Sunday, May 8, 2022

🌷🌹Sunday's Sport Stats(Mother's Day Edition)🌹🌷: Save the Date by Rj Scott & VL Locey



Save the Date 
Summary:
Harrisburg Railers #9
Ever since he first set foot in Harrisburg, Tennant’s life has been a rollercoaster. Ups and downs too numerous to mention, hard knocks and championship rings. Through all of those monumental moments, one thing has been a constant for him, Jared Madsen. Now that their wedding day is drawing nearer, Ten is seriously considering eloping. He would, if not for his mother, his father, his brothers, the wedding planner, the guests, the cake, the press, and the team. Oh, and then there’s his best friend, who is vying for the job of ringmaster of the wedding circus. Would sneaking off during the night with Jared and skipping to the honeymoon part of the festivities really be all that bad?

When Jared proposed to Ten, he imagined a quiet wedding, on a beach somewhere, with family, and maybe the team. But life gets complicated with Ten’s warring brothers, a Russian goalie with a love of sequins, and a bachelor party organized by Adler. When Trent sends them a wedding planner, every spare hour is filled with choosing invitations, cake tasting, and finding a rose in the perfect shade of green. Add in Layton organizing a press conference, and suddenly their private wedding is destined to become a media sensation. Is it wrong to think seriously about kidnapping Ten and spiriting him away to a small deserted island?

Adler organizing the bachelor party, Trent supplying the wedding planner, and Stan writing a speech. What can possibly go wrong?

Original Review July 2019:
From the first page Tennant and Jared appeared together way back in Changing Lines, no matter how many entries to Harrisburg Railers RJ Scott & VL Locey wrote or how many years the series spanned you just knew they would be electric, emotional, and unforgettable.  Save the Date is published proof of that very prediction.  Ten and Mads might be a May/December-ish type of trope but they are what held the team together, pulled them in and helped create a family not just a team.  Seeing them get their HEA is lovely, fun, sexy, romantic, and everything that made this series so special.

I'm not going to say a whole lot about this story, not just the no spoiler rule I live by but also, if you've been reading Harrisburg Railers up till now, then you know how good the series is and Save the Date is just icing on the cake.  From the minute Ten is weirded out over his Mom's knowledge of anal sex and Jared's uncanny ability to runaway from such convos to the couple's honeymoon destination, we get to see the team rally round the pair as the wedding of the century is brought to life.  So open your invite, grab a seat, absorb everyone's contribution to the day, and feel the love.

As every wedding is bound to do, there is drama but there is also humor and romance, let'f face it, Save the Date is rom-com at its finest, Hollywood and Hallmark has nothing on Scott & Locey.  At this point I think I'm pretty much repeating myself with different words so I'll end my review by saying: you'll laugh, you'll cry(happy tears), you'll laugh some more, and when that final page is turned(or swiped) you won't be ready to say goodbye to the Railers but you'll know it ended the best way possible.  Truth is, even though Save the Date may be the final entry in the Harrisburg Railers series, something tells me we'll see a few of them pop up from time-to-time in the authors' upcoming spin-off series, Arizona Raptors.

One last note: if you haven't been reading the series and are wondering if this needs to be read in order my answer is yes.  As each of the original entries feature a new couple, technically I suppose it could be considered a a standalone series but as the team appears in all of them, I just think everything flows better in order.  Personally, I can't imagine reading it any other way than how it was released.  The final three novellas "re-visit" previous couples so they definitely need to be read at the end but as I said, personally I highly recommend reading the Railers in the order they were written.  However you choose to read them though, you won't be sorry because hockey lover or not, this is a must series for well written romance and character-driven drama fans.

RATING:



Tennant 
I dipped my hand into the bag of peanuts and nodded. I’d been nodding at a steady rate for about twenty minutes now. I’d tried to speak a few times, but my attempts to slide into the conversation had been trucked, but in the prettiest and sweetest ways possible. 

“… added that picture of that triple-layer fudge cake to the food board. Did you see it?” That was Mom, high priestess of the Tennant & Jared Pinterest wedding boards. Noting the “S” on the end of that word board made me sigh. 

I cracked the peanut shell and bobbed my head. “Uhm, no, I haven’t been to Pinterest for a few days…” 

All three women participating in this FaceTime morning meeting gaped at me. 

“Tennant,” Mom sighed and gave me her I’m-slightly-put-out-with-you stare. 

“Maybe we could just pick out our top three choices for the cake patterns and send them to you? Would that work, Ten?” Brady’s Lisa, the lovely blonde legal aide, asked. 

“Uhm…” 

“Oh! We could make a vision board and send him that when we whittle down the choices! My girlfriend Penny did that for her wedding, and it really helped us figure out what to buy as a gift,” Jamie’s Lisa, or Lisa #2, the tall brunette who worked as a dental assistant, chimed in. My niece Sylvia sat on her lap chewing on her fingers, her green Rowe eyes wide and happy. 

“That’s a great idea!” Mom and Lisa #1 exclaimed. 

I took a swig of chocolate milk to wash down the peanut and dipped a toe into the rapid-fire conversation. “What’s a vision board?” I inquired. 

Six slim eyebrows flew up three smooth brows. 

“Tennant,” Mom said in that voice again. 

“Sorry, what? I don’t do a lot of pinning or vision-boarding. Help a guy out here,” I begged, giving the women a piteous look. It worked on my sisters-in-law but not so much on my mother. She was far too used to seeing my puppy dog face.

“Well— Girls no! No, do not feed that to Bourque! I’ll be right back. The oldest twins are trying to medicate the dog with their doctor’s kit. I think they’ve gotten into the liquid stool softener I had to take after Leah and Lanie were born. No! Do not give that to the dog! Bourque, no!” 

Wow, okay. That was information about after-birth stuff I did not need to know. 

Then mom joined in. “Ugh, I remember being so constipated after I had Tennant. I strained so hard I tore a few of my episiotomy stitches and had to—” 

“Mom! Please, give a dude a break here, would you?” I pleaded just as Jared walked into the living room, all freshly showered and shaved. 

“Oh for goodness sake, Tennant. Your fiancΓ© puts his wang into your butt, and you’re getting squicked out about a little discussion about hootchie stitches?” 

“Mom! Oh. My. God.” I slapped my hands over my hot cheeks. Jared raced into the kitchen, the coward. Lisa #2 was laughing so hard she was crying. Lisa #1 was heard in the distance yelling at her first set of twin girls. The second set were too young to feed the dog stool softener yet. “Can we not discuss what Jared and I do in bed? How do you even know about anal sex?” 

“Tennant, for the love of Pete, I’ve been around the block a few times. Your father and I were quite adventurous when we were younger. One time before Brady was born we found some flavored lube and—” 

“And no, nope, no way!” I shot to my feet, peanut shells tumbling from my lap to the carpet Jared had just vacuumed last night. Oops. “Mom, can we go back to talking about wedding boards?” 

“Well, you looked bored so I thought we could talk about things that were important to you,” she said innocently. 

I rolled my eyes, sat down, and spent another fifteen minutes with all the Rowe gals, being talked at and around. Finally, when Mom called an end to the meeting to go to her tai chi class, I slapped the lid on my Dell shut and whimpered. 

“Is it safe?” Jared called, peeking around the doorframe. 

I waved him in. “Chicken,” I huffed as he rounded the couch, then glanced down at the mess on the floor. “I’ll clean that up. Come sit down with me. I have a headache.” 

That wiped the humor from his face. He dropped down next to me, his light blue eyes filled with worry. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, taking the bottle of chocolate milk from my hand. “I still say that hit Peterson gave you during the finals should’ve been—” 

I leaned over and put my lips on his. He chilled a bit then. But just a bit. 

“It’s stress. Nothing more, my brain is good. Ninety-seven percent normal, which is a twenty percent improvement from how I had been before the injury, according to Brady,” I teased, dropping little smooches along his smooth jawline, then nibbling his ear. “Wedding stress.” 

“Ah, the women.” 

I kind of melted into him like a candy bar on a dashboard. “The women. Oh my God, you’d think they’ve never planned a wedding before.” 

“Well, they’ve never planned a wedding for two men before. They want everything to be perfect. And you are the baby so…” 

“Mm,” I murmured as I wiggled a bit so I was curled under his arm, my cheek on his shoulder. I inhaled the scent of his Dior Homme shower gel and felt the tension ease from my neck. “I don’t care about cake toppers or the color of the flower girls’ barrettes or the proper spices for the grilled trout. I just want to marry you and go away for a few weeks so we can fuck ourselves into comas.” 

“Such a simple man,” he said with a chuckle, his fingers slipping through my hair. 

“Simple man, simple needs. What the hell is tulle anyway, and why would they think I’d have an opinion on it?” 

That made him laugh out loud. I felt my bones softening as we cuddled on the couch. “They mean well,” he said as he continued to play with my hair. “And we do need to make some final calls on things. We have three weeks.” 

“Right, yeah, I know. I have no clue about any of it. Should we hire a wedding planner?” 

“We could, I guess. Do you know any?” 

“Me? Uhm, no.” I chortled and reached for my phone. “I can hit up the guys in the group chat. Lots of them are married. Maybe they know someone?” 

“Okay, go for it. Perhaps if we call in a professional, she or he can rein in the Rowe women a bit.” He tipped my head back by pulling gently on my hair. I wriggled up just an inch for the long, wet kiss. He fisted my hair when I rolled my hips, a low growly sound rumbling out. Hungry for more, I slid around until I was on top, my hips grinding against his, my phone slipping to the floor, wedding planners forgotten. 

Then my stupid phone rang. I moaned at the Elvis song played, the one set by my best buddy so I’d know it was him. 

“Ignore it,” Jared said, sliding his hands down the back of my shorts to cup my ass. Elvis sang on and on and on and on.I rocked my dick into his, trying to block out That’s All Right Mama but failing miserably. 

“Let me just… ugh, sorry, watch your balls.” I shifted around on the couch, picked up my phone, and slapped it to my ear. “Stan, my man, what is it?” 

“Why is phone ringing seventy-two times? Is brain being bad? I call police at eighty rings, so worry is making my fingers find other phone to send police over for checking on your head.” 

“Dude, my head is fine. I didn’t pick up because Jared and I were getting into it.” 

Jared made a sound of impatience. I was with him on that sentiment. 

“Getting into what?” 

“You know… getting into it?” 

“Getting into car?” 

“No, Stan, we weren’t getting into the car. We were about to go heels to Jesus.” 

Jared snickered. 

“But is not Sunday, is only Friday. Is new thing for Jesus on Friday?” 

That one made me snort loudly. “Dude, no, we were going to fuck.” 

“Ah fucking, yes, now this I know! Well, you can go fuck boots for Jesus in but minute. I am working on speech for wedding dinner as is fitting best friend. My words are good, but I am not sure if this is correct phrase. You will help me? Erik is burning out, and his words are not good right now.” 

“He’s burning out?” I asked, glancing at Jared with confusion. 

Jared just shrugged. 

“Has been much bad day with kids. Eva is making womanly time and cried because Pavel ate all the butterscotch ice cream. Pavel and Noah painted the shower stall. I am not sure how they get paint from garage or open can or carry pink paint to Mama’s shower, but they are now seeming like Pepto-Bismol hatchlings. Even hair is pink. So Erik and I wash boys while Eva cries and Mama makes good soup that no child will eat because it is beet soup. Much screaming and tears, and now Erik is burning out, and I am searching for good word help for best friend’s wedding speech.” 

“Okay, just give me a minute,” I said, then looked down at Jared. “Erik’s burned out, and the kids are hellions. Can we do this in, like, ten minutes?” 

“Sure. Grab the strawberries when you come to bed.” He kissed me with fiery promise, then slid off the sofa, his dick tenting his lounge pants. 

I wet my lips, palmed my own stiff cock, and focused on Stan and his wedding words. Forty minutes later, I was able to hang up. My head throbbed. Trying to untangle mangled English on top of working to figure out what it was that Stan was trying to get on paper had been like trying to work out some sort of advanced algebraic equation. The math would have been less taxing. We’d not gotten very far. 

I sent a quick note to our PokΓ©mon group that I was not going to be training tonight, rolled my eyes at the snarky comment from Adler about being an old married fuddy-duddy, and tossed out the wedding planner question before I chucked my phone to the coffee table and put my bare feet down on the carpet. Finally, I spent ten minutes picking up, then vacuuming peanut dander off the floor with that little handheld Dirt Devil vacuum Jared was so fond of. 

Close to an hour after Jared had gone to bed to wait for me, I raced into the bedroom, container of juicy red berries in hand, dick throbbing, to find my fiancΓ© snoring softly, his glasses on his nose, the book written by a gay Indiana mayor facedown on his chest. 

A drawn-out exhalation emptied my lungs. Padding to my side, I placed the berries on my nightstand, peeled off my shorts, and slipped under the soft print sheets. The lure of him drew me to the middle of the bed after I turned off the light on my nightstand. His nightstand lamp still glowed soft white. Lying there staring at him, I felt a hundred thousand things all at once. Love, of course, tons of love, but also things like pride, desire, happiness, joy, hope, inspiration, satisfaction, amusement, and awe. It still blew me away that a man like Jared Madsen would love a guy like me. Aside from having some minor skills with a stick and puck, I couldn’t see what it was that he found so alluring about me and my not fully normal brain cells. 

“Always liked a Studebaker,” Jared mumbled, then blinked awake, his gaze flying to me spread out beside him. “Ah, shit, that made no sense, did it?” 

“Not much, no.” I chuckled as he closed his book. 

“This book takes place in South Bend where they used to make Studebakers. My grandfather had an old Studebaker truck. Black and white it was, with a manual transmission and AM radio.” He yawned widely, his eyelids droopy. “I learned how to drive in that old truck. I was twelve. How boring am I?” 

“Not boring at all.” 

He pulled me into his side, then drifted off. After he was sound asleep, I wiggled out from under his heavy arm, removed his DILF glasses, and put them and his current read on my nightstand, my fingers bumping the plastic tub of strawberries. I smiled when he spooned up behind me a moment later, his chest to my back, one arm flung over my hip. The light on his side was still on, but with a clap— yeah, we were that kind of couple— his light dimmed. I fell asleep wondering if I should refrigerate the berries or not, but as it turned out, Jared woke up with some tasty ideas for those warm berries. After he wrung a mind-blowing orgasm out of me with only strawberries, his fingers, and the tip of his tongue, I fell back to sleep sated and sticky. 

Jared shook me awake sometime after the berry love fest. “Trent is on the phone. He’s slightly… uhm, well, how do you describe it?” 

“Slightly Trent?” I said, my voice thick and slurred with sleep. 

“That works.” He handed me his phone. I sat up, berry bits glued to my balls and back, and rolled my head in a circle. Things in my neck cracked and popped.

“Is he just slightly Trent or totally Trent?” I asked, phone jammed under my armpit to mute my conversation with Jared. 

“Bordering on totally,” he whispered, rose from the messy bed, and walked to the bathroom, a small green strawberry cap stuck to his sweet ass. That made me smile to myself. Good thing, because the figure skater on the other end of the phone was in full Trent mode, which is something that really should only be dealt with after a shower and some coffee. 

“Hey, Trent, what’s up?” I croaked. 

“You’re asking for a wedding planner three weeks before the big day?!” 

“We thought we could do it ourselves?” 

“Oh my sweet gods!” 

Yeah, coffee was so needed for this.




RJ Scott
Writing love stories with a happy ever after – cowboys, heroes, family, hockey, single dads, bodyguards

USA Today bestselling author RJ Scott has written over one hundred romance books. Emotional stories of complicated characters, cowboys, single dads, hockey players, millionaires, princes, bodyguards, Navy SEALs, soldiers, doctors, paramedics, firefighters, cops, and the men who get mixed up in their lives, always with a happy ever after.

She lives just outside London and spends every waking minute she isn’t with family either reading or writing. The last time she had a week’s break from writing, she didn’t like it one little bit, and she has yet to meet a box of chocolates she couldn’t defeat.


VL Locey
V.L. Locey loves worn jeans, yoga, belly laughs, walking, reading and writing lusty tales, Greek mythology, the New York Rangers, comic books, and coffee.
(Not necessarily in that order.)

She shares her life with her husband, her daughter, one dog, two cats, a flock of assorted domestic fowl, and two Jersey steers.

When not writing spicy romances, she enjoys spending her day with her menagerie in the rolling hills of Pennsylvania with a cup of fresh java in hand.



RJ Scott
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EMAIL: rj@rjscott.co.uk

VL Locey
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Save the Date #9

Harrisburg Series

Owatonna U Series

Arizona Raptors Series

Boston Rebels Series


Saturday, May 7, 2022

🌷🌹Saturday's Series Spotlight(Mother's Day Edition)🌹🌷: Cambridge Fellows Mysteries by Charlie Cochrane



Lessons for Idle Tongues #11
Summary:
Cambridge, England, 1910. 

Amateur detectives Jonty Stewart and Orlando Coppersmith seem to have nothing more taxing on their plate than locating a missing wooden cat and solving the dilemma of seating thirteen for dinner. But one of the guests brings a conundrum: a young woman has been found dead, and her boyfriend is convinced she was murdered. The trouble is, nobody else agrees.

Investigation reveals that several young people in the local area have died in strange circumstances, and rumours abound of poisonings at the hands of Lord Toothill, a local mysterious recluse. Toothill's angry, gun-toting gamekeeper isn't doing anything to quell suspicions, either.

But even with a gun to his head, Jonty can tell there's more going on in this surprisingly treacherous village than meets the eye. And even Orlando's vaunted logic is stymied by the baffling inconsistencies they uncover. Together, the Cambridge Fellows must pick their way through gossip and misdirection to discover the truth.




Lessons in Cracking a Deadly Code #12.7
Summary:
St Bride's College is buzzing with excitement at the prospect of reviving the traditional celebration of the saint's day. When events get marred by murder it's natural that Jonty Stewart and Orlando Coppersmith will get called in to help the police with their inside knowledge. But why has somebody been crawling about on the chapel roof and who's obsessed with searching in the library out of hours?





Lessons in Solving the Wrong Problem #13
Summary:
Jonty Stewart and Orlando Coppersmith get asked by Lord Henry Byrd to locate a treasure trove that mysteriously disappeared many years ago. But is that the case Lord Henry actually wants them to solve?






Lessons in Idle Tongues #11
Original Review July  2015:
When I found out that there was going to be, not one but two, new entries in the Cambridge Fellows Mysteries this year I was so excited.  Within 36 hours of the arrival of Lessons for Idle Tongues on my Kindle, I reached the final page and can I just say that Charlie Cochrane did not disappoint.  Jonty and Orlando are faced with another intriguing mystery that may or may not be an actual mystery but that doesn't stop their investigation.  Now I'm even more hungry for Lessons for Sleeping Dogs and October is seeming way too far off.

As for the overall series, Cambridge Fellows is a great historical mystery with humor, romance, and characters that mesh together perfectly, even when they seem more enemy than friend.  I came across this series last summer when I was searching for historical fiction and even though there were 10 books to the series, I decided to give it a try.  Well, less than 30 days later I had finished all 10.  I will say that the publishers label them as standalones and I guess as far as the mysteries go, yes they do qualify as standalones but because of the growing relationships amongst the different characters, and not just Jonty and Orlando, I highly recommend reading them in order of the chronological timeline, which I included below after the excerpts before the author bio.

Lessons in Cracking a Deadly Code #12.7
Original Review January 2019:
As the revival of the St. Bride's Day traditional celebrations nears, signs of break-ins and crawling about the chapel roof have given Jonty Stewart and Orlando Coppersmith a new case.  Is a dastardly crime afoot or is it just dunderhead pranks?

OHMYGOD!OHMYGOD!OHMYGOD!OHMYGOD!OHMYGOD! A new Cambridge Fellows Mysteries is here and I finally got a chance to read it(holiday reading stopped me from getting to it sooner so I just told myself it wasn't out yetπŸ˜‰πŸ˜‰)  What better way to start off the new year than with Jonty and Orlando on the case?  I have been a huge fan of these boys since I first discovered Lessons in Love back in the summer of 2014 and I've said it before but I'll say it again: whether Charlie Cochrane has only a one paragraph holiday coda or 100 full length novels left in her for this pair, I'll be first in line to gobble them up.  I don't know just what it is about this series that hooks me in but whatever it is, I'm all for it.

As for Lessons in Cracking the Deadly Code, well the mystery is fun and yes I know there is a bit of death and destruction involved but "fun" is the best way to describe it.  An added plus with Deadly Code, as it is set back in 1911, the elder Stewarts are back and ready to help when needed.  We see more of Mr. Stewart aiding the boys but we get still have the ever feisty Mrs. Stewart showing her favoritism to Orlando tooπŸ˜‰πŸ˜‰.  I think that's about all I'm going to say to the mystery part of the tale as it is a novella, the tiny details are even more telling than with a full length mystery but I will reiterate that it is just plain fun and had me guessing right up to the reveal.  As for Jonty and Orlando, well they are equally as fun, flirty, and more in love than ever.

Yep, Lessons in Cracking the Deadly Code is a win win from the getgo! It has a little bit of everything, okay so there is no sci-fi or fantasy, but otherwise pretty much everything is here.  Mystery, romance, friendship, flirting, death, humor -- oh yeah, Miss Cochrane has done her readers proud with this addition to the Cambridge Fellows.  Speaking of the author, one of my favorite things about a Charlie Cochrane story is her attention to detail, to the little points that may or may not actually effect the mystery, and in the case of Cambridge her respect for the past just oozes off the page and yet the entertainment factor is never in jeopardy of being overshadowed by "getting it right".  Definitely a win win from cover to cover.

One last thing, for those who have never read Cambridge Fellows Mysteries before and are wondering if it is a series that has to be read in order? Well not really.  If you go to the author's website and look at the list, you'll notice that the series order isn't necessarily the chronological order.  Personally, I would highly recommend reading the first three or four in order because it helps to cement friendships with secondary characters but each entry is its own mystery so technically each one is a standalone.  However you choose to read it, if you are a mystery fan than don't let this series pass you by.

Lessons in Solving the Wrong Problem #13
Original Review March Book of the Month 2021:
First off, Cambridge Fellows Mysteries just keeps getting better and better.  Normally after 20 or so stories, between full-length novels, novellas, shorts, & free codas on the author's website, ideas would be getting weaker, perhaps even cliche or "copied" but not Jonty and Orlando.  These two fellas from St. Bride's is like a fine wine(better actually because I'm not a wine drinker) they strengthen and become enriched with age.  

Truth be told, the author's talent sharpen with each new entry as well.  Charlie Cochrane's knack for storytelling, for making the reader feel like a participant in the investigations, for having a healthy balance of staying true to the era and not making it a history lesson standout in these later released novellas.  I say that not because the original novels aren't as good or lack the above mentioned elements but because the novellas, well I don't want to say they "jump around" in the timeline but they are set throughout and in doing so the author has to re-visit the characters' strengths and weaknesses that they may have overcome in later timeline(such as how they were post-war compared to new lovers).  Sometimes when an author "goes backward in time" they forget and write them as they were later and when that happens certain things are lost and seem out of place.  Not Charlie Cochrane and her Cambridge investigative duo, she recreates, revisits, and furthers their journey all the while giving them new and intriguing cases to solve.

Now as for particulars in Lessons in Solving the Wrong Problem, I think you know my answer: read it for yourself to find out because with a mystery too many seemingly insignificant elements can actually change the whole course of the investigation.  And I won't spoil that journey.  I will say, as per their norm, sometimes the non-answers to one query can lead to solutions in another.  What's not to like?  You got lost treasure(or possibly lost), possible ghost sightings, possible murder, possible accidents, just so many possibles that it's no wonder the title is Solving the Wrong Problem.  As usual Jonty and Orlando are up to the task.  Sometimes I think the men are living their very own "Choose Your Own Adventure" adventure in this novella.

I should mention that even though we don't see as many of the mens' typical sidekicks in this one, they aren't completely on their own either.  It's still glorious to see Mr. & Mrs. Stewart lending their knowledge into the clue seeking business again.  I think it's one of the things I've always found so brilliant with Cambridge Fellows, not only is the main couple a Holmes & Watson(shhh! don't tell them I said that, especially OrlandoπŸ˜‰) but Jonty's parents love it almost as much.  So often parents, especially mothers and especially mothers of that era would be trying to tamp down the not-always-but-sometime dangerous side of the couple's "hobby" but not Mrs. Stewart, she loves the snooping just as much as her son and "son-in-law".

Okay, that's it, if I talk(or type) too much longer I'll start giving away secrets and that's not allowed here.  I've said it before and I'll say it again, no matter how many full-length novels or one page codas, Miss Cochrane chooses to write, or more accurately that the boys decide to fill her in on, I'll be here reading them.  This series, this couple will never get old.

One more thing: if you are new to the series than be sure to check out the author's website to get a chronological order of Cambridge Fellows but once you've read the first 4 or 5, I think you can really read them in any order.  The first ones show the couple's romance explored more and so in order is more important IMO but the mysteries are always new to that entry. Sometimes there are details mentioned of previous cases but nothing that gives any case away or that leaves you wondering  "WTH is going on?"  However you choose to read it, don't let the number of entries scare you off because every single one is worth reading and experiencing.

RATING:




Lessons in Idle Tongues #11
Once dressed for dinner, he wandered along to annoy Jonty. Given their exertions of the afternoon, the chances were he’d be snatching forty winks, and would be nicely flustered at having to rush to get ready. Unfortunately for the purposes of either annoyance or mockery, Jonty seemed well ahead of schedule on the dressing front.

“Now, about tomorrow,” he said as Orlando walked into his bedroom. “Just behave yourself when we get to the ground.”

“Of course I will.”

“Good.” Jonty grinned. “I don’t want any naughty things going on behind the pavilion. Even if it’s one of those that backs onto woodland and allows any amount of sin to take place there.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Really? Didn’t many a lad from deepest, darkest Kent lose his virginity behind the school cricket pavilion? Or some other equally convenient location? Ah, got it this time.” Jonty smiled at the elegant knot he’d produced in his tie. “Perfect.”

“Is that true or are you making it up? And why can’t you have the same sort of black tie as everyone else?” Maybe when Jonty took it off tonight, Orlando could accidentally cut the offensive object into fifty-seven pieces.

Lessons for Sleeping Dogs #12
Jonty, recognising the signs, concentrated on his food. Orlando’s tetchiness could only mean one thing. “You need a case. To improve your mood.”

Orlando opened his mouth as if he was going to argue, then shut it again and laid down his fork. “You’re right. I have no idea how I filled my days before this all happened.” He swept his hand in a gesture that seemed to take in Jonty, their cottage, and the elegant piece of silverware on the mantelpiece. The long-necked jug, a gift from a grateful client, was symbolic of investigations.

Jonty held his tongue. He had no idea how Orlando could have survived back then, cocooned in his own little world.

“Maybe,” he said at last, “our guardian angels—the ones you refuse to believe in despite all the evidence that they’re working like billy-o—are even now trying to push a case in our direction. The devil makes work for idle hands, and they wouldn’t want us put into temptation, would they?”

Orlando broke into a grin. “You do talk rot.”

Jonty lifted his napkin to his mouth. “So, can you take the field for me? You’ve an excellent eye for a ball, and that fifty you put together back in May for the St. Bride’s Fellows XI was a poem. A sonnet in itself, iambic pentameter or not.”

The talk turned to sport, and the beef was enjoyed against a background of leg spin and off drives.



Lessons in Cracking a Deadly Code #12.7
Jonty woke on St Bride’s day with a sense of foreboding, one which he couldn’t shake off, no matter how he tried telling himself not to be so stupid. Life didn’t resemble a mystery story, thank goodness, so it was highly unlikely that anyone would take advantage of the college festivities to commit murder most foul, having engineered themselves an ingenious and untraceable method of killing. The story of the night crawler and the book he’d been reading in bed had clearly been playing on his sub-conscious mind as he slept.

Over their ridiculously early breakfast he’d not been able to hide his unease from Orlando, who’d soon spotted something was wrong.

“It’s the old by the pricking of my thumbs thing. It’s totally illogical, on every ground, but I can’t persuade myself out of it, no matter how often I lecture myself, so please don’t try that one on me.”

“I wouldn’t dare.” Orlando patted his hand. “I’d also not discount your feelings. Some people have a knack of picking up little clues without being aware they’ve done so. I suspect you’re one, so maybe you’ve picked up something in the atmosphere. Some undergraduate with a particularly guilty expression on his face that he didn’t hide soon enough, an expression which you’ve unconsciously filed away.”

“Perhaps the night crawler himself?” Jonty smiled. “That’s possible. In which case I shall await the event with interest. Unless he’s loosened one of the gargoyles, of course, although Browne would have spotted if one of those had been rigged to fall. Having said that, an innocent prank might be welcome.”



Lessons in Solving the Wrong Problem #13
Orlando looked over to where a well-dressed chap in tweeds had entered the marquee. Without Applecross’s words, they’d have been able to guess the newcomer—every inch a peer of the realm—was the landowner. The deference shown by those present would also have sealed the case. His lordship surveyed the company, then made a beeline for Applecross, where the empty seat which had been so puzzling now made sense. Had it been kept free deliberately in case the man himself made an appearance?

Lord Henry paused, hands on the back of his chair, eyeing Jonty, who had turned his head round to get a view of the visitor. “Is that a Stewart I see before me?”

“It is, sir.” Jonty rose, then offered his hand to be shaken. “Jonathan, known as Jonty.”

His lordship pumped the hand up and down. “Very pleased to meet you. You’re the image of your mother, but I suppose you know that.”

“I’ve been told so often, yes.” Jonty beamed. “And I count myself lucky to have inherited her bone structure.”

“Magnificent woman. Like many of my generation, I’d have married her in a trice, but your father was too swift and determined for the rest of us.” He patted Jonty’s shoulder. “I’m far from alone in saying that I might have been your father. Perhaps you get tired of hearing men of my generation express that thought.”

“Not tired, no, although I no longer keep tally. I’ve realised how many heads and hearts Mama must have turned in her pomp.”

It was quite a familiar conversation with anyone of his lordship’s generation. Jonty never appeared to tire of the esteem in which his parents were held so neither, by association, did Orlando. He felt part of the Stewart family and always would. As if the thought gave birth to the act, Jonty words of introduction were, “Lord Henry, this is Dr Coppersmith, my colleague at St Bride’s and an old friend of the Stewarts. Almost an adopted son, in Mama’s eyes.”

“Splendid, splendid.” His lordship shook Orlando’s hand with equal enthusiasm. A plate of food, borne by Kane, appeared on the table. Lord Henry thanked the student, then they all took their seats. “I’m so pleased that you’re both present, gentlemen. I hear you’re a regular Holmes and Watson.”

Orlando forced a smile. How he hated the man from Baker Street: any comparisons with him were odious. “We’ve been fortunate to be consulted on certain mysteries that have evaded previous solution, yes.” He was aware he sounded pompous and those who knew him well would have recognised that meant he was getting worked up. Was it the mention of Holmes that had made his hackles rise or something about Lord Henry that rankled?

“I’ve read about some of your adventures, of course. Your father’s accounts of them always make amusing reading. Better than much else one finds in The Times. Might I enquire as to whether he has employed much artistic licence?”

“You may and the answer is not a single bit.” Jonty didn’t appear to be as insulted by the question as Orlando felt about it. How dare anyone imply that the accounts of their investigations had in any way been embroidered? If anything, they’d been moderated somewhat, real life being so often tinged with events that would be frankly unbelievable if put on paper.  “You’ll be aware that my father has a reputation as being a stickler for the truth in all situations.”

If he didn’t know, he damn well should have, the tone implied. Evidently Jonty had been affronted, despite the charming smile he still wore.

Lord Henry either didn’t notice the indirect rebuke or ignored it. “That reassures me greatly. I have a question and I’ll come straight out with it. Would you be interested in casting an eye over an old mystery that puzzles my family? No hidden codes or gruesome murders, but something I would hope worthy of your cerebral capacity.”


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If the men of St. Bride’s College knew what Jonty Stewart and Orlando Coppersmith got up to behind closed doors, the scandal would rock early-20th-century Cambridge to its core. But the truth is, when they’re not busy teaching literature and mathematics, the most daring thing about them isn’t their love for each other—it’s their hobby of amateur sleuthing.

Because wherever Jonty and Orlando go, trouble seems to find them. Sunny, genial Jonty and prickly, taciturn Orlando may seem like opposites. But their balance serves them well as they sift through clues to crimes, and sort through their own emotions to grow closer. But at the end of the day, they always find the truth . . . and their way home together.

********

Be sure and check the author's website for a complete chronological list of novels, novellas, free short stories in the Cambridge Fellows Mysteries Universe.

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Cambridge Fellows Mysteries


Author Bio:
As Charlie Cochrane couldn't be trusted to do any of her jobs of choice - like managing a rugby team - she writes. Her favourite genre is gay fiction, predominantly historical romances/mysteries, but she's making an increasing number of forays into the modern day. She's even been known to write about gay werewolves - albeit highly respectable ones.

Her Cambridge Fellows series of Edwardian romantic mysteries were instrumental in seeing her named Speak Its Name Author of the Year 2009. She’s a member of both the Romantic Novelists’ Association and International Thriller Writers Inc.

Happily married, with a house full of daughters, Charlie tries to juggle writing with the rest of a busy life. She loves reading, theatre, good food and watching sport. Her ideal day would be a morning walking along a beach, an afternoon spent watching rugby and a church service in the evening.


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EMAIL:  cochrane.charlie2@googlemail.com



Lessons in Idle Tongues #11

Lessons in Cracking the Deadly Code #12.7

Lessons in Solving the Wrong Problem #13

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