Vee is nervous about returning to the village of Willowbrook. Not only is Dragonfly Cottage – the house her late mum left her – in need of a total refurb, but the neighbours still remember Vee as a troublesome teen, even though she’s now in her fifties.

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…spiderwebs hung from every corner. It felt like the place where depressed flies came to die.

‘Winnie, I’ve never seen anyone be so keen to go on a banana boat.’ ‘And I only fell off once,’ said Winnie, preening herself. ‘I showed those youngsters a thing or two, didn’t I, Beryl? You were hanging on for dear life.’ ‘Yes, it was two things you showed them, if I remember rightly. Your bikini top came right off. That lifeguard will probably never be the same again.’

This was the life. Mother wouldn’t have approved at all, which made the idea even more appealing.

It wasn’t much fun being a teenager, when I look back on that year. We were full of our own importance some of the time but totally lacking in confidence the rest of it.

My Review:

This was a fun and amusing read with well-balanced hits of family drama and inner turmoil amongst the wry wit and acerbic observations. I’m new to Celia Anderson, shame on me for not noticing this crafty scribbler before. I enjoy her well-textured and agile word skills, snarky humor, and how she totally had me on the hook to unravel what happened in 1985.

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“Tell me everything. Every detail. How hot was it?” “On a scale of chili peppers?” I settled back into the neck rest. “We’re talking habanero hot.”

Detective, if I killed every male who’s ever sexually harassed me in any way, I’d have a whole trail of bodies behind me, starting with Troy Nestor in sixth grade.

My Review:

This was an enjoyable, entertaining, and quick read that kept me engaged and amused throughout perusal. The writing style was easy to follow, well-polished, with just the right light touch of emotiveness as well as head-scratching intrigue for a humorous cozy mystery. Ms. Fox cleverly conjured and populated her tale with a delightful array of authentically quirky characters, my favorite kind! I look forward to more installments from this crafty scribbler.

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Favorite Quotes:

Fascinating how even the most undomesticated female turns into Martha Stewart once she has a baby.

All you need to start a religion in this country is three founding members, a mission statement, and a bank account. Can you believe that?

“I’d hate to have to take matters into my own hands.” Edith sounded like she would be thrilled to take matters into her own hands.

In Orlov’s experience, there were three kids of untrustworthy women: the pushy ones, the sneaky ones, and the pushy, sneaky ones. The pushy, sneaky ones were the worst.

“Love, lust, loathing, and loot,” said Tandie. “The Four Ls of Murder.”

My Review:

I’m a late bloomer with this series, and I may have been a bit daft to jump in at book seven, but the story had strong legs and was more than able to stand alone. This wily author provided brief glimpses of their backstories, which tantalized and piqued my interest to pick up the previous installments. The writing style held an interesting balance of the sleuthing required to solve an unusual murder, holiday preparations, colorful characters, amusing observations, and an eccentric fringe religious group tossed in for an extra twist.

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I looked him up and down. There was something about him that made me uneasy. Perhaps it was that he had dressed like a cartoon spy? He even had a furled copy of the Daily Telegraph under his arm. I wondered whether, if he opened it up, there’d be holes cut in the pages for his eyes.

It just goes to show that you should never underestimate the elderly. They were all young once, and you never knew what their back story might be.

To my relief, Mrs Shepherd laughed and laughed, as if I’d made a hilarious joke. ‘Oh, good Lord, I’m not ill. I’m not sick in any way, praise be. Living in the refrigerators that pass for vicarages for thirty years has hardened me against physical illness. Any germs that cling on to me when I’m out and about leap off and run the minute I enter my front door, driven by their instincts for self-preservation.’

Suki’s method is always at risk of Chinese Whispers distorting the message in the process. That’s one reason why Suki’s gossip is always such fun– it’s a heady blend of fact and fiction, and not to be taken seriously without a fact check.

I defy anyone walking into a police station not to feel a little nervous, as if they’re about to be rumbled for some inadvertent misdemeanour.

My Review:

This was an entertaining and amusing tale, and I also learned 2 new things from perusing this fun little missive. I had never heard of a Wendy house, but Mr. Google has informed me that it is what the British call a children’s playhouse, and was named after Wendy Darling from Peter Pan. How precious is that? I also learned about the elaborate Japanese collectable art of netsuke, something I didn’t expect to happen from reading a British cozy mystery, but there you have it. And my mother always chided me for reading fiction, saying it was a waste of time.

The writing style is well-polished, humorous, easy to follow, and comfortably engaging. I enjoyed the author’s wry wit and colorful descriptions, which conjured vivid images in my mind’s eye. I will be watching for future installments of this lively series.

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Everyone’s life looks fun on social media; that’s the sorcery of it. Your soul may be slowly decaying, but there’s a filter for that.

I like my friends, and we keep each other entertained. But lately, I feel like more of a lone wolf— or maybe I’m just running with the wrong pack.

I roll down the windows to let in the last gasp of summer. There is a particular richness to early September, when the sunlight is broad and lazy.

Time is a vapor, impossible to measure.

They say that hearing is the last sense to go. I want to say something profound before it’s too late, but there is no script for this moment. All I can think to say is, “Thank you,” so I say it over and over. Thank you. Thank you. “Thank you for loving me, Dad,” I say one last time. “I know you don’t remember me, but I remember you. I always will.”

It just wasn’t what I expected— marriage, motherhood. And at some point, I realized I only had one life. So why shouldn’t it be the one I actually want?

Though I have said it many times, only now do I fully believe it to be true: a good oracle shows you what you already know.

My Review:

This emotive tale was stunningly perceptive and squeezed my cold heart, put hot rocks in my throat, and stung my eyes on more than one occasion. Tory Henwood Hoen has mad skills and serious word voodoo. I fell into a poignant and cunningly created vortex and remained engaged, and on the hook, despite the somewhat disconcerting tightening I occasionally noted in my chest. She achieved an impossibly delicate balance between amusing wry wit and thought-provoking insights that slowed my reading to consider and savor. Her well-crafted characters were remarkably human, realistically flawed, and drew me in like a magnet. I covet her skills and am now a devoted acolyte.

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The Internet is the private investigator’s mean streets of old. Our nickname of gumshoe is outdated. We should be called creepers or googlers or dark web surfers.

I don’t want to kill Sammy Sykes. It’s something I feel I have to do. Like getting a crown at the dentist. Or talking to the other parents at Evelyn’s school.

It’s amazing how polite even the most despicable people can be when they want something.

The subconscious is my favorite of the consciences. That part of our brains where the real work gets done. Where our little voice comes from, as if the subconscious is a separate person. A wiser person. More observant. More sensitive. But a bit secretive— it doesn’t always want to tell us what it knows.

But meeting Casey the way I did reminds me of the gifts that life offers. Tiny miracles that can grow into the keystones of one’s life. We’re surrounded by them. It’s just a matter of choosing the right ones and nurturing them to their potential.

My Review:

I have been remiss in my reading research, as for shame, this was my first time to pick up a Matt Goldman missive. But I plan to rectify my sloth and make reading his clever arrangements of words a regular habit. His characters were strong and thoughtfully constructed, while also vulnerable and endearingly flawed. I enjoyed the odyssey of their storyline development while this wily scribbler perceptively peeled back the layers to their gooey center. The man has mad skills and exceptional word voodoo.

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Favorite Quotes:

Dude, I’m wetter than a soccer mom at a Magic Mike show out here. Can I go get into something that isn’t actively growing moss?

But I’ll tell you one thing: the past is an easy place to get lost in. It’s tempting, isn’t it? Hazy and imperfectly remembered so we can fill it in as we see fit. Spend too much time there, though, and you miss out on everything happening right now, and everything that could happen in the future.

He strolled up to the front door with the confidence of a well-costumed kid on Halloween, secure in the knowledge of a full candy bar waiting on the other side. He gave the door a knock, paused for less than three seconds, and then plowed his way inside.

His voice was what Nora imagined it would sound like if dust could speak.

It’s like this weight. Being afraid. It’s like I carry it around on my back, and, Charlie, it’s so heavy. Like if I don’t stay one step ahead of life, it’s going to catch up and take everything from me.

My Review:

This was a fun and ingeniously creative read, filled to the brim with equal measures of snarky humor and perceptive angst. I’m now highly coveting book one in the series as I’m curious how it started. The writing was a tight balance of tension and clever wry wit, and hosted a cast of highly peculiar characters and oddly intriguing storylines that managed to keep me engaged and eager for new clues. My paltry theories were well off the mark. I love it when that happens.