I don’t like eggnog, and I dYoubt that anybody really does. It’s too thick and too sweet for my taste . . . like drinking melted chewing gum. I just tried some again anyway and found that sucking some of this batch through a straw requires either a serious pair of lungs or a hydraulic pump; it’s not nearly good enough to justify that amount of work. But the reason I doubt that anyone really likes it is that it’s only popular at Christmas. Good food or drink should not require a holiday to justify consumption. As evidence I point to the fact that there’s no such thing as French Fry Day, or pizza season. Those foods are timeless. I feel the same way about fruitcakes and candied yams; if you like them, eat them all year. Otherwise, I don’t want to hear about them. Right now I am particularly focused on eggnog because I am currently doling it out. It’s Christmas party time at the Tara Foundation, the dog rescue group that I run with my friend Willie Miller and his wife, Sondra. It’s named after my golden retriever, who is so great she should have an entire planet named after her.
Its beginning to look a lot like Christmas for Andy Carpenter and company. In this the 28th offering from author, David Rosenfelt.
And while it seems that everyone in the Carpenter household, as well as those associated with Andy's beloved Tara Foundation, are up to their eyeballs in seasonal good cheer. He is facing the holiday in usual Andy fashion.
And while it seems that everyone in the Carpenter household, as well as those associated with Andy's beloved Tara Foundation, are up to their eyeballs in seasonal good cheer. He is facing the holiday in usual Andy fashion.
Complete with sardonic wit, a touch of self deprecation, and a dash of pet fur thrown in for good measure.
Until family friend and pet foster turned ower, Derek Moore, finds himself going from serving eggnog at the foundation's holiday shindig. To possibly serving prison time for murder.
Leaving him and his beloved pets Sasha and Jake in need of help that only Andy can provide.
This book has everything.
Witness protection, mobsters, vendettas, murder, plot twists...
And Andy of course.
There is never a dull moment.
Every time you think that you have things figured. something happens to make it very apparent that YOU DON'T.
This book offers that perfect escape into whodunit goodness. With a side of holiday happiness. That is far from the toothache inducing sweetness that is pumped out by the page full around this time of year.
Reviewer's Note
Special thanks to Negalley and St. Martin's Press for providing the review copy on which this honest critique is based.
Though this book is part of a continuous series. It may be read as a standalone.
About David
I am a novelist with 27 dogs.
I have gotten to this dubious position with absolutely no planning, and at no stage in my life could I have predicted it. But here I am.
My childhood was relentlessly normal. The middle of three brothers, loving parents, a middle-class home in Paterson, New Jersey. We played sports, studied sporadically. laughed around the dinner table, and generally had a good time. By comparison, "Ozzie and Harriet's" clan seemed bizarre.
I graduated NYU, then decided to go into the movie business. I was stunningly brilliant at a job interview with my uncle, who was President of United Artists, and was immediately hired. It set me off on a climb up the executive ladder, culminating in my becoming President of Marketing for Tri-Star Pictures. The movie landscape is filled with the movies I buried; for every "Rambo", "The Natural" and "Rocky", there are countless disasters.
I did manage to find the time to marry and have two children, both of whom are doing very well, and fortunately neither have inherited my eccentricities.
A number of years ago, I left the movie marketing business, to the sustained applause of hundreds of disgruntled producers and directors. I decided to try my hand at writing. I wrote and sold a bunch of feature films, none of which ever came close to being actually filmed, and then a bunch of TV movies, some of which actually made it to the small screen. It's safe to say that their impact on the American cultural scene has been minimal.
About fourteen years ago, my wife and I started the Tara Foundation, named in honor of the greatest Golden Retriever the world has ever known. We rescued almost 4,000 dogs, many of them Goldens, and found them loving homes. Our own home quickly became a sanctuary for those dogs that we rescued that were too old or sickly to be wanted by others. They surround me as I write this. It's total lunacy, but it works, and they are a happy, safe group.
http://us.macmillan.com/author/davidr...
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