Day Three of Six in Countdown to Release
So it continues, agents, The six-part review session of Perry Kirkpatrick's The Accidental Cases of Emily Abbot and the countdown to the Saturday release of Tales from Parallel Worlds. If you haven't already, be sure to enter the raffle for a chance at winning either a signed copy of Red Rover, Red Rover or a Jes Drew swag bag with two designer pins, a sticker, and a coaster. Enter Here!
And back to the main events...
Review of Bad Things, Small Packages
This third book in the series brings another classic spy theme I love to the plate: being on the run, kind of. Once again, Emily wiggles herself into one of Brett's cases, only this time, she has a head cold.
You know you're dedicated to a life of adventure when you do it even when sick.
Brett continues to shine in his tender protection of Emily, and we get to see a wider picture of the agency- and its enemies. Fast and fun and funny.
(Level Seven Classification: Relationship Diagnosis):
Unrequited Love:
Brett seems to have placed himself in the friend-zone before Emily could, and everything he does could be seen as a really good friend... Like how protective he is (after all, she's only a civilian...), how easily he's persuaded to let her accompany him, how he always knows he can go to her; you know, innocent stuff like that.
Now, to part two of this blog post-
The third story in this collection is called "Lone Wolf." This is the epilogue story to The Howling Twenties, once again starring Jane Delane as she prepares to get married- despite it being a blood moon, changing the usual rules of lycanthropy.
Scotland,
1928
It
doesn’t occur to me until I see the orb of glitter around my
ex-Faerie godmother and current sister-in-law’s head that I have a
strange life.
It
probably should have occurred to me sooner, since my life has never
been what one could call normal—
what with my growing up in a remote cottage in the woods, my
experience with Faeries, merfolk, vampires, and werewolves
(especially
werewolves), and the fact that I’ve seen and tasted the fountain of
youth. But it's the glittering orb that finally opens my eyes to the
little oddities of my life.
"What's
wrong with you?" The question comes from Debra, my soon-to-be
relative, and current bridesmaid. Bridesmaid, not my maid of honor,
much to her disgust. Her words are directed to my actual matron of
honor.
Maple
taps the glittering orb covering her black bob and eternally youthful
face that is dark as the evening. "This is to protect me from
the pollen in the air due to all these decorative flowers."
“You’re
a Faerie,” Debra begins slowly, “and you’re allergic to
flowers?”
“Yep.”
Debra
shakes her blonde head.
Aunt
Flora, who isn't my real aunt but actually my mother's Faerie mentor
(though she wouldn't mind becoming more of an aunt to me by marrying
the man who isn't actually my uncle but my dad's best friend), puts
one last bobby pin in my unfashionably long and thus hard to style
auburn hair. "It's my masterpiece."
Coming
someone who has conducted many a makeover (an essential job for a
Faerie godmother), that means a lot.
I
look in the mirror and find that my hair, braided into a careful
up-do, truly is a masterpiece. A painful masterpiece.
Mother
stirs from behind me and puts a hand over her heart. “You look
beautiful, Jane. The most beautiful bride in the world.”
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