Grade: B+
passion rating: warm
"'What are you thinking, Amy? The question I've asked most often during our marriage, if not out loud, if not to the person who could answer. I suppose these questions stormcloud over every marriage: What are you thinking? How are you feeling? Who are you? What have we done to each other? What will we do?'"
Just how well can you ever know the person you love?
This is the question that Nick Dunne must ask himself on the morning of his fifth wedding anniversary, when his wife Amy suddenly disappears. The police immediately suspect Nick. Amy's friends reveal that she was afraid of him, that she kept secrets from him. He swears it isn't true. A police examination of his computer shows strange searches. He says they aren't his. And then there are the persistent calls on his mobile phone. So what did really did happen to Nick's beautiful wife? And what was left in that half-wrapped box left so casually on their marital bed? In this novel, marriage truly is the art of war.
Dear Ms. Flynn,
Truly, there is no justice in the world. Your book Gone Girl should be the best-selling work of fiction in the nation. But, no, the three books keeping you from that slot all have the word "Grey" in the title. And that is a damn shame because your book is a tour de force of plot, writing, humor, character, and hell-hath no fury like a lover scorned rage. From the moment I began reading it, all I longed to do was see how the tale turned out. (Not now, honey, I'm reading.)
Gone Girl is the story of Nick and Amy whose marriage, like many, is full of lies, malice, sex, betrayal, love, and two bedazzlingly different sides of a story. I was utterly seduced by the middle of the first chapter. It is the morning of their fifth anniversary and Nick, not a happy camper, walks down to the kitchen to find Amy making crepes.
I hovered in the doorway, watching my wife. Her yellow-butter hair was pulled up, the hank of ponytail swinging cheerful as a jump-rope, and she was sucking distractedly on a burnt fingertip, humming around it. She hummed to herself because she was an unrivaled botcher of lyrics. When we were first dating, a Genesis song came on the radio: “She seems to have an invisible touch, yeah.” And Amy crooned instead, “She takes my hat and puts it on the top shelf.” When I asked her why she’d ever think her lyrics were remotely, possibly, vaguely right, she told me she always thought the woman in the song truly loved the man because she put his hat on the top shelf. I knew I liked her then, really liked her, this girl with an explanation for everything.
There’s something disturbing about recalling a warm memory and feeling utterly cold.
Amy peered at the crepe sizzling in the pan and licked something off her wrist. She looked triumphant, wifely. If I took her in my arms, she would smell like berries and powdered sugar.
When she spied me lurking there in grubby boxers, my hair in full Heat Miser spike, she leaned against the kitchen counter and said, “Well, hello, handsome.”
Bile and dread inched up my throat. I thought to myself: Okay, go.
Hours later, when Nick is at work, a neighbor calls and says the Dunnes' front door is open, their only-indoor cat is on the stoop, and something just doesn't look right. When Nick gets home, not only is the door open in a "wide-gaping-ominous" way, the living room is trashed, the iron still on, and Amy has vanished.
Nick, like the reader, knows when a man's wife goes missing, the husband is usually to blame. And, for much of this book, it seems eminently possible Nick did indeed murder his bride. Nick, narrating his side of the story, admits to choices that, hey, look hellaciously awful. When he met Amy, she was beautiful, extraordinarily charming, and very rich. Over the past five years, though, things for Nick and Amy have changed drastically. Amy, though still beautiful, isn't the least bit charming to Nick (or so he says), and she's lost all her lovely money. Nick moved them back to his hometown of North Carthage, Missouri, a place Amy detests (or so he says), borrowed the last of Amy's money to start a bar with his twin sister Margo--everyone calls her Go--, whom Amy dislikes (or so he says), and began to hate his wife for her constant belittling and general nastiness (or so he says.)
Amy, the missing Amy, tells her side of the story through a diary whose first entry, on January 8, 2005--more than seven years ago--is about the night she met Nick.
Tra and la! I am smiling a big adopted-orphan smile as I write this. I am embarrassed at how happy I am, like some Technicolor comic of a teenage girl talking on the phone with my hair in a ponytail, the bubble above my head saying: I met a boy!
But I did. This is a technical, empirical truth. I met a boy, a great, gorgeous dude, a funny, cool-ass guy.
When they met, Amy and Nick were both employed as writers. Nick wrote about culture for a magazine, Amy wrote personality quizzes for women's magazines. And while neither are currently employed in their chosen field, they are still writers; fabulous, manipulative, creative authors, each competing to tell the story of their relationship. The book alters between Nick narrating what (or so he says) is happening in real-time--his chapters are titled The Day of, One Day Gone, Two Days Gone, etc...--and Amy narrating what happened in the past (or so she says), in chronological order via her diary.
Both Amy and Nick are liars. Nick favors lies of elision; Amy is the mistress of misdirection. Each is convincing, neither is believable--this is a book that doesn't truly resolve its mysteries until the very last pages. And yet. Amy and Nick are also lovers. They loved one another when they met and it's fair to say each is the other's raison d'être. For the Dunnes, that thin line between love and hate is more like a continent.
This book is the sort I want to wave at other people exhorting them "READ THIS." I found it to be addictive in the way the best stories are. Part of its impressive charm is all the shockers it drops--there's no way I can write much about the novel without giving away the best parts. I'm serious--were I to enumerate all the spoilers lying in wait to ensnare lucky reader, I'd have inches and inches of whited out text. So, I'm not going there. With the exception of saying some readers may find the last few chapters rushed and/or may be disgruntled by the ending, I'll write no more about the plot or about what happens to Nick and Amy.
I am willing, however, to pull my reviewer lens back and pontificate on this book's vision of romantic love. I promise to be brief. In most romance novels, intimacy is the treasured goal. No matter what the era, men and women find their bliss when they know and are known for who they truly are. But, in the "real" world, intimacy is more fraught. As lovers grow closer, they become less the people they want to seem and more the people they actually are. Sometimes this is marvelous. Sometimes it creates utter ruination. Many times, it's just hard and couples get through it. We are a flexible species--always adapting to meet our needs--and we recalibrate our views and expectations of that someone we've chosen to love. In Gone Girl, Amy's and Nick's ultimate goal is to show the reader the real person the other is. Their narratives are subtle, angry, and revealing; the relationship the two share is as intimate as any I've ever read.
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Grade: B
passion rating: hot
Dear Ms. Sorenson:
Jane sent me Caught in the Act months ago to peruse and I ignored it. This proved to be an error on my part. In my defense, I’d just read a couple of awful romantic suspense novels and couldn’t generate any interest in another. Then a friend of mine on Twittter praised your work and I decided to give Caught in the Act a try. I’m glad I did—it’s an exciting, well-crafted story with sexually combustible leads. Even better, it’s set in a venue and class rarely explored in romance: working class San Diego.
The novel opens steeped in tension and, for the next 370 pages, never lets up.
Kari Strauss is waiting in line at the San Ysidro border crossing, heading back to her home in the States.
There were twenty-four lanes on the Tijuana side, a massive snarl of traffic that found order in the last hundred yards. Before the inspection booths were visible, the dividing lines were ignored. The more aggressive drivers made their own lanes, squeezing into narrow spaces and zigzagging across the chaos. Everyone else lurched forward in semiregular intervals while street vendors navigated the shifting aisles, selling everything from chicle and cold drinks to silver jewelry and colorful hammocks. Some of the peddlers were children whose shoulders barely cleared the hoods of the cars.
Kari is terrified. She’s traveled between Tijuana and San Diego once a week for several years, buying art for her gallery, Zocalo. She’s never transported anything illegal until today. Today, in the back of her van, taped into a cardboard box, is a young Mexican woman named Maria Santos. Over the past year, Kari has become friends with Maria. Last week, Maria, desperate for money to support her family, asked Kari if she would help her make across the border. She made it clear, were Kari to say no, Maria would try to cross on her own. Kari, who knows how deadly crossing the border illegally can be for a lovely young woman, agrees against her better judgment to help.
As Kari approaches the border, sweaty and panicky, she realizes the guy stationed in her lane is a hottie. His name tag reads Officer A. Cortez—and he looks like a guy who takes his job very seriously. Rather than wave her through, he asks her to get out of the car while he inspects her van more carefully. Kari, petrified he’ll discover Maria, pours on the charm, hoping her unbuttoned shirt, cleavage, and flirtatious manner will distract him. Officer Cortez, however, is determinedly immune to her efforts. Just as he is about to explore the boxes in Kari’s van, there is a commotion in a nearby lane. He decides his help is needed elsewhere and sends Kari and her illegal stowaway on their panicked way.
The officer, Adam Cortez, was very aware Karina Strauss was trying to distract him with her low-cut blouse and fabulous form. He knows she was acting oddly and he shouldn’t have let her drive away. And he knows he shouldn’t be running a profile check on her after work. But, the minute he saw her face and her name, he realized she must be the sister of Sasha Strauss, the long-time girlfriend of Carlos Moreno, a Mexican-born drug lord. Adam has a thing about Moreno; two years ago the love of Adam’s life was killed in a shootout by Moreno’s men. Adam has pined for retribution ever since. He decides to check up on Kari, wondering whether she might be involved on Moreno’s payroll.
Kari rarely sees her sister, Sasha. Sasha, a serious drug user, is kept on a short leash by Moreno. Sasha’s situation breaks Kari’s heart—both their parents are dead and Kari, as the eldest, feels responsible for Sasha. So, when Moreno sends one of the top members of his gang, Jesús “Chuy” Pena, to deliver a message to Kari, she listens. Chuy tells Kari her sister’s drug habit has become a problem for Moreno and unless Kari pays Moreno the money her sister has pilfered from him—205K—Sasha will be harmed. When Kari protests there’s no way she could get that kind of cash, Chuy suggests she pay Moreno in a different way… by running a shipment of drugs across the border. If Kari doesn’t help, not only will Sasha be in danger, but Chuy will drop a word to the Border Patrol about Maria. Kari, trapped, feels she has no choice but to agree to do the drop. Chuy also tells Maria she’s now working for him and to show up at the Hotel del Oro, the seedy hotel Chuy runs, in the morning where she will work as a maid.
As Chuy and his partner, Armando Villarreal, leave Kari’s house, Adam, sees them. The men are laughing and their easy manner makes Adam sure Kari is in cahoots with Moreno. Adam begins to shadow Kari—without getting permission for an official investigation—and the more he checks her out, the more he wants to check her out. He’s attracted to her big time and, even though he’s convinced she’s working for the guy he hates most in life, he can’t keep his hands off her. Kari, equally interested in and conflicted about jumping Adam’s bones, doesn’t believe she can tell Adam the truth about what she’s up to—she’s sure Moreno would find out and kill Sasha. Adam and Kari get involved, each keeping secrets from the other, and worried the other will put them in danger—Adam from his supervisors for sleeping with a suspect, Kari from Moreno for sleeping with a cop.
Kari and Adam aren’t the only ones with a complicated relationship. Maria, while at the Hotel Oro, sees a man she knows as Forester, to whom she feels she owes her life. Years ago, Maria tried to cross the border and was savagely attacked. Ian Forester, a border guard at the time, found her, took her to a hospital, and made sure she survived. Maria is shocked to see Ian buying drugs from Chuy—she was sure Ian was one of the good guys. Ian is horrified to see Maria—he recognizes her immediately—because he’s working undercover for the DEA.
The story line of Caught in the Act is a complicated one. Adam, Kari, Maria, and Ian are all trying to take down Moreno. Moreno, however, isn’t just another drug lord. He’s wily, smart and, improbably, morally conflicted about his relationship with Sasha. Chuy threatens the safety of everyone while, Armando, Chuy’s right hand man, has other, hidden, admirable loyaties. I can’t think of any book I’ve ever read that portrays Mexican gang members with such nuance and sympathy. I didn’t have any trouble, however, following the action. The scenes flow into each other naturally and there are no forced coincidences or too stupid to stand actions on the part of any of the protagonists. I found the suspense story to be damn near addictive—I stayed up way past my bedtime in order to finish the book!
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Grade: B-
passion rating: hot
Dear Ms. Ranney,
They were a pair, weren't they? The earl who’d divorced his wife, and the maid who hid her past. Perhaps they deserved each other.
I enjoyed your latest book A Scandalous Scot. It's a straightforward love story--a Cinderella story, really--between a smart, competent woman and a compassionate, passionate man. The plot made sense, the historical background was interesting, and the supplementary characters were well-fleshed out and added depth to your story. I've recently read a spate of books where something--the denouement, the circumstances, and/or the lovers--seemed forced and annoying. Your novel was a pleasant change.
It's the summer of 1860 in rural Scotland, and the Earl of Denbleigh, after a long unhappy absence, has returned to his childhood home, Ballindair Castle. The Earl, Morgan MacCraig, has been run out of London on a rail of scandal. He, rather than stay married to a woman so unfaithful a friend calls her a "true slut" who "before she's finished, she'll have bedded most of London," divorced his wife, was forced to relinquish his seat in Parliament, and has come home to escape being a "social and political pariah." Morgan, though he feels his choice was justified, is deeply ashamed to have brought scandal to his family name.
On his first night home, he literally runs into Jean MacDonald, one of the castle's many maids. She is lurking in the dark, in the Master Suite, hoping to see one of the castle's famous ghosts. Morgan is irked she's disrupted his return--he's tired and cranky--and Jean is mortified to have been caught loitering someplace she's not supposed to be. She also thinks Morgan's a bit of an ass--he embarrasses her in front of her aunt, the castle's housekeeper, as well as the other staff.
Just as Morgan has come to Ballindair to escape a scandal, so has Jean. She and her sister, the gorgeous and slightly evil Catriona, aren't really MacDonalds. They were born into a relatively privileged life, but then a horrific act on the part of their father plunged them into poverty. Their aunt took them in and put them to work as lowly maids. Catriona loathes their life--she'd rather be a wealthy man's mistress--but Jean is a make-do sort and finds ways to challenge herself. She tries to be the best maid she can be, to learn something new every day, and to be appreciative of the world around her.
When Catriona decides to seduce the Earl, Jean, trying to save Catriona from disgrace, intercedes, and ends up compromised herself. Morgan, after some thought and encouragement from Jean's aunt, offers to marry Jean, an offer Jean tries to turn down. Not only does Jean feel she's not the stuff of countesses, she knows if she marries under a false name, the marriage will be a legal sham. Morgan, though, is drawn to Jean for her quick mind and honest conversation. He insists they marry and, less than a month after she collided with the Earl in the dark, Jean is the Countess of Denbleigh.
I liked Jean. She's always been considered plain--especially when compared to her gorgeous sister--and she values herself for her honor and her mind. She does whatever she thinks needs to be done--taking care of Ballindair's dying steward, making sure a wrongly accused maid is treated justly, pushing Morgan to become a better caretaker of his estate--even when doing so is awkward or puts her at risk. She's a good person in a real way--there is nothing cloying or falsely perfect about her. I enjoyed watching her become more sure of herself as she settled into her role as Countess.
Morgan's a winner too. When he first comes home, he pays scant attention to his staff or his land. As he tells Jean, when she asks if he sees the people who serve him, he says,
"I try not to.... Sometimes, all those people, set to obey your slightest whim, are oppressive."
However, as he stays in Scotland, and as he watches how Jean deals with her responsibilities, he begins to shoulder more of his own. In doing so, he learns the joys of a purposeful life. One of my favorite things about this book is the pleasure Jean and Morgan take in working and in tangible accomplishments.
As much as I like Jean and Morgan separately, I liked them even more as a couple. The two spend as much time talking as they do making love (the love scenes in this book are excellent and plentiful) and their conversations are fun to read. Jean is willing to debate almost anything--she's endearingly (slightly) self-righteous. Their exchanges are well done and often funny. Here, the two, the first time they formally dine together, are arguing over marrying.
"Forgive my tardiness," he said.
"You can't marry me," she said, blurting out the worlds.
......
"Good evening to you, too, Jean," he said, sitting at the head of the table and unfolding his napkin.
"You're an earl. I'm a maid."
"Thank you for explaining that," he said.
....
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Grade: B-
passion rating: hot
Dear Ms. Clare,
I was interested to read your I-Team novella, Skin Deep (I-Team 5.5) for two reasons. The first is, in general, I’ve enjoyed the series. I loved the last book, Breaking Point (reviewed here by Jane), and I’ve grown invested in the lives of the men and women the series features. Secondly, I was interested to see what you would do with the confines of a novella. Your novels are complex, with multilayered plot-lines and multi-faceted characters. I wondered what you’d create using just 47,000 words. As you say on your website, “It’s very difficult to fit significant character development and plot into such a small amount of space.”
I’d say you pretty much pulled it off although if I hadn't read the other I-Team books, Megan, your heroine, wouldn’t have been so easy for me to understand. Megan, Marc Hunter’s younger sister (he’s the hero of Unlawful Contact, reviewed here by Jane), was repeatedly raped while in juvenile detention and has struggled to find her way. In the past few years, however, Megan has rebuilt her life; moving to Denver where Mark and the rest of the I-Team crew lives, getting a job as a graphic designer with the city, and living quietly with her four-year old daughter Emily. Megan may have rebuilt her external world, but emotionally, she’s still deeply scarred by her earlier experiences. She’s terrified of men, especially of any physical contact with them. Her brother can hug her and, if he lets her know he’s going to do so, so can Julian Darcangelo, her brother’s best friend (and the hero of Hard Evidence). But, proximity to the rest of the male sex reminds Megan of the abuse she suffered and she stays away from any unnecessary interaction with men.
One day, as Megan is leaving the homeless shelter where she volunteers, she’s accosted in her car by her slime bucket, meth-head ex boyfriend (and father of her child), Donny. Donny threatens to hurt Emily if Megan doesn’t give him a cut of the 1.5 million dollar settlement Megan recently received from the Colorado State Department of Corrections. Just as Donny hits her and tells her he’s got others on her tail, the door of her car is thrown open and Nate West, an ex-spec op Marine, grabs Donny, tosses him to the pavement and then yells at Megan to duck as the two are shot at by Donny’s compatriots. Donny and the shooters escape, but Megan is safe and overwhelmed with gratitude. When Nate introduces himself and shakes her hand, Megan is startled to see she doesn’t shy from his touch, that,
“surprisingly, she felt no desire to pull away like she usually did when a man touched her. In fact, she found the contact reassuring.”
Where Megan’s scars are all internal, Nate’s are visible to the world.
Though he was a good two years beyond the explosion that had nearly killed him, he was still far from the man he’d been, his right arm weak, the tendons in his elbow and shoulder stiff, his scarred muscles constricted. He needed to exercise his arm and chest as much as he could. And, although he didn’t much care for coming into town, he had to get off the ranch once in a while and spend time with people other than his old man .
Or so his old man said.
It was getting easier—the stares, the whispers, the shock and revulsion on people’s faces. The way people tried not to look, averting their gazes, only to sneak a covert glance as he passed. The honest curiosity and fear of children, pointing and asking, “Mommy, what happened to that man’s face?”
An IED—improvised explosive device—is what had happened.
He and the rest of his fourteen-man MSOT—Marine Special Operations Team—had been traveling with a four-man team of Navy SEALs on their way back from a joint mission in Afghanistan when their convoy was hit by an IED. One moment he’d been talking with Max about the sheer quantity of heroin produced in Kandahar Province and the next...
A pop. A hiss.
A deafening blast.
Blinding light. Searing pain.
Nate’s helmet and combat goggles had protected his scalp, eyes and right ear, but the right side of his upper body, including his face, had been a mess of second- and third-degree burns. The surgeons had done what they could, saving his fingers, replacing charred flesh with skin grafts, giving him a new right nostril that almost looked real. But even after more than twenty surgeries, the right side of his face still looked like someone had painted his skin on with sloppy strokes of a putty knife.
Nate hasn’t been with a woman since he was wounded. He’s noticed Megan at the shelter and thinks she’s beautiful,
But inside he was numb. He rarely left the ranch, and when it came to women—hell, he couldn’t even begin to go there.
Donny and his friends however, pose a genuine threat to Megan and Emily and Megan, given her horrific past experience at the hands of the law, doesn’t trust the police to protect her. Megan, Emily in tow, ends up at Nate’s family’s cattle ranch which is high in the hills above the city. When a severe snowstorm strands her there, she and Nate begin, despite profound hesitation on Megan’s part, a tender romantic relationship.
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Grade: B:
passion rating: hot
This anthology contains stories by Tessa Dare, Leigh LaValle, Courtney Milan, and Carey Baldwin. The four authors--who call themselves The Bodice Rippers--published this anthology to raise money for the fight against breast cancer. When the women were interviewed by USA Today, Ms. Baldwin said:
We are a group of four friends who, inspired by the many examples of philanthropy in the romance community, decided to take action in the fight against breast cancer.
We are participating in the Sept. 22 Avon Walk, which has raised more than $423 million for research to find a cure or prevention, as well as for programs that enable all patients to access quality care. Support for the medically underserved is a key priority.
We're proud to be part of the romance community and want our team name to reflect that. While the term "bodice rippers" has been used as a derogatory way to refer to romance novels, we want to emphasize that what lies beneath the bodice is an important concern for every woman.
As part of our fund raising efforts, we put together Three Weddings and a Murder. This book is more than a compilation of reunion stories. It's a labor of love from four friends, and it's not intended to be a single-genre anthology. What ties together three historical romances with a contemporary romantic thriller is our love and respect for each other and for our readers. Like the readers in our community, the stories are diverse. We will donate all profits to the Avon Walk.
So, it's a book one can feel good about buying, especially given it costs just 2.99. The anthology isn't spectacular--I loved one of the stories, liked two (one more than the other), and disliked the fourth--but it's a pretty good read at a great price for an excellent cause. I give the collection, overall, a B.
"The Scandalous, Dissolute, No-Good Mr. Wright" by Tessa Dare.
This was my favorite tale of the four. Eighteen year old Eliza Cade is the youngest of four sisters. Eliza's parents see her as their most troublesome daughter--due to a reputation wrecking choice she made as a young girl--and have refused to allow her to come out into society until her older three sisters are wed. Eliza chafes mightily under the limits she lives under. One night, at a ball hosted by her parents to announce one of her sisters' engagements, Eliza is hiding out in her family's morning room, peeking at the dancers through the keyhole, and gossiping with her sister. When her sister leaves the room, Eliza is mortified to realize there's a man in the room, a man who’s heard all the embarrassing things she's just said. When she realizes the man is none other than the scandalous Harry Wright--the sort of scoundrel no young lady should ever be caught alone with--she's both appalled and enthralled. The two share a tantalizing conversation and make quite an impression on the other.
Over the next four years, Eliza and Harry are thrown together in various situations. Harry's actions on the surface appear to be those of a debauched, unprincipled womanizer, but the truth about the Scandalous, Dissolute, No-Good Mr. Wright is not as it appears.
This is wonderfully told story. Ms. Dare, in fewer than 150 pages, creates a compelling, interesting plot and two winning protagonists. Eliza and Harry are just right for one another—their interactions sparkle and sizzle with wit and desire. This story gets a solid A and ranks up there with the very best of Ms. Dare’s work.
"The Misbehaving Marquess" by Leigh LaValle.
This novella is also a treat. Its heroine, Catherine Raybourne, the Marchioness of Foster, was abandoned by her husband two weeks after their wedding. She was caught in a compromising position with another man and James, the Marquess, left her in anger. She's heard not a word from him for the past five years and is beyond shocked to find him, one quiet Wednesday afternoon, taking tea in their library. When she asks why, after all this time, he's returned home, he tells her, given the recent death of his cousin, he now needs an heir.
Thirty minutes later, Cat still could not catch her breath. Jamie had made the preposterous statement with utmost calm, his face quiet, his gaze steady on hers. As if he’d said “I need a new pair of boots.”
An heir.
Her skin burned with the very word.
It was not the thought of children that unsettled her. Not even the knowledge of how children were created.
It was the memories. Vivid flashes of heat that thrummed under her skin. Jamie in her bed. The shock of his mouth everywhere. His skin impossibly smooth against hers. The places she craved him. Jamie filling her, again and again, the madness between them. Her unimaginable pleasure.
Five years of a cold bed and she had not forgotten a thing.
Cat and Jamie grew up together and were very much in love when they married. Cat's behavior, though innocent, enraged Jamie; his abandonment angered her equally. Cat has spent the past five years working on Jamie's estate and being desperately lonely. Jamie has traveled the world, always thinking about the woman he left behind. When he returns, the passion the two have always had for one another is still potent yet neither finds it easy to move past their hurtful past.
Ms. LaValle is an excellent wordsmith--I loved the language in this story. She does a nice job of showing the reader how both Jamie and Cat feel--their conflict and its resolution is deftly portrayed. Ironically, what I liked least about the story was its length. It was longer than it needed to be and overly and unnecessarily dramatic in its last quarter. Nonetheless, it was an enjoyable read. I give it a B.
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