You know what else is very '80s/'90s? Show-and-telling my gifts.
Which is just the kind of uncool thing that Kimberly might do.
You know what else is very '80s/'90s? Show-and-telling my gifts.
Which is just the kind of uncool thing that Kimberly might do.
Whenever I settle in with one of Laura Levine's Jaine Austen mysteries, I know I'm in for the Godiva of treats. Just like Jaine before downing a pint of Chunky Monkey or her cat Prozac poised to inhale her Minced Mackerel Guts. So when I opened Death by Smoothie, I was set for a feast.
Jaine's latest gig is as a script doctor for computer geek lovers-turned-lottery winners. They're over the moon to be producing a play of their favorite sitcom, the all-but-forgotten I Married a Zombie. Yet the duo's dreams are dashed when their talentless leading lady makes an enemy of everyone on set -- and threatens their romance. So it's no surprise when someone poisons her green smoothie, recasting the undead diva as dead.
Jaine thought she had her hands full resuscitating the script. But things get really dicey when her neighbor Lance enlists her to find out whodunit. His actor boyfriend is a suspect, and if there's anything that love-a-holic Lance can't abide, then it's losing his soul mate du jour. So Jaine dusts off her detective hat and does some digging. That is, between emails from her wacky parents, hijinks-jammed job interviews, and entertainingly awful dates, all while fueling herself with another Big Mac and/or buttered bagel. Jaine's sleuthing -- and life -- make for the most deliciously cringeworthy in the cozy genre. There's no PI I adore more.
Luckily, I can enjoy Jaine's antics for capers to come. Because despite her dangerous pass time -- and diet -- she has more lives than Prozac.
I can't believe that another Christmas -- and year! -- are done and dusted. It went by in a blur of color and chaos, but for once I have to say that it was a contented kind of crazy. Thanks, Charlotte.
That said, no book reviews or other reflections today. Just a wish that you have a wonderful last day of 2024 and embrace your own kind of crazy in 2025. 🎉🎈
I was so busy this December that I almost forgot to read Jenny Bayliss's latest. Known for releasing a heartfelt romcom each Christmas, the Brit lit wit never fails to make me smile through my Santa-induced stress. So when I spied a lone copy of Kiss Me at Christmas while tornadoing through Target, I snagged it.
Teacher-turned-pastoral care worker Harriet Smith is in dire need of a change. Overworked and underappreciated, she's always on call and haunted by the one student she couldn't save. And this Christmas her nerves are especially fraught because her daughter's spending the holiday stateside. Lonely and vulnerable, triple-cardigan-wearing Harriet embarks on a one night stand. Then, fresh off the walk of shame, she finds her most at-risk students, a.k.a. the "famous five," playing hooky in the abandoned Winter Theater.
When her students get caught, she takes the blame and, per the eccentric old woman who owns the theater, cleans it up to avoid charges. Yet what starts as community service snowballs into a production of A Christmas Carol. Harriet leads, inspires, and energizes the famous five, a local theater group, and various disenfranchised community clubs including refugees, treasure hunters, and self-proclaimed "lonely farts" into putting on the best show ever. Also, there's the guy from Harriet's one night stand, who just happens to be the eccentric woman's lawyer.
It's nice when Christmas has a sense of humor.
Still, Kiss Me at Christmas is more than a romcom. It's about self-care and community, two things that sound as though they'd be at odds but are, oddly, intertwined. Because it's only when Harriet allows herself to be at peace that she's able to bring peace to others. And yes, perhaps, fall in love.
Big-hearted and hilarious, Kiss Me at Christmas is Bayliss's best book yet. Because everyone deserves a second act. Especially at Christmas.