Book Reviews

Book and Author Details : Caravan by Adam DeCollibus

Thank you Third Lion Publishing for sending me a free e-copy in exchange for a review.


About the book:

William Abney is a war journalist from London, England. After serving in the first world
war as a photographer he returns to England and makes his living taking baby portraits.
He gets desperate for money and decides to find another job. The novel opens with him
going to an interview to work for a newspaper called, The London Dove. He meets
Reginald, the owner of the newspaper, whose is an unstable alcoholic, and a little
disillusioned. William senses that there isn’t something right in the job but takes the job
anyway. The contract, proposed by Reginald, is that William travel first to Morocco then
across the Sahara, taking pictures of the locals and anything of cultural value that can
be used in the magazine, this demand for news on the cultures of North Africa coming
from the British soldiers returning from fighting there.

William takes a ship to Arish, a town on the coast of Morocco. He stays there for several
days and meets some very interesting characters, some openly cold to him, others
extremely warm and welcoming. He sees that the population in the city are divided into
three groups. The foreigners, manly Europeans coming because of the news from the
soldiers, and the locals of Arish who are split into two groups, one side wants the
foreigners there because they are good for business. The other half doesn’t because
they have taken so much advantage of the foreigners being there that they unknowingly
made it so that if the foreigners choose to suddenly leave a lot of business will go
bankrupt and hard times will come.

William takes a caravan across the desert and little by little he becomes more interested
in the desert. He becomes obsessed with seeing the dunes and feeling the silence at
the center of the desert. During his travel he meets Hans, a chess champion from
Germany whose history, like William’s, is marred by the First World War. He meets
Alexander, a once wealthy factory man from England whose wife framed him and he is
hiding in the desert. He becomes good friends with the leader of the Caravan, Hakeem,
a charismatic leader who has two sides, the fearless politician and the sensitive human
side. He falls in love with a Gypsy woman who is traveling to a small village out of
Yemen to see her grandfather, who is getting old. He also hears of a strange and
frightening legend. The legend of the Desert King, a soldier whose soul was taken over
by an evil spirit and who has spent the centuries hunting and killing anyone who
crossed his sacred desert with his army of blood thirsty warriors.

When the caravan gets close to the middle of the desert, its most vulnerable point in the
journey, William begins to think about his life in the caravan and realizes how much he
loves his life here instead of the one he lived in England. When William decides that
he’s going to find a way to stay, the people of the caravan discover that their well is
poisoned. Because of the vast amount of people affected by the poisoning the caravan
has to stop and recover. People begin deserting the camp and more and more clues
begin to reveal themselves to William in sinister ways that they are in fact being hunted.
When he discovers who is hunting them it’s already to late and what happens next
forces William to fight for his life in the caravan and the lives of his friends.

 

Goodreads | Amazon


An excerpt from Caravan, courtesy of Third Lion Publishing

It was like every London morning since the beginning of time. Foggy and wet. To all but a few, today seemed as though it was just another unadventurous happening. In his opinion, William belonged to the majority, and his stare out the coach window reflected his own bored confidence at life’s repetition, though inside he craved for the Fates to intervene.
The cobblestone street was empty and lined with lampposts glowing yellow in the fog. Over the roofs, long tongues of smoke emitted from industrial factories added to the gray in the sky. The coach came to a gradual stop on the left side of the street. William, a slender man wearing an earthy brown suit, stepped out of the coach and walked to the driver.
“How much do I owe you?” William asked.
“Thirteen pounds, sir,” the driver replied.
“Very well, let me see,” William said in a cheery voice as he reached into the right pocket of his trousers and rummaged around. William drew a fist out of his pocket and opened it. “I’m afraid two is all I’ve got. I am terribly sorry,” he said, looking up from his hand, slightly afraid the driver might become angry.
“Going through a bit of a rough patch?” the man asked.
William gave a disheartened nod.
“Well if that’s all you got, I’ll take it,” the driver said, barely satisfied, while lowering an opened hand to William. As the money traded palms, an automobile purred past the coach and disappeared farther down the street. The taxi driver tipped his top hat and sent the coach rolling forward in a sudden jolt. Now penniless, William watched as the coach carried his last two pounds down the street. He had earned the money taking a baby portrait, which had hurt his ears more than his ego. As far as he was concerned, not starving to death was more important than his honor.

William turned toward the building to his left. In front of him was a
small set of stairs that led up to a massive black door. He reached into the
front pocket of his coat and took out a piece of paper that opened to reveal
an odd triangular shape. Scribbled in the center in blue ink was a simple
note: London Dove. Reginald Helee. William looked up from the paper. Above
the door was a white plaque, reading, “The Office of the London Dove,” in a
tangle of black paint.
A sigh of determination filled the misty air.
William walked up the steps. The sound of faintly clattering typewriters
came through the door. He tapped the knocker several times and waited,
taking a step back toward the handrail. While waiting for the door to open
he turned away and looked down the street. My last two pounds, William
thought, his mind too focused on his money to notice a low, dull chime
sounding in the distance. It was seven o’clock in the morning.
A loud sequence of clicks sounded from the door and William turned
around to a man smoking a cigarette. The man’s hair was slicked back, and
he had a thin mustache. “How can I help you?” he asked in a drowsy voice,
the sound of a hundred typewriters clattering and dinging behind him.
“I am here for an appointment with Mr. Reginald Helee,” William said.
“Your name?”
“Abney, William Abney.” He smiled sadly as he stepped closer to the door.
“Abney?” the man said, frowning, and William’s heartbeat fastened for
fear that something was wrong. “Oh, Abney. You’re here to take pictures,” the
man stated, recognition brightening his eyes.
“That’s right,” William nodded, feeling relieved that his name had not
been lost in the pile of candidates who had responded to the newspaper’s
simple advertisement: “Photographer wanted.”
“Come on in. Mr. Helee is expecting you,” the man said as he stepped back,
releasing the full roar of the typewriters. William walked through the door,
and the man closed it behind him. The room was plain and crammed wall to
wall with wooden desks. Behind them sat young men with black vests and
rolled-up sleeves, punching away at typewriters like their lives depended on
it. Second to the clattering that filled the air was a cloud of cigarette smoke
that hung just below the ceiling. The atmosphere in the room was so noisy
and busy that William had forgotten about the man standing next to him.
“Your coat?” the man asked.
“Ah, forgive me,” William said handing over the coat, and the man hung it
among a long line of overcoats and hats.
“Come this way,” the man said, walking past William through the rows
of desks. William followed. They turned right and entered a narrow hall that
led away from the main room. Flanking the narrow hallway were the doors
to other offices. At the end of the hall, a wooden staircase twisted up to the
second story, a single naked bulb the only source of light. The man started up
the stairs and William followed him.

“You can wait here,” the man said, looking down on William as if he were
unworthy to ascend the steps.
William stepped down and the man continued marching up alone.
William took a seat on the stairs and looked up at the ceiling. As he listened
to the echoing footsteps, they became fainter as they reached the lofty gloom
coming from the light bulb above. Then came a knocking, followed by the
muffled sound of a relaxed voice.
William assumed the voice belonged to the man he was there to see. He
leaned back in the staircase, the fingernails of his right hand thoughtfully
hovering near his lips. From his position, he couldn’t see much of the second
floor, only the top half of the man walking through an open door before
disappearing behind it.
The secretary walked in the office and had he not seen the room’s lavish
décor every day for years, he would’ve been awestruck. The room was
decorated wall-to-wall with red embroidered fabric and illuminated by
several lamps. The secretary sighed, hesitant to speak to the director who
was shielding his face and upper body with a newspaper at a desk situated
near the windows. Behind him, white shutters covered the panes, allowing
only four sharp rays of light to slip through the seams and enter the room.
“What is it?” a lethargic voice asked. The director was in his mid-fifties
and his dark hair had receded from the top of his head and looked slightly
disheveled; brandy and caviar had gotten the better of his health. Below his
round nose sat a mustache that the secretary could only aspire to brandish.
“There is a man here to see you, sir.” The secretary straightened his spine
and lifted his eyes to the shutters above the director’s barely visible head.
“So?” the director continued closing and opening the newspaper.
“He is currently waiting downstairs,” the secretary explained, shifting on
his feet.
“Tell him to go shear a sheep,” the director declared and straightened the
newspaper in a rustling jolt.
The secretary, used to the director’s moods, cleared his throat insistantly.
“The man is William Abney, sir.”
The director slammed the newspaper down and rose to his feet. “Why,
for God’s sake, man, why didn’t you say so? Bring him in at once,” he barked,
unaware he was still wearing his red morning robe over his usual dress shirt,
a habit he had formed on sleepless nights. The secretary darted out of the
room and closed the door, fearing a desk decoration or a jar of ink would be
hurled at him.
Reginald Helee, the director of the London Dove continued to stand behind
the desk for several moments, slightly confused about what had happened.


About The Author

Adam Decollibus ~ Author Profile_041.jpgAlthough born in California, Adam De Collibus is a man of the world. In his early years he lived in South America and his love of travel has led to him living and traveling in over seventeen countries. Inspired by both historical and actual events during his travels De Collibus was compelled to write Caravan, his debut historical novel. Adam De Collibus lives mostly in California where he spends his time writing, reading, and playing the piano.

Website: www.adamdecollibus.com
Instagram: @adam_decollibus

 

 

Book Reviews

Blog Tour: The Brighton Guest House Girls by Lesley Eames

I’m super delighted to be taking part of this blog tour and I’ll definitely be sharing my review about the book soon.


About the book:

A saga of immense charm and warmth, with three characters you won’t forget. Thea, Anna and Daisy forge an unbreakable friendship through adversity.

Thea’s loathsome stepbrother is trying to trick her out of her inheritance of her parents’ beautiful house in the seaside town of Brighton by means of a Will which Thea believes to be forged. He gives her three months in which to leave. Afterwards she will face destitution.

Anna is pregnant and grieving, her explorer fiancé lost at sea. Her violent father drives her from the family home in the back streets of London’s Bermondsey and her fiancé’s upper-class relatives cruelly reject her.

Daisy is in search of independence, running from a man she doesn’t want to marry.

Together the three girls setup Thea’s home as a guest house and embark on a mission to outwit her stepbrother by proving his fraud. In a race against time, nothing will turn out to be quite as it seems.

Goodreads | Amazon | Kobo | iBooks | Google Play


An excerpt from The Brighton Guest House Girls, courtesy of Aria

‘Away with you,’ her father said. ‘Get out of my sight.’

Anna hesitated for just a moment then ran upstairs to the room she shared with her brothers and sisters where she leaned her palms on top of the small chest of drawers and let her head drop forward,breathing deeply to try to quell the mounting panic. But it was only a matter of time before her mother and the children came up, and Anna didn’t want them to find her looking scared. Pushing herself upright, she studied her reflection in the small mirrorthat hung on the wall.

Her face was even paler than usual while her dark eyes were large with fear. Swallowing, Anna smoothed her hands over the heavy brown hair that she kept drawn into a bun on the nape of her neck like a Victorian governess, then attempted a smile. She didn’t linger to see if she’d succeeded but turned away from the mirror to pack her things.

The tiny house –surely long overdue for demolition –had only two rooms upstairs, a crude curtain separating the bed in which Anna slept with hersisters from the bed in which her brothers slept. Having brought home cardboard boxes so they could keep their possessions in an orderly fashion under the beds, Anna kept the room spotlessly clean and tidy.

Those possessions were admittedly few. There were the books, writing tablets and pencils that Anna had bought, the doll that had been passed down between them and scraps of fabric that Anna had used to teach the girls sewing. There were also wooden carvings made by the man at number twenty-six who’d been blinded by gas in the war, catapults, a ball and things scavenged from the banks of the Thames when the tide was out –small bottles, pipes, a model boat with the rigging missing, and bits of glass worn smooth after years in the river.

Anna took a bag from her box, opened a drawer and began to pack her modest collection of clothes, aware that her fingers were shaking badly. Her mother and the children crowded into the room after her. They were white-faced and saucer-eyed, and little Mary was crying openlynow.

Anna took a deep breath and renewed her attempt at a smile. ‘It’s going to be fine.’‘But where will you go? How will you manage?’ her mother asked.‘I have friends, Ma. I’ll cope.’‘Your pa says you mustn’t even write to us.’

‘I’ll write care of MrsFawley next door but don’t fret if you don’t hear from me for a while as I get myself established.’ Anna turned to Mary. ‘You’ll keep up the lessons?’

Mary worked in a bakery but the other children were still in school and Anna had always given them extralessons. ‘’Course I will,’ Mary promised.

‘What’s happened to me changes nothing,’ Anna insisted. ‘The better you’re educated, the more choices you’ll have about how you earn a living.’ Earning a good living was the way out of slum housing and poverty. The way to dignity and satisfaction too.

‘Listen to what Mary tells you,’ Anna bade the others.

‘We will,’ Lizzie promised, then she held out her shiny sixpence. ‘I want you to have it.’

Anna’s throat tightened.

‘I’ve got tuppence you can have,’ Joe said.‘And I’ve got ninepence,’ Mary said.

‘Here, love.’ Anna’s mother held out five or six coppers. ‘It’s all I’ve got till your pa gets paid.’

Anna swallowed. ‘You’re all wonderfully generous but I can’t take your money.’

She took her mother into her arms instead and kissed her, then did the same to each of the children. ‘I love you all dearly,’ she told them.


About The Author

Born in Manchester but currently living in Hertfordshire, Lesley’s career has included law and charity fundraising. She is now devoting her time to her own writing and to teaching creative writing to others. In addition to selling almost 90 short stories to the women’s magazine market, Lesley has won the Festival of Romance’s New Talent Award and the Romantic Novelists’ Associations Elizabeth Goudge Cup.

Twitter: @LesleyEames
Facebook: @LesleyEamesWriter


You can check out the rest of the tour here:

Book Reviews

Blog Tour: Bloomsbury Affair by Anita Davison

I’m super delighted to be taking part of this blog tour and to share my review about the book.

Book Title : Bloomsbury Affair
Book Author :
Anita Davison
My Rating :
⭐️⭐️⭐️/5
Publication Date : 
November 20th 2018


About The Bloomsbury Affair

1905 London is a heady mix of unimaginable wealth and simmering political tensions, and with war looming Flora Maguire wants to keep her family safe.

So when her beloved charge Viscount Edward Trent is accused of murder, she’s determined not to leave the investigation to the police. Flora has trodden the path of amateur sleuth before, but with so much at stake, this time it’s personal.

Slowly the body of the victim found stabbed on a train bound for Paddington starts giving up its secrets, and Flora and her husband Bunny become mired in a murky world of spies, communists and fraudsters. And with the police more sure than ever that Edward is their murderer, Flora must work fast to keep him safe.

Anita Davison’s compulsive story-telling, combined with the irresistible mix of historical drama and gripping mystery, make this unputdownable.

Goodreads | Amazon | Kobo | iBooks | Google Play


My Review

It was a delight to be introduced to Flora’s world as this is my first of hers.

I couldn’t say no to a mystery and as a big historical fiction fan, I was sure this was the book for me.

It wasn’t easy for me to get into the book at first, felt there were so many characters and names which I’m sure were introduced in the first books of the series and I felt I am missing out on some traits of them.

But still, I was told this could be read as a standalone and it is certainly so.

Set in 1900’s, a murder investigation where our Protagonist Flora have set to make things right and assist her friend, Viscount Edward who was accused of this murder.

Well written with relatable characters. I find that I have I loved Bunny’s character the most, who was Flora’s husband, as he made the book quite enjoyable as a sidekick. My issue was it was a bit slow at times or maybe I was just impatient to know what just happened.

I certainly do recommend reading it and I feel like I need to get and check out the rest of the series.

I received a copy of this book from Aria Fiction via NetGalley in return for an honest review


An excerpt from The Bloomsbury Affair, courtesy of Aria

Chapter 1

Eaton Place, London, April 1905

‘Good evening, Stokes.’ Bunny’s voice from the hall brought Flora to her feet.

Issuing a brief apology to her two dinner guests, she left the dining room, shivering in the blast of cold air that rushed through the open front door.

Tall and muscular with slightly boyish looks which sent females of all ages checking their hair in nearby mirrors, Bunny’s pale skin was flushed from the cool night air, his blue eyes bright behind rimless spectacles.

‘I’m horribly latefor dinner, Stokes. Is your mistress very angry?

He handed the butler his hat and then shrugged out of his overcoat.

‘I would rather not speculate, sir.’ Stokes placed the hat on a hook, took his coat and gave it a shake, scattering raindrops over the tiled floor. ‘I’ve laid out your dinner suit in your dressing room. Would you require my assistance to change?’

‘Not necessary, thank you, Stokes. I’ll manage. If you could just tell my wife I’ll

be down as quickly as I can.’

Flora stepped from the cover of the archway from where she had observed them.

The butler froze, the overcoat held out in front of him.

‘Ah, there you are, Flora.’ Bunny cleared his throat before summoning a

conciliatory smile. ‘I intended to be here on time, but it couldn’t be avoided, sor

ry.’ He lifted his arms intent on a hug, but she sidestepped him. ‘Ah, I’m not forgiven,

then?’

‘What kept you?’ Her fierce whisper held the mounting irritation she had nursed

all evening. ‘You’ve almost missed dinner.’

‘If you’ll excuse me, sir, madam. I must see to my duties.’ Stokes divested himself

of the coat and, head down, fled in the direction of the kitchens.

‘How’s the reunion going?’ Bunny fingered an arm of his spectacles nervously, his

gaze going to the closed dining room door.

‘Don’t change the subject.’ Flora brushed a hank of damp hair from his forehead.

‘Better than I could have imagined, actually.’ Her attempt to stay cross was ruined as

his cologne stirred her senses. ‘It’s as if they have never been apart. I doubt they’ll

even notice I’m gone.’

As if on cue, a baritone chuckle drifted into the hall, followed by a gale of relaxed

feminine laughter.

‘Why the sad face?’ Bunny ran a finger along her cheek. ‘Sounds to me like your

parents are getting along splendidly.’

‘They are, and I’m delighted, of course. It’s just– oh, never mind, we’ll talk later. I

should get back to our guests.’

How could she explain? William and Alice might have put the past behind them,

but theirs weren’t the only lives disrupted by twenty years of lies and secrets.

‘Your guests, this was all your idea, remember?’ Bunny planted a swift kiss on her

forehead and headed for the stairs. ‘By the way,’ he halted halfway up and leaned

over the handrail, ‘your trip to Harvey Nichols was very much worth it. The gown is

magnificent. I love that shade of blue on you.’

She waved him off impatiently, but her steps lightened as she returned to the

dining room, relieved he was home and the weight of the dinner party no longer lay

entirely on her shoulders. ‘I’m sorry about that.’ Flora resumed her seat in a room where soft golden light reflected off crystal and gilt, the crackle of flames and shift of coals in the Adam fireplace completing the cosy ambience. ‘

Bunny promises to be with us shortly.’

‘You’ve no need to apologize, my darling,’ William patted her hand. ‘I haven’t

enjoyed a dinner this much for a long time.’ His gaze shifted from Flora to the lady

opposite. ‘Although Flora did insist under no circumstances was I to cry off—

‘Which you have done on two previous occasions,’ Flora added.

He had retained a muscular physique into his mid-forties, honed from years spent

in the saddle on the horse ranches of far-flung continents. Tiny lines carved into his

tanned skin beside intelligent dark eyes that sparkled with private amusemen

t, hisdark hair sporting half-inch wide silver wings at his temples.

‘It’s been a wonderful surprise.’ Alice’s cheeks warmed to a becoming pink. ‘I had

reconciled myself long ago to never seeing William again.’ She tore her gaze away

from him only long enough to rearrange her napkin on her lap. ‘He was a secret I

imagined keeping forever. I could hardly believe it when Flora told me you lived in

London and she saw you regularly.’

Alice too wore the years lightly, with her girlish slenderness, unblemished

porcelain skin and the same wide, hazel eyes Flora saw in her own mirror every

morning. When Stokes had shown William into the room where Alice waited, his soft murmur of her original name, Lily, followed by Alice’s sharp exhalation of breath, spared Flora the task of having to explain her reasons for deceiving them.

Silent, awestruck seconds passed in which, had they been alone, Flora had been

convinced they would have rushed into each other’s arms, and only kept a respectable distance between them for form’s sake.

‘Had I known what you had planned, Flora,’ William said, ‘I would have cancelled

my trip to Moscow and told Balfour to go to blazes.’

‘How would you have explained that to the Prime Minister?’ Flora laughed as she

set down her wine glass, belatedly realizing what he had said. ‘Russia? When you

said you were taking a northern holiday, I imagined Scotland, or Belgium. Not

Russia.’

‘Oh, you know me, my love.’ He adjusted his tie avoiding her gaze. ‘I’ve always

had a yen for exotic locations.’

During Flora’s childhood, ‘Uncle’ William descended with no warning on Lord

Trent’s family at Cleeve Abbey several times a year laden with gifts for his nieces and nephew. There was always something for Flora; the butler’s daughter, as well when she was invited to join them on cold evenings in front of the fire to listen as he

recounted his adventures. He would stay a few memorable weeks, then disappear

again as quickly as he had come. Her discovery three years before that William was

her natural father was something she was still coming to terms with. This evening

meant such a lot to her, in that she had recently discovered her mother was also alive and bringing them together at her dining table for the first time in twenty years was a huge gamble; one she hadnot told either of them in advance. Was matchmaking your parents socially acceptable, or would she forever be a pariah for interfering?

‘What’s Russia really like?’ she asked carefully, conscious of the secrecy connected to William’s work with the Foreign Office. ‘We see the newspapers, but

it’s hard to form a true picture.’

The fact William could summon several armed men at a moment’s notice and his

driver was a burly six feet four who sat in the lobby of his apartment at night

contradicted his claim of being, ‘merely a lowly diplomat’.

‘Colder than anywhere on earth.’ William accompanied his broad smile with a

contrived shiver. ‘St Petersburg lay under several feet of snow when I left, and

—’ he broke off as the door clicked open to admit Bunny.


About The Author

https://katherinesbookuniverse.files.wordpress.com/2018/11/img_1260-1.jpg

Born in London, Anita has always had a penchant for all things historical. She now lives in the beautiful Cotswolds, the backdrop for her Flora Maguire mysteries.

Any Blogs/Website: @AnitaSDavison
Twitter: @AnitaSDavison


You can check out the rest of the tour here:

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Book Blog, Other Reviews

Book Review: Without Merit

Book Title : Without Merit
Book Author :
Colleen Hoover
My Rating :
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️/5
Date Published : October 3rd 2017


Collen Hoover is very well known for how her writing style grips at your heart, wrenches your soul and permanently leaves a mark on you after reading one of her books. I absolutely adore her books!

And as much as I enjoyed this one, it did have quite a few “buts” in my opinion.

But first, let me tell you what it’s about.

Merit Voss seems like your typical teenage girl who is obsessed with collecting trophies she hasn’t earned and for pretending she has that normal, perfect family. Nobody is really aware of what lies beneath the surface.

We follow her around as she deals with her family that includes her father, brother, twin sister, her sick mother and stepmother – a handful, right?

Along the story she meets/crushes on Sagan, then finds out that he’s her sister’s boyfriend so he’s off limits to her, though she can’t help but think about him, and meeting him have awakened a part of her that she never knew existed as he also helped her deal with stuff she wasn’t aware they existed.

I wouldn’t categorize this as romance. This book talked more about life issues, psychological matters and really much more.

My main “but” is that all those topics mentioned in the book were lightly discussed and resolved. We did not have much time to grasp about what went on or deal with it.

I’d rather we had just one main issue or two to focus on along with the romance of the book. But sadly it felt a bit all over the place.

I would still recommend it, urge you to pick it and enjoy it as much as I did. It was kind of a light read but with important issues.

Book Blog, Other Reviews

Book Review : It Ends with Us

Book Title : It Ends with Us
Book Author :
Colleen Hoover
My Rating : ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
/5
Publication Date :
August 2nd 2016


“Sometimes it’s the one who loves you who hurts you the most”

Winner of Goodreads choice award 2016, lots of recommendations, my sister finishing it in one sitting with the comment ‘her best so far’, so I knew I just had to pick it up.

I’ve read quite a few of Colleen’s books, and though I try to stay away from YA romance, her books just drags you in.

This book is more than just Romance. It speaks and tackles about important issues which makes you think, sympathizes, connect with most characters and root for that happy ending.

I would totally recommend this book if you are looking to try a CoHo book. Though it may be completely different from her other books, it does have her touch and style all over it which makes her books unique in their own way.

Book Blog, Book Reviews, Other Reviews

Book Review : When Dimple Met Rishi

Book Title : When Dimple Met Rishi
Book Author : Sandhya Menon
My Rating : ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️/5
Publication Date : May 30th 2017


Pancakes for breakfast along with your favorite cup of coffee, and picking up this book would complete that perfect Saturday morning.

This was such a delightful read. I cannot contain myself as I find myself using words such as cute, adorable and I-just-want to pinch-those-cheeks. I mean, can I? Can I?

We meet Dimple, who is all about women and career while struggling with her family who are urging her to find that “Ideal Indian Husband”. I mean, isn’t that what life is about? Finding that perfect significant other? *rolls eyes.

Then we meet Rishi, that hopeless romantic, who believes in tradition and family values. He accepts his fate to carry on the family business, meet and woo that perfect “arranged” wife and make his family proud.*I mean it, I need to pinch those cheeks!

Unknown to Dimple, Rishi signs up for that same program she has been dreaming of since forever-!, gets the surprise of her lifetime when she finds out this was all arranged by both families and it was the whole reason her parents agreed to the program anyways. *pfft! Parents! What are they thinking!

Total opposites, Dimple and Rishi who thought they had everything figured out, embark on a journey of self-exploration, family traditions, and struggle with career and life choices.

I would totally recommend this book. As much as it was a light read, it still talked about important issues that I think most have gone through or would go through.

And who wouldn’t want to have that “feel good” feeling after reading a book that has a somewhat satisfying ending?

You know you do!

Book Blog, Other Reviews

Book Review : The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo

Book Title : The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo
Book Author :  Taylor Jenkins Reid
My Rating : ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️/5
Expected Publication Date :  June 13th 2017


A gorgeous cover, a catchy title and great reviews!

Who wouldn’t rush to pick it up?

I’m super glad that the hype was right about this book. Though it wasn’t exactly how I expected it to turn out, I’d still mark it as one of my favorites.

Magazine Reporter, Monique, was given the opportunity of a lifetime. After refusing – multiple times – to speak about her past, the incorrigible Evelyn Hugo surprisingly picks Monique to be the one who would tell the world what her life was truly about. Her morbid past, relationships, career and the secret behind her seven marriages.

It was absolutely hard to put down the book. I loved how easily the words flowed getting you caught up in the storytelling, which alternated between the past and the present. It wasn’t easy at all to make up my mind about Evelyn.

I wasn’t sure I agreed with her choices or if I sympathized with her or just purely admire her. But admire her, I did. Well, a part of her anyways.

I wouldn’t want to say anything more and spoil the book for you, but I’d definitely recommend it, no, URGE you to pick it up, especially if you are fan of Historical fiction, Romance and Women’s literature.