In my upcoming book ‘The Undead Must Die’, which will be published in about 20 days, I’m dealing with the ‘zombie’ topic. However I didn’t want it to be another zombie apocalypse book. From the moment I came with the concept my intention was to write a zombie story from a perspective of science.
And you can imagine how lucky I felt when a copy of ‘Undead Obsessed – Finding Meaning In Zombies’ by Jessica Robinson came to my hands.
Throughout this book, Jessica Robinson examines the fictional world of zombies and the real world of science. She refers to ‘truths’ about zombies, ‘truths’ that exist within the context of zombie films and books. And she does it so exceptionally that you don’t even have the feeling of reading non-fiction.
In my work ‘Undead Obsessed – Finding Meaning In Zombies’ has proved to be a useful tool in my job and I have to publicly thank Jessica Robinson for that.
Do you write Zombies to? Then you have to read this book!
Jessica Robinson is an editor by day and a zombie-killer by night (at least in her books). Since the first time she watched Night of the Living Dead, she has been obsessed with zombies and often thinks of ways to survive the uprising. In addition to her nonfiction book, under the pen name Pembroke Sinclair, she has written YA novels about zombies and the tough teens who survive the apocalyptic world. She has also written nonfiction stories for Serial Killer Magazine and published a book about slasher films called Life Lessons from Slasher Films.
When I started reading ‘The Challenge’ I was aware of any of Cas Peace’s previous work. And I am so sorry about that.
‘The Challenge – Circle of Conspiracy Book One’ is the fourth book in the triple trilogy Artesans of Albia fantasy series. And it is an amazing fantasy book!
It’s well written, well-paced, and full of twists of plot and the reader never gets bored. Cas Peace has done magnificent job creating a fantasy word, described in great details.
The characters reach out and grab your interest, once you start reading, you don’t want to put it down.
I loved Brynne Sullyan, the main female characters. She’s clever, she’s witty, she’s strong and fearless. What an A-female!
Now I know that my Christmas reads will be: the rest of Artesans Of Albia series books!
Blurb:
Friend against friend, lover against lover, ally against ally. Conflict is coming …
Nine months have passed since Brynne Sullyan helped forge an alliance between the realms of Albia and Andaryon. A fragile peace reigns as both sides recover from the events of the previous year. Then mysterious raiders strike Andaryon villages. Attempts are made on the life of Albia’s High King. As Sullyan scrambles to find those responsible, unseen enemies threaten to pull apart everything she has worked for, including her marriage.
The alliance begins to crumble, and Sullyan finds herself caught between two monarchs: the king she’s sworn allegiance to, and the man she loves as a father. To betray either one would break her heart, but if conflict is inevitable, she must make a choice…
Artesans of Albia Series Synopsis
On a foolhardy foray into a foreign realm, Taran Elijah is attacked by a terrible weapon known as the Staff. Killing its wielder, he escapes into Albia, inadvertently carrying the Staff.
Concerned by the vicious raids that follow Taran’s actions, Major Sullyan of the High King’s forces crosses into Andaryon to seek diplomatic resolution to the crisis. She is captured and tortured by Lord Rykan, aspirant to the Andaryon throne.
Slowly dying, Sullyan escapes his clutches. She offers her skills to the Hierarch in defense of his throne, finally confronting Rykan on the field of battle.
Her handsome Captain and lover, Robin Tamsen, embarks on a desperate quest to recover the Staff. But Rykan’s greedy General, Sonten, is two steps ahead of him. If Robin cannot lay hold of the weapon before Sonten does, Sullyan’s life and the lives of all Artesans are forfeit.
The race for the Staff has begun.
About Cas Peace:
Cas Peace was born in Hampshire UK, in 1957, and has lived there most of her life. Her first career was as a horse-riding instructor, and horses remain very close to her heart. She then spent 13 years working for the British Civil Service before leaving the UK to live in Italy for three years, 1991-1994. She speaks passable but by no means perfect Italian, and loves to return to Italy whenever she can.
Cas’s other great loves are anything to do with animals, especially dogs and horses, (she supports many animal charities) and also singing.
Cas loves folk songs and along with her husband, who plays guitar, has performed in many a Southern England folk club. Sometimes they even asked her back! She writes folk songs to accompany her fantasy novels, and offers them as free downloads from her website.
The Past Never Stays Where it Belongs! In Westwood, California, was where John Francis, the town’s priest re-encountered the beast. To his astonishment, horrifying events began unraveling before him. These unprovoked occurrences soon turned to fright when Sister Teresa’s body was found murdered. When Kathy Riego stepped into the Sister’s shoes she showed him a renewed identification for the word love. John began this new relationship with a masked reality as the horrid beast began showing him a long forgotten past that was supposed to be buried long ago.
Night Crawler by Candy O’Donnell is a beautiful, magical, and slightly terrifying tale. A priest with six-pack abs, a blond bombshell with twinkling blue eyes, a “Dumb-ass redneck”, a red-eyed strange animal, the mysterious death f a nun and a series of incomprehensible events that haunt a small town: what to not be liked?
This is rapid-paced suspenseful story spiced with romance and with a satisfying ending. A great reading for Halloween!
My rate: 4.3*
Author Bio:
Candy O’Donnell was born in Carmichael, California.
At the age of twelve, she wrote her first mini book. Filled mostly with what took place with her mother and her long tedious bout with leukemia. It was a short story told as extra credit when she suffered a sprained ankle and had to be out of school for over two months. School officials refused to believe a word of what she had written until her grandmother, her guardian back then, entered the school with the truth. Everything she had written down was exactly what took place. Unfortunately her mother succumbed to the disease.
She earned a Bachelor’s degree in History and Culture. After living with her aunt and uncle for over five years she wished to explore her uncle’s Native heritage and did so with vigor. She also has 6 Grad units in Criminal Justice. Someday she might go back and finish her Master’s.
When I signed up for the Legends and Lore Anthology Blog Tour I asked Becca & Sarah from Loving the Book Launch Party, who are the Tour organisers, to review Charon’s Obol by. R. M. Ridley. I didn’t know what the story was about, or I should say that what I only knew was what the short description says: “Jonathan Alvey didn’t believe in gods, until he helps a lost child find her all-powerful parents.”
But a word was what intrigued me: Charon.
In Greek mythology, Charon (Greek: Χάρων) is the ferryman of Hades who carries souls of the newly deceased across the rivers Styx and Acheron that divided the world of the living from the world of the dead.
So, it was a pleasant surprise to find out that this story, part of the Legends and Lore Anthology, is inspired by Greek Mythology.
As much as I felt a proud Greek, I was even more delighted because what I read was a fast paced, well constructed and beautifully written story. R. M. Ridley’s writing style has many to do with this because the author knows how to engage the audience.
I haven’t read yet the rest of the book, but if tit has the quality Charon’s Obol has, I’m sure it’ll be a great success.
Q&A with R.M.Ridley
How did the idea for this story come to you?
As for every story I write, it starts with an image, or moment of dialogue, that my Muse slaps into my head and I just let it unfurl from there. In this case, it was the image of a little girl standing in door to Alvey’s office.
What makes your main character unique?
He’s almost an anti-hero. He wants nothing more than to sit in his office smoking, drinking, and reading but the universe keeps throwing things in life which he’s just can leave alone because he’s driven by a sense of duty and of guilt.
Is this part of a series?
Yes. This is a short story set in the White Dragon Black series. The first story to see print from this world was in last years paranormal anthology, ‘Shades and Shadows’ and then the full length novel ‘Tomorrow Wendell’ came out in June of this year.
When did you realize you wanted to be a writer?
I have written stories for as long as I can remember. I didn’t want to devote the majority of life to it until about fifteen years ago, however. It wasn’t until the character of Jonathan Alvey came along, four years ago, that I said I need to get this published.
What have you written?
I write urban fantasy / paranormal and horror. I have completed four novels that have never even been submitted anywhere and a stack of short stories. I have had a few of my short stories published, both the paranormal and the horror.
What are you working on?
Currently I am working on the edits of the second White Dragon Black novel, ‘Bindings & Spines, as well as writing the fifth novel in the series. I am also working with Xchyler on a secret project for fans of the White Dragon Black series.
How do you write? Longhand, typewriter, laptop, tablet?
My hand writing is atrocious, I can’t even read it half the time, so I use a laptop. A lap top also makes it easier for me to write in the style that I do, which is non-chronological. I flit from beginning, to end, to middle— all over the place– where ever the inspiration hits, I write that scene and eventually it all gets woven together.
What is your writing zone and how do you get there?
If my Muse is with me, I’m writing. If she steps out for coffee, I’m useless – I can’t write a thing. I’m just a conduit for her idea’s.
What’s the hardest thing about writing?
Not writing. Every moment you are not working with the words, for whatever reason, is the hardest part of writing.
What’s the easiest thing about writing?
When it all suddenly clicks – when the whole picture snaps into place and you understand everyone’s motives, reasons, and, minds, then it just flows out like and open tap.
What are you currently reading?
I’m working my way through the entire collection of Raymond Chandler’s short stories.
Do you prefer reading eBook or paperback?
I have never even tried reading from an eBook, so that probably says something.
What advice do you have for fellow writers?
Learn to love editing. See edits as the flips side of writing – still creative, still full of possibilities – and every aspect, from the first word written, to the first word printed, will be a joy.
Author’s Bio
R.M. Ridley lives in rural Ontario on a small homestead, raising a menagerie of animals, including a flock of sheep and a swarm of foul. He has been writing stories, both long and short, for three decades, the themes of which range from the gruesome to the fantastical. As an individual who suffers from severe bipolar disorder, R.M. Ridley is a strong believer in being open about mental health issues because myths should be kept to stories.
The Fall by Stephen Cost has a great advantage and a quite important disadvantage. Its main weapon is Mr Cost’s writing. Poetic, elegant and sophisticated makes the reader want to absorb every well described detail and makes this book a pleasant reading experience. It reminded me the great noir novels of the past. And in my opinion, that’s exactly its main problem. It’s not a noir novel, it’s a paranormal one. I believe Mr Cost’s intention was to give a breath of fresh air in paranormal genre, and he would have succeeded if the pace of the first half of the book wasn’t that slow.
There are some scenes like the airport one, that despite the fact they are exceptionally described, they seem to be dropped into the plot for no reason. The real action begins with “the fountain of the four soldiers” incident. Since I got there I didn’t want to put this book down. If only the entire book had the pace the last 30 pages have…
I would like to read more from Stephen Cost. I believe that if he adds more twists of plot in his stories, he’ll make a great neo-noir author.
My rate: 4*
“…forced to live a life filled with human emotions and moral judgments, but also forced to take lives to feed our undying hunger…”
THE FALL
By: Stephen Cost
Pages: 314
Genre: Thriller/Fiction/Mystery
For thousands of years, Death walked behind the dark veil of the living, waiting to ferry the dead. That is, until the day that Death took a life for pleasure rather than duty. On that day, the first Reaper fell to Earth. Now, Reapers live among us, craving the taste of death, forcing them to kill to satisfy their immortal hunger.
Giles Reid fell more than 300 years ago starving for the taste of death, only to find himself drowning in a sea of the living and blinded by a hunger that forces him to kill. In the centuries since his fall he has tried to be more human, desperate to live a life that makes up for what he is and the wrong he has done. Driven by his guilt over killing, he has chosen to feed only on evil; humans that have never been a threat to him but who are always a danger to others. That is, until the day he tries to feed on a human as strong, fast and cunning as himself; a human who, it turns out, has been hunting him. Now he is being pursued by the very evil he has fed on for centuries, embroiled in a deadly cat-and-mouse game, where friends and other Reapers connected to him are simply pawns on a chessboard waiting to be sacrificed. Giles is left with a choice, save the life of the women he loves, the daughter of his mentor, or betrays her for his own survival.
To save the woman he loves, Giles will have to be the monster he is.
The author has lowered the price of the book just for the tour! If you like a paranormal novel full of suspense with demons and a twist of thriller, grab your copy and make sure you let your friends know too! With a proof of purchase, you will also get 10 extra entries in the Rafflecopter.
“By the seventh day God had finished the work He had been doing; so on the seventh day He rested from all His work. And God blessed the seventh day and made it holy, because on it He rested from all the work of creating that He had done.” The day that is the basis for The Fourth Commandment. (Genesis 2:2-3)
The following text was provide passage for his Children of Earth to his Kingdom of Heaven. This, he completed before the setting of the sun on the seventh day and so He rested from all His work. And God blessed the seventh day and made it holy, because on this day He celebrated his creation of life and Death, He rested from all provide passage for his Children of Earth to his Kingdom of Heaven. This, he completed before the setting of the sun on the seventh day and so He rested from all His work.
And God blessed the seventh day and made it holy, because on this day He celebrated his creation of life and Death, He rested from all the work of creating that He had done. (Geniza fragments, found Cairo, Egypt, 1947)
“Death is the beginning of immortality” –Maximilien Robespierre, July 26, 1794
1
Martins
People say they love the smell of fresh cut daisies, but I far prefer the scent of what pushes them up, the dead. You see, death has a scent all to itself, slightly tangy and bitter, pleasing and calming on the palate. Sure there are other aromas I love too, not just that of death, which can chase the chill from my heart, or would, if I had a heart; at least one that could beat and warm the night’s cold from my blood.
Every day I crave the smell of death and evil, I have since my birth. But living in a sea of flesh and blood, I have developed an appreciation for other human and earthly scents; Like the ocean, its sea salt assaulting my senses with a clean, pure bouquet, quite unmatched by anything manufactured. Or the first morning smell of fresh-cut, wet grass and, of course, women. Women smell so much sweeter than men. They, over the millenniums, have refined their scents out of necessity as much as pleasure, each expertly adapting their sultry, seductive and secret combinations of body lotions and perfumes. Honing this craft throughout the ages, to tempt and seduce men out of their minds.
But these are not the only olfactory delights to curl my toes and tickle my senses. For nothing—not the tangy stench of death, nor the sweet scent of a woman—compares to the most inspired aroma of all. Coffee. Nothing in my three-hundred-plus years of experience has compared. Sure, coffee itself has evolved, from non-filtered to filtered, from espresso to cappuccinos, and now from mocha’s to Frappuccinos, but the essence is the same. The intoxicating sweetness, the mild-to-bitter flavors that leave you wanting more—needing more.
You see, that’s my drug. Some people need cocaine, others heroin, and some crave cigars or alcohol. I, on the other hand, have the most
decadent, refined and expensive vice of all. And it’s because of this little addiction—or weakness—that I can be found most nights here, sitting on the dimly-lit, damp, covered balcony of Martin’s Books and Coffee.
I sip my overpriced drug while the not-so-distant smell of the ocean creeps its way through the maze and tangled web of Seattle’s wet streets. The cars filing by below enhance the scent of the ocean sitting not too far from here, as the sound of their tires splashing through wet, potholed roads echoes that of the rush of a wave over a rock and the sound of ocean spray.
On most days, Martin’s tends to be a good place to relax. One of the few independently-owned book stores left in Seattle, the atmosphere here is calming and the lighting muted. Not so dark that you cannot read a book and enjoy your coffee, but just dim enough so that someone of my, let us say fair complexion, can go unnoticed by the everyday person stopping by for a fix and a good book.
The décor is modern contemporary, although the designer clearly relied far too much on his collection of old IKEA catalogs, with a thousand shades of tans and browns with brushed steel accents scattered throughout, for effect. I do think that they might have gone a little overboard with the alternating redwood and pine floor boards. The effect is still pleasantly calming if not somewhat dull.
So, why so critical, you may ask? It’s an occupational hazard, I’m afraid. We all, Reapers and humans alike, must have a day job and mine happens to be that of a wine critic. The crème de la crème of critics, although, truth-be-told, I’m not a big fan of wine. However, I have been gifted with a palate most French chefs would give their sous chefs right hand for. Not their own hand, of course. No French chef I have ever met, and I have met more than my fair share, would ever think of giving that much for their craft.
“Mr. Reid, would you like another?”
The sound of her sing-song voice pulls me back to the moment, temporarily suspending my hazy, drug-induced stupor.
The question comes from Sarah, one of my favorite wait-persons here at Martin’s. Yes, I said wait-persons. Living—if you can call what I
do living—in a world of political correctness, I’ve learned it is no longer appropriate to refer to someone as a ‘waitress’. That would be such denigration. Sarah is just the typical twenty-something coffee house wait-person who can be seen in any of the hundred or so coffee houses that pepper the Seattle Landscape—not Sarah herself, of course, but the type. Tall, but not too tall, with long blonde hair. A lightly tanned complexion and the body, a perfectly sculpted masterpiece. I’m not sure about the other Sarah’s out there, but my Sarah has one defining attribute that I find hard to resist, her smell. The bouquet that wafts around her is subtle and ambiguous, what is that? Lavender with a hint of vanilla and cinnamon, perhaps?
I shift my head to look up at her. She really is a beautiful girl and I can tell I make her a little uncomfortable, but I’m used to that. Being a Reaper does have certain perks after all and it isn’t all about death and feeding, we have our needs, too. And women, well, they always find us Reapers attractive, mysterious and alluring. If they only knew the truth.
Sarah’s question hangs suspended in the air a few seconds, patiently awaiting my response.
“Do I want another? How many is that tonight, Sarah?” I ask.
She gives me a seductive little side grin. You know the kind; the grin that accomplished women practice in the mirror at night, trying to hone their craft to better seduce their prey.
“You’ve only had two tonight,” she replies.
Two is not entirely true. I have only had one and a half so far. Let’s not cheat me out of my other half cup.
Most nights at Martin’s are about the coffee, but not tonight. Tonight is not about my vices. Tonight is about my needs. My vices will have to wait.
“No more tonight. I’ll just be finishing off what I have left, Sarah.”
With that, she gives me another of her little sultry side grins, flips her hair over her left shoulder and strolls back to the bar. My eyes cannot help but follow her. She really does have a certain something about her walk. Perhaps it’s been too long since I let a woman seduce me. But tonight cannot be about that; tonight I have other needs that must be attended to.
I glance down at my watch to check the time, enjoying the novelty of it.
I find wearing a watch is such a novelty here in the twenty-first century. No one wears watches anymore. All around me I see people texting, playing games and talking in quiet whispers to unknown others on their cell phones. A cell phone may be the one-stop shop of entertainment and information overload, but it is also the tool slowly killing the faithful and dependable wrist watch. Progress be damned, I still love my watch. This is reinforced by the fact that I hate cell phones. They are the digital leash of the twenty-first century and unless it’s leather, I’m not wearing it around my neck or anything else for that matter.
My watch reads 9:45 p.m.
Soon, very soon.
Two weeks ago there had been a new addition to Martin’s. A customer, but not just any customer: This one had a certain scent about him, if you will. The sweet nectar of evil; I could smell it, I could feel it. It was palatable in the air, like an early morning mist hovering over the shore, waiting for the early entrance of sunlight to wash over it and chase it away.
I know evil. And yes, I suppose it does take evil to know it. But what is evil?
Is it the monster who kills? Or the monster who kills the killer?
This man’s evil was distinctive. He had killed and not out of necessity or duty. Those who have killed in that way had a different essence. But this man murdered for pleasure; he lusted for it. Ecstasies of power drive him to kill, control his actions and decide for him who is to be next, and when.
Not long to wait now. Soon. It will be very soon.
I can feel my hunger building; excitement, I suppose.
It has been almost three weeks since my last snack, a 42-year-old CEO who used his position to sexually abuse and harass those in his employ. Not as tasty or satisfying as a kill-happy psychopath or the hidden sociopath next door, but a tasty morsel nonetheless.
I crane my neck to the left a little, stretching to release the building tension.
Over my shoulder I can see the bestsellers rack and the number one book for this week; another vampire novel. How original.
Vampires. If only the world knew the truth.
People have told old-wives tales about vampires for centuries, desperately trying to explain what they could not understand. Very human, I suppose, but oh-so wrong. Vampires, werewolves, goblins, ghouls and banshees, oh my. All fictional creatures and all created in a desperate attempt to explain the inexpiable.
To grasp understanding of the supernatural. To try to embrace the unbelievable. Although, truth-be-told, misinformation can be a useful distraction for humans, when the truth lies far beyond the boundaries of their comprehension.
I’m fascinated by humans obsessions with the supernatural, especially in the Twenty-First Century. The stories have been so sensationalized over the ages that these romanticized creatures have had humanity grafted into their lore and being.
Really, humans should rethink their reality. Do you romanticize about a warm steak, or a perfectly cooked duck breast before you eat it? No, I don’t think you do, and neither do we.
I suppose it’s not hard to see how, at one time or another in history, one of my brethren may have been seen as one of those monsters. After all, every urban legend has its basis in truth. I wouldn’t be surprised if sometime in the past, someone looked at one of the smaller members of our group and the emergence of little gray aliens came to be. As I said, we do look a little pasty in the skin. In some lighting, you might even say, light grey.
This thought always brings a smile to my face. I mean really, what sorry excuse for a Reaper was ever mistaken for a four-foot, big-headed, skinny alien? And if it was one of us, what’s with the anal probing? Feed—Yes. Catch and release—sure. Fishermen weren’t the first to coin that phrase. Play with our food—we’re all children at heart. But anal probing? Well the Devil only knows where that may have originated.
What you have to understand is that, as Reapers, we have our proclivities to perversion in one form or another. I mean, you can only live for a few centuries before normal becomes boring and a little bit of deviancy spices up your day.
The sound of heavy footsteps atop the redwood floors capture my attention. I know those footsteps. I’ve been waiting for those footsteps.
9:55 p.m. exactly.
Predictable and punctual; always a nice trait to find in a fellow monster. I mean, really, could I ask for more? I suppose he could come on over, take a seat and let me kill him right here and now. But where’s the fun in that?
I track his steps as he stops at the counter to place his order.
What will it be tonight?
I feel like a kid in a candy store, waiting to see what delicious delicacy Mother has picked out for me. Of course, I have my preference: coffee, thank you. What could be better than a late snack and a cappuccino-flavored dessert? At this thought, I wipe away the smallest sliver of saliva that crests the corner of my mouth.
“Large coffee, black, to go,” he says smiling broadly.
Coffee, black. What, no cinnamon coffee cake? It’s excellent this time of year, I hear, and the sweet aftertaste of cinnamon. It’s divine.
My mouth starts to moisten and I have to swallow so as not to drool. Oh well, beggars can’t be choosers.
Stephen Cost was born in Wexford Ireland and raised in a small seaside town not far from Dublin. From a young age he would spin dark tales and write them down for his own amusement. At the age of 13 he moved from his home in Ireland to America and his love of dark American cinema took root.
He passes his free time, when not writing, by reading horror and fantasy genre novels in addition to watching science fiction and horror movies.
He graduated from University with a degree in Psychology and a minor in Sociology. A computer engineer by trade, he specializes in integrated system services and uses the knowledge gained from his degree to write emotionally captivating urban fiction.
Nobody is perfect, they say. Well, Brook is determined to achieve perfection whatever it takes. Whatever, literally. As Jenifer Ruff did whatever she has to do in order to create a great psychological thriller with a dark finale as chilling as the blizzard that strikes New Hampshire at the end of the book.
Jenifer Ruff’s writing style is exquisite. I didn’t know she’s a debut author until I checked her Amazon page. Everett is her first novel but it’s like been written by an experienced author. All characters are well drawn, with their advantages and disadvantages, which we get to learn gradually. Each scene in the book is well described, that well I felt like I was in the middle of that blizzard trying to find my way through the snow and the wind.
I enjoyed very much reading this book and now I have to wait for the next one to discover what happens next and if justice will be served.
If you like reading psychological thrillers, practicing yoga and eating healthy, this book is highly recommended to you!
**I received an ARC from the author for an honest review. **
Debut author Gwendolyn Grace gave us a brilliantly crafted story about true feelings and the importance of second chances.
I immediately connected with the story and characters. I loved the flashbacks on how the love story between the main characters began. All those flashbacks added anticipation to the story as I found myself waiting for something big to happen. The author has a liking to dialogues and the pace of the story was fast. Sometimes I felt like I was reading a movie! But most important True is about real life situations. The readers might recognize a situation they, or someone they know, have been into at some time in their lives.
I’m giving True 4.3 stars and I am looking forward to Gwendolyn Grace’s next book.
It’s hard to be an immortal. You can’t find peace not even you live in a remote Amazon swamp. Immortal hottie Greene lives quietly with his dog, for who he gave his life (literally), until an aeroplane fall on his head – almost. Soon he finds himself in the Oval Office and then across the pond pursuing an elusive organization hell-bent on shifting the power balance of the world.
‘A plane fell out of the sky and ruined my fishing day’
Greene’s Calling is A.D. Starrling’s third book and the most mature one. It is the third instalment in the award winning, supernatural thriller series Seventeen – seventeen as how many lives an immortal can live.
I like a book when I feel that the author had enjoyed every moment spent writing it. And I’m sure A.D. Starrling had a great time. It’s obvious she did a lot of research in order to describe accurately historical events, scientific facts and different places around the world. The story is well crafted, the descriptions are written with the right touch without being boring, the action is fast paced. All main characters are well described, however I had the feeling I wasn’t attached enough to the main lead.
‘Seriously, the two of you need to take a chill pill. All this tension is bad for your sex lives’
This book is a page turner, the one you should have in your suitcase if you’re going on holidays. And if you’re interested in the history of Ottoman Empire, you’ll love it.
Penny Writes 