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Friday, February 4, 2022

Driven: A Rita Mars Thriller by Valerie Webster (VBT: Book Review / Contest Giveaway)

In association with Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tours, Jersey Girl Book Reviews is pleased to host the virtual book tour event for Driven: A Rita Mars Thriller by author Valerie Webster!






Book Review



Driven: A Rita Mars Thriller
Publisher: Ignited Ink Writing
Publication Date: May 25, 2021
Format: Paperback - 396 pages
               Kindle - 286 pages / 1345 KB
ISBN: 978-1952347030
ASIN: B095XNHK5M
Genre: Thriller


Buy The Book:
Amazon (Free On Kindle Unlimited)


Disclaimer: I received a copy of the book from the publisher / author in exchange for my honest review and participation in a virtual book tour event hosted by Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tours.



Book Description:

Ex-investigative journalist, Rita Mars loses an old friend to what looks like suicide. She’s convinced he was murdered to cover unethical maneuvers and save reputations in the abyss that is Congress. Back stabbings inside the beltway sometimes extend beyond metaphorical. She’s going to butt heads with the local good ole boy authorities and navigate the deliberately stoked smoke screens of the duly elected, but she is never going to give up.


Book Excerpt:


Chapter 1

“Rita Mars, this is a voice from your past.”

“Who the hell is this?” Rita demanded.

It was eleven o’clock, and the dreary end of a long day. A miserable October rain tapped on the office windows. Through the water slashed glass, Baltimore’s Mitchell Court House next door was a smear of grey and black.

“I first met you devouring Hershey bars in the newsroom at midnight.” The man was gleeful.

“That narrows it down.”

Great clue. Hell, she’d been a reporter for seventeen years before she started the agency. Rita cradled her chin. The police department snitch who gave up the narcs ripping off drug dealers? The accountant with the guilty conscience who squealed on the HUD housing contracts?

“We were a pair and then again we were not.”

“Look, pal, I don’t know –”

“I was the snow king and you were the fire breather.”

Rita started to hang up, but there was something eerily familiar about that line.

“You never know when you’ve had your last chance,” the man said.

“Bobby Ellis.” Instinctively, Rita touched the worn chrome Zippo in her pocket that bore those very words. Chills ran along her arms and the hair bristled at her neck.

“Bingo,” Ellis said.

“God, I’m so glad to hear from you. Where are you? When can I see you?

“Sunday.”

“Halloween?”

“The Overlook Inn in Harper’s Ferry. Breakfast at ten. I’ll have a lot to tell you. A story for above the fold.”

Rita scribbled his instructions on a blank notepad. “Tell me now.” Above the fold on a newspaper’s front page was reserved for big time news.

“Just be there.”

Rita thought he was hanging up.

“By the way—ever think you’d see me alive again?” Ellis asked softly.

“No,” Rita said. “I never thought I would.”

Chapter 2

Rita Mars sang along with the Shirelles. She glanced at the Jeep’s speedometer and then at the rearview mirror to check for approaching troopers.

The West Virginia countryside blazed with yellow and scarlet. Sunlight sprinkled the rock-strewn pastures with brilliance and made the car’s white hood shimmer like a snowfield. Even the black and white Holsteins seemed brighter than usual as they ripped up the last shreds of yellowed pasture grass.

Though it was late October, Rita had the top down on the Jeep. It was good to ride on this open road alone with the sun and wind. She couldn’t really be forty-five this year. She ran thirty miles a week and could still get into jeans the size she’d worn in college. Rita peered over the top of her Raybans and took another look in the mirror. Ok, so her dark hair was shot through with silver.

She smiled. It made her look more interesting. After all, how many older women had she fallen madly in love with in her younger years?

Rita flipped the radio off and concentrated on her meeting with Bobby Ellis. She hadn’t seen him in forever. Yes, she had thought he might be dead. A superior journalist, he’d thrown it all away with a coke habit that he paid for with a career and a marriage. No one had seen or heard of him now for more than two years.

After he disappeared, a malaise had set. Rita abandoned investigative reporting and spend her time working on a detective’s license. She was going to right wrongs instead of writing about wrongs as she described her abrupt life change.

She sighed. She wanted to return to the happier thoughts that had so recently danced in her head.

A red truck with a rainbow sticker on the front bumper appeared the in oncoming lane. Rita’s smile came back and she waved as they raced each other.

“We’re everywhere. We’re everywhere,” she hummed to herself.

She returned to her former mood of excited anticipation. She was seeing Bobby again.

They had been reporters together on the Washington Star. More like brother and sister than co-workers, they had fought over editorial recognition, wept on each other’s shoulders, and held each other’s hand during their respective long, dark nights of the soul.

Rita tried sweet talk at first when his habit began to devour him. Then she got tough. They fought bitterly. In the end, he surrendered everything to the white powder.

She’d been as angry with herself as with him. She couldn’t make him stop. Like a flashback, the feelings were the same when she thought about her childhood. She hadn’t been able to stop the runaway train her father rode either. Alcohol carried him far and fast. In the end, he stuck his police revolver into his mouth and killed his pain.

Bad memories again. Rita shook her head and switched the radio back on.

“There she was, just a walkin’ down the street . . . “ Rita sang along at the top of her lungs and pushed the accelerator just a little farther with her docksider.

Five miles and three oldies but goodies later, she slowed as the road narrowed to the twisting mountainside lanes that led to Harper’s Ferry. Down the sheer embankment on the passenger’s side, she could see canoes below on this rocky segment of the Potomac. She took a deep breath. The cobwebs of leftover memory cleared. It was a gorgeous day. At the top of a steep winding hill, Rita spied the flagpole that stood in the center of the Overlook Inn’s circular drive. Old Glory ruffled its red stripes in a soft October breeze that seemed more spring than autumn.

The parking areas along the drive were jammed with American made pickups and SUVs. Lots of military bumper stickers and window decals. Families just out of church hopped out of cars and headed for the Inn’s dining room and Sunday brunch buffet.

As she reached the crest, she had to slam on the brakes. The drive was blocked by two Harper’s Ferry sheriffs’ cars, a West Virginia trooper vehicle—blue gumball lights twirling—an ambulance from nearby Ransom, a fire truck and a dented beige Crown Vic with county plates.

Guests and townies milled around the west annex. A tall, grim-faced sheriff’s deputy held them at bay.

“What the heck is this?” Rita jumped out of the Jeep.

Inside, the interior of the Overlook lobby was cool and dark. The desk clerk was a woman with long red nails and a plunging neckline to her sundress. Her blue eye shadow made her look like an alien. Oblivious to Rita, she leaned across the far end of the registration counter to stare out the front door toward the commotion outside. Rita pulled off her Raybans.

“What happened?” Rita asked.

“Man killed hisself.” The woman continued to lean and stare over the counter.

The taste of metal rose in Rita’s throat. “Killed himself?”

“Room 107. Maid found him.” The clerk’s sense of duty returned and she walked toward the center of the counter where Rita stood. “Can I help you with something?”

Rita felt icy from the inside out. She dug her hand into her pocket to touch that Zippo talisman she always carried.

“I came here to meet someone.” The words jumbled in her mouth.

“Name?” The clerk absently flipped the registration book behind the counter.

Rita said nothing.

The clerk looked up then and said once more. “Name?”

“Bobby Ellis,” Rita whispered.

The two women stared at one another.

***

Excerpt from Driven: A Rita Mars Thriller by Valerie Webster. Copyright 2021 by Valerie Webster. Reproduced with permission from Valerie Webster. All rights reserved.




My Book Review:

In her debut thriller novel, Driven: A Rita Mars Thriller, author Valerie Webster transports the reader to the locales of Harpers Ferry, West Virginia, Baltimore, and Washington D.C., for an intriguing thriller that will keep the reader guessing and turning the pages.

The story centers around Rita Mars, ex-investigative jounalist turned private investigator, who is determined to find the killer of her friend and ex-journalist co-worker, Bobby Ellis. Rita was supposed to meet up with Bobby at a Harpers Ferry hotel, but when she got to the hotel, Bobby was found hanging by the shower rod by a hotel maid, and the coroner concludes the cause of death as a suicide. Rita knows that Bobby didn't kill himself, so she embarks on an investigation that will lead to the halls of Congress, determined to piece together what Bobby had been working on, and who would shut him up permanently before he could reveal what he knew in a newspaper article. Rita also has a new client, Karin Van Dreem, a PR Consultant, who hires her to provide security because of her psychotic ex-husband, Dr. Douglas Servier, who has been stalking her, and she's afraid that he's going to kill her. And if that isn't enough, Rita is dealing with her own personal issues that continue to haunt her. Can Rita find who killed Bobby while keeping Karin safe from the psychotic ex-husband, or will this driven private investigator put herself in danger as well?

In her debut thriller novel, author Valerie Webster weaves a slow-building and suspenseful tale written in the third person narrative that follows Rita's investigations into Bobby's killer and Karin's psychotic stalker of an ex-husband. As the reader follows Rita's investigations, incidents occur and flashbacks to her traumatic past reveals an interconnection that has a lot of drama, tension, and a threat of danger around every corner, and where everyone is considered a suspect. 

The reader is easily drawn into this well written story with its richly descriptive plot and setting. It is filled with enough family drama and secrets, motives, possible suspects, action, and intriguing twists and turns that definitely keeps the reader guessing until the surprising conclusion.

This was a really interesting story to read! The author does a wonderful job of providing enough clues to engage the reader, and I found myself so caught up on trying to figure out who is behind Bobby's murder, and the craziness behind Karin's stalker. I loved how Rita used her expertise as an ex-investigative reporter to put all the pieces of the puzzle together. I was absolutely stunned by the conclusion, I never saw it coming! I would be remiss if I didn't mention that I was also intrigued by Rita's backstory, she is a broken person who is still trying to overcome her traumatic childhood and ex-relationship issues. I look forward to reading Rita's next investigative adventure.  

Driven: A Rita Mars Thriller will definitely take the readers on one heck of a thrilling roller coaster ride.


RATING: 4 STARS 




About The Author



Valerie Webster spent a career developing law enforcement applications for surveillance, security and forensics. She has also been a triathlete and a crime reporter. She honed her writing skills through “Sisters in Crime” and “Mystery Writers of America’s” mentoring program. In Driven: A Rita Mars Thriller, she weaves professional experiences into a high tension plot that sweeps the reader into the action from Page 1 to the breath-taking conclusion. Valerie makes her home near Boulder, CO.







Contest Giveaway


This is a giveaway hosted by Partners in Crime Virtual Book Tours for Valerie Webster. See the widget for entry terms and conditions. Void where prohibited.

 

 




Virtual Book Tour 




Tour Participants:

01/18 Review @ flightnurse70_book_reviews

01/19 Review @ Avonna Loves Genres

01/20 Review @ Book Reviews From an Avid Reader

02/01 Review @ Pat Fayo Reviews

02/02 Review @ Celticladys Reviews

02/04 Review @ Jersey Girl Book Reviews

02/07 Review @ Quiet Fury Books

02/11 Review @ Novels Alive

02/12 Review @ Splashes of Joy

02/17 Review @ Elaine Sapp (FB)

03/03 Podcast @ Blogtalk Radio

03/03 Review @ Just Reviews







Friday, October 9, 2015

The Truth About Caroline by Randi M. Sherman (Author Interview / Book Review)

In association with Chick Lit Plus Blog Tours, Jersey Girl Book Reviews is pleased to host the virtual book tour event for The Truth About Caroline by author Randi M. Sherman!






Author Interview


Welcome to Jersey Girl Book Reviews, Randi!

Before we get to the interview, can you tell our readers a little bit about yourself. 

Yes, thanks for asking. I am a California native and now live in California’s wine country and love it. I have always had a tremendous grasp of the obvious and the ability to find humor in almost everything. I performed Stand-up comedy in Los Angeles and did Improvization in San Francisco. Now I share my sense of humor not from the stage but the pages of my novels.


How long have you been a writer? 

I suppose I started focusing on my writing in my twenties, when I wrote stand-up material. Ever since then, I don’t think I have stopped.


Do you have a day job, or is being an author your career? 

Fortunately and unfortunately I have another career. Although I would love to dedicate all of my time to being creative, I have bills to pay. I design and direct complex projects in the healthcare/IT industries. I know, I know, it’s not quite what anyone would imagine for a humor writer.


What inspired you to become a writer? Describe your journey as a writer. 

As I stated I started doing stand-up comedy and would write my own bits. Then write short stories and when the stories were too big to keep in my head – I would release the characters and plots onto paper and into my computer to grow and thrive. After I completed and published my first book PAULA TAKES A RISK, I was hooked and I always have one or two books in the works.


Please give a brief description/storyline about The Truth About Caroline.

THE TRUTH ABOUT CAROLINE picks up where my second novel CAROLINE STARTS OVER ends. Caroline has a terrible problem with honesty, she simply doesn’t see the upside to it and eventually it gets her into all kinds of trouble. THE TRUTH ABOUT CAROLINE offers a funny, quirky alternative novel featuring Caroline Matthews as she navigates to, through and around honesty, life and her sexuality. After being acquitted for arranging the long-distance, cross-country assassination of her husband, Caroline attempts to rebuild her life. Without skills of any kind and with no work experience to speak of, she has a challenge ahead of her. Then she remembers she has one supreme talent… she’s a natural liar.


What was the inspiration for this story? 

Truthfully, I could never figure out why people lie, but people do. It amazes me


How did it feel to have your first book published? 

After PAULA TAKES A RISK was published in 2012, I felt I could do anything. I took a huge risk, I was following my dreams. In 2014 CAROLINE STARTS OVER was published and I was over the moon. Now with THE TRUTH ABOUT CAROLINE – I think my head might pop off.


Do you write books for a specific genre? 

I love character-driven comedy.


What genres are your favorite(s)? What are some of your favorite books that you have read and why?

My favorite genres are biographies and autobiographies. I find people absolutely fascinating. Where do I begin? I started reading about movie stars, and families like the Vanderbilts, the Rockefellers, the Getty’s. I’m really fond of Ruth Reichl’s books and more recently I read Crazy Rich about the Johnson & Johnson Dynasty.


Do you have a special spot/area where you like to do your writing? 

I have a very sunny office with a view of our lush backyard. It’s like a create vortex for me.


How do you come up with the ideas that become the storyline for your books? 

Its funny. I usually come up with an idea or a scene, and story grows forward and backward from there. I allow the story to write itself and characters to create themselves as needed. I suppose that’s what you call a hyperactive imagination.


When you write, do you adhere to a strict work schedule, or do you work whenever the inspiration strikes?

I write every day. I have the book “in progress” open on my computer all day, every day. I jot down notes when I think of them.


What aspects of storytelling do you like the best, and what aspects do you struggle with the most? 

Oh my gosh, I love that I get to live my alter ego. Thru my writing I can be fearless. I can come up with a problem to be solved and map out all possible solutions or outcomes and decided which one to take. My struggle is that I have to choose just one at a time.


What are your favorite things to do when you are not writing? 

Spend time with my spouse, travel when we can, garden, cook, eat, eat and eat delicious food and wine.


What is/was the best piece of writing advice that you have received? 

Write something every day.


What is the most gratifying thing you feel or get as a writer? 

I feel like nothing is impossible, like I can make my dreams come true. Its amazing. Over the past 5 years I have become a different person. I am so happy and fulfilled.


How do you usually communicate with your readers/fans? 

Although I am challenged at it –I am getting better with social media. Follow me on twitter @RandiMSherman. I usually share hilarious observations and information about my books too.


Is there anything in your book based on real life experiences or are they purely all from your imagination? 

The short answer is yes… and no. Sometimes I'm amazed at what I can come up with out of nowhere. But I think it’s nearly impossible not to bring some personal thoughts, opinions or experience when writing fiction. But I’ll never tell what is “me.”


What authors have been your inspiration or influenced you to become a writer? 

Nora Ephron for her contemporary slice of life, Douglas Adams for his style and humor and of course, Erma Bombeck.


What is your definition of success as a writer? 

Being happy that I write and create because I love to do it.


Are you currently writing a new book? If yes, would you care to share a bit of it with us? 

I am. I currently have one book at the publisher, due our Spring-ish 2016 – A contemporary, humorous, character-driven novel made up of over fifty intertwined stories, with more than 200 characters and it all occurs in one location. AND –I am currently about 75% done with a humorous but inspirational character that is bawdy, bold and an unusually kind of hero. I hope to send it off to the publisher by the end of the year.

Thank you so much for the interview.


Thank you Randi for visiting Jersey Girl Book Reviews, and for sharing a bit about yourself and your writing career with us!





About The Author




With an eye for detail, an ear for well-tuned dialogue and an incredible grasp of the obvious, all honed while performing stand-up comedy in Los Angeles and improvisational theater in San Francisco, Randi M. Sherman adds just enough bawdiness to deliver character-driven contemporary novels that will have the reader laughing, thinking and even connecting with the characters in her books

Writing has been a part of Randi’s life since she was a teenager, one hundred and fifty thousand years ago. But being pragmatic and realizing that she preferred having an income, living indoors and eating regularly, she reluctantly put her dreams on hold and entered the corporate world, yet never left behind her sense of humor and creative storytelling ability, skills which were not always appreciated during budget and strategy meetings.

Now, after living indoors for a while and eating regularly, albeit too much, Randi has picked up her pen again and her third novel, THE TRUTH ABOUT CAROLINE is here. It is the continuation to her second novel CAROLINE STARTS OVER (2014). Randi's first book PAULA TAKES A RISK was released in 2012. Look for Randi's next novel THE LOBBY, Spring-ish 2016.

Randi lives in the California wine country. She would never claim to have a genius IQ, the body of a super model. However, she can spell “supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.” Randi maintains a trim, well-toned body that is cleverly concealed beneath twenty pounds of soft protective layering and she has the appetite of a bird (vulture).

Things that Randi cannot live without: people to laugh with, her car horn, a gym membership where there are chubby women who break into a sweat while putting on a jog bra, wine, waist capes, and her wife, Carol.

Randi can live without: mean-spirited people, liver, left-overs, communal dressing rooms, tight underwear, and people who point.

Randi is five-foot-seven.


Author Website
Facebook
Twitter
Goodreads



Book Review



The Truth About Caroline by Randi M. Sherman
Book 2: Caroline Series
Publisher: FriesenPress
Publication Date: July 28, 2015
Format: Paperback - 256 pages
               Kindle - 350 KB
               Nook - 431 KB 
ISBN: 978-1460265635
ASIN: B01357H8BI
BNID: 2940151145961
Genre: Chick Lit / Comedy / Women's Fiction


Buy The Book:


Buy The Series:
Book 1: Caroline Starts Over
Book 2: The Truth About Caroline


Disclaimer: I received a copy of the book from the author / publisher in exchange for my honest review and participation in a virtual book tour event hosted by Chick Lit Plus Blog Tours.


Book Description:

Honesty has always presented a problem for Caroline.

Manipulating situations and navigating around blunders and deceptions have become second nature to Caroline. She could justify every lie she has ever told, and any truth she ever stretched. Honesty and revealing secrets would only keep her from moving forward with her life. What good would it do anyhow?

Even all of those bad financial decisions, flawed relationships and questionable life choices seem like child’s play compared to being arrested for the solicitation of her husband’s murder, and what follows. Could someone figure out Caroline? And what would happen if someone did?


Book Excerpt:


Sitting in the Human Resource reception area at Morgan’s appliances reminded Caroline of a dentist’s office. The receptionist or as her name placard read, “Executive Assistant,” occasionally looked up, gave Caroline a half-hearted smile and then turned her attention back to her magazine. Pictures of her boyfriend festooned her work area, along with a nearly deflated, Happy Birthday Mylar balloon as it sadly hung in the air, just two feet above the ground. And there was a bowl of hard candy positioned on the corner of the desk, next to the Sign-in Please clip board with its pen attached to it by a piece of yard. Caroline’s stomach was growling, she had skipped breakfast and sat there wondering if the candy was an innocent offering or a test of some sort.

If she got up and took a piece of the candy would it be considered too presumptuous? Would the action reveal some character trait that would result in a pass or a fail, rendering the applicant ineligible. The candy, Caroline thought, had probably been sitting there for months, maybe years. Like every grandmother’s coffee table candy dish, the candy in it was probably decades old. Would it be delicious and worth the effort to free it from the cellophane wrapper? Would it be worth the risk? Caroline wondered if other applicants obsessed about that sad, dusty little bowl of candy too.

Caroline looked down at her “interview” outfit, hoping that the scotch tape that she had used to hem her pants would hold until the meeting was over. Without much money or time to shop, Caroline grabbed the first affordable interview-type suit she saw at the Women At Work Shoppe in the strip mall near the Super Cuts hair salon where she had her hair dyed and cut in preparation for today’s meeting. She hadn’t bothered to try on the suit in the store. It was navy blue. The suit included a companion blouse and, more importantly, it was on sale. Unfortunately the pants were tailored for a giant. Without a sewing kit or a stapler, Caroline had improvised with transparent tape.

When a quiet ring came from the receptionist’s phone, she picked it up, whispered something and glanced at Caroline. “Ms. Pratt,” she announced quietly, “I’ll take you back to see Ms. Herrera now.” As Caroline passed her desk, she took a candy, unwrapped it and popped it in her mouth. “Oh, my mouth is so dry.” She smiled.

Tell me a little about yourself.” Ms. Herrera poised her fingers above the keyboard of her computer, ready to take notes.

The truthful answer would be: “I just got out of jail after spending six months awaiting trial for planning a hit on my husband. Fortunately I was acquitted. I have no prospects or work experience to speak of. I’m lazy and get bored easily. I’m terribly disorganized and have a problem with honesty. I desperately need a job because the insurance money will not last forever. When do I start?” But instead Caroline answered, “Oh heavens, where do I begin?”

“Well,” Ms. Herrera smiled. “Why don’t you tell me why you left your last job?”

Realizing that she was enjoying the hard candy a little too much, Caroline discretely spat it into her hand and began her answer. “Well,” glancing at the resume she had on her lap, “as you know I have been self-employed for a while and to tell you the truth,” she was thinking on her feet. “Freelancing is drying up and I am interested in working for a growing corporation where I can apply my skills and experience.” Aced it! She silently congratulated herself.

“Well, Caroline, this is an impressive resume.” She reached up and touched the crucifix that was hanging around her neck. “I see you were a missionary in Mexico. My family is from Mexico, where were you assigned?”

Oh crap! “Oh, um, truthfully Miss Herrera, it seemed like I was never in one place very long. I went where I was needed most.” She was hoping that the answer would be sufficient. “You know missionary work. Move, move, move. I wish I spent more time in the capital.” Caroline’s palms were sweating, the candy started melting.


My Book Review:

What's a girl to do when she has to navigate the daunting challenges of rebuilding her life ... especially when she has a problem with honesty, and manipulation and lies have been her go to methods of living.  

In The Truth About Caroline, author Randi M. Sherman weaves a humorous tale that continues the story of Caroline Matthews, who seems to have a penchant for finding trouble. The reader first meets Caroline in Caroline Starts Over, as she is restarting her life after the death of her no good cheating husband. In The Truth About Caroline, Caroline's story continues as her attempt to restart her life comes to a halt when she finds herself arrested for the alleged solicitation of murder-for-hire of her husband. Caroline's story is split into two parts: the murder trial and her attempt to rebuild her life post-acquittal.

Author Randi M. Sherman weaves an entertaining story that draws the reader into Caroline's quirky life with a mixture of drama and humor. I absolutely loved the trial portion of the story, the author transports the reader into the courtroom as the drama unfolds, you can't help but get caught up in the action. After Caroline is acquitted of murder, she attempts to rebuild her life by navigating through the challenging trials and tribulations and crazy antics that come with reinventing herself. The reader gets to go along for the ride as Caroline tries to reinvent herself, there is a lot of laugh-out-loud moments intermixed with a sense of reality that keeps the reader guessing how Caroline's life will turn out until the surprising conclusion.

The Truth About Caroline is a laugh-out-loud chick lit tale that will keep the reader in stitches.


RATING: 4 STARS 







Virtual Book Tour



Tour Schedule:

September 28 – Mallory Heart Reviews – Review & Excerpt
September 29 – Cheryllyn Dyess Writer – Excerpt
September 30 – The World As I See It – Review & Excerpt
October 2- Caroline Fardig – Q&A
October 2 – I Love My Authors – Excerpt 
October 6 – myhomemadelibrary – Review & Excerpt
October 6 – Change the Word – Q&A
October 7 – ChickLit Plus – Review
October 8 – Fiction Dreams – Excerpt
October 9 – Jersey Girl Book Reviews – Review, Q&A & Excerpt
October 12 – Granny Loves To Read – Review & Excerpt



Monday, March 18, 2019

The Silent Patient by Alex Michaelides (Book Review)




The Silent Patient by Alex Michaelides
Publisher: Celadon Books
Publication Date: February 5, 2019
Format: Hardcover - 323 pages
               Paperback - 297 pages
               Audio Book - 8 Hours 43 Minutes
               Kindle - 5122 KB
               Nook - 5 MB
ISBN (Hardcover): 978-1250301697
ISBN (Paperback): 978-1409181620
ASIN (AudioBook): B07JX7ZDJ3
ASIN (Kindle):  B07D2C6J4K
BNID: 978-1250301710
Genre: Psychological Thriller


Buy The Book:



Disclaimer: I purchased the book via Book Of The Month Club - January 2019 Book Box Selection.



Book Description:

Alicia Berenson’s life is seemingly perfect. A famous painter married to an in-demand fashion photographer, she lives in a grand house with big windows overlooking a park in one of London’s most desirable areas. One evening her husband Gabriel returns home late from a fashion shoot, and Alicia shoots him five times in the face, and then never speaks another word.

Alicia’s refusal to talk, or give any kind of explanation, turns a domestic tragedy into something far grander, a mystery that captures the public imagination and casts Alicia into notoriety. The price of her art skyrockets, and she, the silent patient, is hidden away from the tabloids and spotlight at the Grove, a secure forensic unit in North London.

Theo Faber is a criminal psychotherapist who has waited a long time for the opportunity to work with Alicia. His determination to get her to talk and unravel the mystery of why she shot her husband takes him down a twisting path into his own motivations—a search for the truth that threatens to consume him....



Book Excerpt:



CHAPTER 1

ALICIA BERENSON WAS THIRTY-THREE YEARS OLD when she killed her husband.

They had been married for seven years. They were both artists — Alicia was a painter, and Gabriel was a well-known fashion photographer. He had a distinctive style, shooting semi-starved, semi-naked women in strange, unflattering angles. Since his death, the price of his photographs has increased astronomically. I find his stuff rather slick and shallow, to be honest. It has none of the visceral quality of Alicia's best work. I don't know enough about art to say whether Alicia Berenson will stand the test of time as a painter. Her talent will always be overshadowed by her notoriety, so it's hard to be objective. And you might well accuse me of being biased. All I can offer is my opinion, for what it's worth. And to me, Alicia was a kind of genius. Apart from her technical skill, her paintings have an uncanny ability to grab your attention — by the throat, almost — and hold it in a viselike grip.

Gabriel Berenson was murdered six years ago. He was forty-four years old. He was killed on the twenty-fifth of August — it was an unusually hot summer, you may remember, with some of the highest temperatures ever recorded. The day he died was the hottest of the year.

On the last day of his life, Gabriel rose early. A car collected him at 5:15 a.m. from the house he shared with Alicia in northwest London, on the edge of Hampstead Heath, and he was driven to a shoot in Shoreditch. He spent the day photographing models on a rooftop for Vogue.

Not much is known about Alicia's movements. She had an upcoming exhibition and was behind with her work. It's likely she spent the day painting in the summerhouse at the end of the garden, which she had recently converted into a studio. In the end, Gabriel's shoot ran late, and he wasn't driven home until eleven p.m.

Half an hour later, their neighbor, Barbie Hellmann, heard several gunshots. Barbie phoned the police, and a car was dispatched from the station on Haverstock Hill at 11:35 p.m. It arrived at the Berensons' house in just under three minutes.

The front door was open. The house was in pitch-black darkness; none of the light switches worked. The officers made their way along the hallway and into the living room. They shone torches around the room, illuminating it in intermittent beams of light. Alicia was discovered standing by the fireplace. Her white dress glowed ghostlike in the torchlight. Alicia seemed oblivious to the presence of the police. She was immobilized, frozen — a statue carved from ice — with a strange, frightened look on her face, as if confronting some unseen terror.

A gun was on the floor. Next to it, in the shadows, Gabriel was seated, motionless, bound to a chair with wire wrapped around his ankles and wrists. At first the officers thought he was alive. His head lolled slightly to one side, as if he were unconscious. Then a beam of light revealed Gabriel had been shot several times in the face. His handsome features were gone forever, leaving a charred, blackened, bloody mess. The wall behind him was sprayed with fragments of skull, brains, hair — and blood.

Blood was everywhere — splashed on the walls, running in dark rivulets along the floor, along the grain of the wooden floorboards. The officers assumed it was Gabriel's blood. But there was too much of it. And then something glinted in the torchlight — a knife was on the floor by Alicia's feet. Another beam of light revealed the blood spattered on Alicia's white dress. An officer grabbed her arms and held them up to the light. There were deep cuts across the veins in her wrists — fresh cuts, bleeding hard.

Alicia fought off the attempts to save her life; it took three officers to restrain her. She was taken to the Royal Free Hospital, only a few minutes away. She collapsed and lost consciousness on the way there. She had lost a lot of blood, but she survived.

The following day, she lay in bed in a private room at the hospital. The police questioned her in the presence of her lawyer. Alicia remained silent throughout the interview. Her lips were pale, bloodless; they fluttered occasionally but formed no words, made no sounds. She answered no questions. She could not, would not, speak. Nor did she speak when charged with Gabriel's murder. She remained silent when she was placed under arrest, refusing to deny her guilt or confess it.

Alicia never spoke again.

Her enduring silence turned this story from a commonplace domestic tragedy into something far grander: a mystery, an enigma that gripped the headlines and captured the public imagination for months to come.

Alicia remained silent — but she made one statement. A painting. It was begun when she was discharged from the hospital and placed under house arrest before the trial. According to the court-appointed psychiatric nurse, Alicia barely ate or slept — all she did was paint.

Normally Alicia labored weeks, even months, before embarking on a new picture, making endless sketches, arranging and rearranging the composition, experimenting with color and form — a long gestation followed by a protracted birth as each brushstroke was painstakingly applied. Now, however, she drastically altered her creative process, completing this painting within a few days of her husband's murder.

And for most people, this was enough to condemn her — returning to the studio so soon after Gabriel's death betrayed an extraordinary insensitivity. The monstrous lack of remorse of a cold-blooded killer.

Perhaps. But let us not forget that while Alicia Berenson may be a murderer, she was also an artist. It makes perfect sense — to me at least — that she should pick up her brushes and paints and express her complicated emotions on canvas. No wonder that, for once, painting came to her with such ease; if grief can be called easy.

The painting was a self-portrait. She titled it in the bottom left-hand corner of the canvas, in light blue Greek lettering.

One word:

Alcestis.

CHAPTER 2
ALCESTIS IS THE HEROINE OF A GREEK MYTH. A love story of the saddest kind. Alcestis willingly sacrifices her life for that of her husband, Admetus, dying in his place when no one else will. An unsettling myth of self-sacrifice, it was unclear how it related to Alicia's situation. The true meaning of the allusion remained unknown to me for some time. Until one day, the truth came to light —

But I'm going too fast. I'm getting ahead of myself. I must start at the beginning and let events speak for themselves. I mustn't color them, twist them, or tell any lies. I'll proceed step by step, slowly and cautiously. But where to begin? I should introduce myself, but perhaps not quite yet; after all, I am not the hero of this tale. It is Alicia Berenson's story, so I must begin with her — and the Alcestis.

The painting is a self-portrait, depicting Alicia in her studio at home in the days after the murder, standing before an easel and a canvas, holding a paintbrush. She is naked. Her body is rendered in unsparing detail: strands of long red hair falling across bony shoulders, blue veins visible beneath translucent skin, fresh scars on both her wrists. She's holding the paintbrush between her fingers. It's dripping red paint — or is it blood? She is captured in the act of painting — yet the canvas is blank, as is her expression. Her head is turned over her shoulder and she stares straight out at us. Mouth open, lips parted. Mute.

During the trial, Jean-Felix Martin, who managed the small Soho gallery that represented Alicia, made the controversial decision, decried by many as sensationalist and macabre, to exhibit the Alcestis. The fact that the artist was currently in the dock for killing her husband meant, for the first time in the gallery's long history, queues formed outside the entrance.

I stood in line with the other prurient art-lovers, waiting my turn by the neon-red lights of a sex shop next door. One by one, we shuffled inside. Once in the gallery, we were herded toward the painting, like an excitable crowd at a fairground making its way through a haunted house. Eventually, I found myself at the front of the line — and was confronted with the Alcestis.

I stared at the painting, staring into Alicia's face, trying to interpret the look in her eyes, trying to understand — but the portrait defied me. Alicia stared back at me — a blank mask — unreadable, impenetrable. I could divine neither innocence nor guilt in her expression.

Other people found her easier to read.

"Pure evil," whispered the woman behind me.

"Isn't she?" her companion agreed. "Cold-blooded bitch."

A little unfair, I thought — considering Alicia's guilt had yet to be proven. But in truth it was a foregone conclusion. The tabloids had cast her as a villain from the start: a femme fatale, a black widow. A monster.

The facts, such as they were, were simple: Alicia was found alone with Gabriel's body; only her fingerprints were on the gun. There was never any doubt she killed Gabriel. Why she killed him, on the other hand, remained a mystery.

The murder was debated in the media, and different theories were espoused in print and on the radio and on morning chat shows. Experts were brought in to explain, condemn, justify Alicia's actions. She must have been a victim of domestic abuse, surely, pushed too far, before finally exploding? Another theory proposed a sex game gone wrong — the husband was found tied up, wasn't he? Some suspected it was old-fashioned jealousy that drove Alicia to murder — another woman, probably? But at the trial Gabriel was described by his brother as a devoted husband, deeply in love with his wife. Well, what about money? Alicia didn't stand to gain much by his death; she was the one who had money, inherited from her father.

And so it went on, endless speculation — no answers, only more questions — about Alicia's motives and her subsequent silence. Why did she refuse to speak? What did it mean? Was she hiding something? Protecting someone? If so, who? And why?

At the time, I remember thinking that while everyone was talking, writing, arguing, about Alicia, at the heart of this frantic, noisy activity there was a void — a silence. A sphinx.

During the trial, the judge took a dim view of Alicia's persistent refusal to speak. Innocent people, Mr. Justice Alverstone pointed out, tended to proclaim their innocence loudly — and often. Alicia not only remained silent, but she showed no visible signs of remorse. She didn't cry once throughout the trial — a fact made much of in the press — her face remaining unmoved, cold. Frozen.

The defense had little choice but to enter a plea of diminished responsibility: Alicia had a long history of mental health problems, it was claimed, dating back to her childhood. The judge dismissed a lot of this as hearsay — but in the end he allowed himself to be swayed by Lazarus Diomedes, professor of forensic psychiatry at Imperial College, and clinical director of the Grove, a secure forensic unit in North London. Professor Diomedes argued that Alicia's refusal to speak was in itself evidence of profound psychological distress — and she should be sentenced accordingly.

This was a rather roundabout way of saying something that psychiatrists don't like putting bluntly:

Diomedes was saying Alicia was mad.

It was the only explanation that made any sense: Why else tie up the man you loved to a chair and shoot him in the face at close range? And then express no remorse, give no explanation, not even speak? She must be mad.

She had to be.

In the end, Mr. Justice Alverstone accepted the plea of diminished responsibility and advised the jury to follow suit. Alicia was subsequently admitted to the Grove — under the supervision of the same Professor Diomedes whose testimony had been so influential with the judge.

If Alicia wasn't mad — that is, if her silence was merely an act, a performance for the benefit of the jury — then it had worked. She was spared a lengthy prison sentence — and if she made a full recovery, she might well be discharged in a few years. Surely now was the time to begin faking that recovery? To utter a few words here and there, then a few more; to slowly communicate some kind of remorse? But no. Week followed week, month followed month, then the years passed — and still Alicia didn't speak.

There was simply silence.

And so, with no further revelation forthcoming, the disappointed media eventually lost interest in Alicia Berenson. She joined the ranks of other briefly famous murderers; faces we remember, but whose names we forget.

Not all of us. Some people — myself included — continued to be fascinated by the mystery of Alicia Berenson and her enduring silence. As a psychotherapist, I thought it obvious that she had suffered a severe trauma surrounding Gabriel's death; and this silence was a manifestation of that trauma. Unable to come to terms with what she had done, Alicia stuttered and came to a halt, like a broken car. I wanted to help start her up again — help Alicia tell her story, to heal and get well. I wanted to fix her.

Without wishing to sound boastful, I felt uniquely qualified to help Alicia Berenson. I'm a forensic psychotherapist and used to working with some of the most damaged, vulnerable members of society. And something about Alicia's story resonated with me personally — I felt a profound empathy with her right from the start.

Unfortunately, I was still working at Broadmoor in those days, and so treating Alicia would have — should have — remained an idle fantasy, had not fate unexpectedly intervened.

Nearly six years after Alicia was admitted, the position of forensic psychotherapist became available at the Grove. As soon as I saw the advert, I knew I had no choice. I followed my gut — and applied for the job.

CHAPTER 3
MY NAME IS THEO FABER. I'm forty-two years old. And I became a psychotherapist because I was fucked-up. That's the truth — though it's not what I said during the job interview, when the question was put to me.

"What drew you to psychotherapy, do you think?" asked Indira Sharma, peering at me over the rims of her owlish glasses.

Indira was consultant psychotherapist at the Grove. She was in her late fifties with an attractive round face and long jet-black hair streaked with gray. She gave me a small smile — as if to reassure me this was an easy question, a warm-up volley, a precursor to trickier shots to follow.

I hesitated. I could feel the other members of the panel looking at me. I remained conscious of maintaining eye contact as I trotted out a rehearsed response, a sympathetic tale about working part-time in a care home as a teenager; and how this inspired an interest in psychology, which led to a postgraduate study of psychotherapy, and so on.

"I wanted to help people, I suppose." I shrugged. "That's it, really."

Which was bullshit.

I mean, of course I wanted to help people. But that was a secondary aim — particularly at the time I started training. The real motivation was purely selfish. I was on a quest to help myself. I believe the same is true for most people who go into mental health. We are drawn to this profession because we are damaged — we study psychology to heal ourselves. Whether we are prepared to admit this or not is another question.

As human beings, in our earliest years we reside in a land before memory. We like to think of ourselves as emerging from this primordial fog with our characters fully formed, like Aphrodite rising perfect from the sea foam. But thanks to increasing research into the development of the brain, we know this is not the case. We are born with a brain half-formed — more like a muddy lump of clay than a divine Olympian. As the psychoanalyst Donald Winnicott put it, "There is no such thing as a baby." The development of our personalities doesn't take place in isolation, but in relationship with others — we are shaped and completed by unseen, unremembered forces; namely, our parents.

This is frightening, for obvious reasons. Who knows what indignities we suffered, what torments and abuses, in this land before memory? Our character was formed without our even knowing it. In my case, I grew up feeling edgy, afraid; anxious. This anxiety seemed to predate my existence and exist independently of me. But I suspect it originated in my relationship with my father, around whom I was never safe.


Excerpted from "The Silent Patient"

Copyright © 2019 Astramare Limited.
Excerpted by permission of Celadon Books. 




My Book Review:


In his debut novel, The Silent Patient, author Alex Michaelides weaves a riveting psychological thriller that easily draws the reader into the dark storyline that follows criminal psychotherapist Theo Faber as he tries to unravel the mystery behind the murder of fashion photographer Gabriel Berenson by his artistic painter wife Alicia Berenson, and the reason behind her silence.

Set in London and told in the first person narrative by Theo Faber, the reader follows along as he unravels the layers of Alicia's troubled life and complicated relationships, hoping to shed light on why she murdered her husband, and why she has chosen to live in silence. Theo also provides the reader with snippets from his own troubled childhood past and current life issues. And to add to the intrigue, there are entries from Alicia's diary interspersed throughout the book that adds even more clues as to what was going on in Alicia's troubled life leading up to the night of the murder.

The Silent Patient is a captivating and complex multi-layered tale rich in detail and vivid descriptions. It has intriguing and suspenseful twists and turns, and the author plays a clever cat-n-mouse game with the reader as he provides enough characters and clues to keep the reader guessing if Alicia actually committed the murder, or could it have been someone else. He leaves the reader no other option than to keep turning the pages to find out what happens next.

As a diehard fan of psychological thrillers, I must admit that this story exceeded my expectations. The dark intensity of the storyline and the complexity of the intertwining connection between Alicia  and Theo's troubled pasts, kept me thoroughly riveted, engrossed, and guessing as the pieces to the puzzle come together.

With a complex and realistic cast of characters, the author does a phenomenal job of delving into the tangled web of secrets, lies, betrayals, and history of emotional trauma and mental instability. The author transports the reader into this fast-paced white-knuckle storyline with his creative interweaving of a psychological cat-n-mouse game between the characters that leaves the reader's heart palpitating until the surprise ending ultimately leaves them completely shocked. It just doesn't get any better than this!

The Silent Patient is one heck of an adrenaline rush that is a must-read for the true diehard psychological thriller junkie!


RATING: 5 STARS 





About The Author




Alex Michaelides was born in Cyprus in 1977 to a Greek father and English mother. He studied English literature at Cambridge University and got his MA in screenwriting at the American Film Institute in Los Angeles. He wrote the film The Devil You Know (2013) starring Rosamund Pike and co-wrote The Brits are Coming (2018), starring Uma Thurman, Tim Roth, Parker Posey and Sofia Vergara. THE SILENT PATIENT is his first novel.


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Monday, December 12, 2016

The Infertile Heart by BK Harrell (Book Review)

In association with Reading Addiction Virtual Book Tours, Jersey Girl Book Reviews is pleased to host the virtual book tour event for The Infertile Heart by author BK Harrell!






Book Review



The Infertile Heart by BK Harrell
Book 1: The Doctors of Atlanta Series
Publisher: Xlibris US
Publication Date: May 2, 2016
Format: Hardcover & Paperback - 306 pages
               Kindle - 839 KB
               Nook - 412 KB
ISBN: 978-1514477120
ASIN: B01F9D153S
BNID: 978-1514477144
Genre: Contemporary Romance / Sports Medical Theme


Buy The Book:


Disclaimer: I received a copy of the book from the author / publisher in exchange for my honest review and participation in a virtual book tour event hosted by Reading Addictions Virtual Book Tours. 


Book Description:

Dr. Lincoln Montgomery is a man who has lost everything but longs to find a connection to someone who he can share his life with, but he fears he will never find the love again that he lost.

The hero of my recently completed novel, The Infertile Heart, has finally found the woman who can complete him, but will their past prevent them from having a future. Set in Atlanta, GA, this character driven story is a 112,257-word contemporary romance. Adventuresome and sensual, the book weaves a story of love and loss, lies and truth, and the story of two people learning to love again even though the trials and tribulations they face will stack the cards against them.

An overachiever, Dr. Lincoln Montgomery is a Noble Prize winning billionaire who has spent his life giving others what he could not give to others. Losing his brother to cystic fibrosis he was driven to find a cure for the gene mutation that took his life. Even given his success, he could not prevent the death of his wife and unborn child to a drunk driver and spent the last three years mourning their passing and trying to find a way back. A chance meeting plunges Lincoln back into the dating pool with the one woman he thinks could fertilize his infertile heart.

Dr. Nicole Harris is a physical therapist who has struggled with the decisions she made as a teenager. Drugged and raped by her date at 14, Nicole ended up pregnant and gave her child up for adoption in order to ensure that she would have a good life. Finding the perfect family that would keep Nicole abreast of Aubrey’s developments was fear number one priority. Having given up on love and finding someone who would appreciate her for the woman that she was, Nicole had grown to be. Feeding her love of golf and football, Nicole meets Dr. Lincoln Montgomery. Could Lincoln be the one to fertilize her long dormant infertile heart.


Book Excerpt:


Looking into his eyes, Nicole was intrigued by what she saw and felt. It was as if the sky had cleared, the sun was shining and she felt the refreshing breeze after a spring rain hit her all at once. But, she could see something else in his eyes that gave her pause. She could see a lingering deep despair that made her want to take him in her arms and tell him it would be okay. At 5’ 8” with dark blond hair and brown eyes, she had always been a tomboy at heart and much preferred playing games outdoors to sitting inside and reading. She had never really considered herself a beautiful woman just merely average but she had never been swept off her feet or stopped dead in her tracks by meeting a man until now. Her athletic grace seemed to elude her anytime she saw something she may be interested in. Today had caught her by surprise. She did not see this tall stranger until it was too late and she was bumping into him with full force running to get something for her mother. Right now she was thanking God that she needed more ketchup for her fries. “It is a pleasure to meet you Dr. Montgomery” she said with a smile and warm tender eyes. Nicole had been alone too long. Yes she dated in recent years but it never lasted. She was looking for the one Mr. Right not Mr. Right now. She had always had a notion that romantic love, love at first sight was out there waiting for her and she would not settle for anything less. However, today she could not help feeling that maybe she had finally found her tall prince charming. “So, did you go to school here?” she asked.

“No I am a proud graduate of the University of Georgia.” Lincoln said.

“Eww.” Nicole said with a chuckle. “So what brings you to Auburn? Slumming it with other schools?” She said mockingly.

“No, since Rob and I became friends, I have become almost as much part of the Auburn family as I am the Georgia Bulldog Nation. I like to give to the scholarship fund every year but unfortunately my seats usually go unused or given to friends and staff members. As a matter of fact I just auctioned off my luxury box at Georgia for the Auburn Georgia game last night at the charity event.”

“Well that was mighty nice of you. So why are you here and not in Athens today?”

“I prefer Rob and Erin’s company to the empty seats around me. It is so nice to have friends that accept me for what I am and not who I am or who I know.”

“Well then”, she said “you want to avoid that group over there. They only care about your bank account and whether or not they can get into it.” She said pointing at a group of women standing on the far side of the room. Lincoln laughed hard for what seemed like the first time in 3 years. He was suddenly feeling light on his feet as if the burden was being lifted.

“So what about you Nicole, do you enjoy your work and living in Atlanta?”

“I love my job. I am lucky enough to work with the best people in the business and the ability to see people regain use of their bodies and even walk again is simply amazing. I often find it difficult to put into words how I feel about it. Atlanta, well it is Atlanta. I grew up outside of Atlanta and lived there all of my life except for college and grad school. The only big change is moving to the Dunwoody area.”

“Really, I live over in the Dunwoody area as well. I wanted something close to work and to avoid the commute.” Lincoln said but thought I am running away from the ghosts of my past at my house. What would she think about me if she knew the truth.” “Please do not think this is another line, but you look so familiar. I can’t help but feel that I have seen you somewhere this weekend.”

“Well unless you were out at the Grand National yesterday then it was not this weekend.” Nicole said.

“Wait. You were the woman I saw on the 18th tee box. I stood there and admired you grace and athleticism from afar. I was taken by your strength and beauty and the way you could drive a golf ball. I was surprised to see you playing from the men’s tees. I don’t mean that in a sexist way it is just most women play from the forward tees.”

“Well I suppose most women are not scratch golfers from the men’s tees.”

Suddenly flush with renewed vigor, Lincoln knew he had to spend more time with this remarkable woman. “Please don’t think that I am being too forward, but are currently seeing anyone seriously or not so seriously? I only ask because I would really like to take you to dinner or lunch so that we could get to know each other better.”

“Well Dr. Montgomery, this is totally unexpected, but no I am not seeing anyone serious or otherwise. I would not mind having dinner with you but my schedule is very busy and I have a difficult time getting away from work at a decent hour.”

Interrupting her Lincoln said, “Please call me Lincoln or Linc as that is what my friends call me. Sorry to interrupt please continue.”

“As I was saying, I do believe I can try to make some time.” Nicole was suddenly struck with the thought why did I say yes to something so quickly. I know that I do not really have time, but there is something about him that intrigues me and makes me want to know him better. Holding out her hand Nicole says, “Give me your phone and I will put my number in there then you can text me with yours. I am sorry to have to run but I need to get back to my family since they are done eating. We always like to get to our seats early so that we can watch Nova fly before the game.”

Unsure what to do, Lincoln held out his hand to Nicole but was surprised when she pulled him in for a quick hug.

“Just as good as I thought it would be Dr. Montgomery.” Nicole said with a slight flirtiness in her voice.

After their too brief hug, Lincoln stood there staring at Nicole momentarily shocked by her display of affection, he could do nothing more than smile at her and bid her goodbye. Lincoln was so excited he could not stand it.

Rob saw Lincoln and turned to Erin to point out the look on his face and eyes. “I don’t know what just happened” he said “but I don’t think I have seen him like this in years.” Rob laughed as he watched Lincoln walk towards them with an almost swagger in his step. He was shocked by the change of his demeanor today. Gone was the dark brooding Lincoln replaced by the man he knew so many years ago. Not sure what to make of what had just happened he was silent while he waited for Lincoln to tell him about the encounter.

Lincoln wanted to talk to Rob and Erin but he did not know what to say. What was he feeling? He had so many emotions running through his mind at this very instant that he could barely make sense of the ground moving beneath his feet. “Rob, I don’t know or even understand what just happened. I feel like every nerve ending is on fire.”

“Lincoln, I haven’t seen you like this in a long time. You look like the weight of the world has been lifted off of your shoulders.”

“I don’t know what to do. I feel so alive but I‘m terrified all at once. How can someone I just met have this effect on me? I mean just looking into her eyes set my soul ablaze. I could see the sweetness and desire in her and it was just one touch and one long glance into her eyes.”

“Lincoln, I can’t pretend to know what you are feeling with all that you have been through, but I have known for a long time that you needed to connect with someone else and once you meet that person you would hopefully find that closure. Maybe she is that connection that you need.”











My Book Review:


The Infertile Heart is a heartwarming medical / sports romance tale about life experiences, new beginnings, and second chances.

Author BK Harrell weaves a wonderful romance set in Atlanta, Georgia, that follows the chance meeting of Dr. Lincoln Montgomery and Dr. Nicole Harris. Lincoln and Nicole's unexpected connection will lead them on a journey towards rebuilding their lives, and getting a second chance at finding love. You can't help but become captivated by this engaging story filled with the challenges of overcoming traumatic pasts, dark secrets, family drama, life struggles, misunderstandings, and small sacrifices, as Lincoln and Nicole take a chance at forming a bond that could teach them how to love again.

I would be remiss if I didn't mention how much I enjoyed the nice mixture of the medical and college football sports romance themes. The intriguing romantic twists and turns easily kept me engaged and guessing, while the rich descriptions of the college football games that were included in the story kept me thoroughly entertained. What a great first book in a brand new series, I can't wait to read the next book!

In The Infertile Heart, broken hearts and traumatic life experiences can be put in the past when given a second chance at love through the healing spirit of this touching and soul-stirring medical / sports romance story.

The Infertile Heart is the first book in The Doctors of Atlanta Series.




RATING: 5 STARS 





About The Author




BK Harrell is a former Navy physician who has had a long love of writing. He specializes in medical, military and sports romance writing. He began seriously writing while deployed to Afghanistan in 2012 and has never looked back. Whether he is teaching, serving his country, educating people about the fine art of cigars, practicing medicine or spending time with friends and family he uses his diverse background to shape the world around him through words.

He uses his unique experiences and love of all things Atlanta, University of Georgia and sports to weave intricately detailed stories focused on Atlanta and the surrounding areas. His goal is to bring the same joy and excitement he sees in his own city to the readers and to allow them to experience the city through his eyes.

Dr. Harrell is married to his beautiful wife Erin, a proud graduate of Auburn University, which makes multiple appearances in his books, and their wonderful one son. Dr. Harrell is a native of Augusta, GA and a proud graduate of the University of Georgia, Emory University, and proud to have been a member of the first ever graduating class of Georgia Campus Philadelphia College of Osteopathic Medicine. He currently resides in the Atlanta area where he practices medicine and raises his family.


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