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Flowers and Foul Play–a magical read!
Flowers and Foul Play
by Amanda Flower
Flowers and Foul Play is an appropriately magical read. Fiona Knox receives a surprise inheritance when her Scottish godfather dies in the war in Afghanistan and wills everything to her including his land, cottage, and a walled garden with a reputation for being magical. It seems Fiona, a florist by trade, is somehow connected to the garden. Unfortunately, after her long flight from Tennessee to Scotland, she tours her garden and discovers a dead body.
Everything about the story is enjoyable. The plot has a lot of twists and turns. The characters are interesting, including the welcoming Lee who owns the Bellewick pub, Hamish, the elderly garden caretaker, and Chief Inspector Neil Craig who is not only very competent, but also very handsome. Of course, everything is very Scottish and the setting makes this cozy mystery even more interesting. Author Amanda Flower throws in a huge mehir in the garden, tales of an ancestor’s shipwreck, and a local controversy over a real estate deal with environmental implications. The result is a book I didn’t want to put down until the mystery was solved.
I would like to extend my thanks to netgalley.com and to Crooked Lane Books for giving me the opportunity to read this book in exchange for an honest review.
Rating: 5/5
Category: Mystery
Notes: #1 in the Magic Garden Mystery Series
Publication: May 8, 2018—Crooked Lane Books
Memorable Lines:
“If you think this is a rough night in Scotland, you are in for a rude awakening my lass, a very rude awakening indeed. We have storms that come off the sea that will curl your toes and make seasoned Highlanders hide under their beds.”
It reminded me again how old everything in Scotland was. In Nashville, the city practically builds a force field around a house that was built in the 1800s, to protect it from wear and tear. But the 1800s weren’t even a blip on the timeline in a place like Bellewick, where most of the buildings dated back to the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries.
“I think that is what his death has taught me the most: don’t count on someday because someday will never come. Too many people put off fighting for what they want until what they think will be a better time—after they’re married, after the kids are grown, after retirement—but the truth is, there is never a better time for anything.”
Queen of Flowers–so many elements
Queen of Flowers
by Kerry Greenwood
Queen of Flowers opens with Phryne Fisher’s extensive fitting for a dress to be worn in a Melbourne parade as the chosen Queen of Flowers based on her charitable support. The whole household is turned on end for the fitting, an elephant makes an appearance in her yard, and that day turns out to be the most tranquil in the book.
Queen of Flowers is a masterpiece of complex plot. The carnival and circus are in town along with a violin player from Phryne’s past. Adopted daughter Ruth begins to wonder about her parents. Phryne takes her four flower girls (young ladies) in hand and discovers interesting aspects of their backgrounds. As usual, Phryne shows herself as a force to be reckoned with in dealing with some of St. Kilda’s shadiest characters. My one problem with the book was that when one of her daughters goes missing, Phryne is much calmer than one would expect.
All of Phryne’s “minions” are called in to help with the various mysteries that are amazingly connected. I felt like standing up and clapping with a loud “Well done!” as Greenwood tied up the plot threads successfully and delivered justice as deserved.
I would like to extend my thanks to netgalley.com and to Poisoned Pen Press for giving me the opportunity to read this book in exchange for an honest review.
Rating: 5/5
Category: Historical Fiction, Mystery
Notes: #14 of the Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries; could be a standalone but better if you have some background on the characters
Publication: November 7, 2017—Poisoned Pen Press
Memorable Lines:
Phryne, the fiddler remembered, always existed as a still, self-possessed point in a maelstrom. Usually she had created the maelstrom herself.
Phryne…climbed the stairs in search of copious hot water to wash the Weston house off her skin. She had been in houses which ran black with fleas. She had been in rural cottages where the soot gloved the beams and the vulcanized grease on the kitchen walls had been classified by the National Trust. But she had never felt quite this grimy, and she didn’t like it.
He was a slick, hard-faced man with a chin on which one could break rocks, and thin red lips. His eyes were as compassionate and kind as chips of flint.
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