My last stop of the day was the local wine shop, so I swung into the library (conveniently located across the street), grabbed a book or four, and then continued across the street where I enjoyed a glass of wine with the start of a new book.
There’s a little coffee shop in Waco called Bru. It’s located in an old elevator, all brass and crimson and Deco, just to the side of a marble lobby in the Praetorian building. The setting is amazing, and the coffee is the best I’ve ever had. But, I keep going back because one of the girls who works there is delightful. We talk about books and writing and coffee, and she always asks me what to read. I was reading this book when I realized that World War II seems to be my 2017 theme. I told her I needed to shift topics, and she told not to apologize for reading what I want. So I won’t.
I read this in preparation for NaNoWriMo. I originally thought about writing a Young Adult mystery, and wanted to do some research into the genre. I loved Trixie as a kid. I may have loved Trixie more than I loved Nancy Drew, and that’s saying a lot.
I recently had a mini-rant about buying books from the bargain section of Barnes & Noble. In the interest of fairness, I need to take that back. I read three bargain books in a row that were quite good, and this was one of them. In fact, I’d even say that Gold broke my streak of choosing bad fiction books. Thank goodness.
A while back, I read Kilmeade’s book on George Washington’s spy network during the Revolutionary War, and I was fascinated by the view of a forgotten (or overlooked) piece of history. I heard that Kilmeade wrote another book, and knew I had to read it.
When I was in High School, our teacher assigned a book of mythology. I think I was a Sophmore, and I’m pretty sure my teacher was one of those coaches who showed up for a year and did his time before moving on to a larger school in a larger town. An argument could be made that these teachers left for public schools because we could be difficult. Personally, I think we would have been far better behaved if books like Rick Riordan’s Percy Jackson and the Olympians existed instead of the yawn-fest we were assigned. Whoever compiled that book of myths had to work really hard to make it so boring.
The Witch of Bourbon Street had a pretty convoluted plotline, but I’ll give it a go. Frankie is a witch from an old family who has long denied her powers. She moves back to the family home that witnessed several mysterious deaths several generations back. The disappearance of Frankie’s son and appearance of her long-lost daughter force Frankie to confront her past.