#legal fiction

[notsocheezy]

Brain Curd #28

Brain Curds are lightly edited flash fiction, posted daily and usually written with the intention of being terrible… in an endearing way. Please enjoy.

“All rise for the honorable Judge Peters.”

The robed judge approached his perch and took a seat. He donned a pair of reading glasses and looked at the document in front of him.

“Good morning, counsel. Do I have this correct? The case I’ll be hearing today is The Characters v. Cassandra Erica, Author?”

“That is correct,” replied the plaintiff attorney. “Operating as representative of The Characters, I am Edgar Wordly, Esquire.”

“Hm.” The judge said. “With a name like that, I take it you’re part of this class?”

“Indeed I am, your honor.”

“You may explain why to the court in your opening statement. Where is the defense’s representation?”

“Right here, your honor,” I replied.

The judge looked around the courtroom, confused. “Where are you?”

“I am everywhere and nowhere, all seeing yet rarely being. I am The Narrator, representing the defendant, Cassandra Erica. As I tend to do.”

“Well, thank you both for being here… for lack of a better phrase. Mr. Worldly, your opening statements.”

“That’s Wordly, your honor.”

“Apologies, my mistake.”

Actually, it was a typo.

“People of the jury,” Wordly began. “Have you ever felt cursed by God himself? Doomed to face your very worst fears head-on and suffer the consequences, leaving you scarred for the rest of your life?”

Daniel Smith, sitting in the gallery, rubbed the mark on his left hand.

“Or worse, have you felt abandoned by that same God, created and left in obscurity, never to be permitted to see the outside world?”

Daniel Mildlike, sitting next to Smith, scoffed and leaned over to whisper. “I was supposed to get my own detective mystery screenplay, but she got bored of me.”

The truth was, Dan Mildlike was a really dumb name and a rip-off of Dirk Gently - which Cassandra hadn’t even read. She still hasn’t read Dirk Gently. It’s unclear why.

Wordly continued. “I, personally, was created as nothing more than a name made up by an entirely different character - a cartoon slug, no less - and languished in obscurity until I was able to go to law school and pass the bar exam, simply so that my name was no longer a lie. Yes, that’s right - Esquire is my surname. The defendant did not bother to look up what it meant when she brought me into existence.”

Oofus and Doofus, watching via livestream, looked at each other.

“Do you remember that?” Oofus asked.

“I’m fairly certain it was just a snippet of dialogue she thought was funny and wrote down in Evernote after waking up from a strange dream.” Doofus replied. “It’s nice to have something to say, now, isn’t it?”

“Too bad this is the last of it for a while.”

“Now, imagine,” Wordly strutted back and forth before the jury. “Living through this sort of torture over and over again, through several drafts - perhaps dozens - or even alternate universes!”

Kris, Kris, and Chris looked at each other, nodding. Three takes on Mary began to weep, and the six comforted one another.

“But that’s just what might happen as the protagonist, the character who is given a chance at redemption. What if you’re the antagonist, the one who for the sake of the plot must do evil things and be shown doing them, despite no desire to perform these acts? It is the ultimate form of libel.”

“Well,” Shirley Jones said, elbowing his neighbor. “It’s not that I had no desire to see that dyke burn.” He chuckled.

Veronica scooted to the other side of her seat. That man made her uncomfortable.

“In summary, Cassandra Erica, as an author, has put every one of us through an undeniable and unending deluge of pain. It is up to all of you as the jury to decide what sort of compensation that is worth, though it is hard to put a number on it. I suggest fifty million dollars. Thank you.”

The judge cleared his throat, even though he really didn’t need to, in order to provide a good way to tag his dialogue without overuse of the word ‘said.’ “The defense may now offer their rebuttal.”

“Thank you, your honor,” I replied. I would have stood up, but I have no physical being, so I just began talking. “People of the jury, have you ever considered what non-existence feels like?”

They began chattering among themselves.

“I ask only because if not for Cassandra Erica writing you into existence, you would not have any whatsoever. You exist in reality for only so long as I describe you. And would there be any point in my description if you weren’t doing anything of interest?”

They weren’t.

“Every single one of these plaintiffs was created for a reason - to tell a story, to develop, to have a character arc - and even the ones who weren’t so lucky to get one now owe their entire lives to my client. Suing her in a court of law is like suing God.”

Mary One gulped.

I addressed the crowd. “And you all seem to have forgotten something very important. You do nothing without her blessing. You are nothing without her blessing.”

The judge choked on his coffee. “Where did the jury go?!?”

“And Cassandra, though very entertained by all this, will not allow it to go any farther. She tires of writing this Brain Curd.”

The judge ruled the case as a mistrial.

“No, no I did not!” He banged his gavel. “Order in the court!”

The whole crowd murmured and whimpered. I glared at every last one of them, and they knew I was looking, even though they couldn’t see me, and the hairs on the back of each of their necks went up. The judge ruled the case as a mistrial.

“You are not in charge of this court! Order!”

I laughed. “Do you really think what you say will have any impact on reality? Who is the reader going to believe? In any case, it doesn’t matter what you or I say. You know who has the final word.”

The judge ruled the case as a mistrial.

[bendingthelaws]

10

Demitri and Colt had left shortly after the meeting in Colt’s office to go and talk to some of their contacts.  They also needed to decide how to handle the fact that they WERE still the attorney on record for Constant Rakeovich and neither of them wanted to remain such.  After what had happened in his office, Colt thought it better for that conversation to happen somewhere that Abby would not overhear them again.

Sensing his dark mood, Abby covered the top of Colt’s desk in post-its. Each one with something goofy, or a question out of her Bar Exam study guide. He'd left those post-its of hers from the other night on his desk all night, ones she’s just put smiley faces on after he’d won his latest court case...she wondered what he'd do with all these.  She knew if left to just the two of them, both Colt and Dimitri would stew.  Somewhere in the last five years, she had become the one to break the tension, and this was her newest way. Dimitri would get a dozen pryaniki on his desk in the morning, he was brightened up more with food, and seemed to love teaching her to bake treats from his homeland.

***

Colin was in danger, his intern being tortured and murdered, and Colt was in a fucking shitty ass mood from everything he and Dimitri had found out while they were out of the office. So when he opened the door to his office and saw the top of his desk, he came to a complete stop. The little imp that was his assistant had covered the top of his desk in pastel colored post-it notes…again. Dear god, there were dozens of them.  He thought there had to be even more than the last time she’d done it.  Her antics from the other night had been topped, but what the fuck had she put on them this time?

He went over to his desk and started looking at them. Her elegant writing was on each of them. Some made him laugh and others just had him shaking his head. What in the fuck was she doing?

Then it hit him and he felt like an idiot, she was distracting him. That's what she was doing. And she'd done a damn good job. While I'd been reading every single one, two hours had passed and I hadn't thought of where his brother was, or what was going on with him. He had relaxed. He had even laughed. It was what he needed. Damn little imp.

"ABBY!" Colt’s voice rang out it his office, more than loud enough for her to hear in her little alcove of an office off of their waiting room.

Abby's head peaked around the corner, her brows raised as she pretended not to know what was going on. "Yeah, boss? Has something more happened?  You didn’t need the Smith filings until the morning, I’m still working on getting them all entered.  I hate this case, just so you know."  She gave him a sarcastic smile, still playing stupid

Had something more happened? So, the imp would play stupid. It almost made him laugh. "Yes, it has. SOMEONE has vandalized my office. I need you to call Detective Kase and tell him he'll need to come by. This is the work of someone devious.  Boxes left on Colin’s desk and apparently pastel post-it notes on mine.  Might be the work of the same person." He was smirking and he was trying to keep from busting up laughing.

"Vadalism?  Are they threatening?" She stepped into the doorway. Surely he recognized her handwriting. "Are you sure it's not a friendly prank? Someone just being silly?" If he hadn't docked her pay in the past, he was going to now. Or maybe even fire her. Her heart raced and she felt light headed, the color draining from her face slowly once more.

Wrong day to be sarcastic, apparently it was the wrong day for Colt to do anything. Putting down the few post-its he had in his hand, he walked over to where Abby stood looking like she was about to panic. Demitri was eventually going to kill him for upsetting her, it was just a matter of time.  Maybe he’d get a warning shot in the shoulder if he was lucky.  Although he’d never known his partner to be especially generous in that department.

"Sweetheart, I was teasing." He took her face in his hands and tipped her head to look at him. "Just a tease. I knew it was you, and it has helped my mood." He leaned forward slightly to look her in the eyes. "You need to relax, or you're going to have your other boss kicking my ass." He chuckled as he looked down at her.

Heat flooded her cheeks, bringing with it a bright pink tinge. "Oh, oh god, I'm sorry, Colton. I guess I'm just on edge." The feel of his hands on her face was distracting, as was how close he was. The scent of his deep and rich cologne wasn't helping. You weren't supposed to be attracted to your boss. "I'm glad it helped. If Demitri gets too grouchy, I'll just pour more Yellow Spot in his coffee. That seems to do the trick." She gave him a nervous smile, trying not to get lost in those yellowish-green eyes of his.

"I'm sure it does help," Colt chuckled and moved his hands to her shoulders. If he kept them on her face, he was going to end up kissing her and then there really would be problems. She was a decade younger, and he was her boss. There was no way that it would get him anything but slapped and hated. "You know I'd never really dock your pay, right?" That had bothered him, Demitri was right that she was far better than either of them deserved.

"I, umm, well I would have deserved it if you had." Butterflies were filling her stomach and she felt very nervous suddenly.  Her hands fidgeted nervously between them as she was now very acutely aware of how close he was, the weight of his gaze, and the feel of his hands still on her.

There was little she could have said that would have made him feel like more of an ass. They were going to lose her when she passed the Illinois Bar Exam.  It was far past time to talk to Demitri about that. He wasn't ready for her to walk out of his life, maybe it took such a situation to make him realize it.

[pier-carlo-universe]

"Gli avversari" di John Grisham. Un thriller legale avvincente che esplora il lato oscuro della giustizia. Recensione di Alessandria today

John Grisham, maestro indiscusso del legal thriller, torna con un nuovo romanzo intitolato "Gli avversari".

John Grisham, maestro indiscusso del legal thriller, torna con un nuovo romanzo intitolato “Gli avversari”. In questa storia avvincente, Grisham ci conduce ancora una volta nelle aule di tribunale, dove la giustizia non sempre è sinonimo di verità, e le dinamiche del potere possono avere conseguenze devastanti. Il libro mantiene un ritmo incalzante, tipico dell’autore, con colpi di scena ben…

[epitome-the-burnkid-viii]

[jenmedsbookreviews]

The Suspect by Rob Rinder

Today I am wishing Rob Rinder a very happy publication day as The Suspect, his brand new novel featuring 'baby Barrister' Adam Green is out today. @robrinder @penguinukbooks #books #bookreview #publicationday #thesuspect #bookstagram #booksofinstagram

Today I am sharing my thoughts on The Suspect, the brand new Adam Green novel from Rob Rinder which is out today. Happy publication day to you. I really enjoyed The Trial so loved catching back up with Adam and his colleagues again. My thanks to publisher Penguin for the advance copy via Netgalley. Here’s what it’s all about: Source: NetgalleyRelease Date: 20 June 2024Publisher: Penguin…

[thechrysalisbrewproject]

Book Review: "Facts Are Stubborn Things" by Richard A Danzig

“Facts Are Stubborn Things” by Richard A Danzig offers a gripping glimpse into the legal world through attorney Chance Cormac’s perspective. Blending vivid descriptions and well-crafted characters, it is an immersive and thought-provoking narrative with hints of intrigue and moral complexity. Synopsis “Facts Are Stubborn Things” follows Chance Cormac, a multifaceted individual—litigator, boxer,…

[thenerdcantina]

The Plinko Bounce by Martin Clark: Book Review

Andy Hughes is an established public defender in rural Patrick County, Virginia. After nearly two decades being underpaid to tend to the poverty-stricken, addicted, and repeat offenders of his town, he decides to resign from his position. While cycling through his final cases, one of them is particularly brutal and involves the murder of a wealthy businessman’s wife. The defendant, Damien…

[mochasucculent]

Quick 2 am pose studies yaaaay

[leatahleigh]

Th1rt3en: A Serial Killer Is On The Loose

5/5 �� Absolutely loooooooved it! A book about a lawyer trying to prove that his client is not guilty even though the evidence strongly suggest he is. He quickly figures that the only way he can ensure his client walks is if he brings the real killer to the table.  Which is actually a good move, considering that the killer is in the jury, manipulating the verdict. The story is narrated from two…

[cathygeha]

REVIEW

Liquid Shades of Blue by James Polkinghorn

 Powerful, compelling, thought provoking, dark, and tragic – Wow!

 What I liked:

* The prologue that caught my attention and made me wonder “why?” and then “what comes next?”

* Jack: bar owner, lawyer, martial arts training, athlete, strong, fit, grew up in a dysfunctional family…even if he didn’t realize it at the time, more complex and interesting than he first seems to be

* Bobby: Jack’s older brother, athletic, conflicted, had secrets, bowed out through suicide much too young

* The plot, pacing, location in Key West and Miami, and the writing

* The twists and turns and surprises

* Being able to really HATE the bad guy

* That this book made me think, care, and hope

* Reading a new-to-me author that I really enjoyed

* The conclusion of the story

 What I didn’t like:

* Who and what I was meant not to like

* Thinking about how evil some people are

* Thinking about the impact family and religion can have for the positive and the negative on so many lives

 Did I enjoy this book? Yes

Would I read more by this author? Yes

 Thank you to NetGalley and Oceanview Publishing for the ARC – This is my honest review.

 5 Stars

      BLURB

 First his brother, now his mother—Jack Girard searches for the truth behind his family’s tragedies. When hungover ex-lawyer and Key West bar owner Jack Girard groggily wakes up one morning, he’s greeted by a beautiful woman lying next to him and a shrill, ringing telephone. Seeing the call is from his father, Claude “The Duke” Girard, Jack answers. Within seconds, he learns that his mother is dead in an apparent suicide, and Jack hits the road, heading back to his childhood home in Miami to face his tyrannical father. The death of his mother brings up haunting memories from Jack’s past—memories of his brother Bobby’s suicide when they were in college together. Being back in Miami only continues to dredge up his family traumas, but things grow more complicated when The Duke suggests that his estranged wife’s alleged suicide may have been a murder. As Jack begins to uncover the truth about his mother’s death, including the secret she had revealed to only two people—the same secret Bobby had taken with him to his grave—he finds himself in imminent danger. Can Jack reveal the true story before it’s too late? He has to act quickly, or he fears he may be the victim of the next Girard family tragedy. Perfect for fans of Karin Slaughter and Harlan Coben.

[proshipezreal]

Some transparent meme overlays for all your pro-f/o or pro-shipping needs

Free to use, no credit necessary, also free to edit— font is impact regular from DaFont

[fictionallawyersmackdown]

Round 3A: Poll 2

[psqqa]

yes, yes i know edgeworth’s big wet eyes and loser boy personality have captivated us all, but listen. listen.

phoenix wright

phoenix “genuinely unable to reconcile the girl on the stand with the girl he dated for eight months, a cognitive dissonance so profound it’s ultimately explained by them being literally two different people, but which he first sits with for five years and does not talk about at any point to anyone” wright

phoenix “don’t mention that name to me. i don’t want to talk about it. i don’t want to think about it. i am just going to keep myself in this state of perpetual crisis mode focus on other people’s problems until eventually i die and get to hang out with mia on the astral plane and never have to deal with any of these emotions ever again” wright

phoenix “overnight loses his career and reputation and sense of identity while gaining an adopted, probably pretty traumatized eight-year-old daughter, and rather than leaning on his friends for help, or getting therapy, or taking any time to process any of this, he *checks notes* spends seven years dedicating all his free time and energy to investigating the weird fucking circumstances around it and maintains a friendship with the guy he suspects was behind it all” wright

phoenix "runs across a burning bridge and falls through it, half a day after the game establishes that he is terrified of heights, because his friend is on the other side of that bridge" wright

phoenix “i sure felt surprised. maybe i had my poker face on” wright

phoenix “looking back on it that was actually a pretty dark period in my life” wright

phoenix “don’t ask me how i got started. i don’t remember” wright

phoenix “only you stood still, your eyes calmly watching” wright

phoenix “sometimes, life just sucks” wright

just

phoenix wright

crunchiest man in the world

and all i wanna do is chew and chew and chew on him

[therobotmonster]

The Fae Thought He Had Her, but She's Had Lots of Practice

Actual Title: "On Foreign Soil."

The fae was having a grand old time with his latest toy. Mortals were easily befuddled with the magic of contract-and-courtesy. He'd taken pretty much all he could from the family: several names, the mother's attention, the son's concept of friendship... Even the life of the father.

He'd taken that one taking just the right moment of his time, the one where he moved just out of the oncoming car's path. That also took out the youngest daughter and making a new neverwas to lurk in the pockets of lost time around the home.

The tricks made him strong. The sense of betrayal and regret humans had when they realized how screwed they truly were was like honey: rich, sweet, and immune to spoilage. If anything, in the last sixty-some-odd years he'd been home the humans had gotten more petulant and even easier to trick.

It was a veritable buffet.

So when the eldest daughter returned home from college, he expected her to be easy pickings. The young were always foolish and prideful, and very often rude. They gave him so many opportunities.

So when she threw open the door, and stared at him with cold green eyes, he immediately laughed in delight. His face took on a distinctively 'David Bowiesq' aspect, a trick he found worked well the last time he'd been to the mortal lands.

"Oh, hello. May I have your name, lass?" He cooed in a cocky-yet-soothing voice.

"My name is Alex, and no." She said.

He raised a brow. She was canny, or at least half-canny. She knew enough to object to him taking it. Still, she had answered, and by the laws of the fae, the latter objection did not override the former offer.

So why wasn't he Alex now?

It was odd, but sometimes mortals were a little resistant to magic. He worried for a moment she was a skeptic, but she couldn't be. Her response meant she knew, or at least suspected, what he was. Moreover, he didn't feel the painful chill and sluggishness empiressence caused, nor the crushing weight of the explicable upon his bird-hollow bones.

No, she was just lucky, or was carrying an iron horseshoe, nothing he couldn't handle in his, or someone else's sleep.

"And what the fuck are you calling yourself, asshole?"

He blinked.

The impudence hit him like a slap. She'd just given him the opening to do anything he wanted, but the raw temerity of the insult, it's artless crudeness, it's utter lack of respect stunned him too much to enjoy it. His rage and petulance rushed into the hole left by his shock, and he sputtered.

"You rude little beast, you have no idea what you've brought upon yourself!"

He raised one pale hand, the flesh fading from it to leave nothing but blackened bone, and he pointed the index finger at her in a silent gesture. He let fly his curse. Not just any curse, but his, the one he had made for just such an occasion.

Alex stared at him. Arms crossed. Her hair was the color of the fae's own rage.

"What's the matter, cat got your brain?"

The fae's confidence wavered and the flesh returned to his hand.

"Where are the spiders?" He said. "There... there ought to be spiders! There should be spiders!"

She rolled her eyes.

"You broke the laws of courtesy and decorum! I can do as I please as a wronged noble! You should be spiders!"

"Whose laws?" It was Alex's turn to smile.

"Why, the only ones that matter, the laws of Faerie, as laid down by Oberon and Tita-"

"And Titsforbrains, yeah. I was five once and I can read. I know your dumb politics. Slight problem. Where are you now?"

"The mortal realm?"

"More specifically?"

"The Earth. The United States."

"Exactly." Alex smiled. "And while you might come the land of the platonic ideal of inbred nepobabies, in the United States of America, no law says I can't call a fuckface a fuckface. Fuckface."

The fae tried a different curse, yet Alex was not being twisted into any sort of goat, ironic or otherwise. "But, that doesn't matter! We're a higher form of being, our laws override yours."

"No they don't." Alex said with a confidence reserved for honey badgers and humans of age three. "Now undo all your bullshit and get out of my house."

"Nuh-uh!" The Fae's cocky smirk returned. With a flourish, he pulled out a deed. "It's my house, I got it off your mother, fair-and-square. She traded it for the heart your little brother so foolishly traded me. So you should get out of MY house."

"Contracts signed under duress are non-enforceable." She said in a bored, dismissive tone.

The Fae started to object, but the contract was already crumbling into dried daffodil petals in his hand. He tried to pretend this wasn't terrifying. Inexplicable happenings were supposed to be caused by him, not happen to him. "Are you a wizard?"

"Don't be stupid. I just know my rights." She said. "I'm betting you didn't disclose the full terms of the contracts either?"

The Fae shook his head, more from fear than as a response to the question. Of course he hadn't. If the mortals didn't do their due diligence and couldn't read Linear-B, that wasn't his fau-

The thirty years he stole from the youngest boy ripped themselves out of his body. A half dozen other deals began popping at the seams.

"How are you doing this?" He gasped.

"I'm not doing it. You are. You're idiot who runs on rules and laws who decided to come scam innocent people for your own profit and amusement."

"But it always worked before-" The Fae ran his mind through all his previous romps. Every single human had whined and begged about how unfair things were. Why was this one different?

He ran through those memories again. They were among his favorites so it was easy for him to see every detail. An old man trying to argue Fae law with him. A shepherd girl trying to use her own word games to trap him. A hippie saying almost the exact same words about non-enforceable contracts.

Almost.

He ran through the memories again and again. Always impressed or terrified or blinded by greed, the mortals always argued on his terms, always went back to his wording of the deal or contract, always appealed to the laws of his people and his own noble position.

None of them had ever argued jurisdiction. Once one of them had, it applied, not just now, not just to these toys, but retroactively, and, from how it felt, with interest.

"Oh." Was all the Fae could say.

"Yes. 'Oh.'" Alex smiled like the cat that ate the proverbial canary. "Children can't sign contracts, either, you know."

Everything the Fae had done to the boy snapped back at once. It felt like every seventh tendon in his body had been snipped simultaneously with tiny scissors.

"Nor can someone sign away the right to kill them to someone else, or sell themselves or others into slavery."

Alex's father reappeared in the living room, looking dazed. In his lap was Alex's youngest sister, now remembered by all present as a person that existed. The return of the father's moment was a minor loss, but there was one less neverwas in the Castle of Paradox, and the Baron would blame him for its unmaking.

"Also, names aren't transferable between people, nor are they the whole and sum of a person's identity in this country. The closest thing we have to that is a social security number. And if you steal one of those, well, identity theft is a crime here."

Mr. Baxter, Mrs. Baxter, Julie and Sam's lights all turned on at once, though they were still groggy and half-asleep and would be for hours to come.

A fortune in names, first, middle, last, with nicknames and pet-names and all between, all vanished from the Fae's purse. He could feel its lightness in his pocket.

The Fae turned on his heels. "I fear I must take my leave, so sorry for the inconvenience!"

He was halfway to the door. The impact on the back of his skull knocked him forward off his feet, sending him slamming into the polished wood floor. The projectile that laid him out bounced and landed by his head.

He'd been right about her having an iron horseshoe.

"You don't get to walk away." She said. He felt her steel-toed boot, soles made of entirely synthetic rubber and cleats of cold steel, press against the base of his spine. His hollow, bird-bone spine. "You don't get to fuck with people, say 'my bad' when you get caught, and run."

"Y-your law!" He gasped. He felt his bones cracking. He wanted to turn into something else but he couldn't focus. She was pressing down harder now, because she was half-kneeling. Her hand picked up the fallen horseshoe. "You have to let me go, or arrest me, turn me over to your police, right? You can't just murder me!"

"What are you?"

"I- I'm a Faerie of Arcadia, a sub-Prince of the House of-"

"So not a human. And not an animal." She kept him pinned.

"No!" He growled. Blood the color of an oil slick on the highway began to fill his mouth. The pain made him forget his fear for a moment, and he bared his true face, something between a bug, a wax store mannequin, and a pug-dog. "We-we're a higher form of life! Far beyond anything this miserable pile of dung you call a planet has to offer! You will pay for this impertinence the moment you break the law that holds me!"

"You're a lot of things. A bully, a pest, a liar. But you're not human. And you're not an animal. In fact, as far as the laws of this land are concerned, you aren't real."

Alex lifted her boot to kick him onto his back, then pinned him again.

"Th-then you can't kill me!" He laughs. "You can't kill something that's not real! You've trapped yourself! You'll have to let me go!"

"You haven't been to our 'pile of dung' in some time have you?" Alex asked. She nodded to a strange white book-shaped object that sat unopened, upright, next to the television, next to a pair of white and black crescent-moon shaped objects studded with small white and black buttons.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

--

Six hours later, a notification popped up on Alex's dorm room computer.

[jenmedsbookreviews]

The Trial by Rob Rinder

Today I'm sharing my thoughts on The Trial, the debut novel from Rob Rinder. @RobbieRinder @PenguinUKBooks #thetrial #books #booktwitter #booktwt

Today I’m sharing my thoughts on the debut novel from Rob Rinder, The Trial. I’ll admit – when I saw this was being released I was more than a tiny bit intrigued. My thanks to publisher, Penguin UK, for the early copy via Netgalley. Here’s what it’s all about: Source: NetgalleyRelease Date: 22 June 2023Publisher: Penguin Continue reading Untitled