Verity has some serious issues.  On the brink of losing her ancestral home, a pariah in her home town, she didn't think things could get much worse.  Boy was she wrong.  Enter a host of the undead, a mysterious haunting, and a new man in her life.  I'm not sure which she found most distressing.

I enjoyed this book, liked Verity and her spunk.  Most the time, these type of novels seem to breeze by, with no detail or depth.  Southern Spirits had more meat on it bones.  I look forward to reading more about Verity's and Frankie's adventures, and hope The cast of characters introduced in this book stick around for the rest!

What a dilemma to have... too many books to read!  All the books I requested from the library came at once.  I have instant anxiety over this!  Which one should I read first?  What if I run out of time to finish all of them before they have to be returned?  Add that to the notification I received from NetGalley that I have another approval.  Book nerd squeal!  My husband may never forgive me, but I see some neglect on the horizon.  Who really cares if the dishwasher is unloaded?  Do I really need to put away that folded laundry?  Can my family survive on pancakes for dinner?

Note:  this is a dramatization.  My husband helps with the house chores, and I haven't served pancakes for dinner since the last snow day from  school... Friday night.

At the Water's Edge
Sara Gruen

What a privilege to get to read this book before the rest of the book loving world.  The beginning of the story left me unsure if I would enjoy this novel.  Maddie, Ellis and Hank were such frivolous, self-indulgent characters, there was very little to redeem them.  I visualized Maddie as a balloon tied to Ellis's wrist.  She bobbed along, following him wherever he led, with no will of her own.  Ellis and Hank were able to bully and cajole her into doing anything they wanted, whatever adventure they cooked up.

Running away to Scotland in the middle of WWII was an adventure to them, without any thought of how their actions would affect others.  What they found when they got there wasn't quite what they expected.  No one was there to take care of them, the luxuries they expected were just not available.

This is where the story became engrossing.  I couldn't put it away.  The personalities of the main characters crystallized.  Maddie came to realize that the life she had thought she loved was a sham. Her husband was unstable and possibly dangerous.  Her choices in life were not based on facts, they were based on perceptions and lies.  Maddie's growth and awakening were so well done, I found that I empathized and rooted for her, where in the beginning of the story I had no strong feelings one way or the other.

I don't like to re-tell the story in a review, so I won't go into details.  It's so much better to find out on your own, anyway!  This will be a must read for 2015 and I will tell everyone I know to pick it up!

Did you know that reading is a fundamentally a selfish and self centered activity?  Growing up, reading was a way for me to escape my difficult life.  Don't get me wrong, it wasn't a bad life.  I had a nice home, two working parents, plenty to eat.  But I was different.  My sister had that label, too. Bullied and harassed on a daily basis, not ever really understanding what was wrong with me, I read. A lot.  A lot, a lot.  Back then, I tended toward fantasy novels.  David Eddings was one of my early favorites.  I also read the Anne of Green Gables series so much that my paperbacks fell apart.  All of L. M. Montgomery's books were well loved.  

When I became an adult, reading a book was still so much easier than facing real life.  Difficult day? Go lose yourself in Barnes and Noble.  So many books, so little time.  A good book was like crack to me.  I stayed up late, read during meals, skipped dates.  No one ever really told me to take a step back and put the book down.  And I was so addicted, it never occurred to me that I needed to.

Then I met someone who was much more action driven.  Didn't read much, unless it was a manual to fix or build something. We didn't really speak each other's language.  I am an introvert, through and through.  I need that quiet down time.  He is an extrovert and thrives on bustle and noise.  Somehow, we have made it work.  

But now I have a family.  A job.  Responsibilities.  Reading is a guilty pleasure for me.  After I get home from work, cook, clean, help with homework, do the bedtime ritual for my daughter, I have very limited time.  Sitting down to read a book feels like I am neglecting my duties.  There are dirty dishes to clean.  Laundry to fold.  A spouse to talk to.  And trust me, you can't read and carry on a conversation at the same time.  I've tried, it wasn't pretty.

So that leaves me with guilt.  I should be doing something that has an outcome.  Sewing, crafting, weaving, making paper mache globes, knitting sweaters for penguins.  But all I really want to do is read.  Is that so bad?