Jumat, 29 Mei 2015

Pork Cuisine: Recipes High on the Hog, by Jay Howard

Pork Cuisine: Recipes High on the Hog, by Jay Howard

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Pork Cuisine: Recipes High on the Hog, by Jay Howard

Pork Cuisine: Recipes High on the Hog, by Jay Howard



Pork Cuisine: Recipes High on the Hog, by Jay Howard

Free PDF Ebook Pork Cuisine: Recipes High on the Hog, by Jay Howard

Pork Cuisine takes you through amazing gourmet experiences with all things pork - for breakfast, lunch, appetizers, dinner and dessert. Crispy, buttery, tender, moist, or however you look at it, pork has a whole lot of dripping good deliciousness going for it - truly get high on the hog. Few animals contribute so much of their entire self, from head to tail. Pork, ham, chops, bacon, tenderloin, prosciutto, and more are key ingredients in each recipe. Sample recipes include:

  • Breaksfast sausage pizza
  • Bloddy Mary with Bacon
  • Cajun Bacon & Bananas
  • Szechwan Style Baby Back Ribs
  • Bacon Hush Puppies
  • Crispy Maple-Bourbon Pork Belly
  • Oven Smoked Pulled Pork
  • Southern Fried Pork Chops
  • Classic Cubano Sandwich
  • Piggy Mac
  • Simple Sausage Chili
  • Easy Luau Ham Kabobs
  • Bacon Caramel Popcorn
  • The Tripe B - Bacon, Bourbon Bread Pudding
  • Bacon Candy
  • Maple Bacon S'mores
  • Pork Cuisine: Recipes High on the Hog, by Jay Howard

    • Amazon Sales Rank: #5759629 in Books
    • Published on: 2015-05-30
    • Original language: English
    • Number of items: 1
    • Dimensions: 9.00" h x .14" w x 6.00" l, .21 pounds
    • Binding: Paperback
    • 62 pages
    Pork Cuisine: Recipes High on the Hog, by Jay Howard


    Pork Cuisine: Recipes High on the Hog, by Jay Howard

    Where to Download Pork Cuisine: Recipes High on the Hog, by Jay Howard

    Most helpful customer reviews

    1 of 1 people found the following review helpful. Not just a recipe book By Dubbia I really enjoyed the history of PORK. Love to look at recipe books to compare to the recipes I already use. Was delighted t find some new ones that i look forward to trying. Can not attest to the outcome of the recipes, but they all look promising. The history itself was enough for me. Love pork and love grilling, so this is a nice to have on hand cook book.

    1 of 1 people found the following review helpful. How to prepare pork By Butchiez51 As someone who smokes pork this book is pretty good

    0 of 0 people found the following review helpful. Winner of a Cookbook By Karen E. Hardy This is a great cookbook. I like that it goes into the parts of the pig as well as the uses of each part and the sanitary habits associated with handling pork. Coupled with great recipes this book is a winner.

    See all 8 customer reviews... Pork Cuisine: Recipes High on the Hog, by Jay Howard


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    Pork Cuisine: Recipes High on the Hog, by Jay Howard

    Pork Cuisine: Recipes High on the Hog, by Jay Howard

    Pork Cuisine: Recipes High on the Hog, by Jay Howard
    Pork Cuisine: Recipes High on the Hog, by Jay Howard

    Kamis, 28 Mei 2015

    Cornered (Corcoran Team: Bulletproof Bachelors), by HelenKay Dimon

    Cornered (Corcoran Team: Bulletproof Bachelors), by HelenKay Dimon

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    Cornered (Corcoran Team: Bulletproof Bachelors), by HelenKay Dimon

    Cornered (Corcoran Team: Bulletproof Bachelors), by HelenKay Dimon



    Cornered (Corcoran Team: Bulletproof Bachelors), by HelenKay Dimon

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    It was an assignment he was more than prepared for—until an innocent beauty got caught in the cross fire Undercover agent Cameron Roth's hot on the trail of a drug-running crime cartel. The last thing he needs is to involve an innocent woman in the cross fire. But when he leaps into Julia White's home for safety, she becomes part of the tangled web Cam's trying so deseparately to unravel. Smooth, solid Cam's the consummate professional. But gorgeous, feisty Julia transforms the high-stakes assignment into something far more than business as usual. Now that the villains have her in their sights, Cam's got to not only solve the case—but also protect the only woman who's ever found the way into his heart.

    Cornered (Corcoran Team: Bulletproof Bachelors), by HelenKay Dimon

    • Amazon Sales Rank: #1228079 in Books
    • Brand: Dimon, Helen Kay
    • Published on: 2015-05-19
    • Original language: English
    • Number of items: 1
    • Dimensions: 6.61" h x .59" w x 4.21" l, .24 pounds
    • Binding: Mass Market Paperback
    • 224 pages
    Cornered (Corcoran Team: Bulletproof Bachelors), by HelenKay Dimon

    About the Author Award-winning author HelenKay Dimon spent twelve years in the most unromantic career ever - divorce lawyer. After dedicating all of that effort to helping people terminate relationships, she is thrilled to deal in happy endings and write romance novels for a living.  Her books have been featured in Cosmopolitan Magazine and E! Online.  HelenKay loves hearing from readers, so stop by her website at www.helenkaydimon.com and say hello.

    Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. A crack of gunfire echoed through the towering trees. That sort of thing would have sent Julia White scrambling for her cell phone and dialing for the police back in her normal life. But not on Calapan Island, the tiny strip of land miles from Seattle and accessible only by ferry. Here people fired weapons for sport, as a warning or just because it was Tuesday.She didn't know the reason this time and didn't much care. Rather than flinch or worry, she stayed kneeling in the dirt, weeding the overgrown rectangle of roots and vines that had once been a garden alive with color.The summer sun warmed her bare arms as the breeze lifted her hair off her shoulders and kept it dancing in front of her eyes. Needing a drink of water and a barrette, she stabbed the end of the sharp shovel into the ground and stood. A break sounded good after an hour of getting nowhere on the massive yard-work project.She made it two steps before shots rang out again, this time multiple and in bursts. At the sound of the rapid rat-a-tat-tat, she spun around, trying to judge the distance between her and the bullets. Her gaze zipped from one end of the open yard to the other. A thunder of noise she couldn't identify filled her ears and grew closer as she scanned the part of the two acres she could see without moving away from the protective shield of the house.A tangle of trees blocked her view to what lay beyond her father's falling-down property, but she didn't hesitate. Living in Seattle for the past two years had taught her one thing: don't invite danger. That meant moving. Smart women knew when to run.She took off for the back porch as she tapped the pockets of her cargo shorts in search of her phone. Empty. Maybe that was for the best, since what passed for police on the island didn't exactly fill her with a sense of security. More like dread.Her foot hit the bottom step right as the hair on the back of her neck stirred. That only made her jog faster. Anxiety rocketed through her as she reached for the door. Just as she tugged she heard it—heavy breathing, and not hers. She whipped her head around in time to see someone barreling toward her. Broad shoulders and big. Male and fast.Her hand slipped on the knob, but she turned it. She managed to open the door an inch before a man's hand slammed against the frame by her head. The heat from his body radiated against her back as panic swamped her. She opened her mouth to scream, but a hand clamped over her face, blocking the sound."I'm not going to hurt you." The harsh whisper brushed across her ear.Yeah, no way was she believing that.She kicked out and shoved. Flailed and tried to run again, this time for the tree line. She would not go out like this. She'd always joked that if she stayed on Calapan she'd die. She refused to let that prediction come true.She elbowed him in the stomach and heard him swear in response. Another shot or two like that and she might be able to put some distance between them and get inside. Gathering all her strength, she drew her arm forward again and pushed back. She hit nothing but air.One minute she stood locked in an epic battle on the porch. The next, her attacker reached around her and got the door open. He propelled her forward, slamming the door behind them and locking them both inside.He held up his hands as he stared at her with big blue eyes. "Please listen to me."He could beg all he wanted. The dimple, those shoulders, the objective cuteness…she wasn't buying any of it. She'd never been charmed by a handsome face before and wasn't starting now.If he wanted a fight, fine. She'd give him one. Without thinking or analyzing, almost on autopilot, she ran for the small family room on the far side of the kitchen. Guns didn't scare her, because they were a way of life on Calapan. Growing up here, she'd learned how to shoot. Cans, mostly, but she didn't plan on telling her attacker about that limitation.Footsteps beat in time with hers. She ran. He stalked. He kept talking—something about needing her help—but she blocked it all out, her only thought being to find that rifle. There was a Glock around here, too."Ma'am, slow down for a second."Not likely. She put a couch between them as she tried to remember where she had left the guns after she moved them around this morning. Her mind flipped to the fireplace, and a quick glance revealed one leaning against the mantel. The same fireplace mantel next to the attacker and not her.Her mind raced with directions. Draw him out. Let him talk. She skipped all of it. "Get out.""I will not hurt you." He hadn't lowered his hands.That didn't mean he couldn't. Her gaze dipped to the gun strapped to his hip and the trickle of blood running down from the edge of the sleeve of his navy T-shirt. "Then leave.""My name is Cameron Roth."As if she cared. "Fine. Leave, Cameron.""I work for a group called the Corcoran Team."She didn't even know what he was talking about. Her mind stayed focused on the gun, the blood, the shots and the fact that a stranger stood in front of her. The combination was all her brain could process at the moment."I don't know who this team is, but you can go find them." She bit back the tremble in her voice and tried to get the words out as quickly and clearly as possible. "I'll pretend this never happened, but you need to leave now.""I can't."Looked as though logic wouldn't work on this guy. She mentally measured the distance from her to the gun and wondered if she could get there before he put his hands down. "You mean won't.""I need you to stop worrying."That voice, all soothing and calm. It called to her, but she refused to trust it. Not when it promised a one-way ticket to getting injured…or worse. "That's not going to happen with you standing in the middle of my house.""I'm one of the good guys.""Says the man who grabbed me and dragged me inside." Her gaze traveled over him and she thought she made out another weapon tucked into his jeans and outlined by his slim tee. "Were you the one out there shooting?"All emotion left his face. His blank expression didn't give anything away. "There was a problem."Forget the weapon—with that nonanswer the guy should be a lawyer. "I'll give you the keys to the car. You can take it and—""No." At his bark, she took a step back and he moved in, closing the gap again. "I'm here on assignment.""What are you talking about?" She had no clue.This was the nightmare that wouldn't end. She should have stayed in Seattle and let the house stand abandoned. Her father was gone and she didn't owe anyone on Cala-pan anything."I rendezvous with my team in fifteen minutes."Again with the team thing. "Be extra punctual and go now."The corner of his mouth twitched. "I would, but I don't want to be shot."She wasn't sure if he was laughing at her or with her but didn't like either option. "That makes two of us, Cameron."Some of the tension left his shoulders as he nodded toward the couch. "Sit."He had to be kidding. "No.""I'm at a disadvantage here. What's your name?"This guy just kept talking when she needed him gone. "You aren't going to be here long enough for that to matter.""There are some nasty people after me." He lowered his arms, but his hand didn't venture near the gun. "I'm just hiding out here for a few minutes.""Who?" If there were more people out there with weapons, she wanted to be ready. His eyes narrowed. "What?""Who is after you?"His gaze went to the rifle and lingered for a second before returning to her face. "Let's just say some of the people on this island can't be trusted."Yeah, that was a lesson she knew all too well. "Understatement.""What?"She ignored the question because she had bigger problems. Now he knew where all the weapons were. That left knives, and grabbing for those gave her the shivers. "Just so we're clear, you're running around the island shooting and being tracked by someone and have no trouble manhandling me—""That didn't actually happen.""—yet I'm supposed to trust you." Her voice got louder as she went on.He had the nerve to smile at her. "Yes.""I'm not an idiot." Sure, her brain kept malfunctioning and waves of fear crashed over her every two seconds, but she was not letting her world end like this."I never said you were.""And I have a phone." She lunged for the landline. It had been disconnected months before, after her father died. But this Cameron guy didn't know that…at least, she hoped he didn't. "The police can come and you can explain your problem.""That's not going to work."She'd read somewhere that trying to form a bond with an attacker sometimes helped humanize the victim. Since she was the victim, she was willing to try anything. "Tell me why, Cameron.""You can call me Cam."Apparently the bond thing worked. She shook the phone. "Talk or I'm dialing 9-1-1.""That would be a mistake."There was something about the way he said it. "Why?""The police are the problem."A crack shattered the glass behind her, spraying it over the room. She ducked. Probably screamed. Just as she crossed her arm over her head, a heavy weight crashed into her. She hit the floor and skidded across it with Cameron on top of her.When they stopped, he pinned her down. The second their bodies touched she started moving. She shifted her legs and tried to knee him anywhere it would hurt. He caught her leg and held a hand up as if to tell her to be quiet. The whole time his gaze scanned the room and his gun dug into her stomach.Through all the kicking and squirming, the silence finally registered in her brain. She picked up his breathing and heard her own hammering in her ears. Other than that, nothing. No more shooting. No yelling.He leaned up on his elbow and glanced down with their faces only inches apart. "Are you okay?""No."He lifted his body off her and looked down the slim space between them. "You're hit?""I mean mentally." When she realized Cam's body shielded hers, that he was protecting, not attacking, she let the backs of her hands fall against the dusty floor. "I don't understand what's happening.""That makes two of us." He shifted his body to the side as he slipped the gun out of its holster."Who is shooting at you now?" And why had Cam brought the person to her doorstep?He crawled over to the one remaining intact family room window, ignoring the broken glass from the previous chaos and the crunching under his knees. "Your police chief."Chief Kreider wasn't her anything. The guy had the whole old-boy thing down, all entitled and drunk on power…except for those times he was actually drunk. She was not a fan.Following Cam, because he seemed like a good guy to hide behind, she sat on the other side of the window and peeked out. Three random men stood out there, armed and dressed in some sort of lawenforcement uniforms. None of them looked familiar and they all wore lethal shoot-first expressions.That fast, she lost her ability to breathe.Cam pulled her back down. "Be careful."She only caught a glimpse, but… "You said you were fighting the police chief, right?""The guy standing in the middle of your yard.""None of them is the police chief."Cam's mouth dropped open. "What?""I think your problem just got bigger.""And I think, since you're trapped in here with me, I'm not the only one with a problem." He reached behind his back and took out a second gun. Before she could scream or bolt, he handed it to her. "Do you know how to use this?""Yes." She took it but wished she didn't have to."Good.""Not really." Something collapsed inside her. "I hate this island."This time he did smile at her, full and sexy and the exact opposite of threatening. He opened her hand and put the gun in it. "Looks as if we finally agree on something."For some reason she didn't find the look or his cuteness comforting. "Julia White.""What?""I figure if we're going to die together you should know my name." It actually hurt to say those words.Not that they affected him. No, he winked at her. "You're not dying on my watch, Julia.""You sound confident.""You can consider it a guarantee."Chapter TwoCam slid his body up along the wall and stood up. With his back covered, he peeked outside again. The men outside hadn't moved, which struck him as pretty bad planning. If he were in charge of the attack party, they'd be surrounding the house and moving in by now.Thank goodness for amateurs.His gaze bounced back to Julia. He couldn't help being impressed with the way she held it together. He'd rushed her, touched her and forced his way inside her house. Acted in a way that he begged to be punched. He'd watched the fear come over her, and before he could calm her, she'd controlled it. Taken the energy pinging around inside her and focused.It was sexy as hell. So was the long wavy brown hair and then there were those big chocolate-brown eyes. Not that he had the time to notice…but he did.He reeled those thoughts in because he had no plans to die today. He'd just made a vow to Julia, so now he had to figure out a way out of this mess without too much bloodshed. He'd brought the firefight to her door by accident. Even if it meant taking a bullet, he'd get her out.She peeked around the windowsill, then ducked her head again. "Why are they just standing out there?""Good question." Cam kept his focus on the men. If he flinched they could move out of his sight, and he could not let that happen. Three of them, one dressed as the police chief and two in flannel shirts, which made them stand out in summer."I have another question," she said.This time he glanced over at her. Seeing the pale face and the way her hand shook as she brushed the hair out of her eyes sent a shot of guilt through him. Still, he wasn't used to a lot of conversation in the middle of a shoot-out. "Now might not be the best time."She checked the weapon before looking up again. "Why did you think they were police?"Looked as though she talked when she got nervous. He tried to contain the adrenaline coursing through him enough to keep up the harsh whispering. "The uniform, plus the other two were at the police station. The chief knew I was coming. The usual."She frowned. "That's the usual for you?""Uh, yeah." It all made sense to him, but in hindsight he'd played it too safe in the minutes leading up to his meeting. He could have checked identities through facial recognition, but that wasn't standard operating procedure for a job like this. It was supposed to be an easy witness pickup, not a death match.Her attention did not waver. It stayed locked on him. "Who are you and what do you do?"They absolutely didn't have time for that discussion."Later."


    Cornered (Corcoran Team: Bulletproof Bachelors), by HelenKay Dimon

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    Most helpful customer reviews

    1 of 1 people found the following review helpful. Intrigue and romance By Mary Cornered lived up to its name. Cameron and Julia are definitely cornered on a small island by the bad guys. Can they learn to trust each other to save themselves and solve the crime that Cam is there to investigate? This is a page turner from start to finish. HelenKay Dimon once again infuses intrigue, suspense, and romance into her great storytelling style in the Corcoran Team series.

    0 of 0 people found the following review helpful. Really good. By S. Frank I have thoroughly enjoyed the previous Corcoran Team books, and this one was just as good. It was action packed from the first page. Cameron and his two team members are on the island to find and question a witness to the drug runners working there. Unfortunately, with the probability of a corrupt police department, they are on their own.Julia is in the middle of dealing with her late father's property when she hears gunshots. As she rushes to get indoors she is overtaken by Cam, and suddenly becomes part of the action. Though she doesn't trust easily, something tells her that Cam is okay. He saves her from the people who are after him. He wants to get her off the island and to safety, but she feels safer with him. She also uses her knowledge of the island and its people to convince him to keep her around.Cam isn't sure he's doing the right thing, but he's never had a woman get under his skin so fast. He's impressed with her ability to remain calm under the most stressful of circumstances. The biggest problem he has with it is the chemistry between them that is creating one big distraction.I really loved seeing these two together. Both have trust issues, Julia because of her life with her drunk of a father, and Cam because of having grown up in the foster system. The intensity of their situation has them getting closer very quickly. It was a lot of fun to see Cam try to talk her into going someplace safe, and Julia having none of it. Even the couple times he tried to sneak off were unsuccessful. Because of their own issues, each was more understanding of where the other's attitude was coming from. Neither was looking for any kind of relationship either, but it quickly became clear that something was happening between them. It was fun to see Julia as she showed Cam that she wasn't pushing for anything more than he was willing to give, making it easier for him to actually consider what it was he really wanted. When everything went down at the end, I liked the way that Cam was so worried about Julia and what her reaction would be. I liked the fact that they didn't rush too fast into a permanent relationship, but were planning a slower growth to what they had. I loved seeing how his two teammates gave him a bit of a hard time about what was happening, but were also supportive. The last chapter with those two was especially amusing. I'm really looking forward to their stories.The suspense part of the story was really good. The action began on the first page and never really let up. It seemed as though Cam and Julia were barely one step ahead of the bad guys at any time. One of the leaders was identified early on, and seeing the action from his viewpoint sometimes had me wondering how he was still alive. He had a habit of underestimating just what Cam was capable of doing. There were also several instances when I wondered just how Cam and Julia were going to get out of the particular situation they were in. The person who was running the whole operation took me a little longer to figure out, but not by too much. I really enjoyed seeing Cam and Julia outwit him, especially at the end, when his ego really had him making some boneheaded decisions.

    1 of 1 people found the following review helpful. Snagged By Irene Greenhoe Neither were raised in environments that embodied trust, but together they formed a bond that included trust. The bad guys were definitely voted off the island.

    See all 9 customer reviews... Cornered (Corcoran Team: Bulletproof Bachelors), by HelenKay Dimon


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    Cornered (Corcoran Team: Bulletproof Bachelors), by HelenKay Dimon

    Cornered (Corcoran Team: Bulletproof Bachelors), by HelenKay Dimon
    Cornered (Corcoran Team: Bulletproof Bachelors), by HelenKay Dimon

    Rabu, 27 Mei 2015

    The Stork Club Bar Book, by Lucius Beebe

    The Stork Club Bar Book, by Lucius Beebe

    The Stork Club Bar Book, By Lucius Beebe. Give us 5 mins as well as we will certainly show you the most effective book to check out today. This is it, the The Stork Club Bar Book, By Lucius Beebe that will certainly be your ideal choice for better reading book. Your 5 times will certainly not spend wasted by reading this website. You could take guide as a resource to make far better principle. Referring the books The Stork Club Bar Book, By Lucius Beebe that can be positioned with your needs is sometime tough. But here, this is so very easy. You could locate the best point of book The Stork Club Bar Book, By Lucius Beebe that you could review.

    The Stork Club Bar Book, by Lucius Beebe

    The Stork Club Bar Book, by Lucius Beebe



    The Stork Club Bar Book, by Lucius Beebe

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    2015 Reprint of 1946 Edition. Full Facsimile of the original edition. Not reproduced with Optical Recognition Software. The Stork Club in Manhattan, which operated from 1929 to 1965, was one of the most prestigious clubs in the world. A symbol of café society, the wealthy elite, including movie stars, celebrities, showgirls, and aristocrats all mixed in the VIP Cub Room of the club. A famous oasis after the ravages of Prohibition, the Stork Club was the place for celebrities to see and be seen. This bar book offers a historical glimpse into the high life in New York City at this legendary spot and who was drinking which concoctions. This book contains recipes, humor, and stories about the rich and famous who frequented this elegant club, and sly essays on such subjects as the mint julep and the zombie.

    The Stork Club Bar Book, by Lucius Beebe

    • Amazon Sales Rank: #480270 in Books
    • Published on: 2015-05-07
    • Original language: English
    • Number of items: 1
    • Dimensions: 9.21" h x .32" w x 6.14" l, .49 pounds
    • Binding: Paperback
    • 138 pages
    The Stork Club Bar Book, by Lucius Beebe

    From the Publisher This is a must have for anyone who collects bar items. It also provides a great taste of history for anyone who likes New York and the trendiest bar (The Stork Club, owned and operated by Sherman Billingsley) of yesteryear.

    About the Author Lucius Beebe is the coauthor of more than 30 books on American railroads and Western Americana. His articles and columns have appeared in American Heritage, Gourmet, Holiday, Newsweek, the San Francisco Chronicle, and the Saturday Review. His column on New York café society, "This New York," appeared in The New York Herald.


    The Stork Club Bar Book, by Lucius Beebe

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    Most helpful customer reviews

    7 of 7 people found the following review helpful. Slurp. By Martina O. C. Dinale Delicious slice of American NYC history and delicious cocktails ....what the hell more could I ask for ? Well, a little ice perhaps .

    7 of 8 people found the following review helpful. Fantastic New York Nighlife Collectible By A Customer There is simply no other Bar Book out there that matches this truly rare book in recipes and commentary threaded with a colorful history. It is simply a "MUST HAVE" for anyone who collects Bar Books or Stork Club memorabilia.From the Roaring Twenties to the chaotic Sixties, The Stork Club (Owned by Sherman Billingsley) was New York's hottest nightclub. It was a glittering world where celebrities, politicians and millionaires congregated.Return to the glory days of New York long since gone and browse the club's legendary bartender's manual.

    2 of 2 people found the following review helpful. The Stork Club Bar Book By H P Johnson My fault. I marked the rating incorrectly on my first review. It should be 5 stars. I am very well pleased.

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    The Stork Club Bar Book, by Lucius Beebe

    Senin, 25 Mei 2015

    Taking a C.A.B. to Happy Land: Help Your Child to Relax and Discard Their Negative Thoughts,

    Taking a C.A.B. to Happy Land: Help Your Child to Relax and Discard Their Negative Thoughts, by Lynne Woolfson

    Just how is to make sure that this Taking A C.A.B. To Happy Land: Help Your Child To Relax And Discard Their Negative Thoughts, By Lynne Woolfson will not presented in your shelfs? This is a soft documents publication Taking A C.A.B. To Happy Land: Help Your Child To Relax And Discard Their Negative Thoughts, By Lynne Woolfson, so you can download and install Taking A C.A.B. To Happy Land: Help Your Child To Relax And Discard Their Negative Thoughts, By Lynne Woolfson by buying to get the soft file. It will certainly relieve you to review it every time you need. When you really feel lazy to move the published book from home to office to some place, this soft data will certainly ease you not to do that. Since you could just conserve the information in your computer hardware and also gizmo. So, it enables you review it anywhere you have willingness to review Taking A C.A.B. To Happy Land: Help Your Child To Relax And Discard Their Negative Thoughts, By Lynne Woolfson

    Taking a C.A.B. to Happy Land: Help Your Child to Relax and Discard Their Negative Thoughts, by Lynne Woolfson

    Taking a C.A.B. to Happy Land: Help Your Child to Relax and Discard Their Negative Thoughts, by Lynne Woolfson



    Taking a C.A.B. to Happy Land: Help Your Child to Relax and Discard Their Negative Thoughts, by Lynne Woolfson

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    Fears go hand in hand with childhood – the boogey man under the bed, the monster in the closet. How do you help your child cope with these fears so he or she can nod off into a peaceful slumber? In this fun, delightful, engaging, simple but profound book, clinical psychologist Lynne Woolfson offers a solution: Take a CAB to happy land. C=Calm: Breathe in one, two; breathe out, one two. A=Action: Fill a balloon with bad thoughts and send it flying to the moon. B=Be Happy: Think of something that makes you giggle. This simple formula --CAB - offers distraction and relaxation, allowing your child to transform negative, fearful thoughts into calm, relaxing, and healing ones. It should be by the bedside of every young child and especially sensitive children. Reading this fun story to your child before going to sleep will not only help him or her learn to self-calm and think positively but will lay a foundation for developing a positive mindset to enable your child to lead a happier, more fulfilling life.

    Taking a C.A.B. to Happy Land: Help Your Child to Relax and Discard Their Negative Thoughts, by Lynne Woolfson

    • Amazon Sales Rank: #1930408 in Books
    • Published on: 2015-09-03
    • Original language: English
    • Number of items: 1
    • Dimensions: 9.00" h x .9" w x 6.00" l, .18 pounds
    • Binding: Paperback
    • 36 pages
    Taking a C.A.B. to Happy Land: Help Your Child to Relax and Discard Their Negative Thoughts, by Lynne Woolfson

    About the Author About the author A mother of three, Lynne Woolfson is a clinical psychologist who has over twenty years’ experience of working with children. Lynne specializes in helping her clients heal their bodies and minds to grow up into happy, healthy little people.


    Taking a C.A.B. to Happy Land: Help Your Child to Relax and Discard Their Negative Thoughts, by Lynne Woolfson

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    Most helpful customer reviews

    0 of 0 people found the following review helpful. Wonderful relaxing meditative bedtime story for kids By Natalie B This book is a delight to read to younger children who are struggling with bedtime anxiety and fear. It has a beautiful rhythm that makes reading aloud a joy for the reader and a comfort to the listener. The story teaches basic meditation skills that are easy to put into practice. I can reread this book to my kids every night!! Totally recommend it if you want to help your child fall into an easy sleep!

    0 of 0 people found the following review helpful. ... daughter go back to sleep when she wakes from bad dreams. Very well written and easy strategies my ... By Tammy L This book has been fabulous giving me strategies to help my daughter go back to sleep when she wakes from bad dreams. Very well written and easy strategies my daughter can use always when she feels worried or anxious.

    0 of 0 people found the following review helpful. High recommended By Lionel Steinberg I will be recommending this book to all my patients with young children since managing fear and anxiety is vital to psychological wellbeing.

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    Taking a C.A.B. to Happy Land: Help Your Child to Relax and Discard Their Negative Thoughts, by Lynne Woolfson

    Taking a C.A.B. to Happy Land: Help Your Child to Relax and Discard Their Negative Thoughts, by Lynne Woolfson

    Taking a C.A.B. to Happy Land: Help Your Child to Relax and Discard Their Negative Thoughts, by Lynne Woolfson
    Taking a C.A.B. to Happy Land: Help Your Child to Relax and Discard Their Negative Thoughts, by Lynne Woolfson

    Minggu, 24 Mei 2015

    A Meal Like That, by Albert Garcia

    A Meal Like That, by Albert Garcia

    You can locate the link that our company offer in website to download and install A Meal Like That, By Albert Garcia By buying the affordable cost as well as obtain finished downloading and install, you have completed to the initial stage to obtain this A Meal Like That, By Albert Garcia It will be nothing when having purchased this publication and do nothing. Read it and disclose it! Invest your couple of time to merely check out some covers of page of this book A Meal Like That, By Albert Garcia to read. It is soft data as well as easy to read wherever you are. Enjoy your brand-new behavior.

    A Meal Like That, by Albert Garcia

    A Meal Like That, by Albert Garcia



    A Meal Like That, by Albert Garcia

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    With his uncommon common sense, Albert Garcia makes readers stop and pay attention. Again and again reading this collection I found myself halted by the simple astuteness of an observation, "before I knew love is pain / wrapped in shining paper . . . ." His unlikely choices of words or images often seem somehow exactly correct, once his context is studied, "your hair plumed like ink from a squid." Best of all, an ongoing sense of wonder at life itself pervades these singular expressions of mortality and more. —Gerald Haslam, author of Coming of Age in California and Grace Period With extraordinary attentiveness to the world around us, Albert Garcia explores the important questions: How to find equilibrium in a universe where Isaiah’s wolf and lamb do not dwell peacefully beside each other—where “just the idea of standing on a volcano’s shoulder…makes you brace for balance”—where awareness means accepting the fragility and underside of each moment. I am grateful for Garcia’s wise, humane and wide-awake look into these complexities—of daily life, of marriage, of personal and global history—that enlarges us with its insightful and compassionate clarity. --Susan Kelly-DeWitt, author of The Fortunate Islands Who wouldn’t love A Meal Like That, a moment we look back on when the complexities of our family life and our own often-bewildering inner life mingle at a table, and we are happy and sated, if sometimes a bit unsettled? Over the years, Albert Garcia has become a master at isolating such intimate, revealing moments of wonder, and then evoking them in his well-crafted and graceful poems. In this collection, those moments are divided between memories of a boy growing up on a ranch in the Sacramento Valley and those of a young family man living in that same valley. His voice is quiet and his word choices are unpretentious, but make no mistake, this is a poet who offers up the best fare, poems that satisfy and that will endure. Take a place at the table, and may we offer you “Cussing in the 4th Grade,” “Dig,” “Early Morning, Studying Art,” or a little “November Task”? —Gary Thompson, author of One Thing After Another

    A Meal Like That, by Albert Garcia

    • Amazon Sales Rank: #3054073 in Books
    • Published on: 2015-05-21
    • Original language: English
    • Number of items: 1
    • Dimensions: 9.00" h x .33" w x 6.00" l, .45 pounds
    • Binding: Paperback
    • 132 pages
    A Meal Like That, by Albert Garcia

    About the Author Albert Garcia is the author of two previously published books of poems, Rainshadow (Copper Beech Press) and Skunk Talk (Bear Star Press). He has also published Digging In: Literature for Developing Writers (Prentice Hall). His individual poems have been published in North American Review, Mid-American Review, Poetry East, Willow Springs, Southern Poetry Review, Yankee, and many other journals while also being featured in Ted Kooser’s American Life in Poetry and Garrison Keillor’s A Writer’s Almanac. Albert taught community college English for eighteen years, and for the last ten years has served as a dean at Sacramento City College. He lives with his wife and family in Wilton, California, a rural area outside of Sacramento, where he grows most varieties of fruit trees that thrive in the region and several that don’t.


    A Meal Like That, by Albert Garcia

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    0 of 0 people found the following review helpful. Gunpowder By singe Burying a beloved cat and exposing the gunpowder of emotion igniting through the occasion, the continued attempts to understand the one we love despite and through their cryptic actions, the past infusing the air like incense in mass – A Meal Like That considers all of these as the basic and sacred materials of consciousness. In this book, Albert Garcia explores the wilds and contradictions of happiness, as well as the pleasures of art. From “Cussing in the 4th Grade,” he writes: “But we were now part / of another order, those who knew / the dirty alley and back door of our language, / who could praise, who could cut, who could sing / down the halls, across the blacktop, beyond.” He records the shifting currents of daily life in the country, in the family, in the loaded moment that yields both meaning and unspooling mystery. Garcia is part of another order: those who trace the ghost of existence, the resonating vibrancy, sorrow, and joy that trail from our daily routines and acts, so much more complicated than those words might suggest. He casts and lands some of the hidden fish that drift through the river underneath our own drifting boats. It’s a book of beauty and grief, a journal of the ongoing vicissitudes of that continuing flow.

    0 of 0 people found the following review helpful. 10-year wait for new Garcia collection By G. Brewer I’ve waited a decade for a new collection of Albert Garcia’s lovely and graceful poetry. At last, A Meal Like That has arrived. The pleasures begin immediately, with the opening poem “Mosquitofish” and its delightful explanation of the book’s odd title. Throughout, there’s the quiet force, the disarming directness and unadorned lyricism that I expect and admire in a Garcia poem. And the collection just gets stronger as it proceeds, with each section, as unlikely as it seems, even better than the one before. So many good poems: “Free Throws,” “Trash Fish,” “What I Wanted to Say” (“Okay, whether I was right or wrong, / I was wrong.”), and to open the final section, “Fat” and the heartrending “November Task.” Al Garcia hasn’t received the accolades he deserves in the poetry game. A Meal Like That is his finest and most ambitious collection and the best book of new poetry I’ve read all summer.

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    Sabtu, 23 Mei 2015

    Hiss and Tell (A Sunny & Shadow Mystery), by Claire Donally

    Hiss and Tell (A Sunny & Shadow Mystery), by Claire Donally

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    Hiss and Tell (A Sunny & Shadow Mystery), by Claire Donally

    Hiss and Tell (A Sunny & Shadow Mystery), by Claire Donally



    Hiss and Tell (A Sunny & Shadow Mystery), by Claire Donally

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    In this Sunny & Shadow Mystery from the New York Times bestselling author of Last Licks, a fat-cat wedding is making waves in Kittery Harbor, Maine.  Political heiress Priscilla Kingsbury is about to marry Carson de Kruk, son of business mogul Augustus de Kruk, at the Kingsburys’ waterfront compound. For reporter Sunny Coolidge, an assignment from the Harbor Courier to cover the event is like catnip. But when Sunny photographs men pulling the body of a dead woman out of the water, the Kingsburys’ private security isn’t happy. They claim the woman’s death was an accident, but the story seems fishy. Now, with a little help from her police officer boyfriend and her cunning cat Shadow, Sunny is determined to get the scoop on a killer.

    Hiss and Tell (A Sunny & Shadow Mystery), by Claire Donally

    • Amazon Sales Rank: #146778 in Books
    • Published on: 2015-05-05
    • Released on: 2015-05-05
    • Original language: English
    • Number of items: 1
    • Dimensions: 6.75" h x .88" w x 4.19" l, .33 pounds
    • Binding: Mass Market Paperback
    • 304 pages
    Hiss and Tell (A Sunny & Shadow Mystery), by Claire Donally

    Review Praise for the New York Times bestselling Sunny & Shadow Mysteries “Cozy mystery lovers will adore Shadow.”—Miranda James, New York Times bestselling author “Applause for paws—Sunny and Shadow take Best in Show!”—Susan Wittig Albert, New York Times bestselling author

    About the Author Claire Donnally is the New York Times bestselling author of the Sunny & Shadow Mysteries, including Last Licks, Cat Nap, and Big Kitty.

    Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

    1

    He didn’t know how long he’d stood in the cover of the bushes at the rear of the house. But it was long enough to convince him that the place was empty.

    So he strolled across the yard. No hurry, anyone who might look would instantly recognize that he belonged here. Of course, the door barred his way. But he knew that wouldn’t be a problem. He’d been practicing.

    A little finagling with the latch, then a quick jump to catch the top of the door, and it swung open without a struggle or a noise. All it took was a little twist, and he was inside.

    The kitchen was warm—it had been a sunny day—and there was no sign of anyone in residence. A quick prowl of the ground floor quickly enlarged the no-one-home zone. Even so, he moved silently, listening for any telltale noises. As he stood at the foot of the hall stairway, he heard the gurgle of running water above. That brought him upstairs at a run; quietly, but quickly.

    As he stood in the hall, he also heard a snatch of song under the rush of the water. But he followed the scent of perfume into her room. Just as he expected, she had her fresh clothing laid out on the bed. He reached out and snagged one of her underthings—absurdly tiny, sheer and lacy.

    He was just raising it to his nose for a whiff when something happened he couldn’t have planned for: the phone rang. An instant later, she burst into the room, headed for the phone. She had a towel wrapped around her head . . . and that was all.

    They stood frozen for a long moment, him with the frilly little nothing still dangling, her with her bare skin pink and still damp from the water.

    And then she moved, tearing the towel free and throwing it at him.

    He yowled in surprise, his attempt to dodge sending him tumbling to the floor, with barely enough time to get his feet under him. But he could move, too, darting to squeeze under the bed where she couldn’t get at him easily.

    His quick action—not to mention his lashing tail—stirred up a cloud of dust under there that made him sneeze. But he hunkered down on all four paws, staying put and warily keeping a lookout for any more possible attacks.

    I don’t know why she overreacted like that, he thought. Maybe she’s embarrassed about having so little fur.

    *

    Sunny Coolidge stood on the deck of the cabin cruiser, enjoying the sailing. Although she hadn’t set off feeling very laid-back, after dashing out of the shower to find her cat Shadow playing with her underwear. He hadn’t appreciated getting attacked with a damp towel and had taken cover under the bed, leaving her with a heck of a job coaxing him out.

    Sunny had felt rushed and frazzled by the time Will had picked her up, and he’d just laughed when she told him what had made her late. “I always had him pegged. You’re sheltering a peeping tomcat.” She’d finally relaxed now, though, and they’d ventured far enough from land to feel a rhythmic swell in the ocean, the remains of a storm considerably farther out to sea. It was enough to impart a rocking feeling to the vessel and made Sunny glad that she was a good sailor.

    If only I could be sure that Ben Semple is as good a skipper, she thought as she watched the man at the wheel. Dressed in a pair of Bermuda shorts and a long-sleeved shirt to avoid sunburn, he looked about as non-nautical as a person could get. A long-billed Kittery Harbor Police baseball cap completed his ensemble, and he wore it down low over his eyes as he scanned the waters around them.

    Will Price must have been reading Sunny’s mind, since he came over and draped an arm around her shoulders, grinning. “Don’t worry. We’ve got at least three GPS gizmos on board to get us back safely.”

    Sunny had less faith than Will in navigational systems. She couldn’t help thinking of a cartoon her dad had shown her of a car going off a cliff while the GPS voice droned, “Recalculating . . . recalculating.”

    “I’m just wondering if heading for the Isles of Shoals might not be a little too ambitious for Ben,” she whispered. “You said that on your other trips, you always stayed in or near the river.”

    The river was the Piscataqua, which divided Maine and New Hampshire. On one side was Kittery Harbor, Maine, Sunny’s hometown. On the other was the city of Portsmouth, in New Hampshire, where Will had previously been posted. Nowadays, both he and Ben were constables in the Kittery Harbor police, but Will was aiming for a promotion—he was running for county sheriff. Last night he’d been speech-making at a homeowners’ association meeting in one of the new developments at the edge of town, and Sunny had sat there trying to look loyal and gracious, while Tammy Wynette sang “Stand by Your Man” nonstop in an irreverent corner of her brain.

    Today represented a rare break in routine or campaigning, a chance to kick back and enjoy themselves before Labor Day arrived to put an end to summer. “I remember when my dad first took me out to the Isles of Shoals. We went with one of his fishing buddies. I thought it sounded like a fairy-tale place, someplace where we might see mermaids sunning themselves on the shore,” Sunny said.

    “Huh,” Will said. “As a kid, I always thought that was the place where all the foot-care stuff came from.”

    “Different spelling.” Sunny glanced at Will, not sure whether he was kidding. He had an oddball sense of humor.

    “We might see some seals over on Appledore Island.”

    “Which was not named after the guy who taught Harry Potter,” Sunny said, trying to get ahead of Will. “I guess I should be glad you didn’t bring up Smuttynose Island.”

    Will shrugged. “I was just thinking of things that would be nice to see, like the lighthouse on White Island.”

    Sunny sighed. Maybe she was just making things harder than she had to. For a small town like Kittery Harbor where the pickings were slim, Will was prime boyfriend material—tall, dark (especially with his summer tan), and yes, handsome, with regular features and a pair of gray eyes with odd-colored flecks. He’d rate as decent male companionship even in New York City, where Sunny had gone in search of a journalism career before returning home to help her dad when he got really sick. His health had recovered, but alas, her New York City newspaper career hadn’t, so Sunny had stayed put.

    “I haven’t seen any of this,” the fourth passenger on the boat joined the conversation. “So you guys will have to point everything out to me.”

    Sunny wasn’t sure which pride and joy this little voyage was supposed to show off—the boat Ben had devoted a big chunk of his salary to getting, or the girlfriend he’d also acquired this summer. Robin Lory was a nice, uncomplicated girl from a little town up in the woods who’d been excited to get a job running a cash register in one of the stores lining the interstate north of Kittery Harbor—outlet-land, as the locals called it. The store was local, however, a bakery with a wonderful line of pastries and, yes, donuts. Sunny had to hide a smile at the spectacle of a cop falling for a baker’s assistant. Still, Robin was cheerful, bubbly, and she’d certainly pepped up the usually stolid Ben. Though Robin had been a little quiet today, first because the flip-flops she’d worn hadn’t protected her toes from the deck hardware, so she’d taken one of the padded seats and stayed there. Then the swells had turned her a little green. But now it seemed she’d recovered. “What I’m really interested in,” she said, “is catching some rays out here.”

    With that, she stood up and peeled off the long T-shirt she’d been wearing, to reveal a tiny bikini and a lot of Robin.

    Will took one brief, appreciative look, but shot a glance at Ben when Robin began fiddling with her top.

    “Hey, Robin,” Ben said, glancing back at her, “I think we’d better cool it. Will’s running for office, and a lot of voters are on the conservative side.”

    “Who’s gonna see?” Robin squinted around at the waters surrounding them.

    “All it takes is one boat—and somebody on board with a telescopic lens.” Will spoke with the authority of someone who’d spent time on stakeouts. “And the next thing you know, a blurry photo is showing up on someplace online.” He looked over at Sunny. “And they’re claiming it’s you.”

    Sunny glanced down at what she called her seagoing Daisy Duke outfit—cutoffs and a shirt tied above her waist, with deck-shoe-soled tennies and no socks. “Hey, I don’t think an A-line dress and a pillbox hat are going to work out here.”

    “Besides,” Robin scoffed, “I’d be surprised if that Nesbit guy even heard of the Internet.”

    Will frowned. “Frank Nesbit got to be sheriff by being a damned good politician—and a bare-knuckles one at that.”

    Will ought to know, Sunny thought. Nesbit once bounced his father out of the job. Not even Will could tell whether the car crash that killed his dad shortly after losing the election had been an accident or something else. Either way, Frank Nesbit had remained sheriff ever since, and whenever the election cycle came up, billboards sporting portraits of an ever-graying Frank Nesbit appeared beside main roads, touting his record of keeping Elmet County safe.

    But not everyone bought that line, arguing that Nesbit massaged crime statistics, artificially downgrading more dangerous offenses in order to make his numbers look good. Sunny’s dad was one of those dissenting voices, and he and several other Kittery Harbor politicos had helped install Will as a town constable, grooming him for a race against Nesbit.

    As Sunny had seen in recent weeks, though, this insurgent campaign wasn’t easy. Like a lot of places, Elmet County politics wasn’t exactly a two-party system—more like one-and-a-half parties. Folks had to get pretty fed up with the people in office before they’d vote for the opposition. That meant the party primaries were the only voting that really counted. And for Will, it meant a lot of speeches to homeowners’ associations—and no topless boat rides to the Isles of Shoals.

    Robin pouted, but she kept her bikini top on, arranging herself as best she could on the padded seat in the stern of the boat for maximum sun. Sunny fiddled with the ends of the blouse she’d knotted along the line of her ribcage. “You think I’m underdressed for this boat ride? I thought we were taking it easy.”

    “I think you look fine.” Will himself was wearing an open short-sleeved button-down shirt over a tight tee that made the most of his rangy build, with a pair of cutoffs and boat shoes. “We just have to be aware that other people will be looking—and yeah, judging.”

    The boat trip lived up to every promise, offering up glimpses of seals, lighthouses, scenic rocky shores, and sea breezes. But for Sunny, the sudden intrusion of politics had taken something away from the outing—the fun. She felt distracted all through the journey around the islands.

    As Ben steered about, heading for home, a large sailing yacht cruised past in the distance, its distinctive red, white and blue canvas billowing on the breeze.

    Robin immediately perked up. “Oh, wow, that’s Caleb Kingsbury’s yacht!”

    Ben glanced back from his post at the wheel. “How do you know?”

    “From TV, silly. It was on Eagle Eye. They did a whole piece on the announcement of his niece Priscilla’s wedding and about the whole family,” Robin said. “The Senator, the governors, and Caleb. The best part was that yacht, I think it’s called the Merlin. It’s named after a pirate ship or something one of his ancestors sent out during the War of 1812.”

    “Do you mean a privateer?” Sunny asked. “They were sort of early defense contractors. The government gave them the legal go-ahead to raid and seize cargos from enemy merchant ships.”

    “Like pirates.” Robin shrugged. “Whatever you want to call it, that Merlin came home with a hundred thousand dollars.”

    “Before inflation,” Will joked, but his eyes grew serious as they followed the vessel, almost three times the size of Ben’s boat. “Kingsbury’s got a lot of nerve, sailing in these waters after what happened.”

    “I know, right?” Robin said. “They mentioned that on the show, too, about the girl who drowned under his boat.”

    “That cost him his seat in Congress.” Sunny remembered the scandal, which had happened during the summer of her junior year in college. Caleb Kingsbury had been found on top of his overturned boat—the dead girl had been beneath it. “He was just getting ready to run again, but after that, none of his father’s political friends wanted anything to do with him.”

    “Well, it couldn’t have hurt him much if he’s out there sailing a fifty-foot schooner.” Ben adjusted their course slightly.

    “So what’s the scoop on this celebrity wedding?” Sunny asked.

    “You don’t know?” Robin sounded incredulous. “Priscilla Kingsbury is marrying Carson de Kruk in a couple of months. It’ll be the biggest thing to happen around here this fall. Eagle Eye said the families will be spending some time at the Kingsbury estate, getting to know one another.”

    Sunny might not be up on the local wedding gossip, but even she knew the name Carson de Kruk—son of multimillionaire Augustus de Kruk. “If Caleb Kingsbury is sailing in for this get-together, I wonder how the de Kruks will make their entrance,” Sunny said. “They’ve got more money than God.”

    “Maybe they’ll pile it all up and come parasailing down from the summit,” Will suggested.

    “One thing’s for sure,” Ben said, going from sea captain to traffic cop. “Driving anywhere near Wilawiport is going to be a real mess—especially round the Kingsbury compound. They may not be Kennedys or Bushes, but they’re sure to have TV crews and lots of gawkers around. Now I know why I’m being posted up there. I was supposed to keep quiet about it. But if it’s on TV . . .” He shrugged.

    They reached the dock where Ben was renting space without spotting any other mysterious schooners, and the two couples parted ways. Will gave Sunny a lift home.

    “Do you want to come in?” she asked as they turned onto Wild Goose Drive.

    When she saw Will hesitate, Sunny said, “I promise there are no paparazzi hanging around.”

    “It’s not that—or you.” Will fumbled for words. “It’s your dad. Whenever he gets hold of me now, he’s full of advice.”

    “Well, he kind of considers himself your unofficial campaign manager.” Sunny pointed out.

    “Emphasis on the unofficial,” Will said.

    “Hey, he and Zach Judson and the other members of the Kittery Harbor political faction got you back here in the first place.”

    “I know. It’s just that it’s gotten so complicated.” Will ran a hand through his hair, and made a face as his fingers got stuck.

    Sunny grinned. “Yeah, salt water will do that. You know, some folks intentionally spray the stuff onto their hair to get more volume.”

    “Well, all it does for me is to make everything clump together.”

    She laughed. “Better than the frizz of death, which is what I get. Come and have a quick drink, then you can plead the need to take a shower and escape if Dad gets to be too much for you.”

    Will agreed, and together they walked to the front door, then headed into the living room to find Sunny’s dad, Mike Coolidge, sitting on the couch with their neighbor Helena Martinson.

    “Well, you two look dry, so I guess Ben Semple didn’t sink the boat on you,” Sunny’s father greeted them.

    “No, we had a nice little jaunt,” Sunny assured him, glad to see her Dad looking so well and relaxed. When she’d come home from New York City to tend him after his heart attack, it had been touch and go for a while. But now he was eating healthily and getting in a three-mile walk every day, though his unruly white curls needed a trim, as usual. His piercing blue eyes were fondly aimed at Mrs. Martinson, whom Sunny suspected was the other reason for Mike’s improvement. There were plenty of widows available in town, but her dad had gravitated to Helena, and Sunny could see why. Mrs. Martinson was everything Sunny wanted to be when she grew up—or at least grew older. Petite, graceful, with a figure that Sunny could only envy and blond hair that had somehow gone platinum with age, Mrs. M. was definitely a catch . . . and Sunny was glad that Mike had caught her.

    “Kinda nice, being able to sit around without worrying about furry critters underfoot,” Mike said.

    Helena nodded. “We had a pet-free day. Your Shadow was out visiting, and I left my Toby playing in my backyard.” She shuddered slightly. “I just hope he hasn’t gnawed his way through the fence or knocked a tree down.”

    The ungainly pup Mrs. M. had adopted had grown considerably . . . and didn’t show any signs of stopping yet. Combined with a bumptious puppy-dog personality, Toby’s awkward stage wasn’t always charming.

    “I didn’t think they could breed golden retrievers with Godzilla.” Mike shook his head.

    “So, did you enjoy your day off?” Mike turned round to include Will in the conversation. “Lord knows you won’t get many until after the primary.”

    “Too true. In fact, I was reminded of what can go wrong in a political career,” Will said, “when Caleb Kingsbury went sailing past us.”

    “The Kingsburys? They’re definitely out of my league. Now there was a political dynasty still looking for a crown.” Mike shook his head. “Although at least his father, Thomas Kingsbury, reached out to folks in Kittery Harbor the last time he ran. Tom was ‘the Senator’ to everybody, even his kids. He was kind of a stiff old coot, which worked against him in the end. The party, even long-time supporters, dumped him for a younger, more with-it candidate.”

    “From what I hear, the kids didn’t turn out too happily,” Will added.

    “The eldest, Nate, came out of West Point as a newly minted second lieutenant, and his dad sent him off to Vietnam to become a war hero. Apparently the Senator forgot that people could become casualties, which is what happened to Nate. Lem, the second son, was campaigning for the old man’s seat and got killed in an accident up in the mountains.” Mike paused for a moment. “You know, that’s why the term ‘landslide’ became a taboo political term among the Kingsburys.” He went on, “The Senator’s grandsons haven’t done too shabbily, though. Lem Junior is a governor down south, and his kid brother Tom is one of the youngest governors in the country out west. You can’t exactly call the Kingsburys kingmakers, though. Even with both of their states together, the best they can deliver is seven electoral votes.”

    “And Lem Junior got pretty well trounced in the last round of presidential primaries,” Sunny recalled. “He was out before South Carolina.”

    Mrs. M. spoke up. “Nate, Lem, Caleb . . . putting the names all together like that, it begins to sound like the cast from Hee Haw.”

    That got a shrug out of Mike. “The Senator was very big on early American names. It’s not uncommon in these parts. Although maybe not in such volume.”

    “And he seemed to do well enough as Thomas Kingsbury,” Helena Martinson added.

    “Thomas Neal Kingsbury,” Mike corrected. “His Neal relations were the really rich ones. They’ve got an old family mansion up in Wilawiport, on Neal’s Neck, their private peninsula.”

    “If the house is up in Wilawiport, the Neals probably were robber barons,” Mrs. M. said. “You had to make your money before 1929 to build an estate up there.” She confided to Sunny, “Just like the Piney Brook people look down their noses at what they call the ‘new money’ putting up McMansions in the new developments, the Wilawiport crowd looks down on the Piney Brook mansion set because they made their money around World War II.”

    “As I said, out of my league.” Mike turned back to Will. “We’ve got a sheriff’s primary to win. Are you all set for your next speech?”

    “The 99 Elmet Ladies.” Will glanced at Helena. “At least I can depend on one friendly face in attendance tomorrow evening.” Mrs. Martinson was a leading light in that county-wide civic group.

    “I’ll be there, too,” Sunny loyally promised, wondering where she could find a sufficiently conservative outfit on short notice. Maybe something with a bustle.

    “Not every face will be friendly, though,” Mrs. M. warned. “Lenore Nesbit is a founding member.”

    “The sheriff’s wife?” Sunny thought hard, but she couldn’t remember ever meeting the woman. “Do you think she’ll be a problem?” She tried to lighten the mood. “From your tone of voice, I’d be expecting the Wicked Witch of the West.”

    “Oh, no, Lenore is quite charming,” Mrs. Martinson said mildly. “So charming, you’ll hardly feel the knife as it goes in.”

    2

    Sunny didn’t know how to answer that, so she was glad when the doorbell rang and gave her an excuse to escape. It was Rafe Warner, delivering Shadow home.

    “He was pretty much a gentleman,” Rafe reported as he put down the cat carrier, “except for a little roughhousing with Portia.” He grinned. “She egged him on.”

    An imperious “Meow” came from the grilled front of the carrier. Shadow didn’t mind being transported in the carrier . . . but he didn’t like being cooped up in his own house. Sunny undid the latch and the big gray tomcat stepped out, immediately twining his way around her bare ankles. He paid special attention to her shoes, making Sunny wonder if she’d stepped into some trace of Ben’s last fishing expedition.

    Rafe’s grin grew wider as he watched. “That Shadow is a smooth one. Moving from one girlfriend to another.”

    “I’m just glad you’re okay with having Shadow over to visit Portia.” Sunny bent and picked up Shadow, then waved good-bye to Rafe as he headed back to his car.

    Shadow wormed his way out of her arms and onto her shoulders, draping himself around her neck like a large and internally warmed fur collar. Sunny wore him like that back into the living room, but he quickly abandoned her once she sat down, climbing to the top of the chair, then jumping down to the floor and investigating the other people in the room.

    Mike and Mrs. Martinson got a fairly cursory examination, although Shadow made a sort of sneezing noise around Mrs. M. Probably catching a whiff of Toby, Sunny thought.

    Shadow was more circumspect as he approached Will. While it didn’t reach the level of cold war, there was definitely a respectful antagonism between the two. Will and Shadow were both pretty stubborn and didn’t find much to agree on—except, maybe, for Sunny. And Will had yet to forgive Shadow for the time that the cat had literally crashed a romantic moment, falling from the roof of the house just as he was making a move. Even so, Shadow was enough of a snoop that he couldn’t help checking Will out for any interesting smells—especially Will’s Top-Siders.

    “Whatcha catching there, little guy?” Will asked with a smile. “A whiff of fish head or fish guts? I keep telling Ben he’s got to clean the decks more often.”

    “Of course, that’s why any man buys a boat,” Mrs. Martinson said in a tart voice. “The chance to do marine housekeeping.”

    Sunny remembered that as a kid, she’d often seen Mrs. M.’s late husband coming home from fishing expeditions. He’d had a boat, too. Whenever Mr. Martinson enjoyed a good catch, he’d share it with the neighborhood. Nice, but Sunny remembered her mother’s delight at getting stuck with the job of gutting and scaling a fresh fish dinner.

    Whatever it was Shadow had been smelling, he finally finished his rounds, walked back in front of Sunny, sat back on his hindquarters, and stared up at her.

    “I know that look,” Mike said, “and I never go to sleep if I see it in the furball’s eyes.” He deepened his voice. “Feeeeed meeeeee.”

    Sunny rose. “Well, we’ll see if he wants dry food or something to drink.”

    “Speaking of feeding . . .” Mrs. M. got up from her chair, too. “I’d better get home to see what damage Toby has done to my backyard.”

    “I should be heading home, too.” Will joined Helena as she went for the door.

    After they said their good-byes, Sunny headed down the hall to the kitchen, with Shadow leading the way and Mike trailing after.

    “Do you think it was something we said?” Mike asked as Sunny laid out some food for the cat. Mike stepped over to where Shadow leaned into his bowl, delicately crunching away on dry food. “Or was it something the furball did?”

    *

    Shadow was just as glad to see the visitors leave. He’d put in a hard day, chasing and playing with Portia, the calico cat with the irresistible scent. Now he was ready for a nice nap. Besides, you never knew what two-legs would get up to when you put them in large groups. Sometimes they’d sit around talking loudly, setting little things on fire to breathe the smoke, turn on the picture box or the box that made noise, drink that stuff that made them act silly . . . and then they’d forget that there was someone to watch out for on the floor. Shadow had lived in houses like that, and it could get dangerous.

    Luckily, Sunny and the Old One weren’t that way. They didn’t make the picture box too loud, Sunny liked to play, and the Old One left Shadow alone for the most part. Even their visitors weren’t too bad. The She who visited with the Old One wasn’t grabby, and she knew the good places to scratch. If it weren’t for the fact that she smelled so much of dog, Shadow wouldn’t mind having her around.

    Sunny’s He was another story. Shadow remembered how that one had held him helpless, keeping him from meeting Portia for a long, long time. Shadow wasn’t about to forget that. If it happened once, it could happen again. So Shadow kept a wary eye on that one, even when he came in with strange and interesting aromas.

    That reminded him. Shadow turned back to Sunny, inhaling deeply, trying to identify the elements of the bouquet wafting from her. Some were familiar, like Sunny’s own scent. And there was the faintest smell of fish coming from the things on her feet. Others he couldn’t identify, like the sharp tangy odor from back around her heel. Most of all, he caught an odd fragrance still enveloping her, one he sometimes sensed in town when the wind came blowing across the big water.

    It was a scent to stir the blood, wild and salty.

    Shadow turned from his bowl and ran his tongue along Sunny’s bare leg until she jumped away with a surprised noise.

    Yes, definitely salty. It went well with the crunchy food he was eating.

    *

    The next evening, Sunny looked critically at her reflection in the bedroom mirror. Was she ready to deal with the 99 Elmet Ladies and Will? Spending time outdoors on the boat yesterday had strengthened her tan—and left a spray of freckles across the bridge of her nose and her cheeks. Her outfit involved neither a pillbox hat nor a pantsuit. Sunny wore a simple belted dress in muted green, something nice but a tad fuddy-duddy that had sat in her closet for a long, long time.

    I guess I should be glad it still fits, she thought. It’s one of the first things I bought when I moved to New York.

    Sunny had a nice figure, but spending most of her day sitting in front of a computer was enough to shift the sand in even the daintiest hourglass. She’d upped the exercise quota this summer, and now she was glad of it as she checked the fit of the dress.

    She’d managed to wash the salt out of her hair, but her auburn curls were as unmanageable as ever, a genetic bullet from her father and his own mass of curls. She really needed a cut and styling, especially if she was going to have to attend more of these dressy events with Will. But the one beauty parlor in the area that could control her mop was pricey.

    She’d actually gotten a raise for her job as webmistress and general office worker monkey at the Maine Adventure X-perience, MAX for short. Sunny would’ve thought her boss, Ollie Barnstable, more likely to donate a kidney than fork over a little more in her paycheck but he’d actually come across pretty generously. Still, it seemed really ridiculous, spending it all on her hair. Had Jackie Kennedy dealt with problems like this? That irreverent corner of her mind was having a field day. Did Hillary Clinton?

    Catching movement in the mirror, she turned to find Shadow sitting in the doorway, watching her.

    “Don’t tell me you’re smelling mothballs,” Sunny told him.

    She headed downstairs to the living room, where her father had installed himself with the Sunday papers on his lap and the TV remote in his hand.

    “You look nice,” Mike said. He seemed in a mellow mood after a lazy day and a salad supper.

    “Sure you don’t want to come, Dad?” Sunny teased. “You could have a front-row seat to watch politics in action.”

    Mike shook his head. “Not after I got a pass from Helena. There’s a very smart woman. She told me, ‘Togetherness is fine, but there’s nothing like the meeting of a ladies club to put a strain on it.’” He grinned. “Besides, I think she’s afraid one of the ninety-eight other ladies might try to poach me.”

    The mention of the other women reminded Sunny of something. “Do you think the sheriff’s wife is going to make trouble?” That thought had been nagging at her ever since Helena had mentioned Mrs. Nesbit.

    “I’ve met Lenore a couple of times, usually when I was up at the county seat for some political confab or other,” Mike said. “For the most part she kept to herself. But when she opens her mouth, watch out.”

    “Thanks,” Sunny told him. “That makes me feel a whole lot better.”

    Mike spread his hands. “What is she going to say? Will doesn’t have any interns to fool around with—” He abandoned that line of thought when he caught the look she sent him. “He has a good reputation as a solid cop. One you’ve helped him achieve. Whatever she says, if she says anything at all, it can’t be too bad.”

    Even so, Sunny felt uneasy as she walked the few blocks over to pick up Mrs. Martinson at her place. Helena was out on her porch. “I thought I’d spare you a greeting from Toby.”

    From the level of excited barking inside the house, Sunny was just as glad.

    Mrs. M. held out a set of car keys. “Would you mind driving the Buick? The evenings are still long, but it will be dark by the time we’re heading back.”

    It wasn’t the first time Sunny had done the driving, so she led the way to the car, opening the passenger-side door for Helena. The car started up without a problem, and Sunny noticed the gas gauge read “full.”

    All prepared for the journey, she thought. I hope.

    She took local roads over to the interstate and headed north. The Elmet Ladies usually met in the county seat of Levett, which was sort of enemy territory for Will. Most of his support came from people like Sunny’s dad, down in the southern end of the county, folks around Kittery Harbor who felt they were getting shortchanged by the movers and shakers up in Levett.

    This could be a chance for Will to make some inroads in Frank Nesbit country.

    As long as Mrs. Nesbit doesn’t overturn the applecart. Sunny pushed that thought away.

    Sunny got off at the exit for Levett, and Mrs. M. directed her to a lodge hall that the Elmet Ladies had rented for the evening. There were definitely more than ninety-nine people inside, and some of them weren’t even ladies. Sunny hadn’t expected to find so many political junkies in this neck of the woods. Maybe this was a good thing for Will.

    Helena took her around the room, introducing Sunny to people, and in some cases, reintroducing her to the mothers of old classmates or people who’d been ahead of her at school.

    Then her eyes lit up. “Here’s someone you really should meet.” The someone was a young woman, younger than Sunny, and she was surrounded by a buzzing cluster of ladies. Helena deftly inserted them into the crowd, moving forward until she could make the introductions. “Sunny Coolidge, this is Priscilla Kingsbury. Priscilla, Sunny.”

    So this is the bride-to-be, one of the fabled Kingsburys, Sunny thought. Priscilla had sandy blond hair, cut short in a fairly utilitarian style, and wore a plain khaki dress not that dissimilar from the one Sunny had on. Hmmmm. Maybe I have a future as a political helpmate, at least in the wardrobe department.

    As Priscilla turned to them, Sunny was struck by the girl’s eyes, large, dark, and intelligent, the best feature in an otherwise pleasantly pretty face. She also displayed a killer smile and a sharp memory. “Nice to meet you, Sunny. And good to see you, Helena.”

    “Priscilla is helping with our food pantry,” Mrs. M. explained. That explained a lot. Helena had made keeping the local food pantry stocked her personal mission. Jobs were still scarce around the county, and a lot of families needed help in stretching their food budgets.

    “We just provided some seed money and discussed best practices.” Priscilla smiled. “It’s passionate folks like Helena who really got it off the ground. If we can find more people like that in neighboring counties, we can try setting up a regional pilot program and even wind up with a model that we can use nationally.”

    Sunny nodded, impressed. “Sounds pretty serious.”

    Priscilla laughed, flashing that smile again. “It makes a nice change from forever talking about wedding plans.”

    “Speaking of which . . .” A lady off to Priscilla’s left cut in. “Have you considered using local goods and services for the wedding? That could be a real economic boost.”

    Priscilla turned to her, looking a bit harassed. But the woman on Priscilla’s right stepped forward with an answer. “I’m Fiona Ormond, Ms. Kingsbury’s wedding planner. Some elements of the wedding—the gown, for instance—will of necessity come from New York. But there are many other supplies and services, of course, we’re looking to source locally.”

    The planner had a handsome, slightly square face, and blond hair with dark roots showing at the part. Proof that she’s a busy woman who doesn’t get distracted by mere vanity, Sunny’s irreverent alter ego suggested. With her crisp business suit and a smile that could cut paper, Fiona was the classic stereotype of the go-getting New York career woman.

    Is that what Will thought he was seeing when he first met me? Sunny wondered. She looked over to the stage, where he stood looking out at the crowd. Will smiled when he spotted her. At least he’s changed his mind now.

    “I guess this isn’t the time or place to discuss life on the campaign trail,” Helena whispered with a smile as she moved away from Priscilla and deftly snagged them a pair of aisle seats. As usual, Mrs. M.’s timing was impeccable. No sooner had they sat down than the chairwoman called the meeting to order.

    Once everyone was seated, Will set off on his stump speech. It wasn’t an attack speech. Will was respectful of Frank Nesbit, praising him as a good administrator who worked well within the county government. Will had practiced and refined his words, working with Mike and other members of his “Kittery Harbor Kitchen Cabinet.” As Will concluded, he said, “Just as his billboards say, Frank Nesbit has done a good job of keeping Elmet County safe. But now the job is changing. We’ve had drug labs appear, even dealt with a serial killer. What you don’t know can hurt you. So you have to ask yourselves: are you safer not knowing what’s out there or being aware of the potential crime situation?”

    Sunny tried to listen like the reporter she used to be, rather than a girlfriend. She thought Will sounded pretty good, and judging by the applause, a lot of other people in the audience did, too. Then the chairwoman opened the floor for questions.

    A voice came from the rear of the hall, pitched so everyone could hear. “But how do you become aware of the potential crime situation? Would you be sending officers out looking for trouble?”

    Sunny twisted in her seat to get a glimpse of the questioner, a handsome woman with a frosting of gray in her short, dark hair.

    “Lenore Nesbit,” Helena Martinson whispered in Sunny’s ear.

    Did Will recognize his antagonist? Whether he did or not, he responded to Lenore with a smile. “For most cops, it’s the other way around. Every time a law enforcement officer goes out, there’s the possibility of trouble finding him—or her. That’s a difference between the sheriff and myself—I’ve pounded a beat in several different locations.”

    “So is that your policing policy, that our officers should be ‘pounding a beat’ rather than, for instance, driving on traffic patrol?” Lenore asked.

    Will refused to be drawn into that trap. “I think we know what the situation is on the interstate through outlet-land,” he said. “There’s a lot of traffic, and people get a little crazy when it comes to bargains. Plus, I’m aware of the revenue generated from giving tickets to folks from outside the state. It’s a fiscal enhancement for the sheriff’s department and for the county, as well as a valid safety issue.”

    So Ben Semple will keep his job, Sunny thought.

    Lenore thanked Will and disappeared while others in the hall asked questions or expressed concerns. The chairwoman was just beginning to wrap things up when a surprise visitor arrived.

    Frank Nesbit walked into the hall, wearing his usual green sheriff’s department Windbreaker, his trademark silver mustache as carefully groomed as ever. He might as well have stepped down off one of his campaign billboards.

    He made his way to the front of the hall, shaking a lot of hands on the way. “I’m not here to steal my opponent’s thunder,” Nesbit said as he faced the crowd. “The past few years have shown that Will Price is a very talented, experienced officer. Right now we have a situation that calls for both of those qualities: the Kingsbury-de Kruk wedding. So I’m appointing Constable Price as my liaison officer for the duration, effective immediately, so he can help us work with all the other law enforcement agencies providing security for the celebration.”

    While everyone applauded the sheriff’s generous response, Nesbit shook hands with Will, who did a good job of looking pleased. But Sunny could tell otherwise, and so could Mrs. Martinson. “What’s that old rascal up to now?” she asked in a low voice.

    They didn’t get an answer until Will finished pressing the flesh and almost everyone had left the hall. “That’s one I didn’t expect,” Will growled as he escorted Sunny and Helena to the Buick. “If the wedding goes off without a hitch, Nesbit cements his reputation as a great administrator, appointing the right man for the job. And if anything goes wrong, it will all be my fault.”

    “That is clever, in a twisted kind of way,” Sunny had to admit.

    “But here’s the kicker,” Will said. “It also means that I’ll have to spend a lot of time up in Wilawiport, giving me even less of a chance to campaign.”

    “And there you have it in a nutshell,” Helena Martinson said. “The difference between a cop and a politician as sheriff.”

    3

    Since it was a work night, Sunny couldn’t stay out late to help Will figure out how to deal with this latest political curveball. By the time she got Mrs. Martinson home, it was just about time for bed. Sunny arrived at her house to see her father watching the late news.

    “Somehow, Will’s speech didn’t make it into the national newscast.” Mike grinned at her. “How did it go?”

    “As far as the speech went, that was pretty good. But afterward . . .” She recounted what happened with Frank Nesbit’s surprise visit.

    “Not wanting to steal Will’s thunder? Of course he did.” Mike frowned. “And Nesbit’s shoveled enough happy horseflop with the Kingsburys to know damn well this isn’t the plum job he’s making it out to be.”

    Sunny nodded. “Will already figured out it’s a heads-Nesbit-wins, tails-Will-loses situation. And it will keep him stuck in Wilawiport instead of campaigning.”

    That got a deeper scowl out of Mike. “Just means we’ll have to pull up our socks and work all the harder to get the word out. Is Will taking it okay?”

    “He knew from the start what he was getting into,” Sunny said. “And we all knew the sheriff wasn’t going to make it any easier.” She looked down. “I’d better get out of this outfit and into bed.”

    She’d already spotted Shadow making a slow circle around her, watching intently. It wasn’t often that Sunny wore nylons, and she wanted to get safely out of reach before Shadow’s nosiness overcame his usual caution. Cat claws and pantyhose did not make a good combination.

    Up in her room, she quickly changed into pjs. Shadow shouldered the door open and came in, looking relieved to find her back to normal.

    Sunny sat on the floor, and Shadow crawled into her lap, arranging himself for a good petting.

    “Yeah,” Sunny told him, “life would be so much easier if all any of us needed was a good belly scratch.”

    *

    The next morning Sunny breakfasted with her dad, who was already dressed for his daily hike. “Going up to outlet-land to walk in the air conditioning,” he said. “The weather guy last night said to expect some more hot air,” Mike winked. “He didn’t say whether to expect it from Will, Frank Nesbit, or any of the Kingsburys.”

    Whatever the cause, the prediction was right. The air felt unseasonably warm as Sunny walked out to her Wrangler for the ride into town.

    Monday-morning traffic flowed more freely than it had on the weekend. At least all the people visiting on Saturday and Sunday excursions had gone home. But Sunny saw plenty of vehicles with out-of-state plates, lazing along, enjoying the scenery—and clogging the roads. Considering her line of work, boosting tourism and booking accommodations at the Maine Adventure X-perience, Sunny realized that the waves of tourists were partly her doing. Obviously, not all—there were things like great scenery, discount goods in the outlets, and a state tourism bureau involved. But her promotional copy and the time and effort she put into the website made a contribution, too. So in a way, one could argue that the traffic-laden roads were a testament to her success.

    Be interesting to use that as an excuse if I’m late, Sunny thought.

    Either way, she beat the clock into the office, fired up the computer, and started checking e-mail. A few minutes later, Nancy the summer intern arrived and started a pot of coffee. Nancy was supposed to have been working on the local paper but had found publicity and promotional work more interesting than the nuts and bolts of journalism. Sunny didn’t necessarily agree with that herself, but having an assistant web lackey around had made life a lot easier—she’d miss Nancy when the girl returned to school in a few weeks. For now, though, they divvied up the morning’s tasks and set to work.

    Around eleven o’clock, they had a real surprise when their boss, Oliver Barnstable, also showed up. Ollie was a local boy who’d left town to make good, then came back to spread his money around his old hometown. The MAX office wasn’t just about tourism, it also served as home base for a variety of his mysterious enterprises. The whole back wall of the office was lined with locked file cabinets containing all the dealings of Ollie’s mini-empire.


    Hiss and Tell (A Sunny & Shadow Mystery), by Claire Donally

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    Most helpful customer reviews

    9 of 10 people found the following review helpful. Not as good as the previous ones in this series By Cheesehead4Deaver Not as good as the previous ones in this series. I couldn't relate to the super-rich characters. In this entry, Donally weaves together a mystery that involves New England wealthy families. They sound like a mixture of the Bushes, Kennedys, and Trumps. Again, we the readers have the whodunit figured out long before the stupid people in the book. Even the cat has it figured out, but then we all know how smart cats are. When are authors going to realize we don't care about what someone is wearing, or how long it takes to figure out what to wear. Boring. Just get on with the mystery and the solving of it. Please. I also agree with other reviewers that Sunny should have come to her cat's rescue. Shame on you, Sunny.

    7 of 7 people found the following review helpful. Not so much ! By Mary Ruppelt Did not like this one at all.Loved the others in the series but not this one.Did not like her disloyalty to Shadow.Ms Donally either does not have cats or does not love her kitty very much.

    5 of 6 people found the following review helpful. Shadow becomes a hero By F. Yoder Hiss and Tell is the fourth book in the Sunny & Shadow Mystery series.Another fun and exciting visit with Sunny, Shadow and her friends in Kittery Harbor, Maine.Interesting time are in store for Kittery Harbor, Constable Will Price, the young man that Sunny has been dating, has decided that the community needs a sheriff that will fight crime and not one that massages the numbers to make it appear there is little, and is running for sheriff against his boss. In addition to this there are preparation for the wedding of Priscilla Kingsbury from the politically affluent Kingsbury family who live nearby in the family compound at Neal's Neck. Then in the early hours one morning Ken Howell, owner/editor of the local newspaper calls asking to go with him to Neal's Neck as there is trouble at the compound. They approach from the water and are taking pictures of rescue personnel retrieving the body of a young lady. Ted Trehearne, head of security at the compound, heads out to confiscate the cameras being used. But Sunny is one step ahead and starts to take pictures with her phone, which she emails to the newspaper. Then two things happen that really surprises Sunny. First her former boss from the Standard, in New York City sees her and tells her that he has the notes of a former reporter who says there is someone that is blackmailing people and one of those people is the young lady who has just been found dead on the shore. The other is that Priscilla has asked to stay at the compound under the guise of reporting the planning of her wedding and at the same time try and find out who might have killed the young lady.The sheriff assigns Will to be the county's liaison with the compound so that he will, for the most part, be out of the campaigning arena. But soon the sheriff is found with his throat slashed, in his cruiser near the compound. Will is now assigned to patrol duty. This leaves Sunny pretty much on her own to find the murderer. But when Sunny returns home to get some more formal clothes, Shadow is able to hide in the suitcase. And as in previous books Shadow is able to do his own sleuthing and helps Sunny capture the killer.Another wonderful story and I quite enjoyed reading Shadow's thought and humor as his side of the story is presented. Will definitely be watching for the next book in the series.

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    Hiss and Tell (A Sunny & Shadow Mystery), by Claire Donally