Welcome to my Sunday Book Review. Today I’m reviewing an enticing psycho-thriller by famed writer, Alice Feeney – well known for her twists and turns just when you think you may have things figured out – you don’t. No surprise this book is being adapted for Netflix, as are some of Feeney’s other works.
INSTANT NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLERfromthe author of His & Hers, now a #1 Netflix show, and the hit bestseller My Husband’s Wife! “Feeney lives up to her reputation as the “queen of the twist”. . . This page-turner will keep you guessing.” ―Real Simple Think you know the person you married? Think again. . .
Things have been wrong with Mr and Mrs Wright for a long time. When Adam and Amelia win a weekend away to Scotland, it might be just what their marriage needs. Self-confessed workaholic and screenwriter Adam Wright has lived with face blindness his whole life. He can’t recognize friends or family, or even his own wife.
Every anniversary the couple exchange traditional gifts–paper, cotton, pottery, tin–and each year Adam’s wife writes him a letter that she never lets him read. Until now. They both know this weekend will make or break their marriage, but they didn’t randomly win this trip. One of them is lying, and someone doesn’t want them to live happily ever after.
Ten years of marriage. Ten years of secrets. And an anniversary they will never forget.
Rock Paper Scissors is an exciting domestic thriller from the queen of the killer twist, New York Times bestselling author Alice Feeney.
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My 5 Star Review:
Alice Feeney isn’t called the Queen of Twist for nothing. In this addictive read, we’re taken into the married lives of Amelia and Adam. Throughout this storyline, we’re learning about their past between scenes in this story.
Adam and Amelia have an estranged relationship, we’ll learn through their thoughts and chapters as they embark to Scotland for a weekend away together for a trip Amelia believes she has won. Amelia was hoping the weekend away may help to repair and rescusitate their marriage at an old Inn converted from an old church. The weather is an atrocious snowstorm that offers a great backdrop to this mysterious couple and their mysterious marriage.
Adam is a writer and screenplay adapter and Amelia works at a shelter for abused animals. Chapters are written from both Adam and Amelia’s viewpoints about their marriage, as well as some ‘mysterious’ anniversary recognition chapters, acknowledging each of ten anniversaries, each with representation for what each year represents. Each year, Adam’s wife writes this anniversary letter to Adam – but she’s never given one to him, reader’s inside knowledge shared with us. The tension continues to build as we get clues about this marriage, and their differing opinions, memories, and opinions on some of the events the couple have experienced, all while scary and creepy things begin to happen while staying in the old church inn. And the eeriest part is when they discover that they aren’t alone, despite not seeing anyone else.
We won’t discover til much later in the book just exactly what has transpired with this couple to make them both so suspicious of one another. Amelia may be able to pull the wool over Adam because of his incapacity to be able to see full facial recognition – face blindness, but there is someone else who seems to have the upper hand in this marriage.
There is so much going in this story I can’t give away spoilers. Suffice it to say, the weekend is gripping and so educational, the past comes back to haunt, and anything you could imagine will happen – you would be wrong – til the very end.
Welcome back to Part 2 of my recent Mexican vacation in Puerto Vallarta. A little backstory:
Some of you may know I’ve been going to Puerto Vallarta for years – even decades, with my husband. We began going there when we were dating in the late 90s. We actually began in Acapulco, but sadly, the ‘new gangs’ came to Acapulco and pretty much took it over. This eventually led to the migration of Acapulco tourists moving up a bit north on the Pacific coast to Puerto Vallarta – the ‘new place to be’. So, where we first began, we ended up going back to.
In our earlier married years we’d go to PV and stay up in the marina area. At the time they were just starting to build the beach tower condos that are still very popular in the hotel zone, a ten minute cab ride south from the marina area. The Grand Venetian 3-tower complex is the one where we began renting for a few months for our winter escape, back in 2016. It’s very difficult to get a rental in that complex, but somehow, the same people are there year after year, complete with rental stories of what they went through before finally getting an over-priced unit. Rarely do people get the same unit annually, but some do, like my friend Liz who I stayed with for ten days after staying in the hotel with my other friends.
Other than 2021, the year I lost my husband, I’ve continued to go there because it’s familiar, I have winter friends there, and the weather is pretty much guaranteed and gorgeous. Oh, and because it used to be a cheap holiday, even with our Canadian dollar. But it’s not a deal anymore, as I discovered in many places I ate and shopped at.
Before I get into what transpired in PV on February 22nd, I’m going to share a bit of the fun me, Cheryl, Zahra and her husband enjoyed. Because I don’t want to make this post longer than it already is, I thought I’d share some of the fun things we did before the ‘event’ occurred, and in the final part next week, I’ll be elaborating on the gang chase that took place.
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On day two, we all spent most of the day at the pool. The Olympics were still going on and there was a playoff hockey game where Canada won and it was televised at the pool bar. Finally, after the nail-biter, we won, and there I was in the pool on my Canada float after we won:
Later that evening, I took the gang to one of my fav Italian restaurants, just up the street from our hotel – Abbraccios
On Thursday, the four of us went to the infamous Thursday night market at the marina. We go early as it gets so crowded with all the townspeople and tourists, and the surrounding restaurants get crowded. There are vendors selling home cooked Mexican food, baked goods, candies, fruit, breads – even gluten-free goodies. I informed the gang we’d be choosing dinner from the vendors as opposed to lining up for over-priced restaurants. I always look for chicken tamales, they never disappoint. Cheryl and I had been on the prowl for a good deal on a silver ring. We made a deal with an owner and were happy campers. Unfortunately, I didn’t get any market pics because our hands were always full while traversing the more than mile long market walk. However, I did manage to take a picture of my beautiful new ring:
On Friday, Cheryl and I were working furiously on our suntans while Zahra and hub went to the beach. We’d previously gone for a neighborhood walk and we strolled through the Isla outdoor plaza when I noted that one new restaurant opened there and another one was under construction. The plaza previously had a handful of restaurants that all seemed to suffer and close down when the neighborhood Versailles was born, known for it’s plenty of restaurants, just across the way from our hotel. The owner of the new mediterranean restaurant, Kalime, was standing outside in the hot Mexican sun in front of his now open – Kalime restaurant. We told him we’d be back one night for dinner, so that’s where we went to enjoy some Mexican/Lebanese food:
Saturday afternoon we left the pool a bit earlier to get ready to go downtown early to the Malecon. We walked down some of the streets doing some window shopping and sight seeing – for my friends who’d never been there. Then the plan was to stop at the infamous Margarita Grill for some good music and even better margaritas. We had no definite plans where we’d end up for dinner, but as it turns out, I missed dinner, lol. The place is always crowded, especially at happy hour. It’s not hard to order appetizers and suck back a few margs while gabbing, listening to the trio playing great songs from the 80s, and my friends overdosing on homemade guacamole and nachos right at our table. Ya, I’m allergic to avocados, so I snacked on some cornchips. Speaking about prices, holy moly. Their ‘small’ size used to be the medium size, and the small is now a much smaller vessel and cost more than the old small price they used to be! But they’re still good! After a few hours of our touring around then a few more hours sitting outside at the Margarita grill, we were all tired, and they were full, so we headed back up the Malecon and hailed a cab back to the hotel.
Margarita Grill
We had to stop by the silver jewelry store that displays their cases on an old railway track:
So far, it had been a fun weekend, and fun time…and then Sunday morning came around. That’s when lockdown happened. Everything closed. The hotel we stayed at wasn’t a full restaurant hotel. It offered breakfast buffet and closed at 11am. After that, one could order burgers or tacos at the pool bar opened til 10pm. So the hotel isn’t where we preferred to eat at, especially with a great little cafe next door. Also, the hotel really cheaped out.
There aren’t coffeemakers in the rooms. They used to put out a coffee wagon outside the breakfast restaurant – open til 11am. They conveniently changed it to 7-9am. Exactly what many like to do on vacation, wake up early just to get a coffee. Not. I already didn’t like the crappy coffee and had purchased a cheap coffeemaker from Amazon to take along and some good Italian coffee, so we were good. However, when everything locked down, the hotel put together a makeshift buffet late Sunday afternoon, and again the next day. The pool bar and grill was closed. I traditionally, don’t like buffets, but I had to eat something, and that wasn’t much. They had the nerve to charge almost $40 Canadian for it too! I picked at some cold chicken and took a pass. By Monday, Zahra had made a connection with the kitchen manager. When it came to later meal eating, I refused to pay for or eat that buffet again. Zahra got the manager to allow us to order the delicious hamburger and fries they usually sold at the pool. And that tied me over until life resumed again on Tuesday.
Wednesday was Cheryl’s last day. After spending the day at my friend’s condo pool, I finally got to take Cheryl to one of my fav restaurants in Versailles – Abulon. This is a popular neighborhood restaurant which sells a great assortment of fish on their menu. This place is usually always lined up so a rez is advised. But sadly, no rez required, because after the gang war event, it seemed like half the tourists scurried home. Restaurants weren’t busy anywhere. The poor sellers on the beach sweating in that blazing sun as they carry their wares over their shoulders and walk up and down the beach hoping to make a day’s living, were not. The condo complex wasn’t crowded either. Amazing how the news cycle killed the winter tourism for Puerta Vallarta. So Cheryl and I had delicious drinks and meals for a very reasonable price. They always make good margs there – still under $10, and I love the tuna tartar tostadas and the grilled octopus tostadas – two appetizers I could barely finish, but did.
After Cheryl left, I moved next door to the Grand Venetian for the last ten days of my trip. It no longer felt the same to me. The dynamics had definitely changed – both with the pool chair and table set up, and consequently the groups of people who now joined other groups of people. I’m going to end here today and pick up next week on the Sunday morning when the ‘sensationalized’ Mexico war happened. Stay tuned for the final part next week!
Welcome back to my Sunday Book Reviews. I got to read a few books while on vacation, not as many as I’d hoped because I was busy socializing. So I’ll begin today with Stevie Turner’s new release – Holding Hands. This a sweet story about aging and a little romance, with a little too much going on to disrupt Tom’s pursuit of Ellen.
Elderly widower Tom Hopkins is lonely. In-between going to Bingo, taking bus rides for the sake of it to look around shops, and trying line dancing for beginners, he often spends his time doing voluntary work as a hand-holder in the Ophthalmology Department of his local hospital where nervous people arrive to undergo injections for the eye condition ‘wet age-related macular degeneration’ Ellen Wilkinson, also widowed, is a patient in the clinic. She soon makes a friend of Tom after they meet by chance in the hospital’s café. Unbeknown to Tom, Ellen is a wealthy woman and has not yet made a will. Her son Bob is against the friendship, and tries his best to stop the burgeoning relationship between his mother and Tom.
When Bob finds out that a wedding might be on the cards, he is sure Tom is a gold-digger and is determined to stop the marriage once and for all. Ellen and Tom, however, have other ideas, but are unprepared for the lengths Bob will go in order to scupper their plans.
Shortlisted for the 2025 Page Turner Golden Author/Writer/Screenwriter Award and the Phoenix Award. “The voice of Tom rings loud and clear, bringing his character and those he encounters to life. The minute observations are spot on and are often qualified by the kind of sharp, erudite comments that reflect his advanced years. Excellent writing.” – Judge Stewart Carry
My 5 Star Review:
Holding Hands is a wonderfully touching story taking in the perspective of aging seniors. Tom, a widower living in a senior home is taking in life as much as he can, despite the drawbacks of aging and him missing his departed wife, Jean.
Tom seems a spunky man, despite his nearing 90 years old. Tom keeps himself busy by volunteering at an eye clinic as a hand-holder for incoming patients as they are getting eye injections for their degenerative eye disease. He has his routines and still takes the bus, and shares a lot of himself with us about his love for his Jean, as he visits her grave daily and enjoys chats with her. One day in the clinic cafeteria, he meets elderly Ellen, then holds her hand during her treatment. The two strike up a friendship, and we get to understand his feelings when he talks to his beloved wife. Despite him living alone and finding happiness among other people, Tom can’t help but feel a bit guilty having any interest in any other woman because he doesn’t want to betray the love he felt for his wife. But Tom’s loneliness makes him curious to learn more about Ellen, as company is a rare thing for him.
As their friendship builds, there’s a bully in town, ‘Bastard Bob’, as Tom likes to refer to Ellen’s overbearing son who’d rather she be alone and isolated than to have any social life. As their friendship grows, Tom and Ellen come up with some shenanigans to be able to spend time together, making many efforts to dodge Bob at any opportunity. This is when the book heats up with ‘their plan’. Will they pull it off? You’ll have to read to find out.
I’m backkk! I actually returned last week, but as always, lots to contend with and to do when one returns from a lengthy vacation.
In the beginning. Cheryl and I departed for the airport around 5:30 am, already breaking my four hour rule to be at airports if my plan to check in at an actual airline booth was to work, not at a kiosk and bag drop off machine where there is no human mercy if you are milimetres or a pound or two over the limit. Nobody’s fault really for the half hour late departure to the airport, and there it was – the lines I’d hoped to avoid by coming as soon as the airline booths opened before a flight. Kiosks to put through our passports and lineups of more lines to put your baggage on the machines, that’s where we were. My anxiety was off the charts and it was only 5:45am.
We waited and waited and never moved up an inch when I smelled a rat and told Cheryl, something is up with these robotic machines that are replacing humans, and we aren’t moving. Soon enough, the nice attendant who helped us at the crowded kiosks to get our baggage tags, told us we all must go to the other side of the machines (where the actual humans were at the airline booths), and we must check in – the old fashioned way. I was both pissed, at having to move again, but never trusting my scale to be exact enough – because I need every ounce of every allowed pound, and was happy to see a human.
Being we were pretty far at the end of the baggage drop-off line, we booted it over in fast gear to the human booths, and we became nearly first in line. And then it happened again…like a distant memory of past, a travel hurdle I’d thought I’d conquered – the overweight luggage situation.
Something just niggled at me on my final weighing of my suitcase with my Heys trusty luggage scale, and maybe, a flicker of the battery as I was doing so. Last reading said 49. something, and that was good enough for me. But, apparently, it wasn’t.
The young Asian girl smiled politely as I lugged my suitcase onto the weigh belt. “Your bag is 55 pounds,” she alerted me. That old familiar pang went through me like I had committed a crime. A crime that was going to cost me dollars – as in $100 of them as I know well the penalty over five over the limit versus a pound or two over, which some friendly chat usually gets me away with.
In her next breath, the agent offers me the opportunity to move some things out of my bag into my (already overstuffed) carryon, or perhaps into my friend’s bag. And I felt like I had just hit the lottery. Cheryl and I both had two bags each allowance with our seat package, but we each only took one. Cheryl wasn’t even going to bring a suitcase, but I asked her to because I knew she’d have extra room for things like – a small coffeemaker I bought for us to have in our room, all my bottles of suntan lotion I knew I’d use that took up weight, knowing I wouldn’t be bringing back. And more. But, apparently, my trusty scale was off by at least five pounds. I was shocked. I’m telling the young girl I weighed that bag in at under fifty pounds, she was telling me to look at the scale in front of me, lol. I couldn’t argue.
There I was, like an old rerun movie, opening my suitcase for the audience to view as I pulled out a few packing cubes of clothing and transferred to Cheryl’s suitcase. Just like the good old days with my husband.
The flight seemed quick, and alas, we’d left the artic ice age for sunny and very hot, Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. To stay in theme with the start of the day, we lined up at immigration, at machines that scanned our face and life. And then some printout is supposed to come out for us to keep. I did this about six times before I apparently did it correctly. Lol. The next line, after picking up our luggage is to join the exit line. This is where we now place all our luggage and belongings on a security belt. Again. Just to exit. Not a job for those who can’t lift fifty pounds, because you’re basically on your own. But we appreciated the man behind us who said he admired our Canada flags on our clothes and luggage and by helping us, he said he was trying to apologize in some small way for how his country is treating Canada. I thought that was special. And we surely appreciated the help.
Finally! Bags off the belt and the exit door is mere feet away, when a lonely immigration officer, off in a corner, standing at a lone empty metal table, waves us over his way and asks me to open my carryon. Of course there was nothing of concern on my end other than sighing at the timesuck, lack of sleep, and my wanting to just get the hell out of the airport.
New rules. We can’t take the luggage carts out to taxis, so we either roll them all, or get an always, able and willing porter – for a nice tip. After all, the service is free, they take you to the new taxi booth where you pay in advance for your fare listed on a board, according to zone’s destination. After warning Cheryl about making no eye contact with the numerous bombardment of sellers of rides and ‘special’ offers, upon exiting the security check, all these hungry business people will try and lure people to choose them for rides, offering perks. Many are time-share operators, offering rides if you sign up for a ‘presentation’ at their property, ‘for a few hours’ and a free meal, and sometimes even $100 – there are all kinds of offers. Just keep walking, I tell Cheryl, as the porter takes us to purchase a taxi ticket – and I have my first taste of sticker shock. The airport cab price nearly doubled from last year. I had an idea what was coming in the way of prices rising. And they weren’t far off from some of the prices right here at home.
We got to the hotel, a less than ten-minute drive from the airport, checked in, and waited over an hour for our room along with my friend Zahra and her hubby who arrived at the hotel a few hours before us, on an earlier flight. When we finally got our rooms and shed our winter attire, we headed across the street to the supermarket to pick up some water and snacks for our fridge, and we picked up a delicious rotisserie bbq chicken from my favorite chicken place right outside the supermarket. We went back to our respective rooms, enjoyed our chicken dinners, unpacked and got comfy watching Netflix. After two hours of sleep and a long travel day, we were happy to stay in and start the next day fresh and alert.
Next time, I’ll share some of the fun things we did, and some of the fabulous food we ate. Oh, and of course, I will share more about the big ‘Cartel’ event that was to take place five days after landing in Puerto Vallarta. Despite the massive sensationalism across news channels, it was all handled swiftly and efficiently.
DGKayewriter.com 
