The Sixth Wicked Child by J.D. Barker

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EXCERPT: Tray didn’t see her at first, the girl kneeling at the water’s edge, facing away. Long, blonde hair trailing down her back. She looked like one of the statues, unmoving, facing the pond like that. Her skin was so pale, nearly white, almost as colourless as her white dress. She wore no shoes on her bare feet, no coat, only the white dress made of a material so thin it was nearly translucent. Her hands were clasped together near her breasts as if lost in prayer, her head tilted to one side.

Tray didn’t speak, but drew closer. Close enough to realise the thin layer of snow that covered everything else covered this girl too. And when she circled around to her side, she realised it wasn’t a girl at all but a woman. The stark whiteness of her, every inch of her, was broken by the thin line of red stretching from under her hair down the side of her face. There was another line from the side of her left eye, a stream of red tears, and yet a third from the corner of her mouth – this one painting her lips the brightest rose.

Something was written on her forehead.

Wait, not written.

At her knees, sitting in the snow, was a silver serving tray. The kind you might find at a fancy dinner party, a high priced restaurant, the sort of place Tray already knew, even at fourteen, she’d never see outside of television or the movies.

On that tray were three small white boxes. Each sealed tight with black string.

Behind the boxes, propped up against the woman’s chest, was a cardboard sign not unlike the ones Tray had held to raise money for food. Only she had never used these three particular words before. The sign simply read:

FATHER, FORGIVE ME.

ABOUT THIS BOOK: In the riveting conclusion of the 4MK trilogy, Barker takes the thriller to an entirely new level. Don’t miss a single word of the series James Patterson called “ingenious.”

Hear No Evil

For Detective Sam Porter, the words “Father, forgive me” conjure memories long forgotten; a past intentionally buried. For Anson Bishop, these three words connect a childhood to the present as he unleashes a truth concealed for decades.

See No Evil

Found written on cardboard near each body, these words link multiple victims to a single killer—discovered within minutes of each other in both Chicago and South Carolina—clearly connected yet separated by impossible miles.

Speak No Evil

Chicago Metro and the FBI find themselves caught in chaos—a hospital on lockdown, a rogue officer, and corruption at the highest levels. When Anson Bishop, the prime suspect in the notorious 4MK serial murders turns himself in, he reveals a story completely unexpected, one that not only upends the current investigation, but one that will change the lives of all involved.

Do No Evil

MY THOUGHTS: My head is still spinning more than twenty four hours after finishing this book! Barker led me down the garden path, chewed me up and spat me out! And not just once….

Warning: if you haven’t read the first two books in this series, The Fourth Monkey and Fifth to Die, don’t start with this, the final part of the trilogy. You need to read all of them, in order. And if it is some time since you read the first two, I recommend a refresher…which is what I should have done, and didn’t.

I struggled at times to remember who was who and whom had done what from the earlier books. And although I loved this book, it would have been a far easier read had I done that recap.

This is not a simple story. It is riveting, compelling and convoluted. I was sure of no one. There is much conflicting evidence and stories. The twists and turns are masterful. I vaguely recall a story from my childhood about a snake that ate itself by swallowing its own tail. There are parallels.

This is a series that deserves a binge read. I plan on taking it on my next holiday and doing it justice. And I am quite sure that once I have finished, I will be rerating The Sixth Wicked Child to the full five (or more) stars it richly deserves. The fault is all mine.

🤡👹😱🤯.5

#TheSixthWickedChild #NetGalley

THE AUTHOR: J.D. Barker is the international best-selling author of numerous novels, including FORSAKEN and THE FOURTH MONKEY. His latest novel, DRACUL, co-authored with Dacre Stoker, released October 2018. His next novel, THE SIXTH WICKED CHILD, releases in August. He is currently collaborating with James Patterson. His novels have been translated into two dozen languages and optioned for both film and television. Barker resides in coastal New Hampshire with his wife, Dayna, and their daughter, Ember.

A note from J.D.
As a child I was always told the dark could not hurt me, that the shadows creeping in the corners of my room were nothing more than just that, shadows. The sounds nothing more than the settling of our old home, creaking as it found comfort in the earth only to move again when it became restless, if ever so slightly. I would never sleep without closing the closet door, oh no; the door had to be shut tight. The darkness lurking inside needed to be held at bay, the whispers silenced. Rest would only come after I checked under the bed at least twice and quickly wrapped myself in the safety of the sheets (which no monster could penetrate), pulling them tight over my head.

I would never go down to the basement.

Never.

I had seen enough movies to know better, I had read enough stories to know what happens to little boys who wandered off into dark, dismal places alone. And there were stories, so many stories.

Reading was my sanctuary, a place where I could disappear for hours at a time, lost in the pages of a good book. It didn’t take long before I felt the urge to create my own.

I first began to write as a child, spinning tales of ghosts and gremlins, mystical places and people. For most of us, that’s where it begins—as children we have such wonderful imaginations, some of us have simply found it hard to grow up. I’ve spent countless hours trying to explain to friends and family why I enjoy it, why I would rather lock myself in a quiet little room and put pen to paper for hours at a time than throw around a baseball or simply watch television. Don’t get me wrong, sometimes I want to do just that, sometimes I wish for it, but even then the need to write is always there in the back of my mind, the characters are impatiently tapping their feet, waiting their turn, wanting to be heard. I wake in the middle of the night and reach for the pad beside my bed, sometimes scrawling page after page of their words, their lives. Then they’re quiet, if only for a little while. To stop would mean madness, or even worse—the calm, numbing sanity I see in others as they slip through the day without purpose. They don’t know what it’s like, they don’t understand. Something as simple as a pencil can open the door to a new world, can create life or experience death. Writing can take you to places you’ve never been, introduce you to people you’ve never met, take you back to when you first saw those shadows in your room, when you first heard the sounds mumbling ever so softly from your closet, and it can show you what uttered them. It can scare the hell out of you, and that’s when you know it’s good.

DISCLOSURE: Thank you to Hampton Creek Press (IBPA) via Netgalley for providing a digital ARC of The Sixth Wicked Child by J.D. Barker for review. All opinions expressed in this review are entirely my own personal opinions.

For an explanation of my rating system, please refer to profile page on Goodreads.com or the about page on sandysbookaday.wordpress.com

This review and others are also published on Twitter, Amazon and my Goodreads.com page https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/2933488051

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Her Silent Cry by Lisa Regan

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EXCERPT:Their argument crashed in angry waves against the door between us, slamming against the wood, pooling on the floor and slipping underneath where I could hear every word. Most of the time, I didn’t understand what they were saying or even why they were fighting. I only understood that she was about to get hurt; the silent way, or the screaming way. I was never sure which was worse.

no matter how badly he hurt her, she always found her way back to our room eventually. She’s lower herself into our creaking bed, hissing her breaths through gritted teeth, and reachfor me. I learned to be very careful when I moved under the covers. Sometimes even the slightest pressure would make her gasp with pain. As gently as I could, I would curl my back into her stomach and wait for the trembling fingers skittering over my scalp to eventually fall into a slow soothng rhythm.

I had so many questions, but I didn’t ask them. I didn’t want the man to hear me, to remember I was there too. When the ragged edges of her breath smoothed out, she’d let out a soft sigh that meant she had reached a point where her pain was bearable.

‘It’s okay,’ she’d say. ‘It will be okay.’

She was always a bad liar.

ABOUT THIS BOOK: Round and round she goes, blonde pigtails flying, her high-pitched giggle catching on the wind. But as the ride slows to a stop, her seat is suddenly empty. Little Lucy is gone…

When seven-year-old Lucy Ross is snatched from the carousel in Denton city park, Detective Josie Quinn joins the frantic search. She’s the one who finds Lucy’s sparkly butterfly backpack abandoned by the ticket booth, a note with a devastating message stuffed inside: answer your phone, or your sweet little darling will die…

The next day, Lucy’s parents are filled with hope when they pick up a call which they think is from their babysitter – but instead it’s a chilling male voice on the line. Josie races to the babysitter’s small apartment only to find her lifeless body in a tangle of sheets on her bed.

Josie is faced with the most high-stakes case of her career as each new phone call from someone connected to the family ends with the shocking discovery of another body. This twisted killer wants revenge, and he won’t stop until the Ross family are in pieces…

Something is telling Josie that Lucy’s parents aren’t giving her the whole truth, but digging deeper into their lives will force her to confront a life-changing secret of her own. Does Josie have what it takes to crack this case? She has no choice if she’s going to bring Lucy home alive…

MY THOUGHTS: 5 super-novas!!!!!

If you are planning on starting this book, don’t plan on doing anything else….it is one of those ‘just one more chapter’ books. The sort where ten chapters later you are still telling yourself that you will read just one more chapter before you go cook dinner….and end up ordering in. I read this in one sitting, couldn’t put it down.

I didn’t even stop reading long enough to highlight anything, or select possible passages for my excerpt…that has never happened before!

Breathtaking, heartpounding tension, this has to be the best book in the series yet, and the earlier books have been excellent.

Don’t waste time reading my review…just read this book!

#HerSilentCry #NetGalley

THE AUTHOR:Lisa Regan is a suspense novelist. She has a Bachelor’s Degree in English and Master of Education Degree from Bloomsburg University. She lives in Philadelphia with her husband and daughter.

DISCLOSURE: Thank you to Bookouture via NetGalley for providing a digital ARC of Her Silent Cry by Lisa Regan for review. All opinions expressed in this review are my own personal opinions.

For an explanation of my rating system, please refer to my Goodreads.com profile page, or the about page on my webpage sandysbookaday.wordpress.com

This review and others are also published on Twitter, Amazon, and my Goodreads.com page https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/2905261469?book_show_action=false&from_review_page=1

All That’s Dead by Stuart MacBride

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EXCERPT: He brought the torch round, sweeping across the skeleton branches and bone trunks.

A pair of eyes glittered back at him, too far away to make out anything but their reflected glow.

He stayed where he was. ‘Stalin? Stalin, that you?’

No answering bark. No response at all. Whatever it was just stayed there, staring at him from the darkness.

‘Hmph.’ Nicholas pulled his chin up. ‘Well, what are you then? A fox, or a badger?’

And that’s when he feels it. A …. presence. There’s someone behind him!

The smoky tang of whisky catches in his nostrils as they step in close, their breath warm against his cheek.

Oh God…

His mouth dries, pulse stabbing its way through his throat.

There’s a papery rustling sound. Then a cold metallic one as a ghost white arm appears from behind Nicholas, painfully bright in the torch’s glow. The arm holds an axe, the blade chipped and brown with rust.

‘A fox or a badger?’ A small laugh. ‘Oh, I’m something much, much worse.’

ABOUT THIS BOOK: Inspector Logan McRae was looking forward to a nice simple case – something to ease him back into work after a year off on the sick. But the powers-that-be have other ideas…

The high-profile anti-independence campaigner, Professor Wilson, has gone missing, leaving nothing but bloodstains behind. There’s a war brewing between the factions for and against Scottish Nationalism. Infighting in the police ranks. And it’s all playing out in the merciless glare of the media. Logan’s superiors want results, and they want them now.

Someone out there is trying to make a point, and they’re making it in blood. If Logan can’t stop them, it won’t just be his career that dies.

MY THOUGHTS: Classic MacBride. Plenty of black humour, a twisted plot showing off the worst of humankind, and quirky characters, all overlaid by a veneer of normality.

I am always excited by the advent of a new addition to this series. And All That’s Dead certainly doesn’t disappoint. Graphic, grisly, but strangely enchanting, MacBride weaves his web entangling the reader in a desperate chase to catch an elusive and deadly chameleon.

😍🤯😂🤩.5

THE AUTHOR: The life and times of a bearded write-ist.

Stuart MacBride (that’s me) was born in Dumbarton — which is Glasgow as far as I’m concerned — moving up to Aberdeen at the tender age of two, when fashions were questionable. Nothing much happened for years and years and years: learned to play the recorder, then forgot how when they changed from little coloured dots to proper musical notes (why the hell couldn’t they have taught us the notes in the first bloody place? I could have been performing my earth-shattering rendition of ‘Three Blind Mice’ at the Albert Hall by now!); appeared in some bizarre World War Two musical production; did my best to avoid eating haggis and generally ran about the place a lot.

Next up was an elongated spell in Westhill — a small suburb seven miles west of Aberdeen — where I embarked upon a mediocre academic career, hindered by a complete inability to spell and an attention span the length of a gnat’s doodad.

And so to UNIVERSITY, far too young, naive and stupid to be away from the family home, sharing a subterranean flat in one of the seedier bits of Edinburgh with a mad Irishman, and four other bizarre individuals. The highlight of walking to the art school in the mornings (yes: we were students, but we still did mornings) was trying not to tread in the fresh bloodstains outside our front door, and dodging the undercover CID officers trying to buy drugs. Lovely place.

But university and I did not see eye to eye, so off I went to work offshore. Like many all-male environments, working offshore was the intellectual equivalent of Animal House, only without the clever bits. Swearing, smoking, eating, more swearing, pornography, swearing, drinking endless plastic cups of tea… and did I mention the swearing? But it was more money than I’d seen in my life! There’s something about being handed a wadge of cash as you clamber off the minibus from the heliport, having spent the last two weeks offshore and the last two hours in an orange, rubber romper suit / body bag, then blowing most of it in the pubs and clubs of Aberdeen. And being young enough to get away without a hangover.

Then came a spell of working for myself as a graphic designer, which went the way of all flesh and into the heady world of studio management for a nation-wide marketing company. Then some more freelance design work, a handful of voiceovers for local radio and video production companies and a bash at being an actor (with a small ‘a’), giving it up when it became clear there was no way I was ever going to be good enough to earn a decent living.

It was about this time I fell into bad company — a blonde from Fife who conned me into marrying her — and started producing websites for a friend’s fledgling Internet company. From there it was a roller coaster ride (in that it made a lot of people feel decidedly unwell) from web designer to web manager, lead programmer, team lead and other assorted technical bollocks with three different companies, eventually ending up as a project manager for a global IT company.

But there was always the writing (well, that’s not true, the writing only started two chapters above this one). I fell victim to that most dreadful of things: peer pressure. Two friends were writing novels and I thought, ‘why not? I could do that’.

Took a few years though…

DISCLOSURE: I listened to the audiobook of All That’s Dead by Stuart MacBride, narrated by Steve Worsley, and published by Harper Collins Audio. All opinions expressed in this reveiw are entirely my own personal opinions.

For an explanation of my rating system, please refer to my Goodreads.com profile page, or the about page on sandysbookaday.wordpress.com

This review and others are published on Twitter, Amazon and my Goodreads.com page https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/2913407010?book_show_action=false&from_review_page=1

Watching What I’m Reading…

I seem to have fallen a bit behind on my reading schedule this week, having only just started
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We had an 80th birthday celebration lunch yesterday for my cousin’s husband which lasted well into the night as we regrouped to watch the All Blacks defeat the Wallabies. I really didn’t want to get up and go to work this morning. But it’s a long time since I had so much fun, and it was great to catch up with extended family members I haven’t seen since Carol turned 75 two years ago. The readers amongst us have formed a family book club, online by necessity as we live too far apart for regular meetings.

This week I am planning on reading

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After Jason is committed to a mental institution, he begins to uncover things he never knew before or things his mind shut out to protect him. Under the care of the facility’s doctors, he finds himself questioning what’s real and what’s not. What is the truth? What happened to him? Is his mind playing tricks on him?

Wait a minute, what happened to his wife, Lisa? Where is Lea? Why can’t he remember what happened?

Meanwhile, Jerry is dangerous and unpredictable. He envisions a world where boundaries are broken down and he is free to enforce his narcissistic belief that he has a divine mission. Technology allows him the freedom to use his position of trust to play with people’s lives.

An explosive ending that is anything but expected, forgive yourself for shuddering throughout and after you close the book.

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THE SERIAL KILLER ISN’T ON TRIAL.

HE’S ON THE JURY…

They were Hollywood’s hottest power couple. They had the world at their feet. Now one of them is dead and Hollywood star Robert Solomon is charged with the brutal murder of his beautiful wife.

This is the celebrity murder trial of the century and the defence want one man on their team: con artist turned lawyer Eddie Flynn.

All the evidence points to Robert’s guilt, but as the trial begins a series of sinister incidents in the court room start to raise doubts in Eddie’s mind.

What if there’s more than one actor in the courtroom?

What if the killer isn’t on trial? What if the killer is on the jury?

This week I received five new ARCs for review from Netgalley.

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Whatever you’re reading, I hope that it is wonderful. 💝😍📚

Tangle by Meg Elizabeth Atkins

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EXCERPT: … on a bitter day in January, darkness came early to Avenridge, and finally to Mildred Hewitt. When the manner of her death became known, it sent shock waves through the town; there was gossip, speculation, bewilderment. Mildred Hewitt was a widow of excellent reputation and social prominence, strenuous in charitable work, a devoted mother, a scrupulous businesswoman, and a nerve-wracking snob. The name of Hewitt stood well in Avenridge, they had lived there for four generations, establishing their business – Hewitt’s High Class Printers – going about their respectable, mundane affairs, consolidating their modest fortune. Mildred Hewitt’s pride in them, in her status, gave her charm its ruthless quality and set an edge of arrogance to her general resolution.

But Mildred Hewitt had a secret, and it was because of the secret that she died.

ABOUT THIS BOOK: When Arnold Peabody dies, nobody but his grasping cousin Edith takes much notice.

A quiet, ineffectual little man, he was lost following the death of his domineering mother — and took his own life shortly after her demise.

The death of Mildred Hewitt, on the other hand, is an entirely different matter.

A pillar of society and formidable matriarch in Avenridge, Mildred falls to her death from a local beauty spot one snowy night a few weeks after Arnold’s death.

Like Arnold, her son Gilbert is helpless without the commanding presence of his mother…but Gilbert goes even more spectacularly off the rails.

Puffed up with his own sense of self-importance and twisted sense of reality, Gilbert is entirely incapable of life on his own.

He decides, as Arnold had done, to visit a local medium in the hope of obtaining some contact with his mother from beyond the grave — something, anything, that will tell him what to do.

There he meets the mysterious Veronica, who quickly becomes his guardian angel…or does she have a more sinister motivation for inserting herself into Gilbert’s life?

Chief Inspector Henry Beaumont, a frequent visitor to Avenridge since his years there as an evacuee, finds himself increasingly involved in the Hewitt case — which smells of murder.

The case of Arnold Peabody, and its similarity to the Hewitt case, flickers at the back of his mind and Henry begins to wonder if the two deaths are not connected.

Incidents from his childhood, blurred by time, return to haunt him as Gilbert spirals into madness, stirring up memories of old scandals and bringing long-forgotten people back into play.

As Henry unpeels layer upon layer of old scandal and undreamed-of connections, Veronica becomes ever more elusive, leading him to wonder if he can find her before tragedy strikes yet again…

MY THOUGHTS: It took me a little to get into this book. At first it appeared pretentious, but soon the machinations of the characters and the nature of the mystery had me engrossed.

Set in the early 1970’s, before mobile phones and computers, it all now seems a little old-world, and it seemed to me that it could have been set much earlier than that. Even the characters seem a little old fashioned, a little more old world than I would have expected for this time period. It could easily have been set in the 1950’s, or even earlier. But in no way is this a criticism.

The author has taken time to develop her characters into a very interesting bunch. My particular favorite is Emmeline …’Emmeline’s pullover was on inside out and she had lost the buttons of her shirt sleeves. Or someone’s shirt, it was far too big for her and could have been one of her father’s. …It simply doesn’t occur to her she might look as if she’s just cleaned out the cellar.’ A little fey, a lot unconventional, Emmeline shines.

An intriguing mystery peppered with interesting characters. I will be reading more by this author.

😍😍😍😍

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Meg Elizabeth Atkins has won many plaudits for her fiction on both sides of the Atlantic, and reviewers have compared her to Elizabeth Bowen and Barbara Pym for the elegance of her writing. In several of her earlier novels, such as Samain, Palimpsest and Tangle, she has explored the disturbing undercurrents beneath the polite surface of English middle-class life, and in Cruel as the Grave forces erupt through the repression and containment of daily existence with violent consequences.

Meg Elizabeth Atkins lives with her husband in a North Yorkshire village. She teaches creative writing and her other books include By The North Door, Cruel As The Grave and Samain.

DISCLOSURE: Thank you to Endeavour Press via Netgalley for providing a digital ARC of Tangle by Meg Elizabeth Atkins for review. All opinions expressed in this review are my own personal opinions.

For an explanation of my rating system, please refer to my profile page on Goodreads.com or the about page on my webpage sandysbookaday/wordpess.com This review and others also appear on Twitter, Amazon, and my Goodreads.com page https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/1717003739?book_show_action=false&from_review_page=1

Watching What I’m Reading…

The last of my shelves went up, and the last of my books were unpacked this week. I had a few anxious moments when I thought I had lost a couple of my favourite books, but they were there. It was quite exciting getting them all up on the shelves, revisiting old favourites, rediscovering books I’d forgotten I had. And they only just all fit! My husband grinned and said, ‘Well, that’s it. There’s no room for any more books.’ Silly man. There’s always room for more books!!!🤣😂🤣😂

I managed to fit in an extra read this week-
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I will be publishing my review tomorrow.

I am about to start

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This week I also plan on reading

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With raw, poetic ferocity, Kimberly King Parsons exposes desire’s darkest hollows—those hidden places where most of us are afraid to look. In this debut collection of enormously perceptive and brutally unsentimental short stories, Parsons illuminates the ache of first love, the banality of self-loathing, the scourge of addiction, the myth of marriage, and the magic and inevitable disillusionment of childhood.

Taking us from hot Texas highways to cold family kitchens, from the freedom of pay-by-the-hour motels to the claustrophobia of private school dorms, these stories erupt off the page with a primal howl—sharp-voiced, bitter, and wise. Black Light contains the type of storytelling that resonates somewhere deep, in the well of memory that repudiates nostalgia.

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Round and round she goes, blonde pigtails flying, her high-pitched giggle catching on the wind. But as the ride slows to a stop, her seat is suddenly empty. Little Lucy is gone…

When seven-year-old Lucy Ross is snatched from the carousel in Denton city park, Detective Josie Quinn joins the frantic search. She’s the one who finds Lucy’s sparkly butterfly backpack abandoned by the ticket booth, a note with a devastating message stuffed inside: answer your phone, or your sweet little darling will die…

The next day, Lucy’s parents are filled with hope when they pick up a call which they think is from their babysitter – but instead it’s a chilling male voice on the line. Josie races to the babysitter’s small apartment only to find her lifeless body in a tangle of sheets on her bed.

Josie is faced with the most high-stakes case of her career as each new phone call from someone connected to the family ends with the shocking discovery of another body. This twisted killer wants revenge, and he won’t stop until the Ross family are in pieces…

Something is telling Josie that Lucy’s parents aren’t giving her the whole truth, but digging deeper into their lives will force her to confront a life-changing secret of her own. Does Josie have what it takes to crack this case? She has no choice if she’s going to bring Lucy home alive…

I received five new ARCs from Netgalley this week

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Let me know what new books you have on your radar, and what you are excited about reading.

Happy reading, my friends. 💕😍📚

Big Sky by Kate Atkinson

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EXCERPT: On a dark street the nondescript grey hatchback slithered quietly to a halt beneath a streetlight that was helpfully broken. The car’s engine was killed and the driver, almost as anonymous-looking as the Peugeot itself, climbed out and shut the door with a quiet clunk. The passenger door opened and a girl climbed out. The driver waited on the pavement for her to heave her backpack out of the footwell. The colours of the little rainbows had all turned to grey in the dark and the unicorn had been rendered almost invisible. She closed the car door and heard the little ‘chirrup’ as the man locked it. He went ahead of her, then turned and smiled and said, ‘This way, follow me.’ He approached a house, the door key ready in his hand. Darcy hesitated for a moment. Something told her that she should run, but she was only thirteen and hadn’t learned to listen to her instincts yet, so she slung her backpack over one shoulder and followed the man into the house.

ABOUT THIS BOOK: Jackson Brodie, ex-military police, ex-Cambridge Constabulary, currently working as a private investigator, makes a highly anticipated return, nine years after the last Brodie, Started Early, Took My Dog.

Jackson Brodie has relocated to a quiet seaside village, in the occasional company of his recalcitrant teenage son and an aging Labrador, both at the discretion of his ex-partner Julia. It’s picturesque, but there’s something darker lurking behind the scenes.

Jackson’s current job, gathering proof of an unfaithful husband for his suspicious wife, is fairly standard-issue, but a chance encounter with a desperate man on a crumbling cliff leads him into a sinister network—and back across the path of his old friend Reggie. Old secrets and new lies intersect in this breathtaking novel by one of the most dazzling and surprising writers at work today.

MY THOUGHTS: Jackson Brodie, I love you. I’ve missed you, and I am so pleased you’re back. And by extension, I also love Kate Atkinson, both for her superb writing skills and her devious mind.

‘What does justice have to do with the law?’ A good question. Not very much in either real life or Big Sky. But as usual, Jackson manages, more by accident than good planning, to mete out justice more effectively than the law.

I love Atkinson’s characters, they jump off the page at you, drag you into their world. Tommy, Andy and Steve are all good reminders that not everyone is what they seem, that we only see what they want us to see. Harry reminds me a little of my grandson….he’s young for his age but he’s old for his age. Marlee, although she would never admit it, is very like her father.

Big Sky is a comedy of errors, or would be if the subject matter wasn’t so grim. But even so, Kate and Jackson had me laughing at times.

A wonderful read, and I hope that we don’t have to wait anywhere near as long for the next Jackson Brodie book.

🤩😍🤩😍🤩

I do recommend starting this series at the beginning, otherwise the relationships between some of the characters will be rather perplexing. 😉

THE AUTHOR: Kate Atkinson was born in York and now lives in Edinburgh. Her first novel, Behind the Scenes at the Museum, won the Whitbread Book of the Year Award and she has been a critically acclaimed international bestselling author ever since.

She is the author of a collection of short stories, Not the End of the World, and of the critically acclaimed novels Human Croquet, Emotionally Weird, Case Histories, and One Good Turn.

Case Histories introduced her readers to Jackson Brodie, former police inspector turned private investigator, and won the Saltire Book of the Year Award and the Prix Westminster.

When Will There Be Good News? was voted Richard & Judy Book Best Read of the Year. After Case Histories and One Good Turn, it was her third novel to feature the former private detective Jackson Brodie, who makes a welcome return in Started Early, Took My Dog.

DISCLOSURE: I own my copy of Big Sky by Kate Atkinson, published by Transworld, Doubleday. All opinions expressed in this review are entirely my own personal opinions.

Please refer to my Goodreads.com profile page or the ‘about’ page on sandysbookaday.wordpress.com for an explanation of my rating system.

This review and others are also published on my Goodreads.com page https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/2887272562?book_show_action=false&from_review_page=1