(Image from Barnes & Noble)

A businessman on holiday in Scotland goes on a hunting trip with family, where he's exposed to tainted pheasant's blood.  He starts feeling poorly almost immediately; by the time he's on the plane back to the U.S. he's deathly ill.  Within 48 hours of exposure, he's dead.  The sickness spreads rapidly, killing 1/3 of the world's population in a matter of weeks.  With widespread death and decimation comes fear, anarchy, and chaos.  Out of the ashes of the dying world something even more unsettling rises—magick, both good and evil.

As the immune flee New York City, running toward the hope of safety, strangers will band together for survival.  Despite rising conflicts between the Uncanny, the immune, and everyone else, those who desire good must work together to fight the powerful forces that want only destruction and domination.  The trick—as it turns out—is knowing one from the other.

I love me an immersive dystopian series, so I've been looking forward to Year One, the first book in a new one by Nora Roberts.  Hoping for a rich, engaging read, I found myself disappointed.  What plot there is in Year One isn't very original or surprising.  Its cast features too many characters with too little personality—it's difficult to keep track of who is who.  The book's overly long and by the end, I just did not care (although I did read to the end).  This means I won't be continuing the series, which is a bummer because initially I was very excited about it.  Ah well.  Such is the reading life sometimes.

(Readalikes:  Reminds me of The Darkest Minds by Alexandra Bracken and a little of the Gone series [Gone; Hunger; Lies; Plague; Fear; and Light] by Michael Grant)

Grade:

If this were a movie, it would be rated:

for strong language, violence, blood/gore, sexual content, and disturbing subject matter

To the FTC, with love:  I bought a copy of Year One from Barnes & Noble with a portion of the millions I make from my lucrative career as a book blogger.  Ha ha.

(Image from Barnes & Noble)

Although it seems morbid to others, 26-year-old Ivy Thorpe keeps a detailed "death journal" so that the people her father autopsies are never forgotten.  Still mourning the losses of her mother and her brother, the task soothes Ivy, helping her through her own grieving process.  When Ivy discovers the dead body of a young woman on the nearby grounds of an abandoned edifice known as Foster Hill House, she's shocked but determined.  This stranger will not be forgotten.  Enlisting the help of a childhood friend who is now a detective, Ivy launches her own amateur investigation—a decision that will put her in grave danger. 

Over a century later, Kaine Prescott, a weary social worker from San Diego, is looking for a new start.  Still devastated over the mysterious death of her husband two years ago and frustrated with the police for giving up on the case, she feels a desperate need to get out of California.  On a whim, she purchases an old house in Oakwood, Wisconsin, her grandfather's hometown.  One look at creepy old Foster Hill House, though, and Kaine's ready to run back to California.  When she learns of its dark history, she's even more unsettled.  The more she stays in the home, the more convinced she is that something sinister haunts its dusty hallways.  Determined to unearth its age-old secrets, she vows to exorcise its demons—and her own.

First of all, cast your eyes on the cover of The House on Foster Hill, a debut novel by Jaime Jo Wright.  It's gorgeous.  Seriously gorgeous.  I adore it.  Mostly, I picked up this novel based on its lovely jacket art, although the dual-timeline, mystery/horror-type premise also appealed.  Unfortunately, the cover might be the best thing about The House on Foster Hill.  Harsh, I know, but consider this—the novel is overwritten and melodramatic; the characters are bland, with Kaine being especially whiny and unlikable; the loosey-goosey plot doesn't even make sense in some places, and the religious overtones (this is a Christian novel, which I didn't realize at first) are overt and preachy.  So, while I like the bones of this novel, its "flesh" just didn't work for me.  The House on Foster Hill gets rave reviews on Amazon and Barnes & Noble (part of the reason I bought it), so apparently I'm in the minority here, but I found it to be a big disappointment.  Bummer, because it sounds like something that would be right up my alley.  Oh well.  

(Readalikes:  The premise reminds me of Kate Morton's dual-timeline books about the secrets of old houses)

Grade:

If this were a movie, it would be rated:

for violence and disturbing subject matter

To the FTC, with love:  I bought a copy of The House on Foster Hill from Amazon with a portion of the millions I make from my lucrative career as a book blogger.  Ha ha.

(Image from Barnes & Noble)

After 16-year-old Grace places her baby for adoption, she feels adrift.  Grief-stricken and looking for answers, she feels compelled to search for her own birth mother.  Adopted at birth, Grace never knew the woman who gave her life—she'd like to find her, ask her questions, and maybe gain some vital understanding of her own situation.  What Grace finds is two half-siblings, Maya and Joaquin, both of whom live shockingly close to her.  She reaches out to them, curious to find commonality with these two strangers.  Surely, they will want to find their bio mom as much as she does; the three of them can work on the project together.

As desperate as Grace is to connect with Maya and Joaquin, she's surprised when things don't turn out quite as she planned.  Maya is a wealthy, spoiled brat who's never felt a part of her adoptive family.  With her parents fighting constantly and her mother drinking too much, her world is falling apart.  She doesn't really care about finding their bio mom, but she's up for anything that will get her out of her oppressive house.  Joaquin, on the other hand, is adamant that he wants nothing to do with the mother who abandoned him.  After spending most of his life in foster care, he trusts no one, not even his current foster family who want to adopt him.  Shy and awkward, he doesn't even seem that keen on hanging out with his newly-discovered sisters.  

Even though Grace's half-siblings aren't quite what she expected, she still wants answers.  With their reluctant help, she will find them.  She'll also discover some enlightening truths that will change her perspective on family and on her own future.

Ever since I adopted my youngest child nine years ago, I've been drawn to books on the topic of adoption.  The premise behind Robin Benway's newest, Far From the Tree, especially intrigued me since my daughter has a number of half-siblings out in the world.  The idea of her meeting them someday appeals—I wonder what they might have in common and how they might differ.  So, of course, I had to pick up this book to see what happened to Grace.  What I got was a raw, honest story that's both tender and touching.  It's more graphic than I was expecting and, truthfully, I didn't feel a huge connection to any of the characters.  They all seem unrealistically world-weary.  Still, Far From the Tree is a well-written, thought-provoking novel that offers important insight into teen pregnancy, adoption, and the reality of families that are not perfect but nevertheless important.  I didn't end up loving Far From the Tree like I wanted to, but I did enjoy it overall.

(Readalikes:  Um, I can't really think of anything.  Can you?)

Grade:

If this were a movie, it would be rated:

for strong language, sexual innuendo, and depictions of illegal drug use

To the FTC, with love:  Another library fine find

(Image from Barnes & Noble)

Five boys head into the woods for a hunting trip.  Only four make it out alive.  Grant Perkins lies dead from a gunshot wound that any of the boys could have inflicted on him.  Who killed him?  Accident or murder, someone was responsible for his death, but no one is talking.  What really happened that day in the woods?  Everyone wants to know.

Despite the fact that any of the remaining boys could be guilty, the DA wants to sweep the whole case under the rug.  He owes his career to their wealthy, powerful families.  Kate Marino, the boys' classmate, isn't about to let the so-called River Point Boys get off with a slap on the wrist.  She has her own reasons for wanting the truth and she's determined to get it.  Her internship at the DA's office gives her a unique opportunity to investigate Grant's death.  The closer she gets to the truth, however, the more danger Kate is in.  Someone out there is willing to kill in order to protect the River Point Boys.  Can she identify the killer before she becomes their next victim?

This Is Our Story by Ashley Elston is an engrossing whodunit that kept me reading far into the night.  Although it's populated with a host of unlikable characters, none of whom I really cared about, I still wanted to know what was going to happen.  Overall, it's a depressing, unrealistic tale (where are all the parents?) that I didn't end up loving—even if I couldn't stop reading it.

(Readalikes:  Reminds me a little of One of Us Is Lying by Karen M. McManus)

Grade:

If this were a movie, it would be rated:

for language (a handful of F-bombs, plus milder expletives), violence, references to illegal drug use, and disturbing subject matter

To the FTC, with love:  Another library fine find