When I was younger, like most girls, I loved horses. I grew up in Kentucky, smack in the middle of horse-country, but despite that I never owned a horse or even learned to ride. And that’s why I picked up Death by Dressage by Carolyn Banks. The adult me likes mysteries and the little girl inside just wanted to play with the horses.

Death by Dressage follows Robin Vaughan, the plucky, talkative heroine and amateur sleuth, as she investigates the death of one of the most hated women in Austin’s horse community: Veronika Ballinger. The rich and powerful Veronika loved to find what bothered someone the most and rub his or her nose in it, just for fun. That means that just about everyone who knows horses in Austin, and possibly beyond, had it out for her. Except for one little thing: the police believe that it was all an accident; that she was kicked by one of her horses. But if this were true, why did the police arrest Robin’s best friend Lola Albright?

Genre fiction used to be pretty simple to figure out. These days with so many niche genres, its hard to categorize something that simply does not fit neatly. This can be both a boon and a source of frustration: a boon because writers are deliberately seeking out new ways to express old ideas; frustration because they can be harder to find in the context of overwhelming available choice. Never in the history of humankind have there been so many writers, books, and sources for entertainment.

I haven't been exposed to an intergalactic romance since Star Wars, so when Alliance: Galactic Affairs landed in my mailbox I was in for an education. I never knew casual sex, including the occasional threesome, was so common in space. I know that cute Luke Skywalker would never do such a thing, but Lyndi Lamont's characters certainly do and what a fun time it is!

In Alliance: Galactic Affairs, the universe is awash with underground encampments and bands of raiding ships, but that doesn't stop Erok from trying to turn a pretty penny by stealing anthropological artifacts. Unfortunately, his antique spaceship falls prey to the destructive whims of Maradon, who renders him helpless in mid-space. Lesson learned. Never piss off a goddess.

Autobiography or autobiographical fiction -- one could split the proverbial literary hair to no end. It comes down to this: words on a medium (preferably one that can show the words) reveal in some format the soul of said Writer/Artist/Human. In many ways, it is the ultimate self-portrait, control fetish, and ego pleasure. Damaged gives a romp and rough ride of what a sensitive soul of the artist and author can be like. It also shows what it takes to survive.

Déjà Vu is the sensation of having experienced something that you really couldn’t have experienced. Sometimes everyday experiences blend together making you wonder if you’re not repeating the same actions you did earlier. Sometimes you meet people you are sure you met somewhere before. Sometimes there is even the nagging impression that the person was significant in your past somehow. As hard of déjà vu is to grasp, what would happen if you discover a journal from another time when you realize you are not only attracted to the individual, but you actually know him? Definitely a hair-raising experience, one Emily, the protagonist of Gwynn Morgan’s Back to Tomorrow, experiences.

I'm a soccer mom right now, though I will eventually become a baseball mom. Now that I've read this book, I know a bit more of the sports world my son will soon inhabit.

We're introduced to the Base Stealers Club in the prequel of the same name. Ryan, Chevis, Dillion, Colby, and Shane, members of the Jonesville Chargers baseball team, band together to solve problems and mysteries surrounding their team. They formed the club when they solved the mystery of who was stealing money from their lockers during the regular season in The Base Stealers Club. The Case of the Missing Coach picks up the story as they get ready for the National Regional playoffs on their way to playing in the National Championship.

Turning the life of one of the country's iconic women into chick lit is nonsensical at best, exploitive at worst, yet Eve Pollard, author of the 1971 biography Jackie has done, or attempted to do, just that.

The 'story' begins at the moment that Jackie Kennedy is about to lay her husband, John Fitzgerald Kennedy, into the ground. Not only has she lost her husband, she has lost the defining stamp of her life and must now, quite literally, find out who she is meant to be for the rest of it. The struggle is only complicated further as the truth of JFK's perfidy is revealed; Jackie must come to grips with the possibility that her marriage was a sham. As the country is devastated by two more assassinations, that of Martin Luther King Jr. and her brother-in-law, Robert Kennedy, she is infused with a growing fear for the life of her children as well as her own and she looks for a haven. Pollard offers that Jackie became an operative for the CIA, which led to her involvement with Onassis and her eventual marriage to him.

Poetic justice is when the antagonist gets what is coming to him. Superb poetic justice is when it happens in an unexpected, even twisted, manner. That’s what Linda Latimer deals out in Whiskey Shot 3. The anthology includes “Adultery,” “The Annoying Jingle,” and “Perfect Seclusion.”

In "Adultery", Marissa finds herself embarking in an affair with her chauvinistic neighbor, Brad. Despite his perfect body, he manages to turn her off with cruel comments about both of their unaware spouses. Brad and Marissa decide to check out an old historical mansion together. When Brad decides it would be great fun to play around with the shackles on the wall, Marissa decides she has had enough. Lucky for Brad, there seems to be a stream of women to replace his absentee playmate. It could be his luck is about to turn.

The macho barbarian is dead. Whether or not it is the choice of the big publishers or their editors, the typical hero of the historical romance written today has sacrificed a significant portion of his machismo; and for every piece of lost historical accuracy, he has been epoxied over with another layer of political correctness. Sarah Winn almost writes an old style historical romance, with the hero not perfectly perfect. Not that Alard is a barbarian; however, his nineteen year old Jocelyn does have a traditional vestal quality that is found more between the pages of romance than would have been likely in even a convent-raised medieval maiden. And yes, in The Knight in the Dungeon, the knight in the dungeon does spend a night (with the lady) in the dungeon.

If you were asked to give up all that you knew and loved, your whole world, would you do it? What if, by walking away from everything that you knew, you were committing yourself to a war, a war where you and five strangers are to raise an army to save mankind, could you? Would you take all of this on faith and trust that this was to be your destiny? All of this is just what 12th century Irish sorcerer Hoyt Mac Cionaoith is asked to do in Morrigan’s Cross, the first book of Nora Roberts’s The Circle trilogy.

Two popular priests are murdered and a third is attempted. They are found with the Bible open to the story of the last supper in the book of Matthew, chapter twenty-six. Each of the murders had twelve stab wounds, and was done viciously. What is the killers' motive? What kind of message is the killer trying to send? Who else is being targeted and why? Can detectives Detective Chris Coleman and his partner, Rick Russell, solve this case before the secret lives of priest and bishops are made public? Can they prevent any other murders from happening?

Stephen King doesn’t leisurely open a story. He doesn’t gradually introduce you to the characters, setting and basic conflict. He propels you into his world with the force of a rocket launch. His miserly use of words leads to the inclusion of only the most apt and, with just a few, we are firmly mired into the dark world of pending doom that he creates in Cell.

Clayton Riddell, a young man from Maine, just made the professional deal of his life. Just. His mind reels with hopes of the future, his son and possible reconciliation with his wife. He walks the streets of Boston feeling the lively pulse of the exciting city, feels it beating in him as well. Then The Pulse hits: an electronically transmitted signal of madness that strikes everyone whose ear is pressed against a cell phone. Within seconds utter madness reigns and human turns on human with pure physical hate. The Pulse wipes out thousands of years of evolution, reducing the human race to hysterical, vicious, primordial creatures bent on self-preservation, no matter the cost. An orgy of madness and violence ensues, where people literally rip each other apart, spilling the blood of their race to soak into the cold, hard ground.

The spin in the publicity sheet accompanying the advanced reader’s copy of The Icon touted this work as being “in the tradition of the DaVinci Code.” After reading it I can’t help but think that perhaps it’s not always wise to invoke the name of a great work unless you’re prepared to be compared to it.

In 1944 Greece, as Nazis, Greeks and Communists converge in Epiros, an iconic painting of the Virgin Mary, one rumored to possess mystical healing powers, vanishes. Captain Elias and a fellow Greek guerilla called the Snake enter into a scheme to trade the icon to the Germans for arms and ammunition, but the night of the trade all goes awry and the Icon disappears. When it reappears in New York in the year 2000 many lives become entangled in a tale of murder, theft and intrigue.

The Da Vinci Code is everywhere. It’s in the bookstores, it’s in the courtroom and it’s soon to be in the movie theatre. Dan Brown’s immortality is assured with that one title. Unfortunately it’s fame, or infamy, may obscure the fact that it’s not a one hit wonder, that Dan Brown has written other books just as deserving of attention.

Angels & Demons is, in a manner of speaking, a prequel to The Da Vinci Code. It introduces the character of Robert Langdon for the first time. Langdon is a forty-year-old professor of religious iconology. He lives alone and lonely though fully if a bit eccentrically.

There is a saying that there is a calm before the storm. In reality, below the surface, hidden from all but the most discerning eye, is the building of pressure, the birds and animals scurrying for shelter and the whirling, changing wind. The calm before the storm is often a ruse, where tell-tale signs of the devastation to come are disguised beneath masks of normal events, all pointing a deadly finger at the true course that eventually reveals itself. The calm before a war is filled with chaos, conflict and confusion; like a slow burning fire, the flames of unrest are spread one spark at time.