On tour with The Coffee Pot Book Club - Waking Up Lost – A Mystical Fantasy Adventure (The Adirondack Spirit Series) By David Fitz-Gerald #BookReview #BlogTour #CoffeePotBookClub @AuthorDAVIDFG @maryanneyarde

 I am so excited to share my review of Waking Up Lost – A Mystical Fantasy Adventure (The Adirondack Spirit Series) by David Fitz-Gerald. Thank you to The Coffee Pot Book Club for your invite to take part in this tour.

 

Waking Up Lost – A Mystical Fantasy Adventure

(The Adirondack Spirit Series)

By David Fitz-Gerald

Traveling without warning. Nights lost to supernatural journeys. Is one young man fat-ed to wander far from safety?

New York State, 1833. Noah Munch longs to fit in. Living with a mother who communes with ghosts and a brother with a knack for heroics, the seventeen-year-old wishes he were fearless enough to discover an extraordinary purpose of his own. But when he mysteriously awakens in the bedroom of the two beautiful daughters of the meanest man in town, he realizes his odd sleepwalking ability could potentially be deadly.

Convinced that leaving civilization is the only way to keep himself and others safe, Noah pur-sues his dream of becoming a mountain man and slips away into the primeval woods. But after a strong summer storm devastates his camp, the troubled lad finds his mystical wanderings have only just begun.

Can Noah find his place before he’s destroyed by a ruthless world?

David Fitz-Gerald is the kind of author that you have to read everything that they have written, for his books are entrancing, and almost spellbinding. You might only start with one, but some supernatural element will secretly entrap you and you will be forced to read his other books, for you absolutely cannot not read them. I have now read three books by this author, and I think this one is my absolute favourite, although I have a couple left to obtain and read, so we will see which holds the top spot when I have read them all!

In this book, we return to Mehitable’s family, with her youngest son, Noah, in the spotlight. Unlike Mehitable, Noah can’t see ghosts, and he doesn’t have his brother’s ability to appear and disappear at will, although he would find it incredibly helpful with his tendency to find himself in tricky situations. Instead, Noah has grown up without a gift, the odd one out in his family, but all of that changes when he wakes up at his father’s old house in the woods, despite having gone to bed like normal. But, how is waking up lost a gift? (Notice how I worked the title in there? This review is like a James Bond movie.)

I loved She Sees Ghosts, and moving on to this book was incredibly welcomed. Do you ever read a book and think “I could live like that. Put me in that time, in those circumstances, and I could survive. In fact, I’d thrive.” At one point in this book, Noah goes to live by himself at his father’s old house, and I managed to convince myself that I would absolutely be able to live by myself, in the woods, and live off the land, hunting for food, and gathering enough supplies to last all winter. Unfortunately, my husband does not agree with me, his argument being that I drink far too much tea to be able to live without it, and as he pointed out, I was caught eating biscuits while I read, which also, apparently, do not grow in the woods. Who knew?

It is not all tea and biscuits, though, for Noah does not live happily ever after in the house in the woods. Instead, he finds himself learning to live in increasingly difficult situations. His wonderfully inconvenient ability to go to sleep and wake up somewhere totally different provides him with a long list of problems, especially so when he wakes up in the company of a boat captain, who takes him on as a hoggee to lead the mules along Champlain Canal. But his position is less than secure, and his life seems to be in near-constant danger since he opened his eyes and realised he was on a boat. 

Noah certainly has his fair share of plight in this novel, although he also has the prospect of love. The issue is, the girl he is in love with, Arminda, only looks down her nose at him, and Dorcas, who is overly friendly towards Noah, has Erastus for a brother. And Erastus will do anything to keep Noah away from both Arminda, whom he considers his girl, and his sister. So, on top of trying to figure out who he is, what his gift means for his life, and how to stay safe, Noah also has girl troubles. Does it never end!

There was something that made me clap with joy, when I found out about this book – there is a trailer! Unfortunately, there is no singing like there was in the She Sees Ghosts one (which I still find myself singing around the house sometimes. My husband doesn’t like it, because it gets stuck in his head and stays there for days upon end.) but it is still great, and you should watch both trailers, and buy both books. If there is any series of books that you buy this year, start off with this one, because there are so many different characters to fall in love with, and there is certainly plenty to keep you hooked as you read.

 I received my copy from The Coffee Pot Book Club but you can grab your from Amazon. And check this out, if you subscripts to #KindleUnlimited you can grab your copy for free.

David Fitz-Gerald 

David Fitz-Gerald writes fiction that is grounded in history and soars with the spirits. Dave en-joys getting lost in the settings he imagines and spending time with the characters he creates. Writing historical fiction is like making paintings of the past. He loves to weave fact and fiction together, stirring in action, adventure, romance, and a heavy dose of the supernatural with the hope of transporting the reader to another time and place. He is an Adirondack 46-er, which means he has hiked all of the highest peaks in New York State, so it should not be surprising when Dave attempts to glorify hikers as swashbuckling superheroes in his writing.

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On tour with The Coffee Pot Book Club - The Girl from Portofino by Siobhan Daiko #BookReview ##WorldWarIIRomance #CoffeePotBookClub @siobhandaiko @maryanneyarde

 

I am so excited to share my review of The Girl from Portofino by Siobhan Daiko. Thank you to The Coffee Pot Book Club for inviting me to be a part of this tour.

The Girl from Portofino

(Girls of the Italian Resistance: A collection of standalone novels set in Italy during World War 2)

By Siobhan Daiko

In 1970 Gina Bianchi returns to Portofino to attend her father’s funeral, accompanied by her troubled twenty-four-year-old daughter, Hope. There, Gina is beset by vivid memories of World War 2, a time when she fought with the Italian Resistance and her twin sister, Adele, worked for the Germans. 

In her childhood bedroom, Gina reads Adele’s diary, left behind during the war. As Gina learns the devastating truth about her sister, she’s compelled to face the harsh brutality of her own past. Will she finally lay her demons to rest, or will they end up destroying her and the family she loves?

A hauntingly epic read that will sweep you away to the beauty of the Italian Riviera and the rugged mountains of its hinterland. “The Girl from Portofino” is a story about heart-wrenching loss and uplifting courage, love, loyalty, and secrets untold.

Trigger Warnings:

The brutality of war, death, war crimes against women.

Historical fiction, set in Italy, during World War 2? My immediate response has quickly become ‘give me, give me, give me!’ And, as if that wasn’t already enough to convince, me, I had read another book by this author before, and that one was simply amazing. Thus, I had absolutely no trepidations, only pure excitement, as I picked up this book and began to read. 

Like the last book I read by this author, this book is a dual-timeline, and I absolutely loved this. The same character, Gina, is depicted as a mother in 1970, thinking back to the war when she returns to Italy after a long period away, and as a young woman, joining the Resistance and fighting the Germans. By giving the same character’s perspective from both these times, we see Gina’s immediate thoughts, as she is fighting, and what she thinks as she looks back on it.

There is one more perspective given in this book, although it is a bit of an unconventional view. Gina has a twin sister, Adele, who was shunned by their family for working with the Germans during the war. Adele’s view is given through entries in a diary, left behind and hidden throughout the war, uncovered by Gina’s mother and passed to her to read. Through these entries, we also get to follow Adele’s actions, to know her thoughts and feelings, and, alongside Gina, learn what led to Adele working for the enemy. 

There is, also, Gina’s daughter, Hope. Hope does not have her own perspective, but she is a prevalent character in this novel. Hope has caused worry after worry for Gina, with drug use and becoming friends with the wrong sort of people. Taking her away to Portofino, even for a short period of time, happens in the hope that Hope will learn something about herself, maybe realise something that could help her find the right way in life. And, I know for certain, that if I was whisked away to Italy, there would be a big change in my life. Not that I do anything like Hope, but I do the sacrilegious thing of calling cheesy pasta ‘Italian food’, and if I had the opportunity to eat proper Italian food every day, I would certainly not be wasting my time with cheesy pasta anymore. 

I could not help but draw some similarities between Gina’s love life in this book, and Lidia’s love life in The Girl From Venice. They both meet an English soldier while fighting for their country as part of the Resistance, and both fall in love with said English soldier (perhaps it is the accent!) Still, I think Enzo, Gina’s English soldier, was one of my favourite characters in this book. He is brave, ready for anything, and yet, he is also kind and gentle. Together, he and Gina make a wonderful couple, especially since they are both part of the Resistance – while they both fear for the other’s safety, neither hold the other back. Gina being a woman,  is regarded highly by the Resistance, and she is respected among the other members. I loved that Enzo encourages the role she plays and that they fight together, rather than Gina being told that she should stay behind because it might be dangerous.

While my dream to visit Italy has still not happened, and probably will not for a very long time, at least until my children are older and perhaps when I am old and my husband retired, I have continuously lived out my dream through fiction. The image this novel paints in your head of Italy, and the beauty it holds, even after German attacks and occupation, makes me feel as though I have already been there, that I have seen the sights. 

This book was absolutely amazing, and I loved reading it! There was a bit of a plot twist, which is hinted at throughout the novel, and only revealed at the end. I was delighted to figure it out about halfway through the book, (as it made me feel incredibly smart). If you, like me, love Italian WW2 fiction, this book is one you have to read!

I received my copy from The Coffee Pot Book Club but you can grab your copy from Amazon And check this out, if you subscribe to #KindleUnlimited you can grab your copy for free. What a great start to the new year!!!

Siobhan Daiko

Siobhan Daiko is a British historical fiction author. A lover of all things Italian, she lives in the Veneto region of northern Italy with her husband, a Havanese dog and two rescued cats. After a life of romance and adventure in Hong Kong, Australia and the UK, Siobhan now spends her time, when she isn't writing, enjoying her life near Venice. 

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On tour with The Coffee Pot Book Club – Lies That Blind By E.S. Alexander #excerpt #HistoricalFiction #BlogTour @ES_Alexander7 @maryanneyarde

 

Lies That Blind

By E.S. Alexander

What would you risk to avoid obscurity?

Malaya, 1788

Aspiring journalist Jim Lloyd jeopardises his future in ways he never could have imagined. He risks his wealthy father’s wrath to ride the coat-tails of Cap-tain Francis Light, an adventurer governing the East India Company’s new trading settlement on Penang. Once arrived on the island, Jim—as Light’s as-sistant—hopes that chronicling his employer’s achievements will propel them both to enduring fame. But the naïve young man soon discovers that years of deception and double-dealing have strained relations between Light and Pe-nang’s legal owner, Sultan Abdullah of Queda, almost to the point of war. Tensions mount: Pirate activity escalates, traders complain about Light’s mo-nopolies, and inhabitants threaten to flee, fearing a battle the fledgling settle-ment cannot hope to win against the Malays. Jim realises that a shared obses-sion with renown has brought him and Light perilously close to infamy: a fate the younger man, at least, fears more than death. Yet Jim will not leave Pe-nang because of his dedication to Light’s young son, William, and his perplex-ing attraction to a mercurial Dutchman. He must stay and confront his own misguided ambitions as well as help save the legacy of a man he has come to despise.

Inspired by true events, Lies That Blind is a story featuring historical character Francis Light (1740-1794) who, in an effort to defy his mortality, was seem-ingly willing to put the lives and livelihoods of a thousand souls on Penang at risk.

(In the middle of a dinner party, the guests learn of a fire raging in the township. Protagonist, Jim Lloyd, has offered to look after his employer’s wife.)

Standing alone on the veranda of Martinha’s bungalow, I looked beyond the molasses darkness that enveloped our immediate surroundings to a sight similar to that which must have filled the inhabitants of London with dread in 1666. The great swathe of night sky in the distance had turned a blistering orange, licked from beneath by white-hot flames as plumes of dense smoke enclosed the hellish tableau. I trusted that Dr Koenig and the two Englishwomen were now safely sheltered on their ship, the General Coote, yet worried for the many hundreds of inhabitants and visitors whose lives and livelihoods were at risk. What irony to live on an island surrounded by water and watch fire consume everything you own in the world.

I did not hear her sidle up next to me and startled like a nervous colt when Martinha Rozells uttered the words ‘Jalan Malabar’ in my ear. She could see, as I had, that the blaze raged most intensely in the Indian quarter where the Chulias lived. Concerned that she was afraid the fire would reach us despite the distance, I sucked an index finger and held it out beyond the wooden platform. The breeze blew away from us. “Kita selamat,” I said, resisting the urge to squeeze her arm in reassurance. We are safe.

Turning away, we stepped into the main room. The interior of her home was graced with panelling that afforded very little privacy as it divided the space into smaller areas. This was a simple square-built wooden structure, albeit more sizeable than the ones in the Malay kampong.

Martinha surprised me by sitting on the floor and gestured that I join her. She offered me a mug of water which I gratefully glugged down, then held out to receive more. We did this several times to help slake my alcoholic thirst. Sated at last, I noticed she had also brought in an oblong piece of wood and a silk bag that rattled as if full of beads or small coins. I recognised the board immediately as part of a game I had watched men play in the kampong. The board had sixteen holes carved into it: two larger ones at the ends and seven smaller ones on each side. Martinha opened the cloth bag and out spilled an array of tiny shells.

I explained in Malay that while I was quite proud of my improved language skills, having practised with the locals these past few months, I was not yet proficient.

She replied in perfect and only slightly accented English, “Then why don’t we converse in your language?” Before I could respond, mouth agape, she added, “Forgive me, Mr. Lloyd. Or may I call you James?”

“James. Or Jim, whichever you prefer,” I said.

“There is a game Francis and I play to amuse ourselves from time to time, James. Perhaps you think it cruel?”

“What game is that?” I stammered.

“To leave people with the impression that I speak no English. I am not around the officers much so even they do not suspect. But I was educated at a convent school in Madras. I am quite fluent in English, French, Siamese, Portuguese, as well as a little Spanish.”

As if anticipating my next thought, the lady continued, “I knew immediately from their expressions as well as their reference to the ‘black girls’ that attended them at dinner what those two Englishwomen thought of me. It amused me to play along with their assumptions and act the ignorant native.”

I lowered my gaze, guilty of having believed those assumptions myself. “Yet throughout the night you appeared to be—”

“Bored. It is easy to feign a vacant expression when you hear the same superficial mutterings again and again. Although I will admit I found you to be refreshingly candid. I think, if you will forgive my presumption, that we shall get along very well indeed.”

“I was insufferably impertinent at tonight’s dinner,” I mumbled, eyes still downcast.

Martinha leaned across and patted my hand. “Don’t worry. What is illegitimacy these days given the number of bastards around? Some of them born, like that dreadful Hamilton, within wedlock.” She tittered quite delightfully, holding her fan over her mouth, and I think it was at that moment that I became infatuated with Captain Light’s wife.

She added wistfully, “Francis does not always heed my suggestions, but he trusts me when it comes to judging people. I like you, James. You need not concern yourself with my husband dismissing you while that remains the case.”

Placing the wooden board between us and scattering the shells across the floor, she went on, “Let us spend this time playing a game of our own so as not to distress ourselves about events we cannot do anything about.”

I told her this sounded like a wonderful idea, grateful for understanding from a charming potential ally.

“Let us see how good you are at playing congkak,” said Martinha.

I followed her lead and picked up a handful of shells, placing seven in each of the small holes on my side of the board and leaving the larger hole—the ‘house’—empty.

Martinha began her demonstration of the game, although I was somewhat familiar with the strategy required. She removed all the shells from one of the holes and moving clockwise around the board deposited one each into the next seven hollows, including her house. Watching her was mesmerising, a welcome relief from dark thoughts. When it came to my turn, I tried to remember what I needed to do. She swatted my hand playfully with her fan when I either dropped one of my shells into her house—a wrong move—or thought my turn was over prematurely. My heart lurched every time at her touch.

The more I got the hang of congkak, the faster she played, and I tried to follow suit, making many mistakes and laughing at the fun we were having. She told me she had taught the game to her children to help them learn to count. There were ninety-eight shells in play and whoever earned the most would be declared the winner. Before long there were no more shells in any of the small cavities, just the larger houses at each end of the wooden board.

“Let’s count them together in Malay so you can practice your numbers,” she suggested. We chanted in unison, at the end of which Martinha looked at me with mock humility and declared herself, rightly, the winner. 

“Again?” she asked, and I nodded.

As we played one game after another and my confidence grew, although not my ability to best her, Martinha and I began to converse more. Midway through our third game, my opponent having won the previous two, I felt bold enough to ask, “Before tonight, I had wondered how to address a Malay princess.”

Martinha’s dark, almond eyes looked quizzical. I pressed ahead, recklessly. “You are a Malay princess are you not?”

She fanned away that idea with the hand not clutching a palm full of small shells and laughed. “Goodness. Wherever did hear that?”

Doesn't this novel sound amazing!! 

Click on the LINK - this will take you to your nearest Amazon store

E.S. Alexander

E.S. Alexander was born in St. Andrews, Scotland in 1954, although her fami-ly moved to England a few years later. Her earliest memories include produc-ing a newspaper with the John Bull printing set she was given one Christmas. She wrote and directed her first play, Osiris, at age 16, performed to an audi-ence of parents, teachers, and pupils by the Lower Fifth Drama Society at her school in Bolton, Lancashire. Early on in her writing career, Liz wrote several short stories featuring ‘The Dover Street Sleuth’, Dixon Hawke for a D.C. Thomson newspaper in Scotland. Several of her (undoubtedly cringe-worthy) teenage poems were published in An Anthology of Verse.

Liz combined several decades as a freelance journalist writing for UK maga-zines and newspapers ranging from British Airway’s Business Life and the Dai-ly Mail, to Marie Claire and Supply Chain Management magazine, with a brief stint as a presenter/reporter for various radio stations and television channels, including the BBC. In 2001 she moved to the United States where she earned her master’s degree and Ph.D. in educational psychology from The University of Texas at Austin.

She has written and co-authored 17 internationally published, award-winning non-fiction books that have been translated into more than 20 languages.

In 2017, Liz relocated to Malaysia. She lives in Tanjung Bungah, Pulau Pinang where she was inspired to embark on one of the few forms of writing left for her to tackle: the novel.

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