baileys was a particular favorite, though we had another inappropriate name for it.
So here’s a toast to my twenty year old self. It took some effort (and a 25 year detour) but you got what you wanted – getting paid to do what you love. Congrats, kid. Have another shot for me.
Morgan is happily living her life – two jobs she loves, a house, a best pal roommate. What else does she need? And then Luke Hudson walks into her bar. Things go sideways very quickly – a violent murder and identity theft send Morgan back home to her mother and grandmother in Vermont. Life with “her ladies” is just beginning to return to normal. And then the FBI shows up.
I always love a Nora Roberts book. There was a period of time when I wished she would write my life for me. Because even when everything seems completely awful, you know its eventually going to turn out ok. I was excited to win a copy from St. Martin’s Press in their Bookclubs sweepstakes.
My tea pairing for Identity is Plum Deluxe’s Meadow Walk Herbal Tea. After reading about the lavender margaritas and lattes that Morgan concocted, I felt like a lavender tea was an obvious choice. Small problem – I don’t love lavender, so this really was the only tea I owned with lavender in it. Blended with green rooibos tea, berries, hibiscus and more, it was yummy – with just enough of a lavender hint that I felt good about pairing it with Identity. And with this sweetly adorable lavender tea cup, I felt like it was a nod to Morgan’s tendency to focus on the tiny details. (I even attempted a few folded napkins, but none worked the way I hoped.)
Takeaway – the book was great, I’ve already passed it on. The tea was good, but probably not one I’d buy again.
1983. I turned 10. Ronald Reagan was president. Total Eclipse of the Heart was the number one song (on my birthday, anyway – I looked it up). MASH aired its final episode. And Sally Ride was the first female astronaut. It was an exciting year!
And then came cable TV and HBO. Suddenly we could watch movies all the time. Without commercials! And there were two I watched over and over that formed my future entertainment habits.
The first was The Outsiders. I credit that movie with my life long love of the “bad boy.” Ponyboy, Soda Pop, Johnny, even Dallas Winston. Swoon. And then I discovered the book. It was the first thing I read that made me want to be a writer.
“When I stepped out into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the movie house, I had only two things on my mind: Paul Newman and a ride home.” Still one of the best first lines ever.
The second movie was Poltergeist. As much as it terrified my ten-year-old self, it also fascinated me. The thrill of being scared, on purpose, has never left me. I still love a good horror movie. And I still hate clowns. I usually blame Stephen King and Pennywise, but really, it was that creepy ass clown coming out from under the bed and grabbing Robbie by the throat.
And so, when my husband says my mind is like a Hallmark movie written by Stephen King, that’s why. Those two movies are forever linked in my mind. And in my heart. I love them both.
I had intentions of posting my vision board back in January. Things got busy, and I didn’t. So here we are in June, six months in, and I’m finally sitting down to write about my 2023 vision board. (If you’ve been following along, you may have seen my slightly less detailed 2022 version…this one was much more fun.)
I’m on my second trip through Emma Howarth’s A Year of Mystical Thinking. A vision board was the first mystical thing I tried last year, and I finished 2022 with a brand new job, doing the thing I love the most – writing. So, I put a little more effort into 2023.
I started collecting words and images for this year almost as soon as I’d finished last year’s board. I keep a box with handy and constantly add words, pictures, and stickers to it.
Although we never called them vision boards, my sister and I were always cutting up magazines for collaging. The wall in my college dorm room was one giant collage of cute guys and Absolut vodka ads. Not exactly a vision board, but they were two of the things I spent my college years enjoying. (My personal favorite was the Preferred Stock cologne guy.)
So when I sat down to make this year’s vision board, I was prepared. I sifted through my clippings from 2022 and started gluing until I had a finished product. I didn’t think too hard about what I was picking, just kind of grabbed the things that struck me in the moment.
By February, we closed on a house. One with an office space of my own and a deck where I can sit for coffee and quiet in the morning (or drinks after work). We moved in mid-March, and while we still have some projects to tackle, it is very quickly becoming the “sanctuary” I was looking for. We even bought a few plants.
I’ve started to accept the “Resting is not quitting” message I stuck on here for myself. And focusing on simple things. And I’m writing. I’m writing like crazy. Which is fabulous and good for my mental health.
Not sure the Mississippi cruise or tropical vacation will happen this year, but I did get a road trip, a quick run with my sister to pick up my nephew from Michigan State University. It was only three days, but jam packed with cheese and beer tasting, sister bonding and some silly memories with my nephew (oddly enough, also related to cheese). Oh, and a final stop for dessert on the way home, of course!
Still working on “Be Bold” – it’s something I used to be, but haven’t been in years. And I’m trying to “become gracious toward gray.” Those white strands in my hair are more plentiful than they used to be, but I’m mostly ok with it.
So what’s next? I need to find a yoga class, both for the exercise and the zen. And I need to remind myself that I’m in charge of my happiness. Aside from that, I’m focusing on my life goals and putting in the time I need to get there.
But a little help from the universe sure doesn’t hurt.
I hate to talk about myself. It’s one of my biggest challenges. Often I find myself deflecting the “tell me about you” type questions. I don’t know why it’s so hard. I almost never write about myself. About books I read and teas I drink, definitely. About other people in my life, sure. But very rarely anything about me. So here goes.
I have a big birthday coming up this fall. The one that starts with 5 and ends with 0. So for the next few months leading up to it, I’m going to post some pictures of me, with books and commentary to go with them, of course. And just for fun, because I don’t have enough going on, I decided to read a bunch of books published in 1973 this year. I was originally shooting for 50 by my, but we’ll see.
I was excited to see Harvest Home on the list of ‘73 books. It’s an old favorite, one I’ve read multiple times and will probably save it for October, because it’s a good creepy fall read. And one of these days I’m going to look for the mini-series just to see Bette Davis as the Widow.
So this is me in 1973. (That’s Uncle Art in the photo with me, my Nana’s brother. Many years later, he gave me my first typewriter.)
I was an only child for almost two years. I used to tell people that. “I was an only child until I was two.” That’s when my sister arrived and once I got used to her, we were great pals. But she definitely messed up my only child vibe. First child, first grandchild, first niece. It was good while it lasted. More on that in future installments.
I could read early – I was just under three, I think, when I astonished the family by reading not only Put Me in the Zoo but also a few paragraphs of Go Ask Alice, just to prove that I hadn’t memorized it. I don’t really remember not being able to read. And I haven’t stopped since.
What else can I tell you about me in the ‘70s? Like most of my Gen X peers, I survived life as a feral child. I once stuck my toe in an electric socket. No lasting damage done, thankfully, but I don’t think my slipper made it.
I had very few fears as a kid. Well, except heights. We went to Disneyland when I was 6 and I had to be carried down from the top of the Swiss Family Robinson treehouse, sobbing all the way. Other than that, I was pretty game to try things. Not sure when that went away.
For a brief period of time I wanted to be a boy. It wasn’t a gender identity thing. It was just that the boys I knew got to do more fun stuff. And I hated dresses. You climb a tree in a dress. It stinks. (I did outgrow the dress thing eventually. Somewhere around my 30’s.)
I learned to swim with a styrofoam bubble strapped to my back. I read poetry to my dolls. I wanted to be a scientist or an astronaut. I was terrible at coloring in the lines.
I ran everywhere. Remember that? Being in such a hurry that you just run everywhere – down the hall, across the yard, up the basement stairs because a monster might be chasing you. I was forever being told to go back and walk. Because you weren’t supposed to run in the house.
I could go on all night. I’ll just say the ‘70s rocked. And I was an only child until I was two.
A Cup of Tea and My TBR List 