Books, Bunnies, and a Body: A Bonne Année Mystery
In N.E. Carlisle’s Books, Bunnies, and a Body, books get rescued from closing shops, literary luncheons require serious menu planning, and even the dog has opinions about the neighbors. The setting is Hazelton, a small town on the Oregon coast, where Bonne Année Steele, known as Annee, runs The Literary Table out of her grandparents’ house. Her business brings books and food together, with gatherings inspired by writers such as Beatrix Potter and E. M. Forster. When the town’s spring festivities become the scene of a murder, Annee’s connections to the people around her draw her into the investigation. It’s an appealing setup, especially because Carlisle makes the shop feel like a business someone actually has to run, complete with overflowing inventory, customer expectations, and the work behind a beautiful table.
Annee’s voice gives the book much of its personality. She’s observant, occasionally prickly, and deeply attached to the things her family left behind. Her tendency to retreat into her own thoughts can complicate her relationships, and that makes her an interesting person to follow through a mystery. I especially liked how Carlisle connects hospitality with care. Annee’s celiac disease and nut allergy shape everyday decisions about eating and entertaining, while the people closest to her show their affection through practical gestures. Her friendship with Alejandro has an easy familiarity, and Mackenzie’s wedding preparations bring affectionate humor alongside believable tension. Oscar, Annee’s Bernedoodle, earns his place through his habits and constant presence. The quieter scenes with Mr. Morrison also give the story room to acknowledge grief with tenderness and a little humor.
Carlisle spends considerable time on the textures of Hazelton: damp gardens, mismatched china, old bindings, warm kitchens, and meals described down to their herbs and serving dishes. Those details support one of the book’s most interesting questions: how do you measure the value of something that holds another person’s memories? They also make the pacing leisurely. I enjoyed the descriptions most when they revealed a relationship or gave an ordinary object new significance. Some longer passages about decorating and preparing food slowed the investigation, and Annee occasionally revisits feelings the reader already understands. The book also carries several ongoing concerns, including family history, romance, and the town’s changing future. That breadth gives Hazelton a life beyond the central case, though it asks for patience as the different threads take turns.
The book reminded me of Richard Osman’s The Thursday Murder Club, particularly in its affection for older characters and its interest in the emotional lives surrounding an investigation. Both books find humor in familiar routines and allow friendship and loss to carry real weight. Carlisle’s particular pleasure is the combination of bookselling, cooking, and a narrator whose home is also the place where her community gathers. Readers who enjoy getting to know a recurring cast will find plenty to appreciate, although references to earlier events make the established history between these people noticeable. The recipes at the back are a fitting addition, extending the attention to food that runs through the story. I’d recommend this to cozy mystery readers who enjoy a generous helping of domestic detail and characters whose relationships deserve as much attention as the clues.
Pages: 365 | ASIN : B0HH7W4M5D
A Trial Lawyer’s Journey from Psych Ward to Wellness
In A Lawyer’s Journey from Psych Ward to Wellness, attorney and author Alex Charns offers a candid and personal account of mental illness, recovery, and the everyday practices that make a meaningful life possible. Drawing on his experiences as a criminal defense lawyer, a husband, a father, and a survivor of a serious psychiatric crisis, Charns examines mental health with refreshing openness and an irreverent sense of humor. His German shepherd and husky mix, Annie Oakley, serves as an affectionate and occasionally demanding companion throughout the narrative, bringing warmth and levity to difficult subjects. Through short, accessible chapters, Charns explores the importance of professional treatment, physical activity, meaningful relationships, spiritual life, and personal purpose. The result is an engaging combination of memoir, practical wellness reflections, and advocacy for greater understanding of mental health disorders. His willingness to discuss his psychiatric hospitalization and ongoing treatment gives the book an authenticity that makes its message especially compelling.
One of the book’s most affecting elements is Charns’s exploration of how family history and professional experiences influence emotional well-being. He reflects on his mother’s traumatic childhood in Nazi-occupied Poland, the lingering effects of those experiences on his family, and his own struggles with anxiety and depression. These recollections provide valuable context for understanding the complexities of mental health across generations. His career as a criminal defense attorney adds another important dimension. Charns describes the psychological demands of representing vulnerable clients, confronting institutional injustice, and witnessing the consequences of failures within the legal system. His observations about secondary trauma among attorneys are particularly insightful, demonstrating how professional responsibilities can leave lasting emotional impressions. Throughout these discussions, Charns maintains a clear commitment to confronting stigma. His declaration, “I am not ashamed,” expresses one of the book’s central convictions: people experiencing psychiatric disorders deserve the same compassion, dignity, and support afforded to those with physical illnesses.
Charns’s conversational writing style is among the book’s greatest strengths. He moves comfortably between serious reflection, professional anecdotes, family memories, and humorous observations about Annie’s considerable influence over his daily schedule. His affection for hockey, literature, music, and community involvement gives the memoir a lively personality, while photographs throughout the book offer additional glimpses into his personal world. The chapters are generally brief, creating a relaxed reading experience and allowing individual subjects to receive focused attention. Particularly appealing is the practical nature of his approach to wellness. Walking the dog, attending therapy, taking prescribed medication, connecting with friends, volunteering, practicing gratitude, and maintaining spiritual traditions all become meaningful parts of a larger picture. Charns recognizes that recovery involves multiple forms of support and that personal routines can contribute significantly to emotional stability. His humor makes these reflections approachable, while his experiences give them substance.
A Lawyer’s Journey from Psych Ward to Wellness is a thoughtful and frequently entertaining examination of resilience, self-awareness, and the importance of connection. Charns brings a distinctive perspective to mental health advocacy through his combination of legal experience, personal vulnerability, and enduring commitment to social justice. His reflections suggest that wellness encompasses much more than medical treatment alone. It also involves having relationships to nurture, activities to enjoy, convictions to uphold, and reasons to remain engaged with the world. The statement “We are not defined by our diagnosis” captures the compassionate philosophy running throughout the book. Charns presents mental health as an essential part of the broader human experience, deserving serious attention and open discussion. Readers interested in personal accounts of recovery, the emotional challenges of the legal profession, or the relationship between mental health and everyday living will find much to appreciate in this sincere, personable, and encouraging memoir.
Pages: 106 | ASIN: B0H71PX6VZ
Janny the Junco Learns about Faith: Faith is a Fruit of The Spirit
J. M. Ashmore’s Janny the Junco Learns about Faith is a children’s book that introduces Christian faith through a small bird’s experience of a frightening storm. Janny’s questions give young readers a familiar way into the subject: she wants to understand what faith means when the world feels loud and unpredictable. The park setting keeps that conversation grounded in things children can picture, from swaying millet stalks to rain collecting on leaves. There’s a clear teaching purpose here, and Ashmore builds it around a recognizable childhood feeling. That makes the book particularly suited to families looking for a gentle starting point for conversations about God and worry.
The friendship between Janny and Lindy gives the story much of its warmth. Their exchanges are simple enough to follow aloud, and the physical details of their companionship make the care between them tangible. A shared perch, close company, and help tending wet feathers all give young listeners something concrete to connect with. I especially appreciate how the book makes room for fear within a conversation about belief. Its understanding of faith includes bringing difficult feelings to God, which offers adults a useful opening for listening to children’s own concerns. The repeated reassurance creates a steady rhythm, while the noisy weather adds some energy to a shared reading.
The illustrations give this picture book a bright and inviting personality. Janny and Lindy have rounded bodies, expressive eyes, and rosy cheeks, with pink and yellow bellies that make them easy to distinguish. Large green leaves, glistening drops of water, and sweeping lines of rain bring the birds’ surroundings close enough to feel almost touchable. The contrast between their tiny bodies and the oversized foliage helps convey how imposing the weather feels to them. Several images return to similar views of the birds on a branch, keeping attention on their expressions and closeness. Full-page artwork alternates with uncluttered text pages, giving children plenty of room to study the pictures as someone reads.
The material after the story extends the book’s usefulness for parents, caregivers, and church teachers. Questions and answers invite children to revisit its ideas, while open questions leave space for their own reactions. A page of junco facts adds a welcome connection to the natural world, and the passage from Galatians places the book within Ashmore’s Fruit of the Spirit series. The stated preschool-through-third-grade audience makes sense, though younger listeners may benefit from an adult pausing to explain unfamiliar words or discuss faith in their own family’s language. With its affectionate bird characters and straightforward Christian focus, Janny the Junco Learns about Faith offers an approachable read-aloud that can lead naturally into a thoughtful conversation.
Pages: 34 | ISBN : 1489754229
The Girl in the Purple Jacket
Katrin Costa’s The Girl in the Purple Jacket is a moving work of historical fiction inspired by true events, blending the intimacy of a memoir with the emotional pull of a coming-of-age story. Set against the political upheaval surrounding the fall of the Berlin Wall, the novel introduces Karlina, a twenty-year-old woman growing up in East Germany in 1989. She’s spent her life navigating a world where conformity is expected, personal freedoms are restricted, and questioning authority can carry serious consequences. But Karlina has always imagined something beyond the life prescribed for her. When her cousin Ella gives her a purple jacket, the seemingly ordinary gift becomes a source of confidence, comfort, and possibility. As Karlina begins taking steps toward an uncertain future, readers are drawn into a deeply personal story about courage, self-worth, and the determination to build a life on one’s own terms. Costa brings an intimate perspective to this historical fiction novel, making the experience of living behind the Iron Curtain feel immediate and personal.
One of the book’s greatest strengths is how convincingly Costa captures the emotional realities of life in a divided Germany. Her descriptions of government surveillance, limited opportunities, family expectations, and everyday shortages reveal how political systems can shape even the smallest personal decisions. The historical setting comes alive through memorable details, including Western television broadcasts, coveted packages from relatives, crowded refugee facilities, and the uncertainty surrounding border crossings. These elements give the narrative authenticity while keeping Karlina’s experiences at its center. Equally compelling is the complicated relationship between Karlina and her mother, whose protective instincts have been shaped by fear and years of enforced obedience. Their opposing views of security and independence create an emotional tension that runs throughout the novel. Costa also explores how the restrictions Karlina has grown up with affect her relationships, confidence, and ability to trust her own judgment. It’s this attention to the psychological consequences of oppression that gives the historical drama much of its depth.
As Karlina’s world expands, The Girl in the Purple Jacket develops into an engaging story of self-discovery, resilience, and romance. Freedom brings opportunities for work, travel, friendship, and love, along with unfamiliar responsibilities and difficult decisions. Costa portrays these experiences with an understanding of how independence develops through everyday choices as much as through extraordinary acts of courage. Karlina’s romantic relationships add warmth and emotional complexity, especially as she learns to recognize what she wants from a partner and what she’s willing to pursue for herself. The narrative also explores financial insecurity, loneliness, separation, and the challenge of finding a sense of belonging in unfamiliar surroundings. Costa’s writing is deliberately spare and often poetic, relying on short sentences, sensory imagery, and moments of reflection to communicate Karlina’s changing emotions. Recurring images of open skies, roads, borders, and the purple jacket give the story a satisfying sense of continuity. At times, the reflective passages revisit familiar feelings, but they also reinforce how deeply Karlina’s upbringing has shaped her understanding of herself.
I liked the book’s portrayal of freedom as an ongoing process of learning, questioning, and choosing. Costa draws on her own experiences to create a protagonist whose determination is accompanied by vulnerability, uncertainty, and a persistent desire to be loved and accepted. The purple jacket becomes a meaningful symbol of the encouragement one person can offer another, and of the confidence that can grow from a small act of kindness. The novel’s combination of historical fiction, women’s fiction, and memoir-inspired storytelling will appeal to readers who enjoy emotionally grounded narratives about personal transformation, family relationships, and love across geographical and cultural boundaries. There’s a genuine sense of lived experience in the details, giving Karlina’s journey an emotional weight that stays with the reader. Thoughtful, heartfelt, and rich in historical atmosphere, The Girl in the Purple Jacket is a memorable exploration of what it means to discover your own voice and find the courage to use it.
Pages: 412 | ASIN: 176480760X
Charred: A Whipped & Sipped Mystery
G.P. Gottlieb’s Charred, the third installment in the Whipped and Sipped mystery series, follows Chicago café owner Alene Baron as she manages a business, raises three children, and cares for her father during the early months of the Covid-19 pandemic. A death connected to a burned construction site draws her into an investigation that reaches through her circle of employees, friends, and family. The novel combines a culinary cozy mystery with an account of daily life under extraordinary pressure. Its setting has practical consequences: customers order remotely, staff members worry about lost income, and ordinary outings require negotiation. Gottlieb builds the story around the work of keeping people fed, employed, and connected while uncertainty presses against every part of Alene’s life.
Alene’s perspective gives the novel much of its energy. She’s resourceful and generous, but she’s also impatient, quick to judge, and capable of finding convenient explanations for her own decisions. Those inconsistencies make her an engaging protagonist, particularly when her desire to protect people complicates her relationship with homicide detective Frank Shaw. “That’s not how healthy relationships work,” she tells a friend, articulating a standard she finds difficult to maintain herself. Gottlieb uses that gap between principle and practice to give the romantic thread substance. Alene’s friendship with pastry chef Ruthie provides another productive tension. Ruthie’s insistence on compassion challenges Alene’s sharper assessments, and their exchanges show how affection can accommodate disagreement. Family responsibilities further complicate the question of how much anyone can control another person’s choices. As Ruthie observes, “There’s a difference between hunting criminals and raising children.”
Food is woven into the action with specificity and purpose. Dough needs time to rest, vegetables need chopping, and a conversation must sometimes wait until a recipe is finished. These details give the café a credible working rhythm and reveal the cooperation required to sustain it. Gottlieb’s descriptions of cardamom, citrus, bread, and cookies supply sensory pleasure while meals become a practical expression of concern for others. The recipes collected at the end, including chocolate babka and radish-top pesto, extend that aspect of the reading experience. The kitchen also functions as a forum for arguments about housing, homelessness, privilege, and responsibility. Through these discussions, the novel connects its neighborhood setting to larger questions about whose security gets protected and whose difficulties receive attention.
The book’s expansive social world brings warmth and occasional drag. Conversations about pandemic precautions, family tensions, and employee frustrations recur often enough to slow the investigation, and some exchanges state their moral positions with more emphasis than nuance. The large supporting cast also asks readers to keep track of numerous relationships and histories. Even so, the recurring routines establish a persuasive sense of shared life, making interruptions to that life feel consequential. Gottlieb writes most effectively when Alene’s sympathetic intentions coexist with irritation, self-interest, or uncertainty. Charred will appeal especially to readers who enjoy culinary mysteries with substantial domestic and community threads. Its distinctive pleasure comes from watching a busy, imperfect woman try to exercise sound judgment while caring for people whose needs continually exceed her available time.
Pages: 250 | ASIN : B0GQ1PY589
Obesseus Escape Ancient Snackland (The Slam-Fu Series Book 5)
Obesseus is headed back in time, and Ancient Snackland is not ready for him.
When a cursed royal crown sends Obesseus and his friends hurtling into the distant past, they land in a wild world of Dino Nuggets, pretzel forests, lemonade fortresses, sacred snacks, and rules no one asked for. But the real danger is Julian Jellybean, who is twisting Ancient Snackland’s history with mysterious purple magic.
To get home, Obesseus must survive Captain Calorie Counter, Tammie Tuna, corrupted Anchovy Scouts, impossible traps, and the No Fun Squad’s relentless obsession with overtime. Along the way, Conflicted Tomato may discover that being confused is exactly what Snackland needs.
Packed with Slam-Fu, food-powered chaos, Dino Nuggets, ridiculous workplace rules, and one very important crown, Obesseus: Escape from Ancient Snackland is a prehistoric adventure where saving the future means surviving the past.
Lethal Succession
Ruben Elustondo’s Lethal Succession puts a deeply personal problem at the center of a corporate thriller: choosing who’ll run a family business when its founder has to step back. Houston businessman John Whitney has built a substantial gas station empire, and a serious health crisis pushes him to think about its future. His three adult children and a longtime colleague each bring different qualifications, expectations, and ambitions to the question of succession. What makes the premise interesting is how quickly professional judgment becomes tangled with family history. A discussion about leadership also becomes a test of parental approval, loyalty, and entitlement. The blend of family drama and suspense works because the stakes extend beyond a prestigious job. Everyone’s sense of their place in the family, or in the company they helped build, is under pressure.
The strongest character tension comes from the gap between what people say they want and what they’re thinking privately. Elustondo regularly lets us hear those private calculations, giving conversations an extra layer of friction. Paul’s confidence and appetite for authority make him an effective source of conflict, while Anna’s business ability raises questions about who gets recognized as leadership material. Her frustration with the assumptions surrounding women, motherhood, and executive responsibility gives the novel one of its more engaging themes. John also holds attention as a man accustomed to controlling decisions who’s beginning to reassess how he’s spent his time. These personalities are drawn in bold strokes, and their motives are usually spelled out clearly. That directness makes the relationships easy to follow, though a little more room for readers to interpret behavior would have added depth.
The writing is conversational and dialogue-driven, with plenty of attention to the everyday surroundings of wealth: carefully furnished offices, restaurant meals, expensive cars, and comfortable homes. Those details give the corporate intrigue a recognizable social setting, and ordinary family moments help explain why the business carries so much emotional weight. The pacing takes its time establishing rivalries before the crime thriller elements become more prominent. When the investigation takes focus, interviews, evidence, and competing explanations bring in the appeal of a police procedural. There’s satisfaction in seeing earlier interactions acquire new significance. Some conversations revisit information we already understand, and repeated descriptions of facial expressions and body language can slow a scene. The novel is most effective when an exchange changes someone’s options or exposes a conflict through their actions.
What stayed with me most about Lethal Succession was its interest in the responsibilities attached to power. The succession contest gives Elustondo a way to explore how people confuse ambition with competence, how loyalty can become an expectation of reward, and how family affection can complicate sound judgment. Alongside its darker material, the book gives considerable space to marriage, parenting, and the wish to spend time well. That warmth makes the personal consequences matter. Readers who enjoy crime fiction with business rivalries, family drama, and an investigative mystery will find a clear fit here. Its strengths are the accessible storytelling and the close connection between private choices and professional consequences. The repetition sometimes softens the tension, but the central struggle over leadership gives the story a convincing reason to keep following these people.
Pages: 234 | ASIN : B0FTMV5SH6
Resurrection Earth
Edward M. Burrows’s Resurrection Earth starts with a world where survival depends on who you know and which side of the gates you live on. Climate catastrophe has left humanity diminished, and an American-Chinese world government rules from Brussels. Meanwhile, Aimee, an immense artificial intelligence system, works to restore the planet’s ecosystems. That sounds like a reason to celebrate, until you consider what recovery means for the people living through it. Burrows builds an ambitious science fiction novel around that tension, combining family drama, political intrigue, and armed resistance with a persistent question: who gets to decide what a better world looks like?
The family relationships give that question its weight. Aksel Aldrich, a powerful military figure, loves his children and has learned to explain away a great deal in the name of keeping them safe. His children, Wes and Reyanna, bring different skills and temperaments to the world they’re beginning to understand. Wes approaches it through military service, while Rey’s mathematical talent draws her into AI research. Their conversations with their father carry the discomfort of discovering that someone you love can help sustain things you find intolerable. Across the social divide, Pavel Cristian’s loyalty to his family and community gives the resistance a similarly personal foundation. These competing loyalties keep the book’s arguments tied to recognizable human needs.
Brussels gives the novel a distinctive texture. Burrows pays attention to old churches, university buildings, gardens, worn streets, and the food and beer people share when they finally get a moment to breathe. Those details matter because they show a civilization carrying on inside structures inherited from earlier centuries, even as its technology reaches extraordinary levels of sophistication. The contrast between elegant government rooms and struggling neighborhoods makes inequality visible. Shared meals also become small acts of trust, allowing friendships to develop amid fear and suspicion. You get a sense of what these people enjoy about being alive, which makes their worries about the future easier to feel.
Burrows is equally interested in explaining how this world works. Classroom discussions, council meetings, and conversations with AI avatars give substantial space to ecology, governance, surveillance, and the limits of machine intelligence. The explanations are accessible, and the questions they raise have consequences for the characters. This approach does ask for patience. Some dialogue carries so much explanation that the speakers sound like they’re presenting a position, and repeated arguments can slow the movement between action scenes. Still, the book’s willingness to examine its ideas gives it substance. Readers who like their science fiction to invite an argument will find plenty here worth discussing.
What I found most engaging is the connection between private affection and public responsibility. Again and again, the characters have to consider how far their concern extends beyond a child, a friend, or a familiar household. Burrows gives that struggle room alongside romance, humor, technical curiosity, and episodes of graphic violence. The result is an earnest, often forceful novel with a clear investment in the possibility of change. Its appeal lies in watching people try to make their convictions useful when comfort and conscience pull them in different directions. Resurrection Earth turns the fight for a livable planet into a fierce argument for human dignity.
Pages: 444 | ASIN : B0FWJBCR46
