' Blood and Chrysanthamums' by Nancy Baker over the Old Year/New Year weekend. That's a tale of vampires, the conflicted kind really, and I enjoyed it far more than my sentence synopsis might suggest. It was exactly right to read when one is satiated with food and drink and desire nothing more demanding than a foot rub.
On the last day of my holiday I read 'The Dead of Winter' by Chris Priestley. I read it in one sitting as the rain lashed the window panes & wind howled down the chimney. This book sounds like an awful parody - orphans in desolate houses, insanity, locked in secret rooms, at least one ghost...here is the opening line to give you a taste "I looked into that grave with as much a sense of dread and despair as if I had been staring into my own." Gracious! Isn't that wonderful? Doesn't it make you long for a wintery day alone to read it as I did, hoping the hairs will stand up on the back of your neck? I suspect it might be intended for younger readers. Otherwise I'd give in 5 stars out of 5 on a chart of High Gothic Camp!
I struggle to read for pleasure when I am working...but it is the weekend now and I will read 'House of Silk' by Anthony Horowitz. Tim says there is a twist, so I hope I don't guess it.