Categories: Christian Fiction, Women’s Fiction, Romance, Friendship
Disclaimer: **I received this book free from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. All thoughts and opinions are my own.**
February 4, 2003, is just another day for Olivia Ross—a greeting card writer whose passion project is a screenplay of her own. After she and a handsome, struggling actor have a near-magic encounter in a coffee shop, they make a spontaneous pact: in ten years, after they’ve found the success they’re just sure they’re going to achieve, they’ll return to the coffeehouse to partner up and make a film together. The only problem? Olivia neglected to get the stranger’s name. But she doesn’t forget the date.
For the next ten years, every February 4, Olivia has an exceptional day, full of coincidences and ironies. As men come and go and return to her life, and as she continues to write her screenplay, she still wonders about the guy from the coffee shop—the nameless actor she’s almost certain was Hamish McDougal, now a famous member of the Hollywood elite.
But a lot can happen in ten years, and while waiting for the curtain to rise on her fate, the true story of Olivia’s life is being written—and if she’s not careful, she’ll completely miss the epic romance playing out right before her eyes.
I love the cover!
This story follows Olivia Ross for ten years on every February 4th because something happens to her on that date that solidified it as a special day. I thought this concept was pretty cool, it definitely made me want to keep reading to see if the day mention ten years into the future will play out as Olivia hoped.
This is a slow burn, very clean romance – the only thing that happens are a few kisses.
Olivia and Fi’s best friend relationship is the long lasting one in this story. It goes through a few bumps here and there but ultimately they are besties forever.
There are a few men that come into Olivia’s life but Liam was the one that got away – or did he? It’s complicated, let’s just leave it at that.
I thought the plot twist was cute and really unexpected. I was hoping for something bigger but it turned out okay in the end.
I didn’t realize this was Christian fiction until I saw it in the thread in Goodreads. I don’t read Christian fiction but this one was really cute. Thing is, there was nothing about faith in this book, so I’m a bit confused about that. Was it “fate” or “faith” that brings Olivia all the way to February 4, 2013?
As for Olivia’s love life, it was getting a bit tiring for me. Obviously we know who is the best guy for her, and she knows it but always too late and always pushing him away when he is trying to move on? I was getting annoyed with her – I wanted her to make up her mind.
I found this story to be am engaging read especially since every chapter is a February 4th with something interesting always happening to Olivia Ross. Plot Twist is a light hearted, slow burn romance with a very fun and unique premise.
Categories: Contemporary, Romance, Sailing, Grief, Mental Health
Critically acclaimed author Trish Doller’s unforgettable and romantic adult debut about setting sail, starting over, and finding yourself…
Since the loss of her fiancé, Anna has been shipwrecked by grief—until a reminder goes off about a trip they were supposed to take together. Impulsively, Anna goes to sea in their sailboat, intending to complete the voyage alone.
But after a treacherous night’s sail, she realizes she can’t do it by herself and hires Keane, a professional sailor, to help. Much like Anna, Keane is struggling with a very different future than the one he had planned. As romance rises with the tide, they discover that it’s never too late to chart a new course.
In Trish Doller’s unforgettable Float Plan, starting over doesn’t mean letting go of your past, it means making room for your future.
Love the cover because it’s so bright and yellow. Makes you think of a happy story and yet Anna our main character is dealing with grief throughout the book.
I related to Anna’s grief a lot because I lost my first husband in my late 20’s. So everything she felt, I’ve been through but I like that even though the topic is heavy – Anna being on the water, learning how to sail and navigate foreign waters was therapeutic not only for her as a character but me as a reader. It keep her moving forward, working through the grief and I appreciated that about the story. Also the dog she adopts, Queenie? I wouldn’t have gotten through my grief without my dogs. 💗 They are angels on earth.
Keane, her crew mate and eventually lover is the sweetest. I love how good he is, not only to her, but overall. Even with his own challenges about his past, his kindness is beautiful. Anna needed that.
I found all the sailing terminology go over my head because I am not a sailor but I loved learning what I could and imagining what each part of the boat is. I loved that Anna had to learn to sail because Keane wasn’t in her plans for the path home. She did it, even if she was scared. As for me, I’d suck at sailing ~ I need my comforts like a bed, a shower every day haha and internet but the idea of roughing it out there under the stars every night sounds amazing.
The setting of this book is really fantastic. I’m an island girl, I live in Hawaii, but I’m not a sailor and I have never sailed to any of the islands nearby, I think our waters are very different from the Caribbean where you can reach so many different islands, daily. So I loved island hopping with Anna and Keane! I hope to visit these islands one day and learn more about the history and people that live there. I’m glad they mentioned how the slavery trade made an impact there.
Even though Anna is grieving I didn’t feel immersed in her grief while reading this, maybe because the sailing keeps her moving. She was never really stuck and I know being stuck and grieving is one of the scariest places to be. So this book didn’t trigger me as much as I thought it would, which I liked!
I do like how Anna and Keane’s relationship progressed very slowly but for the most part, they are friends. They don’t flirt a lot with another, and that’s to respect Anna’s space as she grieves, but when they do get together, I don’t feel explosions – it’s more of a nice melting into one another that they do. It really feels like a friendship that blossoms into love, the sex is an added bonus, but you know it’s deeper than that with both of them. So don’t expect a lot of romance from the beginning of this book ~ this is Anna’s journey of grief.
As a romance book, this one is a slow burn and barely a burn at that, more like a comforting warmth by the end. As a book about a woman grieving her fiance and trying to move her life forward, I think it hit a lot of the right spots. Anna learns to sail and open her heart again on this adventure through the Caribbean. She hits some bumps along the way but ultimately she learns to navigate her life on her own again, with the help of Keane, and for someone who has experienced grief on that level, I found Anna’s journey inspirational.
Categories: WWII, Historical, Fiction, Holocaust, War, Romance
Disclaimer: **I received this book free from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. All thoughts and opinions are my own.**
Thank you to Graydon House for giving me a chance to read this eARC in exchange for an honest review.
With the thrilling pace and historical drama of Pam Jenoff and Kristin Hannah, New York Times bestselling author Kelly Rimmer’s newest novel is an epic WWII saga and love story, based on the real-life efforts of two young people taking extraordinary risks to save their countrymen, as they try to find their way back to each other and the life they once knew.
Following on the success of The Things We Cannot Say, this is Kelly Rimmer’s return to the WWII category with a brand new novel inspired by Irena Sendler, the real-life Polish nurse who used her access to the Warsaw ghetto to smuggle Jewish children and babies to safety.
Spanning the tumultuous years between 1942 and 1945 in Poland, The Warsaw Orphan follows Emilia over the course of the war, her involvement with the Resistance, and her love for Sergiusz, a young man imprisoned in the Jewish ghetto who’s passion leads him to fight in the Warsaw Uprising. From the Warsaw ghetto to the Ravensbruck concentration camp, through Nazi occupation to the threat of a communist regime, Kelly Rimmer has penned her most meticulously researched and emotionally compelling novel to date.
Poland is ravaged on both sides in this war. The Soviet’s Red Army helps them liberate Poland from the Nazis but then the country comes under their rule. I definitely felt the anguish of the people of Poland and the exhaustion of never ending fighting for their country. We learn a lot about the Warsaw ghetto in Emilia’s (Elz-bieta) perspective being from outside the ghetto and Roman’s story from inside the ghetto.
Sara, the nurse who is helping smuggle children out of the ghetto is doing an amazing, stressful and life-threatening job. The story is loosely based on a real life nurse, Irena Sendler, who actually did smuggle children out of the Warsaw ghetto.
Through Roman, one of the main characters, we see his hunger to fight and keep fighting the Nazis and the Soviets. He is the anger in action. He joins the rebels who are fighting against the Nazis.
Emilia is an interesting character because she has a secret and she is very young in this venture of saving Jewish children in the ghetto. She’s only 14 and still so naive in some ways but she learns quickly. Emilia and Roman reminds us how kids grew up too fast in this time of war. By the end of this story one of them is tired of fighting and the tired wants to keep on. They do have a love story among the despair but even in the end I wasn’t sure if they would make it.
The ending is quite emotional, I felt for both Emilia, Roman and their friends who survived what the Nazis did to the whole of Europe.
Triggers: starvation, death, violence, mass executions, rape
This is a war story and it is graphic. There is a lot of visual accounts of the atrocities in the ghetto and concentration camp that is horrifying.
I learned a lot about the Warsaw ghetto from this book. This is an emotional and heartbreaking story. But there are strong characters in this sad story, and people fighting to do what they can to fight the Nazis and help the children that they could. It’s a story about an ugly time in history and a country being torn apart from the war and hope for a better day, one day with no fighting. If you enjoy historical fiction especially about World War II and the Holocaust, then you should read The Warsaw Orphan.
📚 ~ Yolanda
About the Author:
Kelly Rimmer is the worldwide, New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of Before I Let You Go, The Things We Cannot Say, and Truths I Never Told You. She lives in rural Australia with her husband, two children and fantastically naughty dogs, Sully and Basil. Her novels have been translated into more than twenty languages. Please visit her at https://www.kellyrimmer.com/
Facebook: @Kellymrimmer
Twitter: @KelRimmerWrites
Instagram: @kelrimmerwrites
Book Excerpt:
1
Roman
28 March, 1942
The human spirit is a miraculous thing. It is the strongest part of us—crushed under pressure, but rarely broken. Trapped within our weak and fallible bodies, but never contained. I pondered this as my brother and I walked to a street vendor on Zamenhofa Street in the Warsaw Ghetto, late in the afternoon on a blessedly warm spring day.
“There was one right there,” he said, pointing to a rare gap in the crowd on the sidewalk. I nodded but did not reply. Dawidek sometimes needed to talk me through his workday but he did not need me to comment, which was fortunate, because even after months of this ritual, I still had no idea what to say.
“Down that alleyway, there was one on the steps of a building. Not even on the sidewalk, just right there on the steps.”
I fumbled in my pocket, making sure I still had the sliver of soap my stepfather had given me. Soap was in desperate demand
in the ghetto, a place where overcrowding and lack of running water had created a perfect storm for illness. My stepfather ran a tiny dentistry practice in the front room of our apartment and needed the soap as much as anyone—maybe even more so. But as desperate as Samuel’s need for soap was, my mother’s need for food eclipsed it, and so there Dawidek and I were. It was generally considered a woman’s job to go to the market, but Mother needed to conserve every bit of strength she could, and the street vendor Samuel wanted me to speak to was blocks away from our home.
“…and Roman, one was behind a big dumpster,” he hesitated, then grimaced. “Except I think we missed that one yesterday.”
I didn’t ask how he’d come to that conclusion. I knew that the answer was liable to make my heart race and my vision darken, the way it did sometimes. Sometimes, it felt as if my anger was simmering just below the surface: at my nine-year-old brother and the rest of my family. Although, none of this was their fault. At Sala, my boss at the factory on Nowolipki Street, even though he was a good man and he’d gone out of his way to help me and my family more than once. At every damned German I laid eyes on. Always them. Especially them. A sharp, uncompromising anger tinged every interaction those days, and although that anger started and ended with the Germans who had changed our world, it cycled through everyone else I knew before it made its way back where it belonged.
“There was one here yesterday. In the middle of the road at the entrance to the market.”
Dawidek had already told me all about that one, but I let him talk anyway. I hoped this running commentary would spare him from the noxious interior that I was currently grappling with. I envied the ease with which he could talk about his day, even if hearing the details filled me with guilt. Guilt I could handle, I probably deserved it. It was the anger that scared me. I felt like my grip on control was caught between my sweaty hands and, at any given moment, all it would take was for someone to startle me, and I’d lose control.
The street stall came into view through the crowd. There was always a crush of people on the street until the last second before seven o’clock curfew. This was especially the case in summer, when the oppressive heat inside the ghetto apartments could bring people to faint, besides which, the overcrowding inside was no better than the overcrowding outside. I had no idea how many people were inside those ghetto walls—Samuel guessed a million, Mrs. Kuklin´ski in the bedroom beside ours said it was much more, Mother was quite confident that it was maybe only a hundred thousand. All I knew was that ours was not the only apartment in the ghetto designed for one family that was currently housing four—in fact, there were many living in even worse conditions. While the population was a hot topic of conversation on a regular basis, it didn’t actually matter all that much to me. I could see with my own eyes and smell with my own nose that however many people were trapped within the ghetto walls, it was far, far too many.
When the vendor’s table came into view, my heart sank: she was already packing up for the day and there was no produce left. I was disappointed but not surprised: there had been no chance of us finding food so late in the day, let alone food that someone would barter for a simple slip of soap. Dawidek and I had passed a store that was selling eggs, but they’d want zloty for the eggs, not a tiny scrap of soap.
“Wait here a minute,” I murmured to my brother, who shrugged as he sank to sit on an apartment stoop. I might have let him follow me, but even after the depths our family had sunk to over the years of occupation, I still hated for him to see me beg. I glanced at him, recording his location to memory, and then pushed through the last few feet of people mingling on the sidewalk until I reached the street vendor. She shook her head before I’d spoken a word.
“I am sorry young man; I have nothing to offer you.”
“I am Samuel Gorka’s son,” I told her. It was an oversimplification of a complicated truth, but it was the best way I could help her place me. “He fixed your tooth for you, remember? A few months ago? His practice is on Miła Street.”
Recognition dawned in her gaze, but she still regarded me warily.
“I remember Samuel and I’m grateful to him, but that doesn’t change anything. I have no food left today.”
“My brother and I…we work during the day. And Samuel too. You know how busy he is, helping people like yourself. But the thing is, we have a sick family member who hasn’t—”
“Kid, I respect your father. He’s a good man, and a good dentist. I wish I could help, but I have nothing to give you.” She waved to the table, to the empty wooden box she had packed up behind her, and then opened her palms towards me as if to prove the truth of her words.
“There is nowhere else for me to go. I can’t take no for an answer. I’m going to bed hungry tonight, but I can’t let…” I trailed off, the hopelessness hitting me right in the chest. I knew I would be going home without food for my mother that night, and the implications made me want to curl up in a ball, right there in the gutter. But hopelessness was dangerous, at least in part because it was always followed by an evil cousin. Hopelessness was a passive emotion, but its natural successor drove action, and that action rarely resulted in anything positive. I clenched my fists, and my fingers curled around the soap. I pulled it from my pocket and extended it towards the vendor. She looked from my palm to my face, then sighed impatiently and leaned close to me to hiss,
“I told you. I have nothing left to trade today. If you want food, you need to come earlier in the day.”
“That’s impossible for us. Don’t you understand?”
To get to the market early in the day one of us would have to miss work. Samuel couldn’t miss work; he could barely keep up as it was—he performed extractions from sunup to curfew most days. Rarely was this work paid now that money was in such short supply among ordinary families like his patients, but the work was important—not just because it afforded some small measure of comfort for a people group who were, in every other way, suffering immensely. But every now and again Samuel did a favor for one of the Jewish police officers or even a passing German soldier. He had a theory that one day soon, those favors were going to come in handy. I was less optimistic, but I understood that he couldn’t just close his practice. The moment Samuel stopped working would be the moment he had to perform an honest reckoning with our situation, and if he did that, he would come closer to the despair I felt every waking moment of every day.
“Do you have anything else? Or is it just the soap?” the woman asked me suddenly.
“That’s all.”
“Tomorrow. Come back this time tomorrow. I’ll keep something for you, but for that much soap?” She shook her head then pursed her lips. “It’s not going to be much. See if you can find something else to barter.”
“There is nothing else,” I said, my throat tight. But the woman’s gaze was at least sympathetic, and so I nodded at her. “I’ll do my best. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
As I turned away, I wondered if it was worth calling into that store to ask about the eggs, even though I knew that the soap wasn’t nearly enough for a whole egg. It wasn’t enough for even half an egg here on the market, and the stores were always more expensive than the street vendors. Maybe they would give me a shell? We could grind it up and Mother could drink it in a little water. We’d done that once before for her. It wasn’t as good as real food, but it might help a little overnight. It surely couldn’t hurt.
As I spun back towards our apartment, a burst of adrenaline nearly knocked me sideways. Dawidek hadn’t moved, but two Jewish police officers were now standing in front of him. Like me, my brother was tall for his age—an inheritance from our maternal grandfather that made us look bizarre when we stood with Samuel and Mother, who were both more diminutive. Even so, he looked far too small to be crowded into the doorway of an apartment by two Jewish Police officers. That situation could turn to bloodshed in a heartbeat. The Kapo operated on a spectrum from well-meaning and kindly to murderously violent, and I had no way of knowing what kind of Kapo were currently accosting Dawidek. My heart thundered against the wall of my chest as I pushed my way back to them, knowing even as I approached that intervening could well get me shot.
For everything I had been through and for everything I had seen, the only thing that kept me going was my family, especially Dawidek. He was my favorite person in the world, a burst of purity in an environment of pure evil. Some days, the only time I felt still inside was when he and I were playing or talking in the evenings—and that stillness was the only rest I got. I could not live without him, in fact—I had already decided that if it came to that, I wouldn’t even try.
“Dawidek?” I called as I neared. Both Kapo turned toward me. The one on the left, the taller one, sized me up as if an emaciated, unarmed 16-year-old was any kind of threat. I knew from bitter experience that the smart thing to do would have been to let Dawidek try to talk his own way out of this. He was nine years old but used to defending himself in the bizarrely toxic environment of the Ghetto. All day long, he was at his job alone, and I was at mine. He needed his wits about him to survive even an hour of that, and I needed to trust that he could handle himself.
But I couldn’t convince myself to be smart, even when I knew that what I was about to do was likely to earn me, at best, a severe beating. I couldn’t even stop myself when the Kapo gave me a second chance to walk away. They ignored me and kept their attention on my brother. “Hey!” I shouted, loud enough that my voice echoed up and down the street, and dozens of people turned to stare. “He’s just a kid. He hasn’t done anything wrong!”
I was mentally planning my next move. I’d make a scene, maybe push one of the Kapo, and when they turned to beat me, Dawidek could run. Pain was never pleasant, but physical pain could also be an effective distraction from mental anguish, which was the worst kind. Maybe I could even land a punch, and that might feel good. But my brother stepped forward, held his hands up to me and said fiercely, “These are my supervisors, Roman. Just supervisors on the crew. We were just talking.”
My stomach dropped. My heartbeat pounded in my ears and my hands were hot.—I knew my face was flushed raspberry, both with embarrassment and from the adrenaline. After a terse pause that seemed to stretch forever, the Kapo exchanged an amused glance, one patted Dawidek on the back, and they continued down the street, both laughing at me. Dawidek shook his head in frustration.
“Why did you do that? What would you do, even if I was in trouble?”
“I’m sorry,” I admitted, scraping my hand through my hair. “I lost my head.”
“You’re always losing your head,” Dawidek muttered, falling into step beside me, as we began to follow the Kapo back towards our own apartment. “You need to listen to Father. Keep your head down, work hard and hope for the best. You are too smart to keep making such dumb decisions.”
Hearing my little brother echoing his father’s wisdom in the same tone and with the same impatience was always jarring, but in this case, I was dizzy with relief, and so I messed up his hair, and let out a weak laugh.
“For a nine-year-old, you are awfully wise.”
“Wise enough to know that you didn’t get any food for mother.”
“We were too late,” I said, and then I swallowed the lump in my throat. “But she said that we should come back tomorrow. She will set something aside for us.”
“Let’s walk the long way home. The trashcans on Smocza Street are sometimes good.”
We were far from the only family in the ghetto who had run out of resources. We were all starving and any morsel of food was quickly found, even if it was from a trashcan. Still, I was not at all keen to return to our crowded apartment, to face the disappointment in my stepfather’s gaze or to see the starvation in my mother’s. I let Dawidek lead the way, and we walked in silence, broken by his periodic bursts of commentary.
“We picked one up here… Another over there… Mordechai helped me with one there.”
As we turned down a quiet street, I realized that Dawidek’s Kapo supervisors were right in front of us, walking a few dozen feet ahead.
“We should turn around, I don’t want any trouble with those guys,” I muttered. Dawidek shook his head.
“They like me. I work hard and don’t give them any trouble. Now that you have stopped trying to get yourself killed, they won’t bother us, even if they do notice us.”
Just then, the shorter policeman glanced towards the sidewalk on his right, and then he paused. He waved his companion ahead, then withdrew something from his pocket as he crouched low to the ground. —I was far too far away to hear the words he spoke, but I saw the sadness in his gaze. The Kapo then rose and jogged ahead to catch up with his partner. Dawidek and I continued along the street, but only when we drew near where he had stopped did I realize why.
We had been in the ghetto for almost two years. Conditions were bad to begin with, and every new day seemed to bring new trials. I learned to wear blinders—to block out the public pain and suffering of my fellow prisoners. I had walked every block of the ghetto, both the Little Ghetto with its nicer apartments where the elite and artists appeared to live in relative comport, and through the Big Ghetto, where poor families like my own were crammed in, trying to survive at a much higher density. The footbridge on Chłodna Street connected the two and elevated the Ghetto residents above the “Aryan” Poles, and even the Germans, who passed beneath it. The irony of this never failed to amuse me when I crossed. Sometimes, I crossed it just to cheer myself up.
I knew the Ghetto inside and out, and I noticed every detail, even if I had taught myself to ignore what I saw as much as I could. I learned not to react when an elderly man or woman caught my hand as I passed, clawing in the hopes that I could spare them a morsel of food. I learned not to so much as startle if someone was shot in front of my eyes. And most of all, I learned to never look at the face of any unfortunate soul who was prone on the sidewalk. The only way to survive was to remain alert so I had to see it all, but I also had to learn to look right through it. The only way to manage my own broiling fury was to bury it.
But the policeman had drawn my attention to a scene of utter carnage outside of what used to be a clothing store. The store had long ago run out of stock and had been re-purposed as accommodation for several families. The wide front window was now taped over with Hessian sacks for privacy; outside of that window, on the paved sidewalk, a child was lying on her stomach. Alive, but barely.
The Ghetto was teeming with street children. The orphanages were full to bursting which meant that those who weren’t under the care of relatives or kindly strangers were left to their own devices. I saw abandoned children, but I didn’t see them.
I’d have passed right by this child on any other day. I couldn’t even manage to keep my own family safe and well, so it was better to keep walking and spare myself the pain of powerlessness. But I was curious about what the policeman had given the child, and so even as we approached her, I was scanning—looking to see what had caught his attention and to try to figure out what he’d put down on the ground.
Starvation confused the normal growth and development of children, but even so, I guessed she was two or three. She wore the same vacant expression I saw in most children by that stage. Patches of her hair had fallen out, and her naked stomach and legs were swollen. Someone had taken her clothing except for a tattered pair of underwear, and I understood why.
This child would not be alive by morning. Once they became too weak to beg for help, it didn’t take long, and this child was long past that point. Her dull brown eyes were liquid pools of defeat and agony.
My eyes drifted to her hands. One was lying open and empty on the sidewalk beside her, her palm facing upward, as if opening her hands to God. The other was also open, slumped against the sidewalk on the other side of her, but this palm was not empty. Bread. The policeman had pressed a chunk of bread beneath the child’s hand. I stared at the food and even though it was never going to find its way to my lips, my mouth began to water. I was torturing myself, but it was much easier to look at the bread than at the girl’s dull eyes.
Dawidek stood silently beside me. I thought of my mother, and then crouched beside the little girl.
“Hello,” I said, stiff and awkward. The child did not react. I cast my gaze all over her face, taking it in. The sharp cheekbones. The way her eyes seemed too big for her face. The matted hair. Someone had once brushed this little girl’s hair, and probably pulled it into pretty braids. Someone had once bathed this child, and tucked her into bed at night, bending down to whisper in her ear that she was loved and special and wanted.
Now, her lips were dry and cracked, and blood dried into a dirty black scab in the corner of her mouth. My eyes burned, and it took me a moment to realize that I was struggling to hold back tears.
“You should eat the bread,” I urged softly. Her eyes moved, and then she blinked, but then her eyelids fluttered and fell closed. She drew in a breath, but her whole chest rattled, the sound I knew people made just before they died—when they were far too ill to even cough. A tear rolled down my cheek. I closed my eyes, but now, instead of blackness, I saw the little girl’s face.
This was why I learned to wear blinders, because if you got too close to the suffering, it would burn itself into your soul. This little girl was now a part of me, and her pain was part of mine.
Even so, I knew that she could not eat the bread. The policeman’s gesture had been well-meaning, but it had come far too late. If I didn’t take the bread, the next person who passed would. If my time in the ghetto had taught me anything, it was that life might deliver blessings, but each one would have a sting in its tail. God might deliver us fortune, but never without a cost. I would take the bread, and the child would die overnight. But that wouldn’t be the end of the tragedy. In some ways, it was only the beginning.
I wiped my cheeks roughly with the back of my hand, and then before I could allow my conscience to stop me, I reached down and plucked the bread from under the child’s hand, to swiftly hide it my pocket. Then I stood, and forced myself to not look at her again. Dawidek and I began to walk.
“The little ones should be easier. I don’t have to ask the big kids for help lifting them, and they don’t weigh anything at all. They should be easier, shouldn’t they?” Dawidek said, almost philosophically. He sighed heavily, and then added in a voice thick with confusion and pain. “I’ll be able to lift her by myself tomorrow morning, but that won’t make it easier.”
Fortune gave me a job with one of the few factories in the ghetto that was owned by a kindly Jew, rather than some German businessman only wanting to take advantage of slave labor. But this meant that when the Kapo came looking for me at home, to help collect the bodies from the streets before sunrise each day, the only other viable person in our household was my brother.
When Dawidek was first recruited to this hideous role, I wanted to quit my job so that I could relieve him of it. But corpse-collection was unpaid work and my factory job paid me in food—every single day, I sat down to a hot lunch, which meant other members of my family could share my portion of rations. This girl would die overnight, and by dawn, my little brother would have lifted her into the back of a wagon. He and a team of children and teenagers, under the supervision of the Kapo, would drag the wagon to the cemetery, where they would tip the corpses into a pit with dozens of others.
Rage, black and red and violent in its intensity, clouded the edges of my vision and I felt the thunder of the injustice in my blood. But then Dawidek drew a deep breath, and he leaned forward to catch my gaze. He gave me a smile, a brave smile, one that tilted the axis of my world until I felt it chase the rage away.
I had to maintain control. I couldn’t allow my fury to destroy me, because my family was relying on me. Dawidek was relying on me.
“Mother is going to be so excited to have bread,” he said, his big brown eyes lighting up at the thought of pleasing her. “And that means Eleonora will get better milk tomorrow, won’t she?”
“Yes,” I said, my tone as empty as the words themselves. “This bread is a real blessing.”
Categories: Murder Mystery, Social Media, Young Adult, Contemporary
Disclaimer: **I received this book free from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. All thoughts and opinions are my own.**
A page-turning thriller for the social media age, perfect for fans of A Good Girl’s Guide to Murder and One of Us Is Lying.
Ten years ago Jess lost her mother to the Magpie Man, an infamous serial killer who is still at large and planning to kill again. She’s going to use her new platform as the star of a YouTube reality series to catch him. That is, if he doesn’t catch her first.
Jess’s online show means that everyone is talking about her mother’s murder case. But fame comes with its downsides. The whole world is watching her every move. And it’s hard to know who she can trust.
Could the Magpie Man be lurking closer to her than she thought? Is he watching her right now?
I like the concept of using social media to find a serial killer by drawing them out. It’s also a scary idea but Jess was committed to finding her mother’s killer.
The story moved very quickly because the chapters were short and to the point.
It was difficult to pinpoint who was the Magpie Man so the author did a great job of hiding him from me, the reader. I had a few suspects in mind but I was wrong.
There were some parts that was thrilling and made me wonder if I would do what Jess is doing. My answer: NO. I’d be too afraid to go running out into the night to see who was out there creeping around my house.
Triggers: suicide ideation, murder scenes, grief
I like short chapters but at one point it made the story too choppy for me, it took me out of the story at times.
I didn’t connect much to the story maybe because we are in Jess’s head a lot and I wanted more clues about the killer. Honestly, when the killer was revealed, it felt anticlimactic.
The concept of luring a serial killer with a social media reality show is fascinating. For the most part I was engaged with the story and wanting to find out who was the killer but the big reveal fell short for me. I still think people who enjoy young adult murder mysteries will enjoy this one though.
Disclaimer: **I received this book free from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. All thoughts and opinions are my own.**
Thank you to Graydon House for giving me a chance to read this eARC in exchange for an honest review.
Kara Sullivan is definitely not avoiding her deadline. After all, it’s the week of her best friend’s wedding and she’s the maid of honor, so she’s got lots of responsibilities. As a bestselling romance novelist with seven novels under her belt, she’s a pro and looming deadlines and writer’s block (which she definitely doesn’t have) don’t scare her. She’s just eager to support Cristina as she ties the knot with Jason.
But who should show up at Cristina and Jason’s rehearsal dinner but Kara’s college ex-boyfriend, (the gorgeous and infuriating) Ryan? Apparently, he’s one of Jason’s childhood friends, and he’s in the wedding party, too. Considering neither Kara nor Ryan were prepared to see each other again, it’s decidedly a meet-NOT-cute. There is nothing cute about this situation, and a bit of notice to mentally prepare would’ve been nice, Cristina! However, when Kara sits down to write again the next day, her writers’ block is suddenly gone. She has to wonder what’s changed. Are muses real…? And is Kara’s muse…Ryan?
Talk Bookish to Me is about a romance author, Kara, who is trying to finish up her next book and help her best friend with her wedding. On top of that, she runs into Ryan – her ex from college, and it seems like whatever happened in the past is still lingering between them. There is a whole emotional journey that takes place between these two from the moment they reunite to the end of the book.
The story really does start off light with a rom-com feel but the deeper we get into the story, we get into some bitter feelings of the past, regrets, resentment, guilt – so many feelings to work through. I wasn’t expecting where this story was headed but I had an inkling after a certain event.
The chemistry between them is electric as they remember how it used to be between them but I also liked that they could see how each other changed or stayed the same in some aspects. There is only really one particularly steamy scene in this story, but it was definitely a culmination of the tension between them.
I love Kara’s friends, but especially Maggie, she was there for her in every aspect of her life and I loved her for that.
How can you not love a book with a dog in it?
Triggers: grief, cheating
I’m not a fan of a having book within a book – so at times I mostly skimmed those parts.
This story has a great rom-com vibe and then the fun, games and sexy times end. Honestly, if it were me, I don’t think I could forgive Ryan as Kara did but they have the history together. Just for me personally, Ryan messed up bad. I will say the moment they fight about it was pretty intense and it was needed, they needed the truth out on both sides but wow…it was a emotionally heavy scene.
I enjoyed this enemies to lovers, second chance romance love story even though I don’t think I could have forgiven Ryan as Kara did. That was the only part of the story that brought my mood a bit down. I did understand though with young love, so much can go wrong as both people in the relationship grow and change. It gives us a chance to see if grown Kara and Ryan feel like what they feel for each other is what they want to fight for. Definitely check this one out if you like second chance romance stories.
📚 ~ Yolanda
*****
About the Author:
KATE BROMLEY lives in New York City with her husband, son, and her somewhat excessive collection of romance novels (It’s not hoarding if it’s books, right?). She was a preschool teacher for seven years and is now focusing full-time on combining her two great passions – writing swoon-worthy love stories and making people laugh. Talk Bookish to Me is her first novel.
I turn my gaze from the floor to the well-dressed man standing beside me. There are only two of us in the elevator, so he must be talking to me.
“I think it’s a matter of personal preference,” I answer. “I’m the maid of honor so I had to be excessive.”
His eyebrows bob up as I adjust my grip on the Great-Dane-sized gift basket I’m carrying. The cellophane wrapping paper crinkles each time I move, echoing through the confined space just loudly enough to keep things weird. Because if everyone isn’t uncomfortable for the entire ride, are you even really in an elevator?
I’m low-key ecstatic when the doors glide open ten seconds later. With my basket now on the cusp of breaking both my arms and my spirit, I beeline it out of there and stride into the rooftop lounge where my best friend is hosting her pre-wedding party, drinking in the scent of heat and champagne as I maneuver through the sea of guests.
Like most maids-of-honor, I flung myself down the Etsy rabbit hole headfirst and ordered an obscene amount of decorations for tonight’s event. Burlap “Mr. & Mrs.” banners dangle from floating shelves behind the bar as twinkle lights weave around the balcony railings like ivy. Lace-trimmed mason jars filled with pink roses sit on every candlelit cocktail table. Cristina and I worked with the tenacity of two matrimonial Spartans to get everything ready this morning, and it’s clear that our blood, sweat and tears were very much worth it.
It’s then that I spot Cristina mingling near the end of the bar. Beautiful, petite and come-hither curvy, I’d hate her if she weren’t one of my favorite people ever. Her caramel hair spills down her back and her white high-low dress sets her apart from the crowd in just the right way—she’s a princess in the forest and we’re her adoring woodland animals. I’m her feisty chipmunk sidekick to my core.
I place my gift on a nearby receiving table and give a little wave when I catch her eye. She’s waiting for me with a huge grin when I arrive at her side.
“Hey, lady!” she says, pulling me in for a hug. “Look at you, rolling in here looking all gorgeous.”
We step apart and I stand up a bit taller. “Why, thank you. I feel pretty good.”
It’s also very possible that Cristina is just so used to me dazzling the world with yoga pants and sweaters every day that my transformation seems more dramatic than it is.
“Were you able to get any writing done this afternoon?” she asks, handing me a glass of champagne from off the mahogany bar top.
I get a twisting knot in my gut at the mention of my writing, or lack thereof. Having been dying a slow literary death for almost a year, I’m never without some stomach-turning sensation for long. The final deadline for my next romancenovel is officially a month away and if I don’t deliver a bestseller by then—
“Okay, you’re making your freak-out face,” Cristina interjects. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
I inhale a shallow breath and force a smile. “It’s fine. I’m good.”
“Let’s switch gears—are you sure it’s not weird that I’m having a pre-wedding party? Was booking the salsa band too much since I’m having one at the wedding, too?”
Beyond grateful for the booming trumpet and bongos that are drowning out my own thoughts, I turn to the corner and find the ten-piece group playing with addictive abandon. Cristina’s relatives, who are essentially non-trained professional salsa dancers, dominate the dance floor, and rightfully so. Cristina’s brother, Edgar, once tried to teach me the basics but I’m fairly confident I looked like a plank of wood that was given the gift of limbs. Cristina recommended dance lessons. Edgar suggested a bottle of aguardiente and prayer.
“The band is amazing,” I say as I swing back around, “and of course people have pre-wedding parties.” I’ve actually never heard of a pre-wedding party. An engagement party, yes. A bachelorette party, absolutely. But what’s going down tonight is basically a casual reception days before the mega-reception.
“Jason and I just have so many people coming in from out of town, plus we wanted the bridal party to get acquainted. We figured a little get-together would be fun.”
“I’m all for it. Who doesn’t want to pre-game for a wedding a week in advance?”
“I know I do,” Cristina says, lifting her own champagne and taking a sip. “Everyone is here except Jason and some groomsmen. Can you believe that creep is late to his own party?”
“Should you really be calling your fiancé a creep?”
“He’s my creep so it’s okay.”
“Valid point.”
“Picture please! Will you girls get together?”
I look to my right and find a teenage boy with wildly curly hair pointing a camera at us. He’s dressed in all black and looks so eager to take our photo that I can’t help but to find him endearing.
“Absolutely! Big smile, Kara.” Cristina throws her arm around my waist and after we withstand an intense flash, the young man is gone before my eyes can readjust. “That was Jason’s cousin, Rob. He wants to be a photographer, so I hired him for the night.”
“That was thoughtful of you,” I say, still recovering from my momentary blindness. “By the way, where is Jason?”
“He’s still at home. Two of his groomsmen are driving up and he wanted to wait for them since, apparently, grown men can’t find their way to a party by themselves.”
“Driving in Manhattan is intimidating. He probably didn’t want them to get lost.”
“Right, because neither of them has GPS? Jason should be here.”
I’m honestly shocked that Jason isn’t here. I love Cristina and Jason both to death but they’re one of those couples that rarely go out socially without each other. Even when I invite Cristina over to my apartment for a wine night, she asks to bring Jason. I’ve always thought it was a bit much, but I guess it works for them.
“Okay, forget everyone else, let’s toast.” I clear my throat and hold up my champagne. “When we were both waitressing at McMahon’s Pub in grad school, I had no idea it would lead to nine amazing years of friendship. Now I’d be lost without you. Here’s to you having a magical night. I’m so glad I’m here to celebrate with you.”
We smile and tap our glasses together, the ding of the crystal echoing my words.
I take a sip and the bubbly drink slips easily down my throat. Still savoring the sweetness, I ask, “So, who are these mystery groomsmen Jason’s waiting for?”
“One is named Beau and I can’t remember the other one. They’re two guys he grew up with when his family lived in North Carolina.”
“North Carolina? I thought Jason was from Texas?”
“He spent most of his life in Texas, but he lived in North Carolina until he was ten. He somehow kept in contact with these two through the years.”
“That’s nice, him staying friends with them for so long.”
“Yeah, it’s adorable, but they still should have gotten their asses here on their own.” Cristina is poised to elaborate when her gaze locks on something across the room. She tries and fails to look annoyed instead of excited.
“I’m guessing the groom has arrived,” I say, glancing over my shoulder. My suspicions are confirmed as I see Jason making his way toward us, smiling at Cristina like a fifth grader saying “cheese” on picture day. He’s tilting his head and everything.
“There she is! There’s my incredibly forgiving future wife.” Jason leans down and kisses Cristina before she can verbally obliterate him. He gives me a quick kiss on the cheek next and then shifts back to his fiancée’s side, sneaking an arm around her waist and pulling her to his hip.
“So, I’m going to go ahead and disregard all the semi-violent text messages you’ve sent me over the past hour. Bearing that in mind, how’s everything going?”
Cristina looks up at him, feigning disinterest. “It’s going great. Since you weren’t here, I talked to several nice men. Turns out, pre-wedding parties are a great place to meet guys.”
“I’m so happy for you.”
“I appreciate that. Four contenders, specifically, really piqued my interest.”
“Are they taller than me?” Jason asks. “Do they make a lot of money?”
“Obviously. They’re way taller and all of them are independently wealthy.”
“Nice. Kara, did you meet these freakishly tall and rich men?”
“I did and spoiler alert, I’m engaged now, too! Double wedding here we come!”
Jason smiles and pulls Cristina in even closer, his gaze holding hers. “I guess this is where being late gets you. I’m sorry I wasn’t here. Do you forgive me?”
“Don’t I always?”
He leans down and gives her another picture-perfect kiss.
It’s official. I’m dying alone. Just putting that out there.
“Now, where are these friends of yours? Oh! Let’s set one of them up with Kara!” Cristina looks at me with a dangerous matchmaker gleam in her eyes.
“Actually, I already mentioned Kara, and one of my buddies said he went to college with her.”
Went to college with me?
Jason looks towards the entrance and waves. “Hey, Ryan! Come over here!”
And then I go catatonic. I can’t move. I stand stock still, looking at Cristina like she sprouted a third arm out of her forehead and it’s giving me the middle finger.
Someone walks past me and a soft breeze ghosts across my overheating skin. I stare in a state of utter disbelief as Ryan Thompson steps into view beside Jason.
“It’s been a while, Sullivan,” he says, his voice as steady and tempting as ever.
My champagne glass falls from my fingers and shatters against the floor.
“Kara?” Cristina’s voice rings with concern as she nudges us away from the broken glass that’s now littered around our feet. She grasps my elbow, but I don’t feel it. She could backhand me across the face with a polo mallet and I wouldn’t feel it. My mind is spiraling, plummeting inwards as I come to grips with the realization that Ryan is standing two feet away from me.
Dressed in a navy suit, a crisp white button-down and brown dress shoes, he’s come a long way from the sweatshirts and jeans that were his unofficial uniform in college. His dirty-blond hair is on the shorter side, but a few wayward strands still fall across his forehead. Ten years ago, I would have reached up and brushed them aside without a thought. Now, my hand curls into a tight, unforgiving fist at my side.
If we were another former couple, seeing each other for the first time in a decade might be a dreamy, serendipitous meet-cute—a Nancy Meyers movie in pre-production. We’d have a few drinks and spend hours reminiscing about old times before picking up right where we left off. It would be comfortable and familiar as anything, like a sip of hot chocolate at Christmas with Nat King Cole crooning on vinyl in the background.
But we are not that kind of former couple, and I’m convinced that if Nat King Cole were here and knew my side of the story, he would grab Ryan by the scruff of his shirt and hold him steady as I roundhouse-kicked him in the throat.
It’s a tough pill to swallow but Ryan looks good. Like, really good. His face is harder than it was when he was twenty-one and the stubble on his chin tells me he hasn’t shaved in a few days, making him seem like he just rolled out of bed. And not rolled out of bed in a dirty way, but in a “I just rolled out of bed and yet I still look ruggedly handsome and you fully want to make out with me” kind of way.
The bastard.
“Ryan,” Cristina says, always the first to jump in, “Jason mentioned that you and Kara went to college together.”
“We did.” His eyes don’t move from mine for even a second. “It’s got to be what, ten years now?”
“Yeah, it’s been a long, long time,” I say quickly, turning to face Cristina. “I think I may have mentioned him before. Remember my friend from North Carolina?”
If someone were to look up “my friend from North Carolina” in the Dictionary of Kara, they would find the following:
My friend from North Carolina (noun): 1. Ryan Thompson. 2. My college boyfriend. 3. My first real boyfriend ever. 4. My first love. 5. Taker of my virginity. 6. Guy who massacred my heart with a rusty sledgehammer and fed the remains to rabid, ravenous dogs.
Cristina is well versed in the dictionary of Kara and recognition washes over her. “No way,” she says, her voice dropping.
“Yes way,” I answer happily, overcompensating.
Now’s it’s Cristina’s turn to panic. “Wow. Okay, wow, what a small world, huh?” She grabs Jason’s hand in an iron grip, making him wince as she blasts an over-the-top smile. “Well, we should give you guys a chance to catch up. My abuelita just got here so Jason and I are going to say hello.”
“Your abuelita died two years ago,” I hiss.
“I know, it’s a miracle. See you two later!” She drags her soon-to-be husband away before he can get a word out.
I watch them go, sailing away like the last lifeboat as I stand on deck with the string quartet, the cheerful Bach melody only further confirming that this ship is going down.
My Rating: 2/5 Stars (DNF’ed @ 20% but read the ending)
Title: Better Together
Author: Christine Riccio
Format: eBook (NetGalley)
Pages: 448
Publication Date: 6/1/21
Publisher: Wednesday Books
Categories: Contemporary, Young Adult, Sisterhood, Family, Romance
Disclaimer: **I received this book free from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. All thoughts and opinions are my own.**
Thank you to Wednesday Books for giving me a chance to read this arc in exchange for an honest review!
Jamie’s an aspiring standup comic in Los Angeles with a growing case of stage anxiety.
Siri’s a stunning ballerina from New Jersey nursing a career-changing injury.
They’ve both signed up for the same session at an off the grid Re-Discover Yourself Retreat in Colorado. When they run into each other, their worlds turn upside down.
Jamie and Siri are sisters, torn apart at a young age by their parent’s volatile divorce. They’ve grown up living completely separate lives: Jamie with their Dad and Siri with their Mom. Now, reunited after over a decade apart, they hatch a plot to switch places. It’s time they get to know and confront each of their estranged parents.
With an accidental assist from some fortuitous magic, Jamie arrives in New Jersey, looking to all the world like Siri, and Siri steps off her flight sporting a Jamie glamour.
The sisters unexpectedly find themselves stuck living in each other’s shoes. Soon Siri’s crushing on Jamie’s best friend Dawn. Jamie’s falling for the handsome New Yorker she keeps running into, Zarar. Alongside a parade of hijinks and budding romance, both girls work to navigate their broken family life and the stresses of impending adulthood.
I liked the moment the sisters meet because we get to learn a bit of the back story of their history. It’s a sad history though and they get at least someone to help them navigate reintroducing one another to their lives again.
They are different in personality. Jamie is loud, says what she wants – she’s a comedian in life and as her profession. Siri is more subdued, was a ballerina until that dream came to a halt, so they are very different.
There is a happy ending (yes I read the ending), so it all works out with the family and the romance storylines in each girl’s life.
I couldn’t connect with any of the girls. I couldn’t get over Siri’s name being Siri, it just reminded me too much of Siri from the iPhone. Also, the fact that they were named after Game of Thrones characters (I Love GoT too but…), bugged me because Jamie and Cersei, the incestuous siblings? Interesting choice of names.
Jamie tries too hard and there is a lot of swearing (I don’t mind swearing) but a lot of it is in caps, so okay, Jamie is loud. But then her sister Siri likes to swear also…but using non-curse words such as “excrement” and just other random alternative curse words. But excrement is used a lot and after awhile it isn’t cute or funny.
I skipped a lot and apparently I skipped too much because there was a parent trap situation somewhere in the story and there’s magic that made that happen.
This one was clearly not for me since I did not finish and mostly skipped but I think there are readers out there who will enjoy it especially if you like stories like the Parent Trap.
Jessica tells of growing up in 1980s Texas where she was sexually abused by the daughter of a family friend, and of unsuccessfully auditioning for the Mickey Mouse Club at age 13 with Justin Timberlake and Ryan Gosling before going on to sign a record deal with Columbia and marrying 98 Degrees member Nick Lachey.
Along the way, she details the struggles in her life, such as the pressure to support her family as a teenager, divorcing Lachey, enduring what she describes as an emotionally abusive relationship with musician John Mayer, being body-shamed in an overly appearance-centered industry, and going through bouts of heavy drinking. But Simpson ends on a positive note, discussing her billion-dollar apparel line and marriage with professional football star Eric Johnson, with whom she has three children.
Just some background – I was in college when Britney, Christina, Mandy More and Jessica Simpson were taking over the airwaves. So my interest in this book is definitely part curiosity and nostalgia. She may not be putting out music anymore like back in the early 2000’s but it’s hard not to see her brand at like Ross Dress for Less haha – I’m wearing Jessica Simpson house slippers right now as I’m typing this. And I didn’t buy it for the brand, but it was comfy and super affordable.
Jessica’s childhood story is eye opening. She is definitely a preacher’s daughter because faith is a big thing throughout all her ups and downs in the book. But so many things happened in her life that started a domino effect and would culminate into her drinking to cope.
A lot of the book is about her relationships since she was in the media a lot because of them. First her marriage to Nick Lachey, then dating John Mayer and Tony Romo. I definitely related to her on some of the challenges she went through in the relationships whether it was about marriage, bad communication or just all the drama comes with “falling in love”. I also found her self worth struggles relatable not only when she was in some of these bad relationships but also when she became a mother of two back to back and not knowing who you are anymore.
I applaud her for her honesty on the relationships, the coping mechanisms, the struggle to survive in an industry that never appreciates you for yourself but always wants to you to be something else.
Triggers: sexual abuse, divorce, alcoholism, addiction
Obviously her life is not about her love life but most of this book is like all the gossip you wanted to know about her marriages and ex-boyfriends. I enjoyed it of course but I think I liked knowing about her brand business as much, we get a little of it and I found that fascinating.
I don’t read a lot of memoirs but I picked this up because I grew up in my late teens and twenties with Jessica Simpson all over the radio and mtv. And a few years ago I remember seeing those clips of Jessica on Home Shopping Network acting strange and now looking back, it was because she was an alcoholic. I wondered what had happened to her and now we know what did. I appreciate her honesty in everything she decided to share in this book from the sexual abuse, her failed relationships, and the good things like her doing concerts for the troops fighting in Afghanistan and Iraq, finding the love of her life and having her three beautiful children. She has a good heart and I’m glad she’s around to share her story.
Categories: Urban Fantasy, Racism, Hate Crimes, Social Media, Identity, Young Adult
Disclaimer: **I received this book free from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. All thoughts and opinions are my own.**
Thank you to Tor Teen for giving me a chance to read this book in exchange for an honest review!
The Hate U Give meets Shadowshaper in Bethany C. Morrow’s A Chorus Rises, a brilliant contemporary fantasy set in the world of A Song Below Water.
Teen influencer Naema Bradshaw has it all: she’s famous, privileged, has “the good hair”— and she’s an Eloko, a person who’s gifted with a song that woos anyone who hears it. Everyone loves her — well, until she’s cast as the awful person who exposed Tavia’s secret siren powers.
Now, she’s being dragged by the media. No one understands her side: not her boyfriend, not her friends, nor her Eloko community. But Naema knows the truth and is determined to build herself back up — no matter what.
When a new, flourishing segment of Naema’s online supporters start targeting black girls, however, Naema must discover the true purpose of her magical voice.
Absolutely love the cover! Both covers for this series are so beautiful.
I actually enjoyed this book more than I did A Song Below Water and I think because Naema’s voice is so strong whereas in the previous book, Effie and Tavia almost blended together. But Naema is vocal, she knows who she is, and how she wants to be perceived at online and in person. She is flawed but that’s why I liked learning about her character. Naema is the “mean girl” from the first book but this is her story now, and I like how she confronts her struggle about being Eloko and a black girl.
I think I got a better understanding of what Eloko means from this book, but still, not totally, not even Naema knows much about her magic as an Eloko is seems. I liked that Naema leaves Portland, where Eloko are well known and visits her family in Arizona. She’s out of her element and we get to see her interact with family who she hasn’t seen in awhile, we also learn a little more about how Eloko connect to their Ancestors.
I liked how she and Tavia come together at the end to fight something bigger than the drama between the two of them. I like how the issues of social media and how the media as whole perceives or creates certain storylines to fit their agenda.
Triggers: racism, hate crimes
This is supposedly a companion novel instead of part of a series and can be read alone, but I’d be lost if I didn’t read A Song Below Water beforehand. I would recommend reading A Song Below Water first.
Naema isn’t a likable character in book one and even in the beginning of A Chorus Rises, but she grew on me and owned up to some of her mistakes by the end.
I still feel like Elokos are vague after reading both books. Would like to have more information about them and world building.
I enjoyed how this story explores racism, and media’s role in a sensitive situation like Naema and Tavia’s story through an urban fantasy lens. We had Tavia’s story in book one and Naema was the mean girl. Now it’s the mean girl’s turn to tell her story and I her complicated and someone trying to figure out what being black and Eloko means. I do recommend reading A Song Below Water before this one to get the whole picture of what happens with these girls, if not you might be a little lost.
Categories: Social Media, Young Adult, Romance, Summer Camp, Contemporary
Disclaimer: **I received this book free from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. All thoughts and opinions are my own.**
Thank you to Sourcebooks Fire for giving me a chance to read this eARC in exchange for an honest review!
A social media influencer is shipped off to a digital detox summer camp in this funny coming-of-age story, perfect for fans of Jenny Han’s The Summer I Turned Pretty and Love and Gelato.
Sunny Song’s Big Summer Goals: 1) Make Rafael Kim my boyfriend (finally!) 2) Hit 100K followers (almost there…) 3) Have the best last summer of high school ever
Not on Sunny’s list: accidentally filming a PG-13 cooking video that goes viral (#browniegate). Extremely not on her list: being shipped off to a digital detox farm camp in Iowa (IOWA??) for a whole month. She’s traded in her WiFi connection for a butter churn, and if she wants any shot at growing her social media platform this summer, she’ll need to find a way back online.
But between some unexpected friendships and an alarmingly cute farm boy, Sunny might be surprised by the connections she makes when she’s forced to disconnect.
I thought this was a fun premise for a story. Youtuber gets sent to technology detox camp to reconnect with life again and learn about what’s important in her life. Sunny isn’t even a big time social media influencer but someone trying to get to that level but her parents thinks whatever she is doing is enough to send her to camp.
Sunny is a fun character – she’s from L.A. and gets sent to Iowa. For the most part she is bored without all her technology. She makes some friends at camp and even meets a boy who works at the farm. She comes off self-centered because she is very focused on her youtube career but I did like how she stood up for herself when dealing with microagressions on the farm because she is Korean-American.
Sunny and Theo’s romance is very cute and sweet. The two of them are opposites in every aspect. She’s a city girl, he’s a farm boy. He’s traditional, she’s a risk taker. I liked seeing their relationship grow.
I did like the message in the story – which is about finding a life with balance. Sunny makes good points about why technology is needed and helpful. I also loved that she stands up to Theo and Ms. Davenport about her choice to become a social media star and she works hard at her craft to try and reach her dreams. I like that she made it clear that going to college isn’t the only way to success these days. I agree and I went to college haha. But Coach, the “counselor” at camp makes good points too about making human connections face to face. I like how she connects with the elderly, it reminds me of the times I volunteered as a teen in nursing homes. So I like how this story shows how connecting online and offline is a good thing.
Triggers: microagression
This one is a quick, lighthearted read. It’s light and cute with the romance and nothing that went too deep into the issues.
Not sure why one of the campers, Wendy, really hated on Sunny. Competition? She just didn’t like her? I’m not sure and it’s not really addressed.
I think we all could be reminded now and then, or everyday, how connecting online and offline can be a great thing when there is a balance between the two. The author conveyed this message very well in the story. I found this book to be an entertaining, quick, lighthearted read with a good message and sweet romance. This one is perfect for teens and young adult readers.
Disclaimer: **I received this book free from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. All thoughts and opinions are my own.**
In The Promised Queen, the thrilling finale to Jeffe Kennedy’s Forgotten Empires trilogy, the fate of the world hangs in the balance as Con, Lia, and their allies sacrifice everything in a final bid to destroy the corrupt empire.
Claim the hand that wears the ring, and the empire falls.
Conrí, former Crown Prince of Oriel, claimed the hand that wears the Abiding Ring, but the prophecy remains unfulfilled. Queen Euthalia of Calanthe returned to her island kingdom, but broken in mind and body. With the blood of war unleashing ancient terrors, Calanthe isn’t the haven it once was.
Lia must use her magical bond with Calanthe to save their people while Con fights to hold off the vengeful Emperor Anure and his wizards. Con and Lia will have to trust in each other—and in love—to fend off ultimate disaster.
This is the perfect conclusion to a unique, romance fantasy series. I didn’t know what to expect, I didn’t even think I’d remember what happened in book two but wow, it took off right away and it transported me back to Lia’s world and the cliffhanger of book two.
Lia’s transformation from dead to her every potential is inspiring and beautiful. She becomes what she is meant to be and embraces all her orchid uniqueness! Lia is Calanthe. We also learn more of how she was born/created which is so cool.
Conri, I love him. He really is a wolf, so rough around the edges compared to Lia’s control and regal manner. I love how they are complete opposites but they compliment each other so well. Conri is a wing-it kind of lone wolf and Lia reminds him help sometimes is okay.
I love the world building but Conri and Lia’s love story is just the best to me. They will be added to my favorite book couples for sure! I love their insecurities but how they both work things out, most Conri who is so persistent and will fight for her for always. Their wedding vows at the end made my heart melt. I love them. Also, there is a very sexy, hot scene in the night court, it’s erotic but tastefully done!
The supporting cast is great as well and we get a very happy ending.
Triggers: memories of torture
I felt like the fight with Anure was just a tiny bit anti-climatic? I was expecting more when they confronted him, but Conri and Lia did debate about how much of exacting vengeance was enough (okay so I wanted Conri to hammer him haha). But that’s okay, Lia was right and I think it was a very just ending for Anure though.
We get to find out more about Ambrose’s role in this prophetic destiny about Lia.
This series got better with every book that came out, culminating to this wonderful conclusion in The Promised Queen. I was swept away in this lush world of Calanthe where Lia rules with a fair hand. I fell in love with Lia and Conri who fight for each other and the lands that Anure stole from other royals. I was inspired by Lia’s transformation to accept all the different parts of her and be the person she was destined to be. If you like an enemies to lover’s romance story set in a lush fantasy world with a Queen who is a bit more than human, this one may be to your liking.
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