Friday, October 12, 2012

The Christmas Carol Murders by Christopher Lord

It's the holiday season in Dickens Junction, Oregon. Local bookstore owner Simon Alastair is getting ready for the community's annual celebration of Charles Dickens's well-known story. But when a mysterious stranger shows up in the Junction and is murdered hours later, Simon begins to suspect that his little community has been targeted for destruction by a shadowy organization. With the support of Zach, a dashing young magazine reporter, Simon decides to investigate the crime himself. When a second murder follows, Simon must confront the worst questions of all: which of his friends and business associates is a ruthless murderer? And why is everyone suddenly reading Ayn Rand?

Just in time for the holidays comes a wonderful cozy mystery, the first in a new series.  Placed in the fictional town of Dicken's Junction, the town is gearing up to celebrate the holidays Dicken's style!

With a small cast of characters in this charming little town, comes a journalist to document their holiday festivities.  Unfortunately, the party is cut short for him as he's the first one to be killed, but at no means, the last.  Simon Alistair is determined to find out who is behind the gruesome death, but his investigation skills just aren't quite fast enough as more people are killed.

Did I figure out who it was before it was revealed? Definitely not.  I win some and lose some, and Lord has done an impeccable job of leaving the clues, but my mind couldn't follow them.  I was pleasantly surprised with the end result and really look forward to the next in this series.  

*I received a copy of this book in exchange for my honest opinion.

1 comment:

  1. Christmas and a mystery? I need to pick this one up!


The old grey donkey, Eeyore stood by himself in a thistly corner of the Forest, his front feet well apart, his head on one side, and thought about things. Sometimes he thought sadly to himself, "Why?" and sometimes he thought, "Wherefore?" and sometimes he thought, "Inasmuch as which?" and sometimes he didn't quite know what he was thinking about.

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