Beka Cooper is a trainee in the provost's guard. Beka is a puppy but soon she will become a dog as long as she watches her back and doesn't get killed by any rats. Pounce her cat can talk to her and she and Pounce watch the lower city with the other dogs and puppies. Goodwin and Tunstall, Beka's dogs, train Beka on the streets. Goodwin is a tough dog and so is Tunstall and they are both senior dogs. Beka is the "pet" of Lord Gershom.
All Beka wants to do is chase rats and catch them so that they can go to the kennels and get what they deserve. Two cases catch Beka's the most though. The Shadow snake has been taking children for years. He asks for valuable items, if you leave the item he asks for you get your little one back if not he kills the poor kid. This huge issue of the Shadow Snake was always a tale that mothers told to their children adn "threatened" then with. Saying "If you don't sleep the Shadow Snake will come get you." Beka never knew this was happening in the Cesspool until Tansy Lofts, a friend of Beka's since she grew up in the Cesspool and then moved into Lord Gershom's house, had her young Rolond taken. All the Shadow Snake wanted was the very valuable fire opals that can be found in the Lower City even in the Cesspool. Crookshank, Tansy's grandfather-in-law and a big rat, never gave up the fire opals and caused young Rolond to die. Beka wants to save all the future kids from being murdered and get back at the Shadow Snake for Tansy and all the other mothers and fathers.
The other thing that catches Beka's eye is the Opal Murders. Beka can speak to the dead who have unfinished business, through pigeons, and several of them are complaining of getting work and not knowing where and being killed. Beka wants to make it all right before anyone else is killed but she can't be sure that that will happen.
Will Beka ever catch the Shadow Snake? Will she find the person in charge of the Opal Murders? This is the beginning of the story of Beka Cooper.
I loved this book. It's 581 pages long but it didn't take very long to read it. I read it in about five days. Beka was a great character. I just read the second one so the review for that one will be up soon. I loved them both. Beka's a hard working dog who just happens to love what she does. Especially when she goes on wild goosechases to get rats who need to be caged. Beka cracks skulls with her baton. Let me tell you I would never want to cross Beka. She's fearless.
I'm looking forward to the series continuing. I'm also going to read Tamora's other books. One that is about a desendant of Beka's named Aly. I think that will be good, too. I really wish the next book was out already. Even though the book is a bit of a fantasy it wasn't bad. Almost all of the stuff that happened in the book could have happened, long ago of course. The book cover was a bit shiney and metallic but I though it was nice that they added the pigeons into the background since they are a big part of the story.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Calliope, or Cal as she calls herself, doesn't want to move again. Every time they move she has to leave her favorite things behind. What's all this for though? Delores, Cal's mom, doesn't like to be at one place all the time, she doesn't have a steady job, and she and Cal left Cal's dad years ago. Delores decides to go to North Carolina to work at a Renaissance Faire. Cal thinks that this place is going to be just like all the others but it just might turn out to be different.
Eliot is the son of the owner of the fat camp. Well actually it's a christian fat camp. The campers go there to pray and learn about god while they learn to loose weight and control their diet. Eliot doesn't really like it there because they had to move away from the beach where he used to live before The Dad go in touch with God.
Eliot has been doing pick ups in the camp van when he sees Cal for the first time. For some reason he feels that he already knows her and has for his whole life. Even though he has never met her before. Cal and Eliot have an immediate connection. The two might just have to face some of the hardest changes of their lives when Cal's mom decides to move again and Eliot's father's obsession changes Eliot's family's lives forever. This might be the only chance that either gets at true love and two people could ruin things forever.
I thought this book was very good. I was looking at it on the shelf at Borders for a while and I'm glad I finally decided to buy it. The writing was very fluid. Both authors did very well when they tried to capture all of the little things that make someone fall in love. I'm definately going to keep reading books by these two authors. I think that the two seem like a great combination. If this book is any indication of what they have already written and what's to come I'll be happy to keep buying their books.
I really couldn't decide which character was my favorite. Eliot seemed like a great sweet guy. Even though he embarassed himself he kept going and never gave up. Then there's Cal who you can't help but feel bad for, she never stays in one place for too long, it's got to be a hard thing to just drop all of your favorite things and leave. Then again she is so strong because she knows there is a big chance that she is going to move again but she lets herself like Eliot even though she might have to leave him when Delores decides she wants to leave. Both of the characters are brave and determined to be together.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Seamus Sullivan used to be a wild child. He never wanted to be a werewolf. He never thought he would work for the New City Police Department. Seamus has been shot thrown out buildings and just about anything you can think of. Although the difference between Seamus and any other office is very big. Seamus can't die. Well actually he is dead already, undead. Wherever Seamus gets hurt his mysterious dog shows up. At least that's what the newspapers think. No one knows that the mysterious big dog is Seamus.
On top of being a police officer, Seamus always seems to see this phantom woman whenever he makes a kill. Seamus doesn't know that his phantom woman is actually Claudia Peña. Seamus takes her out on a date. He doesn't know that this date could cause him to loose his motorcycle and Claudia. He doesn't know that he might be meeting more werewolves and he might have to fight alongside them. Claudia is trapped in a tomb while Seamus is left to walk or steal a car to get home. Claudia only wants out. She is deterrmined to get back to Seamus as quickly as she can. Even if it means breaking out and ruining her clothes. Claudia is trapped in the tomb for a reason, to make sure that Seamus doesn't get distracted while he is fighting and so that she doesn't get hurt.
Will Claudia find a way out? Will Seamus and the werewolves win? Who are they battling anyway? Want to find out all you have to do is buy Werwwolf Dreams in September.
I really liked this book. Seamus is a guy that a lot of girls would want. Too bad Claudia gets him. The werewolves in this and all other werewolf books really raise the standards that girls already have for boys. They are just so sweet and strong and even though they smell like wet dog they are just irresistable. We all know how some people think of werewolves as bad, but let face it in most werewolf books, the werewolves are the good guys. I mean sure they kill but at least it's for a reason.
I liked how the chapters went between Claudia and Seamus and everything wasn't for just one point of view but two. You get to see what Seamus thinks and then you see what Claudia thinks. I'm very excited for the next book in the series, Werewolf Love:Until Death Do Us Part. M.M. Anderson is a great writer. Some nights I would stay up until 2 A.M. and still wanted to keep reading. I guess that shows you that it's a very good book. You can get Werewolf Dreams in book stores in September. Or you can go online to Amazon and pre-order it now.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Friday, July 17, 2009
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Since the internet wasn't working when I tried to post the fourth riddle yesterday I'm giving you the fourth and fifth today. Remember to send me your answers in an e-mail. This is a caution to prevent cheating. My e-mail address is: yareviewsbylaurel[at]hotmail[dot]com
Also you can e-mail me with entries to the drawing if you feel that it is unsafe for you to put your e-mail on a comment. Good Luck!
Your fourth riddle is:
Passive irregular verb meets Yellowstone resident reverie
Your fifth riddle is:
Three chevrons and silly nonsense between the shin and the thigh
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Friday, July 10, 2009
Want to Run with the big dogs?
Now's your chance! You can win a personalized copy of M.M. Anderson's debut novel Werewolf Dreams by correctly solving 10 mind-bending chapter riddles! We all know the bestselling vampire/werewolf series Twilight by Stephanie Meyer, with super hunky werewolf Jacob Black (Taylor Lautner) who looks muscular like always in the picture to the left. How would you guys like a book where the characters are based on the hunky, rough, tousled guys that are our werewolves! Well now you have it. Maria portrays the anger and the feelings of the forever seventeen werewolf very well. These hot, and I mean hot, victims of fierce bitings are strong powerful "men" with a bad temper. I wouldn't get on their bad side if I were you.
There's more than one way to win. The word riddle winner will receive a personalized copy and second and third place will get an e-book of Werewolf Dreams. Enter a share with your friends drawing to win an autographed copy of Werewolf Dreams.
To be included in the extra drawing you have to do one of the things that I am going to post. If you post about the drawing in one place more than once only one will be counted. The only exception is Blogger and anywhere that you can post and put a side bar. Also if you don't post the location of the post it will not be counted. You must post a comment with your e-mail address in it if you want to be entered. The only exception I have for this is if you can't post a comment using the tiny boxes please feel free to e-mail me. I still have your e-mail that way. My e-mail is: (yareviewsbylaurel[at]hotmail[dot]com)
Share With Your Friends Drawing:
+1 Leave a comment with your e-mail address.
+1 Become a follower or let me know if you are already one.
+1 Post this contest on a sidebar on your blog.
+1 Post about this contest on other sites. (Facebook, MySpace, Gather, Twitter, Random Buzz, etc...) [+1 for each post up to one per site]
+1 Come up with a question for Maria for the interview. [+1 for each question up to two questions]
Each point must have a link.
You will get ten riddles from the chapter that I just posted. One chapter riddle will be posted each day for ten days. You have two weeks to do all of the puzzles. The first one in with the most right will win a personalized copy of Werewolf Dreams by M.M. Anderson. Second and third place will win an e-book.
An Example of the brain teasing riddles:
Professional Football Teams
GI [army] ANTS [bugs]
GIANTS Get it?
Your first chapter riddle is:
Not quite across town, where the flowers grow and autos shift into top gear.
Send your answers to the riddles to my e-mail address: yareviewsbylaurel[at]hotmail[dot]com
Thanks Lisa for bringing this to my attention even if it was unintentional! I don't want any cheaters! The only thing you can post is your entries for the drawing and if you don't feel comfortable putting your drawing entry on the post feel free to send it in an e-mail!
Cool Werewolves, a hot heroine, and things that go bump in the night.
The moon was a waxing crescent.
Officer Seamus Sullivan, New City’s lone werewolf
policeman, slurped the raspberry jelly out of a Krinkle
Kreme donut and lobbed the frosted dough lump out the
window of his blue and white patrol car. It bounced off the
rim of an overflowing garbage can and landed in the paws
of a ragged rat. Feeding Midtown Gardens residents wasn’t
the same as littering, not in Seamus’s mind, anyway.
“Park patrol,” groaned Seamus as he reached for a
cruller. An insatiable sweet tooth and wet dog body odor
were constant but bearable human-form werewolf traits,
although soggy canine funk insured that Seamus’s love life
remained nonexistent. Also on the downside list of werewolf
traits was the “never age” dilemma, which meant
Seamus would stay seventeen forever. On the totally
downside of werewolf was the “moon” matter, and as
Seamus had learned, the “controlling your anger” problem.
Both of these occurrences made him sprout coarse
black fur and razor-sharp incisors, which led to the “holy
smokes” response that prompted Sergeant Gaffney to
consult a lunar calendar and give Seamus blue moon vacation
time and full moon days off.
After a recent newspaper article appeared, the sergeant
also saw to it that Seamus was assigned solo nightshift
park duty, until further notice. Midtown Gardens was
closed to the public from 10:00 PM to 6:00 AM. Seamus
and his New City Police Department radio car were posted
to make certain the park stayed vacant and graffiti-free.
“Sarge, what am I, a watch dog?” protested Seamus
when he heard about his new patrol detail.
Sgt. Gaffney didn’t respond, or look up from his desk
blotter. The reassignment wasn’t open for discussion.
Despite being annoyed and having a bruised ego, Seamus
decided he wouldn’t push the park patrol issue. He knew
Sergeant Gaffney had no choice but to protect his own
twilight career and Seamus’s hairy butt from controversy
and scrutiny, or worse.
Midtown Gardens duty notwithstanding, Seamus also
knew there was a definite upside to being an undead werewolf—
Seamus possessed an overzealous fight gene and never
retreated when danger reared its homicidal head. In his
four years as an officer of the law, Seamus would have died
many violent deaths had he still been a mortal.
On duty and off, Seamus hated bullies. They made him
react, and more often than not, lose his Irish temper. On
the offensive, Officer Sullivan experienced first-hand
what it was like to be stabbed, shot, bludgeoned, electrocuted,
squashed by a renegade train, pushed off a bridge,
and blown-up in a fiery skyscraper terrorist attack. He
walked away unscathed (usually on all fours) from each
Eternal life undead had earned Seamus a slew of medals
for honor and valor, but it had also won him the unwanted
attention of Lyman Newlin, the formerly well-known
and presently crusty New City Chronicle police reporter.
The following editorial by Newlin appeared just prior to
Seamus’s park patrol reassignment:
Officer Seamus Sullivan from the 20th
Precinct seems to rise from the ashes
time and time again, like the mythical
phoenix. How does this young patrolman
defy death? Can survival be attributed
to a lucky break? And what about the
mysterious black hound that seems to
follow him around? Is Seamus Sullivan
New City’s very own superhero with a
The buried-on-page-nineteen blurb went unnoticed by
most New Citiers. Father X. Francis Benedict, however,
read the piece with rapt interest.
Mickey Stella, wanna-be wise guy, two-time jailbird,
part-time hit man, and small-time stolen goods fencer sat
alone at the end of the Cock of the Flock Tavern bar. He
puffed an unfiltered cigarette and nursed his fifth and
final bottom shelf double Scotch & soda. He’d been cutoff
by the bartender for uninhibited off gassing.
Mickey was low on cash and irritated about being
stood up by some guy who was going to cut him in on
some sort of great deal, moving stuff from an electronics
heist. Something to do with eye pads or pea pods. The
alcohol had made Mickey’s recall more foggy than usual.
Not to mention years of hallucinogenic drugs, lack of
exercise, and a diet high in partially hydrogenated oils.
Mickey liked to think of himself as a big guy, the
bouncer type. Mickey had horizontal butt crack on the
back of his neck and he could no longer bet numbers
higher than ten. Most people who knew Mickey referred
to him as a dumb, fat mook—even his mother.
Mickey knew this for certain because he used to go
with her to church.
Mama Stella lit devotional candles and prayed for her
only child every morning at 7:30 mass, “Dear Holy Mary
Mother of God, please watch over my dumb, fat mook
son and forgive me for whatever trespasses I did wrong to
give birth to such a loser. Amen.”
Mickey stumbled out of the Cock of the Flock Tavern
and squinted at his watch dial. It was either 12:10 or 2:00.
He couldn’t quite tell, but he was coherent enough to
know he had a transportation issue. Mickey hadn’t
considered finding a lift home, and he refused to take the bus
or subway, not at this late hour anyway, all the weirdoes,
Mickey expected the guy with the goods to have wheels
and drive him back over the bridge to Sicily Town after
their deal went down. Mickey had planned to choke the
guy lifeless, bury the body, and keep the car for a few days.
Mickey’s Caddie was in the shop again and Mama Stella
wasn’t exactly generous with her antique Pacer. The moon
buggy sported a bumper sticker that read: HIT ME AND
WE EXPLODE TOGETHER.
That was Plan A. Mickey didn’t have a Plan B, and he
didn’t have return cab fare to Sicily Town. Not that any
New City taxi driver would have ferried Mickey over the
bridge to Sicily Town, not at such a late hour, for any
price, all the weirdoes, too scary.
With drunken clarity, Mickey decided to walk the six
and a quarter miles back to his basement apartment, the
studio he rented from his mother. Mickey hoped she wasn’t
waiting up, although he knew she would be. He pictured
her sour face glued to the kitchen window next to
the cellar door, waiting, watching, worrying. Mama Stella
wouldn’t let Mickey go to sleep without first giving her a
detailed account of his evening. Mickey had long ago run
out of credible fibs for his many midnight escapades,
especially fibs to explain all the digging that went on in
the vegetable garden after dark.
Four short blocks later, Mickey was bathed in sweat
and there was a raw spot on his inner butt cheek where his
size 48 briefs had crawled and bunched and began chafing.
“This freakin’ sucks!” screamed Mickey as he dislodged
the wedgie. A few slow steps later the wilted
traveler removed his sports jacket, and unbuttoned his
damp rayon dress shirt collar before cursing the heat,
which now topped the list of Mickey’s mounting aggravations.
Middle of the night and the mercury was still hovering
around a humid 85 degrees. Tomorrow snow was in the
forecast—that was springtime in New City.
A lone cab stopped for the light. Mickey ambled forward
and grabbed the passenger door handle, but not
before the driver caught sight of the Neanderthal wouldbe
fare in the rearview mirror, pushed auto-lock, and sped
away. Mickey tumbled onto the curb. It wasn’t his night.
“Eat dung! You diaper head, camel face, toilet… freakin’…
mother… ah, shit!” Mickey’s voice was hoarse from
too many smokes and chronic post-nasal drip. He now
had a rip in his sleeve and his elbow was scuffed. He sat
on the grimy concrete for a moment and tried his best to
contemplate the situation. The park loomed in front of
Mickey’s weary view. If he wanted to get home any time
before dawn he’d have to pick himself up and continue
Mickey decided Plan B was to skim a mile or so off his
impossible foot journey by cutting through Midtown
Mickey crossed the street and yanked the CLOSED
sign from the park’s entryway gate, bent it in half, tossed
it into the deserted avenue, and wished aloud in a flurry
of expletives that the discarded metal would tear through
the next passing cab’s tire.
Two hundred yards away, the clink-clank-clinking of
aluminum sign on potholed asphalt awoke Seamus from
a momentary snooze. The scent of sour body odor, blood,
tobacco, and cheap booze also reached Seamus long
before Mickey lumbered through the park clearing. The
trespasser stopped beside a lonely bench where he paused
to pee on an over-flowing garbage can. Seamus walked up
behind Mickey, flashlight in hand.
“Let’s go, Chief,” said Seamus.
Mickey jumped. “What the—?”
“Park’s closed. Or didn’t you read the sign before flinging
it into the street?”
Mickey finished urinating in silence, shook twice, then
pushed his pecker back into his fly and wiped a wet hand
on his pant leg.
“Prove I flinged the sign onto Garden Avenue, flatfoot.
Smells like a stinkin’wet dog around here.” Mickey sniffed
his own armpits.
“Emptied your tank, now beat it. If you wanna tip-toe
through the tulips, come back after 6:00.” Seamus
motioned with the flashlight beam, illuminating the
direction of nearest park exit. “Start walking.”
Mickey sat himself down on a park bench next to the
garbage can. “I ain’t going nowheres, flatfoot.”
According to the Police Handbook Course of Action,
Section 10, when dealing with an intoxicated person an
1. Establish contact in a friendly manner and gain
2. Never be condescending.
3. Don’t debate.
4. Blame the reason why the person has to leave on
someone besides you.
5. Lie if you have to, to make them happy.
Seamus sighed. He hated dealing with drunks. The five
rules of law enforcement procedure never seemed to
work. He gave it a go anyway.
“Listen, Chief; it doesn’t look like you had such a good
night, but I don’t make the rules around here. Go home.
Things’ll be better in the morning.”
Mickey didn’t move or reply.
“The park is closed—you gotta leave.”
“Who says, flatfoot?” Mickey cocked his head and
glared at Seamus.
“I says.” Seamus folded his arms and stood erect, positioned
cop-style steadfast in a puddle of lamppost light.
Broad shouldered, muscular, 5’11”, clean-cut, baby faced,
Seamus didn’t look a day older than his forever seventeen
In one fast and fluid motion, Mickey grabbed the nearby
trashcan and crashed it across Seamus’s knees.
Seamus collapsed like a house of cards on a windy day.
Mickey followed with a second crushing blow to the
downed officer’s head, splitting it like a ripe watermelon.
Mickey rolled the bloodied, wounded policeman onto his
back and helped himself to the vehicle keys before removing
Seamus’s service revolver from its holster. He fired two
shots into the unconscious officer’s chest, stuffed the
smoking gun into his own waistband, and trotted towards
the radio car.
Seamus’s lupus conversion was swift and furious.
Mickey made it halfway across the clearing before he
heard the pursuing patter of paws. The cop killer slowed
his lumbering jog and glanced over his left shoulder. He
was eye-to-eye with a furious frothing werewolf.
“Big dog!” yelled Mickey, pulling the revolver from his
pocket. He didn’t get the opportunity to fire. An enormous
pair of razor-sharp jaws clamped over Mickey’s fleshy neck
with the force and speed of a guillotine. He was DOA
before his decapitated corpse hit the grass with a THUD.
By the time the frenzied werewolf had consumed
Mickey’s cirrhosis liver, not a trace of desecrated carcass
remained. It had burst into a momentary flame and vanished
into the darkness. Whatever personal articles were
left behind comprised a pile of soon-to-be-windblown
Except the gun. It belonged to Seamus.
Seamus the werewolf loped back towards the patrol car,
his rage subsiding along with his consciousness. His stomach
was already beginning to boil and cramp. Don’t eat
Seamus heaved and drooled and retched and hurled
Mickey chunks before catching sight of the familiar
apparition hovering above the grass. There she was again,
watching him from her glistening sphere of luminescence.
Seamus wagged his bushy black tail and whimpered an
affectionate greeting. He liked it when phantom woman
showed up to his kills in the buff. Tonight, however, she
was wearing pink paisley pajamas. All the same, nude or
clothed, she was hot.
It wasn’t long before Seamus’s vision faded to black.
Monday, July 6, 2009
We have a winner! The winner will receive an e-book of Dreams of Beauty by Aubrie Dionne. I won't keep you waiting any longer.
And the winner is...
Everyone check back on Friday for the start of my new contest! At the end of the contest check back for an author interview with M.M. Anderson. Also Check back on Wednesday/Thursday for the first chapter of Werewolf Dreams which links to the contest. You'll need to read it if you want to enter.