As a binge reader, I often come across many great books that are, for the most part, overlooked by the majority of readers. It’s disappointing to tell a friend, “Hey, I read so and so book,” only to realize the other person not only never heard of the book, but has no idea who the author is.
So, I wanted to start sharing some books I enjoyed very much, but that I think don’t get enough credit.
For this post, I will be introducing The Guild Codex Universe by Annette Marie.
There are four series in this urban fantasy world and one magic system. I’ve read them all and enjoyed each equally.
First, let me introduce you to the series, where the characters are interwoven:
The Guild Codex: Spellbound
The Guild Codex: Demonized
The Guild Codex: Warped
The Guild Codex: Unveiled
And here’s the first book in each one, as well as a goodreads description and a brief thought:
Spellbound
Image taken from Goodreads
Starting with Three Mages and a Margarita, this series is complete at eight books, all of which are amazing.
Goodreads description:
“Mages, psychics, sorcerers, druids, demons—and a human with a feisty attitude, no magic, and one last chance at gainful employment.”
I loved the fact that Tori is one tough kick ass human, no hidden powers, no magic at all, but she stands equally to all the supernaturals and is just as badass – and sometimes more.
This was the first book I read by this author, but not the last.
Demonized
Image taken from Goodreads
Starting with Taming Demons for Beginners, this series is complete at four books.
Goodreads description:
“When shy bookworm Robin found a hellish creature imprisoned in her uncle’s basement, she never intended to make a contract with the rare, deadly demon. And their contract? His protection in exchange for… cookies. There’s no way that could go wrong.”
Between this one and Spellbound, the two series really come alive. I read them in their reading order, which you can find here.
Warped
Image taken from Goodreads
Starting with Warping Minds & Other Misdemeanors
There are three books in this series, though there are more to come, and I can’t wait!
Goodreads description:
“When psychic conman Kit is arrested, all he wants to do is escape. Instead, he finds himself partnered with by-the-books MagiPol agent Lienna and tasked with bringing down his ex-partner-in-crime. That might make escaping custody a tad more difficult.”
Narrated from the pov of a male character and a convict as well, this is, by far, the one to make you laugh in the middle of the night. You can’t help but root for the underdog – and yes, it’s action packed as well.
Unveiled
Image taken from Goodreads
Starting with The One and Only Crystal Druid, there are four books published in this series, and like Warped, there are still more to come.
Goodreads description:
“When ex-convict and incompetent witch Saber encounters the notorious Crystal Druid, she tries to kill him. Then she discovers a mysterious fae on a deadly rampage. Together, they have a chance to stop it—if she can resist stabbing her new ally.”
I’ll admit that after reading about Zach as a secondary character in the other three series, I was so excited to finally read his story, that when I finally picked it up and found it told in the female’s pov, I was disappointed. I wanted Zach as the lead character, and for that, my enjoyment dimmed. That doesn’t mean that this series isn’t awesome, because it is, only that I felt betrayed when I picked up the first book and found the story told in someone else’s pov.
So that’s it. Have you ever read any of the above?
There are other books by this author in other worlds – Steel and stone, and they’re great reads as well – yes, I’ve read them all. But to keep this post short, I’ll stop here, for now. Next week, I’ll come back with a new post and a new author.
Do you know any similar books overlooked by the majority? Let me know in the comments below!
1. Phone NASA. Their phone number is (713) 483-3111. Explain that it’s very important that you get away as soon as possible.
2. If they do not cooperate, phone any friend you may have in the White House–(202) 456-1414–to have a word on your behalf with the guys at NASA.
3. If you don’t have any friends in the White House, phone the Kremlin (ask the overseas operator for 0107-095-295-9051). They don’t have any friends there either (at least, none to speak of), but they do seem to have a little influence, so you may as well try.
4. If that also fails, phone the Pope for guidance. His telephone number is 011-39-6-6982, and I gather his switchboard is infallible.
5. If all these attempts fail, flag down a passing flying saucer and explain that it’s vitally important you get away before your phone bill arrives.
(Taken from The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams)
This one’s been a long time in my document folder, waiting to be posted. Instead of Barth and “I”, this one is about Barth and “my cousin”, Alec.
Just a special edition for covid19
***
Alec stood apart from the twelve other candidates in the spacious but efficient lobby. So far, no one had been called in for the job interview. To his side, Bartholomew, aka Barth the Mew, aka his cousin’s nightmare, stood, one shoulder leaning against the wall as he picked his teeth with a small Swiss knife.
Alec quickly looked away, afraid Barth would catch him watching and feel obliged to engage in conversation. The only reason he’d agreed for Barth to drive (and not escort) him to the job interview, had been to take him away from the house and his cousin – Barth’s current obsession.
Thankfully, no one was paying them any attention.
A guy in the group gave a hearty laugh, and Alec shifted his focus back to them. He listened to each individual boast about their experience and degree, and slowly, Alec’s confidence deflated. He had hopes for the job, but he didn’t have any experience, he didn’t even have a degree because of the virus lockdown. He felt stuck in limbo, unable to move forward without his degree, unable to attain any experience without getting a job.
He should just leave and save himself the embarrassment the rejection would cause.
Alec hugged his one page CV to his chest, afraid anyone would see his pathetic resume, and hung his head low.
“What’s wrong?” Barth asked near his ear.
“Nothing,” Alec said and shifted away.
Barth, because apparently he was as clueless as Alec’s cousin claimed, leaned forward and closed the gap. “Why are you lookin’ so low?”
Alec shrugged. “We should leave,” he said. “I can’t compete with them.” He pointed his chin to the candidates.
“Don’ you have a resume just like them?” Barth asked, eyeing where Alec hugged his CV against his chest.
“My CV is pathetic,” Alec admitted. “Let’s go home.”
“CV? Ain’t that what covid is called on social media?” Barth asked with a confused frown.
“Curriculum Vitae. It’s the Latin name for a resume.”
“Ah.” Barth turned his frown to the group. “I can fix this,” he said and moved away before Alec could stop him.
With dread, Alec watched barth pause beside the tallest candidate and say something that caused the guy to glance back at Alec with alarm.
Alec’s face instantly heated.
Oh shit, he thought with a muffled cough, his cousin was right, Barth was a walking humiliation magnet.
By the time Barth had moved to the third guy, Alec was pressed against the wall, praying a higher dimension would open and swallow him whole. His cheeks were in flame, no doubt the color of ripe tomatoes. Alec continued coughing into his fist to cover his face, but all that accomplished was help his eyes to water and make him look like he was crying.
He could just picture himself standing there, face flushed red, eyes glassy with unshed tears, hunched in on himself. In other words, pathetic.
It was said that everyone could become a murder, given the right circumstance at the right time, but Alec didn’t feel it. Instead, he was resigned to the embarrassment. He lowered his head, fixed his eyes at a bland spot on the floor and allowed the moment to wash over him.
“Done,” Barth said an eternity later. Alec’s head jerked up, but before he could grab Barth and skedaddle out of there, the door at the far end opened and the interviewer stepped out.
Source image from Pixabay
Alec found his cousin in the living room, seated on the sofa with a steaming mug, watching the local news.
“So did you get the position?” she asked the moment Alec sat on the sofa beside her.
Alec grinned. His face was still a little flushed, but he didn’t care. “Sure. I’ll start in two weeks thanks to Barth.”
His cousin paused in the process of sipping from her mug. “Oh? How’d that happen?”
Alec snickered and dropped his pathetic CV on the table. “Barth went around telling the candidates he heard me mention how strong my CV was. I was the only one left by the time the interview began.” Alec waved his hand. “The company’s only concern was that I get tested for the Covid before I start in two weeks.”
*Note: I have no idea if I’m getting the format of the posts right. So if it’s crooked, or words appear out of nowhere, please ignore it the way the new editor is ignoring all my commands.
I read this one a couple months ago, but with the way life is going lately, I kept *cough* putting writing the review off. Yes, I’m a horrible person! In my defense, I’d find myself thinking about what I wanted to write for the review at odd times – while doing the dishes/cleaning, cooking, taking a shower. But whenever I was done and seated in front of my laptop, something always came up. And so *wince( two months went by.
Well, here’s what I thought:
My review:
Another great read! James J. Cudney is fast becoming one of my favorite authors.
He knows how to build a plot and make it complex to the point where the reader is wondering how the heck things are going to tie at the end.
Kellan has so much going on in this book, I felt sorry for him. Between his Nana, another murder, his job, the sheriff, and ghosts from the past, I wanted to reach out and give him a hug. Poor thing!
But the marathon kept me engaged, annoyed every time I had to stop reading to check on something.
As usual, there are the funny moments balanced in with the more serious ones, mostly with Kellan trying to keep his Nana out of trouble – and waking with a hangover later. But just when you think the old lady is cruel, she makes up for it.
I don’t find myself reading many murder mysteries, but this one’s got a touch of everything, intrigue, humor, compassion, some detective work – to name but a few.
I enjoyed this read as much as the other books I read by this author, but this time, with the character growth and the hints of things to come, I was left with some book hangover of my own!
I can’t wait to pick up the next book and see what other mess life has in store for Kellan!
Lovers of cozy mysteries with some sleuthing and humor, this one is for you!
So here it goes, peeps, the third Bartholomew incident. Hope you enjoy it!
***
I leaned a casual hip on the table edge and watched cousin Laura open and close cabinet doors, muttering to herself. “What are you looking for?” I asked when it was obvious she hadn’t noticed me.
My cousin stiffened, turned her head slowly and smiled at me, the kind of smile that made me straighten and check my back for a sticky note, begging for a kick to the butt.
Dropping a wooden spatula on the counter, she turned and faced me. “You’re my savior!” There was a maniacal gleam in her eyes I wasn’t sure could be blamed on her upcoming nuptials.
“Yeah?” I took a cautious step back, calculating how fast I could run and trying to remember if there was a key for the guest bedroom door.
She came closer, hands outstretched, a patch of white powder on her cheek. “You still like cookie dough, don’t you?”
I scanned the kitchen counter, found no bowl filled with the sticky dough. “Sure. Want me to taste it?”
cookie dough
“No, no,” she cackled, lowered her voice. “I need you to go pick me some baking soda. I sent Barth earlier and he brought me some white powder I suspect he picked from the meth lab fronting as the grocery store on the corner road.” She showed me a small plastic bag with the label ‘sodium bicarb’ written in black marker. “I think it’s a code for meth.”
“You know, I think baking soda and sodium bicarb is the same thing,” I mused.
“Maybe,” Laura said, raising the bag to my nose. The powder looked suspiciously like sugar, and it smelled like bathroom cleaner and paint thinner.
lab
My eyebrows shot up. I had no idea how meth looked or how it was cooked, but paint thinner definitely didn’t go with cookies.
“You have to help me. I need to get rid of this and I need real baking soda before everyone comes back.”
“So what, you want me to go to the grocery where meth is being cooked and – what?”
“No,” Laura scoffed, “to the Walmart.”
“But that’s seven blocks away.”
“Eight, actually, and Barth can drive you.”
“Absolutely not.”
Before Laura could say anything more, Barth strolled into the kitchen.
“I heard my name,” he said, smiling at me.
I suddenly needed to get out of there fast. “You know what,” I said, snatching the bag from her hand, “I’ll go get you what you need. Anything else?”
“A bag of chocolate chips, I think I’ll make another batch.”
“You’re goin’ out?” Barth asked, taking out keys from his pocket, “I’ll drive you.”
“Thanks, but no, Barf.”
“It’s Barth.”
“That’s what I said.”
“I’ll drive you,” he insisted.
“No,” I enunciated slowly, “I’d like to walk and exercise my legs.”
“Your legs look fine to me.” He gave said legs an appraising look that caused Laura to burst out laughing. Her guffaw turned to sniffs when she caught the death glare I aimed her way. I turned to Barth and gave him a practiced smile people claimed made me look deranged.
Deranged
Barth, of course, smiled right back.
“I’m going to walk, Barf, and that’s that.” I turned and left through the back door, hurrying to cover more ground faster.
I was congratulating myself for a day gone without a Barth incident when there, right in front of me was the LaCross captain I’d crushed on my entire high school year.
“Tom?”
Tom turned around, our eyes met, and everything happened in slow motion. He smiled with recognition. I squealed, covered my mouth. Tom took a step toward me. That’s when Barth came in, charging Tom like an enraged bull. Shouts and punches and grunts rang out and because I was a total fool, I threw myself on Barth, meaning to drag him off, but I ended up pinning Tom under our combined weight.
prison cell
I’ll skip the embarrassing part where people dragged us off, the ride in the back of a police car and the bag of sodium bicarb that may or may not have been meth still in my pocket.
“You were screamin’,” Barth said from the cell next to mine.
“It’s called a squeal, it’s a scream of happiness.”
“You raised your arms to surrender.”
“I was going to hug him.”
“You helped me subdue him.”
“Barf,”
“It’s Barth.”
“Barf,” I said through gritted teeth, “If you don’t stop arguing, I’m going to walk out of this cell only to be put in another for murder.”
“What? Nonsense, we didn’t even give him a scratch.”
“Guard!” I shouted. “Please!”
***
To read the previous Bartholomew incidents, check it out here:
The past two weeks past in a blur of back to school and edits and random need-to-dos, and honestly, I have no idea where the time went.
But I’m back and today I’m posting the follow up to Barth the Moo and his panty-liners, and how “I” almost became a murderer.
***.
Once settled in one of the guest’s suite, I headed to join the family and friends gathered in the patio, passing by aunt Crozella’s relaxation room. I ducked my head inside, found it empty.
Five minutes, I told myself.
I’d been sitting in the comfortable recliner for almost half an hour, watching some classic show I didn’t know the name of when I picked the wrong remote and clicked. Instead of the channels switching, the chair behind me began to vibrate and undulate. Delighted, I forgot about the bad show, leaned my head back so my neck could benefit from the massage and moaned with pleasure. After my long flight and sweaty, horrifying drive with Barth the Moo and his scented panty liners, I really needed this.
As if my thoughts had conjured the guy, I heard him call my name, his voice so close. Alarmed, I closed my eyes just as his steps stopped at the door.
“Hey,” he said, but I didn’t reply.
In hindsight, I should’ve paused the massage, maybe even turned off the TV. Still, , nothing would’ve prepared me for what Barth did next.
Moving closer, he tried again, “you asleep?”
I swallowed my “duh” and suppressed the need to roll my eyes, as well as prevent a groan of gratitude from escaping when the back of the recliner changed into a rhythmic percussion.
“It’s a seizure!” he shouted, and startled, my reactions were two seconds too slow. I suddenly found myself dragged to the floor with Barth over me, one hand – thankfully without any panty liner – holding my head sideways.
Before I could say anything, Barth had the audacity of shoving two meaty fingers into my mouth and pinning my tongue.
“Uhmmmmmmmmm” I tried buckling, but all I accomplished was getting Barth to pin my legs down with his knee. In the back of my mind, I was pretty sure he was doing it all wrong.
“Call for an ambulance!” Barth shouted, and soon a stampede of running feet approached.
“Uhmmmmm!”
“It’s a seizure!” Barth shouted to whoever reached the relaxation room first.
I tried moving my head to see who had come and plead for mercy with my eyes. Barth shouted, “see how her eyes are pin wheeling! Call the ambulance!”
And Victor, the good Samaritan he was, dialed 911 while everyone piled around me. I let myself go limp, hoping someone would have the good sense to pull Barth off of me – and keep him far, far away until my murderous urges have passed. I’d never live this one down, I was sure of it.
It was the strangest summer of my life. It started with a wedding invitation that required me to leave my comfortable, quiet hills for a week in the noisy, stinky and crowded city.
The first incident happened when my designated chauffeur, a guy from overseas called Bartholomew, affectionately dubbed Barth the Moo for his quirky character, arrived at the airport in aunt Crozella’s ancient van – the one she used to pick us from the school’s playground when my parents were out of town.
Climbing into the passenger’s seat, I noted the pack of carefree panty liner, sitting open above the dashboard at once. If Barth found it strange, he didn’t say anything as he climbed into the driver’s seat and thumped the door shut with so much force, the van rocked for a few seconds.
“Ac ain’t workin’ so we gotta leave the windows down,” he said as he started the ignition. The old van farted, burped and finally roared to life, the sound like of those old western trains chugging along the railroad. And god, just as loud. I could just see myself dying in half an hour from a headache, or a heat stroke (temps were over three digits!), maybe even an accident when the old metal can exploded with us inside.
I saw it then, how could I miss it? Barth had a panty liner stuck to his right palm. He grabbed the steering wheel with both hands – the thing looked like it needed a sailor to navigate – unaware that he had something glued to his hand.
I recalled Cousin Deloris talking about Barth’s prostheses, but I was pretty sure it was the left leg, not the right arm. And then I saw the second panty liner, stuck to the headrest of the driver’s seat. And when I pulled away, there it was, another one on the headrest of the passenger’s seat.
“Uh, Barth?” I began, unsure how to continue. How did you tell a guy he had a female sanitary napkin stuck to his hand?
Barth noted my flushed face, gave me a reassuring smile that showcased white, crooked teeth, swiped his right palm over his face, patted the sweat from his neck.
“You’re hot?” he asked, reaching for the carefree box and offering it to me. “It’s great absorbent,” he dropped the box on my lap. “It’s perfumed as well, so you don’ smell sour either.”
I stared at the box in horror, and all I could think was that I had an entire week ahead.
***
This is just a piece my muse spat out amidst the edits – I know, we need a break!
This is a post I published last year when I was scrambling around, trying to get things done within a reasonable frame of time. It’s a story about me and an old friend – Boredom – and how we tried to please Boredom’s twin, Time.
**Once upon a time, I had a friend called Boredom. Boredom and his twin, time, kept me company – until one day when they packed up and left me.
I miss you, Boredom, my friend
Gone are the days when Boredom and I’d roamed around the house, searching for something to occupy Time.
We’d sit and think about nothing and everything, life, friendship, love, hate, enemies, the sky.
For hours and hours you’d find me with Boredom, playing our favorite game: nothing. And wishing to pass to the next level: something.
Boredom was a fixture in my life, a permanent guest, and yes, an annoying presence.
I complained about Boredom a lot, talked behind Boredom’s back to a friend, a family, a passerby, even the parrot.
And then the inevitable happened. Boredom finally got the point, because Boredom got up and left me, and took Time, his twin with him.
And now my life is a quick marathon, with me always on the losing side.
I catch glimpses of time every now and then, always running away from me, slipping under the crack of the front door, the opening of a window, the keyhole. I try, but no matter how hard, I can never catch Time, not even brush a caring hand over any of its 24 tentacles. Of my old friend Boredom, there are no signs.
I wish I could see Boredom again, for a couple hours once or twice a week, to reminisce some time.
******
I have been absent from the blogosphere lately and (hopefully) some of you noticed and wondered why and when I’ll return to frequent blogging.
Well, I’m not here to say that I’m back, or even that I’m taking a blogging hiatus, just that I’m still around and may be putting on the Houdini act every now and then.
Jina S. Bazzar 