Last Twilight in Paris by Pam Jenoff

 

ABOUT THE BOOK:

"A fast-paced and vibrant wartime tale of holding on to love against the odds and learning to fight for the truth." ­­–Kristin Harmel, New York Times bestselling author of The Paris Daughter

A Parisian department store, a mysterious necklace and a woman’s quest to unlock a decade-old mystery are at the center of this riveting novel of love and survival, from New York Times bestselling author Pam Jenoff

London, 1953. Louise is still adjusting to her postwar role as a housewife when she discovers a necklace in a box at a secondhand shop. The box is marked with the name of a department store in Paris, and she is certain she has seen the necklace before worked with the Red Cross in Nazi-occupied Europe —and that it holds the key to the mysterious death of her friend Franny during the war. 
 
Following the trail of clues to Paris, Louise seeks help from her former boss Ian, with whom she shares a romantic history.  The necklace leads them to discover the dark history of Lévitan—a once-glamorous department store that served as a Nazi prison, and Helaine, a woman who was imprisoned there, torn apart from her husband when the Germans invaded France.
 
Louise races to find the connection between the necklace, the department store and Franny’s death. But nothing is as it seems, and there are forces determined to keep the truth buried forever. Inspired by the true story of Lévitan, Last Twilight in Paris is both a gripping mystery and an unforgettable story about sacrifice, resistance and the power of love to transcend in even the darkest hours.

****************************************************************************************        EXCERPT: 

Prologue

Helaine

Paris, 1943

Darkness.

Helaine stumbled forward, unable to see through the black void that surrounded her. She could feel the shoulders of the others jostling on either side. The smell of unwashed bodies rose, mingling with Helaine’s own. Her hand brushed against a rough wall, scraping her knuckles. Someone ahead tripped and yelped.

Hours earlier, when Helaine had been brought from her underground cell at the police station into the adjacent holding area, she was surprised to see other women waiting. She had not encountered anyone since her arrest. She had studied the women, who looked to be from all walks of life, trying to discern some commonality among their varied ages and classes that had caused them to be here. There was only one: they were Jews. The yellow star they wore, whether soiled and crudely sewn onto a worn, secondhand dress or pressed crisply against the latest Parisian finery, was identical—and it made them all the same.

They had stood in the bare holding area, not daring to speak. Helaine was certain that her arrest had been some sort of mis take. She had done nothing wrong. They had to free her. But even as she thought this, she knew that the old world of being a French citizen with rights was long gone.

An hour passed, then two. There was nowhere to sit, and a few people dropped to the floor. An elderly woman dozed against the wall, mouth agape. But for the slight rise and fall of her chest, she might have been dead. Hunger gnawed at Helaine and she wished that she still had the baked goods she purchased at the market just before she was taken. The meager breads, which had seemed so pathetic days earlier, now would have been a feast. But her belongings had been confiscated at arrest.

Helaine looked upward through the thin slit of window near the ceiling. They were still in Paris. The sour smell from the city street and the sounds of cars and footsteps despite the curfew were familiar, if not comforting. How long they would stay here, she did not know. Helaine was torn. She did not want to remain in this empty room forever. Yet she also dreaded leaving, for wherever they were going would surely be worse.

Finally, the door had opened. “Sortir!” a voice ordered them out in native French, reminding Helaine that the policemen, who had brought them here and who were keeping them captive, were not Germans, but their own people.

Helaine had filed into the dimly lit corridor with the others. They exited the police station and stepped outside onto the pavement. At the sight of the familiar buildings and the street leading away from the station, Helaine momentarily considered fleeing. She had no idea, though, where she would go. She imagined running to her childhood home, debated whether her estranged mother would take her in or turn her away. But the women were heavily guarded and there was no real possibility of escape. Instead, Helaine breathed the fresh air in great gulps, sensing that she might not be in the open again for quite some time.

The women were herded up a ramp toward an awaiting truck. Helaine recoiled. They were being placed in the back part of the vehicle where goods should have been carried, not people. Helaine wanted to protest but did not dare. Smells of stale grain and rotting meat, the truck’s previous cargo, assaulted her nose, mixing with her own stench in the warm air. It had been three days since she had bathed or changed and her dress was wrinkled and filthy, her once-luminous black curls dull and matted against her head.

When the women were all inside the truck, the back hatch shut with an ominous click. “Where are they taking us?” someone whispered. Silence. No one knew and they were all too afraid to venture a guess. They had heard the stories of the trains headed east to awful places from which no one ever returned. Helaine wondered how long the journey would be.

As they bumped along the Paris streets, Helaine’s bones, already sore from sleeping on the hard prison cell floor, cried out in pain. Her mouth was dry and her stomach empty. She wanted water and a meal, a hot bath. She wanted home.

If home was a place that even existed anymore. Helaine’s husband, Gabriel, was missing in Germany, his fate unknown. She had scarcely spoken with her parents since before the war. And Helaine herself had been taken without notice. Nobody knew that she had been arrested or had any idea where she had gone. It was as if she simply no longer existed.

To distract herself, Helaine tried to picture the route they were taking outside the windowless truck, down the boulevards she had just days earlier walked freely, past the cafés and shops. The familiar locations should have been some small comfort. But this might well be the last time she ever came this way, Helaine realized, and the thought only worsened her despair.

Several minutes later, the truck stopped with a screech. They were at a train station, Helaine guessed. The back hatch to the truck opened and the women peered out into pitch blackness. “Raus!” a voice commanded. That they were under the watch of Germans now seemed to confirm Helaine’s worst fears about where they were headed. “Schnell!” Someone let out a cry, a mix of the anguish and uncertainty they all felt.

The women clambered from the truck and Helaine stumbled, banging her knee and yelping. “Quiet,” a woman’s voice beside her cautioned fearfully. A hand reached out and helped her down the ramp with an unexpectedly gentle touch.

Outside the truck it was the tiniest bit lighter, and Helaine was just able to make out some sort of loading dock. The group moved forward into a large building.

Now Helaine found herself in complete darkness once more. This was how she had come to be in an unfamiliar building, shuffling forward blindly with a group of women she did not know, uncertain of where they were going or the fate that might befall them. She could see nothing, only feel the fear and confusion in the air around her. They seemed to be in some sort of corridor, pressed even more closely together than they had been. Helaine put her hand on the shoulder of the woman in front of her, trying hard not to fall again.

They were herded roughly through a doorway, into a room that was also unlit. No one moved or spoke. Helaine had heard rumors of mass executions, groups of people gassed or simply shot. The Germans might do that to them now. Her skin prickled. She thought of those she loved most, Gabriel and, despite everything that had happened, her parents. Helaine wanted their faces, not fear, to be her final thought.

Bright lights turned on suddenly, illuminating the space around them. “Mon Dieu!” someone behind her exclaimed softly. Helaine blinked her eyes, scarcely daring to believe what she saw. They were not in a camp or a prison at all. Instead, they were standing in the main showroom of what had once been one of the grandest department stores in Paris.

Excerpted from LAST TWILIGHT IN PARIS by Pam Jenoff. Copyright © 2025 by Pam Jenoff. Published by Park Row Books, an imprint of HTP/HarperCollins.

MY TWO CENTS: 

Pam Jenoff hates me. She's never met me, true, but she must hate me because apparently she loves to tear my heart out. I really was really taken in by her other book The Woman With the Blue Star so when I got the opportunity to read an advance copy of her new book, I jumped at the chance. Any book that makes me look more into actual historical events is something I really enjoy and Last Twilight in Paris is one of those stories.

This is a story that does go back in forth in time between two different characters, but not a huge amount of time like some books. It is the story of Helaine who was imprisoned by the Germans during the war, but in a very different location than the camps we have learned about in history. In the story, Helaine is a prisoner in Levitan, a former department store in Paris. Goods stolen by the Nazis from Jewish homes are brought in, sorted and then sold. All this work is done by the prisoners. While Helaine may be a fictional character, Levitan was not. It really was a store that the Germans used to hold Jewish citizens and while not as severe as some of the death camps, they were still forced to work and held against their will. Helaine's story is absolutely horrific and without going into too much detail or spoiler territory, the reader gets to follow her through her whole journey through her ordeal, along with fellow prisoners.

It is also the story of Louise, who, while not a prisoner of war, saw her share of heartbreak during wartime volunteering for the Red Cross. She doesn't realize that even though the war is over, how much of her time and experiences during the war she has brought into her life years after it has ended. Because of events that happened to Louise, she feels driven to set things right for a friend she lost during that time. Again, no spoilers but these two women will have a connection, and I found myself racing through to find out how it was all going to tie together.

Learning about this little known part of the Holocaust was amazing. It was heartbreaking, terrifying but also gives the reader that shred of hope we all need to survive. It also teaches us about healing in the most terrible of times. I can't say enough good about this book. Is it a light fun read? No, I teared up several times and also felt legitimately scared for Helaine and her fellow prisoners in some parts. That's how good of job the author does. So, does Ms. Jenoff rip my heart out? Sure does! But now that I think about it, she must not hate me because while she makes me feel all of these emotions, she does it in the most loving of ways by entertaining us with a good story but teaching about things all should know. Releases February 4, 2025.

BOOK DETAILS AND WHERE TO BUY:

Last Twilight In Paris

By Pam Jenoff

On Sale: February 4, 2025

ISBN: 9780778307983

Park Row Hardcover 

Price: $28.99

Buy Links:

HarperCollins: https://www.harpercollins.com/products/last-twilight-in-paris-pam-jenoff?variant=42640819388450

Amazon: https://www.amazon.ca/s?k=9780778307983&tag=hcg-02-20

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/last-twilight-in-paris-pam-jenoff/1145679315?ean=9780778387794

Bookshop.org: https://bookshop.org/p/books/the-department-of-stolen-heirlooms-original-pam-jenoff/21476022?ean=9780778307983

Social Links:

Author Website: https://pamjenoff.com/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/pamjenoff/

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/213562.Pam_Jenoff

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Pam-Jenoff/1216746581800099

Twitter (X): https://twitter.com/PamJenoff

About the Author: 

Pam Jenoff is the author of several books of historical fiction, including the NYT bestseller The Orphan's Tale. She holds a degree in international affairs from George Washington University and a degree in history from Cambridge, and she received her JD from UPenn. Her novels are inspired by her experiences working at the Pentagon and as a diplomat for the State Department handling Holocaust issues in Poland. She lives with her husband and 3 children near Philadelphia, where she teaches law.

The Last Fashion House in Paris by Renee Ryan

 

This is a very moving story about several women fighting to get through Hitler's reign during World War II.  Paulette, who was fooled into trusting a man she shouldn't have, seeks redemption by going to stay and work with her mother's good friend, Sabine, who is a very successful designer with her own fashion house. What Paulette doesn't know is that Sabine uses her business to cover the fact that she is helping Jewish people escape Paris once it becomes deadly for them to stay. 

Nicolle, one of Sabine's workers in the fashion house, has become a trusted confidant and passeur, a transporter for Jewish people escaping. Sabine and Nicolle secure documents including new identities for them and Nicolle physically helps get the people to safety.  Nicolle is dealing with her own heartbreak due to the war and finds comfort and purpose in saving as many lives as she can. 

Paulette quickly learns the ropes and is taken into the secret part of the fashion house business. She is extremely willing to work, trying to atone for things she has done and things she believes she has done in the past.  The relationships between these women are quite moving and inspirational. 

The horrors of what the Jewish people went through and imagining a hometown become occupied and taken over is unfathomable, but it did happen. Ms. Ryan does an excellent job of bringing those feelings out and while I was saddened reading some of the story, I was also totally invested in what was going to happen to these characters. 

I really enjoyed Ms. Ryan's other book, The Secret Society of Salzburg, too.  I always enjoy an engrossing story that teaches me more about factual events, and this is one of those stories.  

Thank you to NetGalley and to the publisher for the advance copy. No review was required. 

The Booklovers' Library by Madeline Martin

 

The Booklovers' Library by Madeline Martin is a book that is right up my alley.  I have said this before but I love books that have elements of truth that make me want to delve deeper into the subject. In this case, I wanted to learn more about the lending libraries during World War II that this book centers around.  I had no idea these existed and in this story, they were part of Boots' pharmacies in England.  I even managed to find a picture online: 

Apparently, these were a huge deal and had members of high society as patrons.  They were treated to exceptional, professional service at all times. In this story, Emma has experienced some tragedy in her life and is raising her daughter, Olivia, alone. Even though she is widowed, she is technically not allowed to work, since she is a mother. This was true back then! However, Miss Bainbridge decides to make an exception and allows Emma to be the newest employee of the library. 

Emma quickly becomes efficient in her job and finds she really enjoys it. Furthermore, a load is off her shoulders now, as she was in need of money. Emma not only works in the library but also volunteers where she can helping those affected by the war, working alongside her friends. I feel that is the story of how community comes together during a catastrophic time in our history. Here is an excerpt featuring the very first part of the story and Emma's beginning: 

PROLOGUE

Nottingham, England April 1931

JUST ONE MORE CHAPTER. Emma lingered in the storage area on the second floor of her father’s bookshop, Tower Bookshop, with Jane Austen’s Emma cradled in her lap. Sadly, not her namesake—her parents had named her Emmaline for an aunt she’d never met, who had died on Emma’s seventh birthday ten years ago.

Still, the book was one of Emma’s favorites.

“Emma.” Papa’s voice rose from somewhere in the bookshop, sharp with irritation.

She frowned. Papa was seldom ever cross with her.

Perhaps the smoke from the man who had come in with his cigar earlier still lingered in the shop.

She settled a scrap of paper into the spine of her book.

“Emmaline!” Something to that second cry snapped her to attention, a raw, frantic pitch.

Papa was never panicked.

She leaped up from the seat with such haste, the book dropped to the ground with a whump.

“I’m in the warehouse,” she called out, racing to the door.

The handle was scalding hot. She yelped and drew back. That’s when she saw the smoke, wisps seeping beneath the door, glowing in the stream of sunlight. 

Fire.

She put her skirt over her hand and twisted the knob to open the door. Thick plumes of smoke billowed in, black and choking.

She sucked in a breath of surprise, unintentionally inhaling a lungful of burning air. A cough racked her and she stumbled back, her mind reeling as her feet pulled her from the threat.

But to where? This was the only exit from the storeroom, save the second-floor window.

“Papa,” she shouted, terror creeping into her voice.

All at once, he was there, wrapping a blanket around them, the one she kept in the shop for cold mornings before the furnace managed to heat the old building.

“Stay at my side.” Papa’s voice was gravelly beneath the blanket where he’d covered the lower part of his face. Even as he led her away, a great cough shuddered through his lean frame.

Beyond the wall of smoke was a vision straight out of Milton’s Paradise Lost as fire licked and climbed its way up the towering stacks of books, devouring a lifetime of careful curation. Emma screamed, the sound muted by the blanket.

But Papa’s hand was firm at her back, pressing her forward. “We have to run.” Not slowing, he guided her to the winding metal staircase. She used to love clattering down it as a girl, hearing the metal ringing around her.

“It’s hot,” Papa cautioned. “Don’t touch it.”

Emma hugged against his side as they squeezed down the narrow steps that barely fit the two of them together. It swayed beneath their weight, no longer sturdy as it had once been. The blazing heat felt as though it was blistering Emma’s skin. Too hot. Too close. Too much.

And they were plunging deeper into the fiery depths.

The soles of Emma’s shoes stuck to the last two steps as rubber melted against metal.

What had once been rows of bookshelves was now a maze of flames. Even Papa hesitated before the seemingly impassable blaze.

But there was nowhere else to go.

The fire was alive. Cracking and popping and hissing and roaring, roaring, roaring so loud, it seemed like an actual beast.

“Go,” he shouted, and his grip tightened around her, pulling her forward.

Together they ran, between columns of fire that had once been shelves of books. An ear-shattering crack came from above, spurring them to the front as fire and sparks poured down behind them.

Emma ran faster than she ever had before, faster than she knew herself capable. Papa’s arm at her side yanked her this way or that, navigating through the fiery chaos. Until there was nowhere to go.

Papa roared louder than the fire beast and released her, running toward the blazing door. It flew open at the impact, revealing clean sunny daylight outside. He turned toward her even as she rushed after him and grabbed her around the shoulders, hauling her into the street.

Emma gulped in the clean air, reveling in the cool dampness washing into her tortured lungs. A crowd had gathered, staring up at the Tower Bookshop. Some came to Emma and Papa, asking in a frenzy of voices if they were hurt.

In the distance came the scream of emergency sirens. Sirens Emma had heard her entire life, but had never once needed herself.

There was need now. She held on to Papa’s hand and looked behind her at the building that had been in her family for two generations and was meant to become hers someday. Her gaze skimmed over the bookshop to the top two floors where their home had once been.

The fire beast gave a great heaving howl and the top floor crumpled.

Someone grabbed her from behind, dragging her back as the rest of the structure came down, ripping her hand from her father’s. She didn’t reach for him again, unable to move, unable to think, her eyes fixed on the building as it crashed in on itself in a fiery heap. Their livelihood. Their home.

All the pictures of her mother who had died after Emma was born, all the books she and her father had lovingly selected from bookshops around England on the trips they’d taken together, everything they’d ever owned.

Gone.

Emma choked on a sob at the realization.

Everything was gone.

“We need a doctor.” A man’s voice broke through her horror, pulling her attention to her father.

He lay on the ground, motionless. Soot streaked his handsome slender face, and his thick gray hair that had once been the same shade of chestnut as hers was now singed in blackened tufts.

“Papa?” She sagged to the ground beside him.

His eyes lifted to her, watery blue and filled with a love that made her heart swell. The breath wheezed from his chest like a kettle’s cry. “You’re safe.”

Once the words left his mouth, his body relaxed, going slack.

“Papa?” Emma cried.

This time his eyes did not meet hers. They looked through her. Sightless and empty.

She shuddered at how unnatural he appeared. Like her father, and yet not like her father.

“Papa?”

The wailing sirens were still too far-off.

“I’m a doctor.” A man knelt on the other side of her father. His fingers went to Papa’s blackened neck and the man’s sad brown eyes turned up to her.

“I’m sorry, love. He’s gone.”

Emma stared at the man, refusing to believe her ears even as she saw the truth.

It had always just been Emma and her father, the two of them against the world, as Papa used to say. They read the same books to discuss together, they worked every day at the bookshop together, friends and colleagues as much as they were father and daughter. Once Emma had completed her schooling, she’d even traveled with him, curating books like the first editions they were still waiting on to arrive from Newcastle.

Now that beautiful light that shone in his eyes had dulled. Lifeless.

It was no longer Papa and her against the world.

He was gone.

Their shop was gone.

Their home was gone.

Everything she knew and loved was gone.

Excerpted from THE BOOKLOVER’S LIBRARY by Madeline Martin, Copyright © 2024 by Madeline Martin. Published by arrangement with HTP Books, a Division of HarperCollins.

If this sounds like it interests you, here are some links to purchase: 

Buy Links:

HarperCollins:

https://www.harpercollins.com/products/the-booklovers-library-madeline-martin?variant=41311560695842 

Amazon:

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1335000399  

Barnes & Noble:

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-booklovers-library-madeline-martin/1143849745  

BookShop.org:

https://bookshop.org/p/books/the-booklover-s-library-original-madeline-martin/20392302 

And here is author Madeline Martin's social media info: 

 

Social Links:

Author Website: https://madelinemartin.com/ 

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MadelineMartinAuthor 

Twitter: https://twitter.com/MadelineMMartin 

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/madelinemmartin/ 

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/12062937.Madeline_Martin 

My two cents: I enjoyed these characters immensely. I was invested in what happened to Emma and her friends and interested in learning more about the real libraries at that time. The author does a fantastic job bringing these characters to life and making them seem real, a trait I love in any book.  I appreciate the copy from the publisher via NetGalley. 

The Berlin Apartment by Bryn Turnbull

 

 

I had the opportunity to get a copy of The Berlin Apartment by Bryn Turnbull. First, can we all just take a minute and admire that gorgeous cover??  

The story is about Lise and Uli who are planning a happy life, starting with their engagement. Lise lives in East Berlin with her father and brother, but studies medicine in West Berlin where Uli lives. Lise goes home after the romantic evening when Uli proposes dreaming of what's to come, including a dinner later in the week with her family and Uli, announcing their happy news.

But, just days later, the Berlin Wall goes up, dividing the East and West.  Uli and Lise are separated with no way to get to one another.  What follows is a heartbreaking, breathless account of their story. 

Here's a better description:

Berlin 1961: When Uli Neumann proposes to Lise Bauer, she has every reason to accept. He offers her love, respect, and a life beyond the strict bounds of the East German society in which she was raised — which she longs to leave more than anything. But only two short days after their engagement, Lise and Uli are torn violently apart when barbed wire is rolled across Berlin, splitting the city into two hostile halves: capitalist West Berlin, an island of western influence isolated far beyond the iron curtain; and the socialist East, a country determined to control its citizens by any means necessary. 

I'm leaving part of it out because there's something in the description that gives something away that you should read on your own!  However, I am pleased to be able to share an excerpt from the publisher. Take a look, you'll be invested immediately: 

 

13 AUGUST, 1961

 

Uli stared out his apartment window, his pulse beating wildly in his ears. Seven stories below, a tangle of concertina wire ran the length of Bernauer Strasse, bisecting East Berlin from West: onlookers on both sides of the wire watched, muttering, as green-uniformed Grenztruppen, separated from the East German citizenry by a line of Volkspolizei, jackhammered the cobbles to fix stakes into the ground and carted in more spools of barbed wire, rolling it out with gloved hands.

Was it war? He studied the faces of the border guards, searching for an indication of panic, of fear, but they looked measured and resolute. Was it a planned operation, then? A provocation?

He needed to find Lise. He pulled on a shirt and trousers and descended into the fray.

Outside, the sound of jackhammers was a relentless snarl that drowned out the fury of Berliners on both sides of the wire, shouting their ire. In the East, a mishmash of soldiers—police officers and border guards and members of the People’s National Army—stood with their backs to the west, shoulder to shoulder, as guards hammered stakes in place.

“Uli!”

He wrenched his attention away from the barbed wire to see Jurgen’s stocky, sandy-haired figure. “Have you spoken to Lise?”

Uli shook his head: across the street, a scrum of people had formed around a nearby telephone box. “I only just came outside. I’m still trying to piece together… What’s going on?”

“Ulbricht’s sealed the border.”

“Sealed it?”

“Yeah.” Jurgen bit his lip, and Uli knew that he was thinking of his family, his brother and sister-in-law and niece, living in Bernau. “People kept saying he was going to do something, but I never thought…” He trailed off. “You’ve not seen Lise?”

“Not since Friday.” Uli searched for a higher vantage point— a bench, the bonnet of a car—and gestured for Jurgen to follow him toward a rusting Mercedes, parked on the opposite side of the road. “Have you spoken to your brother?”

“I tried telephoning Karl, but they’ve cut the wires. I heard they’ve sealed off the U-Bahn and S-Bahn as well… I don’t think anyone can make contact.”

Uli jumped onto the bonnet of the Mercedes. What purpose did it serve to cut the telephone lines? He gave Jurgen his hand and tugged him up on top of the car: from here, they could see past the guards and jackhammers to the bewildered East Berliners beyond.

“Lise was out of town, wasn’t she?” Jurgen muttered. In the empty streets beyond Bernauer Strasse, Soviet tanks rolled in and out of view in the direction of Brandenburg Gate: Where was the answering military presence from the West? He turned, hoping to see British or American troops: on a far-off corner, a pair of French soldiers watched the growing crowd but made no attempt to move closer. Surely, they had to intervene?

Uli turned back to the barbed wire and his heart lurched: there, coming down Brunnenstrasse, was Lise. He shouted her name and waved to catch her attention: she turned and lifted her arm in response.

Uli leaped down from the car and made his way toward the wire. He muscled past men and women with Jurgen in his wake, rising onto his toes to keep Lise in his sights.

A shout rang up behind him—“Fascists!”—and the crowd surged forward. He stumbled, and a West Berlin police officer caught him before he hit the ground.

“Watch yourself.”

Uli straightened. “My fiancée. She’s in the East,” he began, hearing in his voice the panic he was trying, and falling, to quell. On the opposite side of the wire, Lise was pushing forward too, her pale head visible as she tried to reason with a Grenztruppe. “I need to speak with her, if you could just let me through, she’s right there—”

The officer’s expression was pitying and fearful in equal measure. “I have my orders. No one is to approach the barrier,” he said. Across the wire, a second Grenztruppe turned his head, listening to their conversation over his shoulder. “They’re operating within East Berlin, we have no jurisdiction to intervene—”

“They’re tearing the city apart!” Uli shouted, his rational mind reeling against the sheer absurdity of what was in front of him. He took another step, searching for a break in the wire. “If I could just talk to her—”

The officer’s grip on Uli’s arms was mercilessly hard. “If you want to start the next world war, keep going,” he hissed, before shoving Uli back. “There’s nothing I can do, mate. Take it up with Walter Ulbricht.”

He stumbled into Jurgen, trembling with a rage he’d never felt: an impotence, a helplessness that he’d not experienced since he was a boy.

“Easy…this might only be temporary,” Jurgen said, his hand steady on Uli’s shoulder. “We ought to go to Brandenburg Gate. We might learn more about what this is—there will be reporters, politicians—”

On the other side of the wire, he watched as Lise’s own attempts to reason with a border guard failed: she stepped back, looking distraught. “If Ulbricht really is sealing the border, we need to act now. We need to find a way to get to Lise—bring her across—”

“I know.”

Uli broke off midsentence, wrenching his eyes away from Lise. Jurgen stared at him, resolute, and his steadiness gave ground to Uli’s panic, helped him think beyond his own fear, his own anger.

“We need to act now, but whatever we do, it can’t be here,” Jurgen continued. He was right: they couldn’t push through, not here, where there were so many people, so many sets of eyes. “We find a break in the wire—a gap…” “They can’t be everywhere all at once,” Uli said. “Further along,” Jurgen whispered back, and Uli’s heart quickened. Across the wire, Lise stared at him, and he jerked his head, knowing that Lise would understand—she nodded, and melted back into the crowd.

“C’mon,” he muttered, and he and Jurgen took off down the street.

 

Excerpt from The Berlin Apartment by Bryn Turnbull. Copyright © 2024 by Bryn Turnbull. Published by MIRA.

If you are intrigued here are some links to purchase and the author's social media links: 

Buy Links:

Harlequin

Bookshop.org

Barnes & Noble

Books A Million

Amazon

Social Links:

Author Website

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/brynturnbullwrites/?hl=en

X: https://x.com/brynturnbull

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/brynturnbullwrites/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/19389611.Bryn_Turnbull

I absolutely LOVED this book. It's been a long time since I have wanted to keep getting back to what I was reading and I couldn't wait to get back to Lise, Uli and the rest to find out what was going to happen. I also want to add that what happened was NOT what I thought was going to happen at all. Ms. Turnbull is a new to me author, and this may be my first read by her but it won't be my last! Thank you to the publisher for the copy. 

The Body Next Door by Maia Chance

 

The Body Next Door is a mystery with a storyline that I  really didn't expect. It revolves around Hannah who has what seems to be a picture perfect life but it is about to all come crashing back due to secrets from the past. I was kind of surprised the turn this book took because the description didn't mention the different kind of past that Hannah had.  That was actually refreshing.  I like not knowing all the details going into a story.  

Then, other characters are introduced and for a good part of the book, I was really wondering how they would all connect.  And then, when it did, I was surprised.  I also was surprised at one of the twists when one of those relationships were revealed. 

The author did a great job connecting everything together and I finally got some twists in a book.  Usually, books today promise twists and don't deliver, so I was excited to get some in a story where I wasn't expecting any. I had never heard of this author, and I was happy to see she has written other books. I will definitely be looking into them. 

Thanks to Netgalley and to the publisher. 

My Darling Boy by Helen Cooper

 

My Darling Boy by Helen Cooper is about two sons, their mothers who are best friends, living a quiet life until it all comes apart at the seams. One of the sons is dead, by the other's hand. Both mothers are in mourning, one for her son and the other HER son, both grieving the loss of the life they all once shared. 

Let me start by saying I love Helen Cooper. She's an automatic author for me. I'll read whatever she puts out.  My two cents for this one is a little different though. I wanted to find out what was going on, but honestly, it took me a little longer than I would have liked to finish the book. The "twist" was okay, but not too shocking.  However, I will say that the way one of the characters turned out was more shocking to me than anything.  All in all, it was good and while I have enjoyed this author's other books a little better, I did enjoy this one as well. Releases in the United States December 2024. 

 Thank you to Netgalley and to the publisher! No review was required. 

Listen for the Lie by Amy Tintera

 

I was fortunate enough to snag a ARC of Listen for the Lie by Amy Tintera. I usually don't like to do a synopsis, because you can read that anywhere! However, this book is about Lucy who, about 5 years prior to the current timeline, was accused of murdering her best friend, Savvy. Problem is, Lucy can't remember what happened due to her  getting her own traumatic brain injury on the night of the murder. 

A podcast about the murder has started and tries to get to the truth of what happened to Savvy. The author has really wowed me with the insert of the podcast in the story. I thought it was very creative and fun to read the "transcripts" of the episodes. 

Now, that was one good aspect for me.  The other was that it really was a good mystery with several surprises in the book.  So, it was really good in that in kept my interest and that I finished it very quickly. However, the downside was that (AND THIS IS JUST MY OPINION) in some instances it became a man bashing festival. EVERY man portrayed in this book as a bad person. The law of probability says this is impossible.  I joke, but really, why make EVERY one look bad? In fact, there were several comments in there that made me feel like the author was trying to jump on a recent bandwagon. 

All in all, I really enjoyed the story and I have to add, I just loved the Grandma. She cracked me up. I hope you enjoy this book and would love to hear your thoughts. Releases March 4. Thank you to the publisher and to NetGalley. I really appreciate this opportunity!