Daylight is not my friend. Every freckle, frown line, wrinkle, and blemish stands out like a beacon on my face, screaming ‘well past eFavorite Quotes:
Daylight is not my friend. Every freckle, frown line, wrinkle, and blemish stands out like a beacon on my face, screaming ‘well past expiration date.’
Didn’t think I’d live to see the day… The most committed bachelor of La Plata County, brought to his knees by a ballsy redhead.
“You remind me of my Ana, she was a redhead like you and could cook like a saint, fight like the devil, and love like a sinner.” His watery blue eyes sparkle. Ten minutes later, when I’m putting away the last of the dishes, I’m still smiling at his words. To love like that, still so strong even after death rips you apart, is tragically beautiful.
… he makes my soul sing.
Trial run with the new babysitter… A seventeen-year-old neighbor with purple hair, combat boots, and enough metal in her face to set off security detectors from fifty feet, but she came highly recommended. I just hope my new flat-screen TV will still be there when I get back.
My Review:
In just a handful of years, Freya Barker has the Romantic Suspense genre well mastered. Her tales are easy to follow yet captivating; cleverly detailed and populated with quirky and endearing characters; deftly constructed with engaging and entertaining storylines; and well-balanced with wry and acerbic levity, sensual sizzle, and tension building intrigue that keeps my curiosity primed. So it is easy to see why she has continuously resided near the top of my Favorite Authors List since I initially fell into her work by picking up Slim to None on a freebie day. Her lovely words are now an instant one-click purchase at any price. ...more
An older gentleman shoulders past me with his clear plastic tub, ready to collect his bait as though it’s the body of Christ being pasFavorite Quotes:
An older gentleman shoulders past me with his clear plastic tub, ready to collect his bait as though it’s the body of Christ being passed out by the pope himself. Several other men press up against my back, all anxiously awaiting their turn because finally…ice fishing season has begun.
Girls…my darling grandchildren clearly don’t need to watch you two have a catfight, so please, sit down and eat your feelings like normal mothers.
Why not make him your last fling before the ring?
The guy has zero sexual chemistry. He’s like an amoeba or something. Aren’t those the single cell animals that just have sex with themselves?
I keep thinking about what Maggie would be rambling about if she were out here. She’d probably ask about when fish sleep, and where they sleep, and if they sleep with their families, or if they’re just swimming along and all of a sudden blackout only to wake up the next day and discover they’ve lost their entire family.
“I was getting bait for a guy in here the other day, and he said I looked like a great master baiter. I said, I’ve only been working here a couple of months, and I didn’t even know being a master baiter was a thing.”… Marv’s face twists up in confusion. “I’ve heard of Promaster fishermen. But not master baiters. Surely, I’m a master baiter. I’ve been doing it my whole life.”… “You’re clearly a great master baiter,” Maggie replies with wide eyes. “But I wonder how much practice it’ll take for me to become one?”
My Review:
I quickly fell into the vortex of this smartly written and brightly amusing tale and was instantly besotted with the quirky and endearing characters. I smirked and giggle-snorted my way through this delightfully humorous story. I savored each and every perfectly chosen and magically arranged word, although they were most often this side of naughty with frequent f-bombs since it is surely a well-known fact that the highly talented scribbler known as Amy Daws brings the heat of a Scottish Bonnet pepper and clearly excels at cleverly bawdy humor. I want all her lovely words and had a difficult time paring my favorite quotes down to the massive list I included in this review due to the fact that I had highlighted several reams worth of her witty levity. Wait With Me and Next In Line were two of my favorite reads of the year, so it seems quite fitting that I close out 2018 with this rave review....more
An argument was never very far away from her sister. Even when they were kids, Clare could start a row in an empty room. It was funny Favorite Quotes:
An argument was never very far away from her sister. Even when they were kids, Clare could start a row in an empty room. It was funny how they’d all just grown up into older versions of how were they were as children.
It was barely recognisable as the beautiful cherub in the Bounty Baby pictures that Frank had convinced her to pose for in the early days of motherhood, back before she decided that her child was a test sent to her by the Devil himself. Indignation radiated from the baby’s every pore… The baby locked its gaze on to Dorothy’s like a heat-seeking missile, paused briefly to fill its lungs with a fresh supply of oxygen and began to scream again. How could something so small cause so much wanton destruction, wondered Dorothy.
Thank the Lord that her own parents hadn’t been around to see how Clare was turning out. She could virtually feel the breeze that was coming off her father spinning in his grave.
She’ll die an old maid, eating cat food and surrounded by back copies of the Reader’s Digest.
She was sixty-five for God’s sake. She should lower her expectations a little. Her own mother had considered herself old at this age but she still felt like a young woman. Well, she did in her heart. It was a slightly different story in her knees.
Frank had loved words. They had dripped from his lips like honey from a spoon. Often he spoke as if he were on a stage, his words a performance rather than merely a means of communicating his thoughts.
My Review:
This compelling book was superbly written, cunningly clever, shrewdly paced and packed with sharp wit, remarkable insights, and observant details. Each complex character inhabited a quirky personality, which was skillfully and enticingly fleshed out. I adored it and didn’t want to put it down. I read it slowly and with great delight as I coveted, marveled, and savored every well-chosen word. Imogen Clark is a master scribe; I want to amass and hoard all her clever words.
Every family has secrets and most people are intrinsically drawn and curious to unearth them as other peoples’ hidden foibles are so much more interesting and alluring than our own shame, but unfortunately, as you get older, you find there are some secrets you wish you didn’t know yet cannot erase or hit delete once you’ve played Pandora. And every family has at least one walking disaster wastrel - mine has several. But then my family tree is horribly diseased and should be chopped down and burned for good measure. While this captivatingly portrayed family had several drama llamas, Clare was an imposing piece of work. Even in childhood, she had rebelliously pushed every boundary with an abrasive personality, and as an adult, she was simply vile, irresponsible, unpredictably volatile, and increasingly self-destructive. I fervently loathed her with fascination!
In addition to the thrill and privilege of perusing one of my favorite reads for 2018, Ms. Clark also provided me with two new treasures for my Brit Word List with an idiom of “bugger that for a game of soldiers” – for screw this; and bone idle – which Mr. Google informed me was the ultimate of sloth and laziness as it went all the way to the bone. How glorious!...more
Maybe it comes from having spent most of my childhood alone with my mother, who even before her breakdown and subsequent bipolar diagnFavorite Quotes:
Maybe it comes from having spent most of my childhood alone with my mother, who even before her breakdown and subsequent bipolar diagnosis, was all quicksilver, mutable brilliance, and so necessary to me that I kept track of her with what could only be called vigilance, half worried she’d disappear in a puff of colored smoke and sparkles.
She never fit… All her life, she had never managed polish or tidiness, never, even as a child, been perky or pretty or cute… A gangly girl, now she stood tall, narrow hipped, broad shouldered, leggy as a heron. In an era of things staying in place, of starch and hairspray, she was loosely gathered, pieces of her forever apt to ravel, crease, fly away.
“The world is big and life is long. You never know,” said my mother, giving a shrug that managed to be chic and wise and jaded and careless all at once. It was the kind of shrug for which words like insouciant and urbane were created.
My Review:
A five-star rating is nowhere near enough, nor would ten. Fifteen appears to be a more accurate assessment, which is rare air indeed. Marisa de los Santos is a stunning and mesmerizing wordsmith. This beautiful and intricately crafted book had a soul, and it was lovely, heartbreaking, devastating, gorgeous, and profoundly moving. The writing was exquisite and I didn’t want it to end. At times I couldn’t seem to catch my breath or read fast enough while I also didn't want to rush, as I wanted to savor every artfully chosen and well-honed word. I was intrigued and enthralled with Edith’s story, which could suddenly and unexpectedly spin with a poignancy that stung my eyes and put hot rocks in my throat. In a word, this book was divine. ...more