Blog Tour: Thicker Than Water by Brigid Kemmerer (Review, Excerpt + Giveaway)

Thicker Than Water

by Brigid Kemmerer

Release Date: December 29th 2015

Kensington Books

Summary :

On his own

Thomas Bellweather hasn’t been in town long. Just long enough for his newlywed mother to be murdered, and for his new stepdad’s cop colleagues to decide Thomas is the primary suspect.

Not that there’s any evidence. But before Thomas got to Garretts Mill there had just been one other murder in twenty years. 

The only person who believes him is Charlotte Rooker, little sister to three cops and, with her soft hands and sweet curves, straight-up dangerous to Thomas. Her best friend was the other murder vic. And she’d like a couple answers.

Answers that could get them both killed, and reveal a truth Thomas would die to keep hidden…

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My Review:

This is the first book I have read in 2016 and I am quite pleased. While going into it, I thought it was YA contemporary with a murder mystery but the paranormal twist really threw me and I honestly did not expect it. This was also my firs Brigid Kemmerer book and I have to say that after reading Thicker than water, it wont be the last.
There are two reasons this was not a 5 star read for me. The first one is Charlotte who is bland and a doormat and those types of characters really go on my nerves. She gets better by the end of the book but by then my dislike for her was cemented. The second reason is that after the end of the book, there are still some questions left unanswered and that really is something I dont like. I dont know if there will be a sequel. the ending is left somewhat open but I hope there will be just so I can get the answers I need.
The best parts of this book were the murder mystery (up until the end, I was way off base about the killer), Thomas, who was a mess of anger, grief, confusion and all kinds of emotions and the way the author presented those emotions, you can feel them all around you while reading. Definitely a worthy start to the year for me and a great introduction to Brigid Kemmerer (for me, at least).

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Excerpt

“People are staring,” I murmur.

“Let them stare.”

“Is this a service you provide?” I say, intending to tease, but my voice is too broken for that.

But she’s kind, so she takes the bait and runs with it. Her eyes are on the knot as she threads the fabric. “Absolutely. Tying ties, buttoning jackets . . . you should see me pin on a flower.”

I almost smile, but then her hands make the final loop. Satin slides against cotton, and then the knot hits my neck. Quick and sudden and tight. I can’t breathe.

I jerk the fabric out of her hand without thinking. My movement is too sudden. She stumbles back, catching herself against the wall.

I gasp, pulling at the knot of fabric. It’s barely tight, but I can’t stop myself.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” I choke out. This is insane. I need to get it together. The knot finally gives an inch. Air can’t seem to make it into my lungs. “It’s not even tight.”

I suck in a breath and sound like an asthmatic. I run a hand down my face. This is not getting it together.

“You all right, Char?”

It’s another cop in dress uniform, talking to Charlotte but looking at me like I’m a purse snatcher or something. No, looking at me like I’m a murderer.

This guy’s young, not much older than I am. His hair is military short, almost blond, and his eyes are just looking for trouble. I swear to god he’s holding his hand near his gun, and I’m tempted to fake him out, just to see if he’d pull it. Knowing my luck, he’d shoot me.

Right this instant, I’d welcome it.

“I’m fine, Danny,” Charlotte says. “This is Thomas. Stan’s new—”

“I know who he is.” Of course he does. Everyone in uniform probably does. I’m sure some of them still think I did it. But Danny takes the edge off by putting a hand out. “I’m sorry about your mother.”

I shake his hand. “Thanks.”

His grip is solid, almost too tight. He doesn’t let go, and I can tell he’d hold fast if I tried to pull free. “You want to tell me why you put your hands on my little sister?”

Oh. Now I get it.

Charlotte is looking worriedly between the two of us. “It’s fine, Danny—he didn’t touch me.”

“I saw him shove you.” His grip tightens. “You’d better watch yourself.”

His tone grates against my nerves and reminds me why I don’t like cops.

“He didn’t shove me,” Charlotte says.

“Watch myself?” I say to him. “It’s my mother’s funeral.”

He gives a little laugh, and he lets go of my hand, somehow making it feel like a shove. “Yeah, you look really broken up about it, taking the time to rough up a girl.”

My hands are in fists again, anger weaving its way through the less aggressive emotions. This narrow stretch of shade has turned too hot, almost stifling. I can smell my own sweat. I hate this suit.

Danny’s watching me, his eyes almost predatory. I’ve gotten in my share of scrapes, and I can read the signs. Dangerous potential rides the air. He wants to hit me.

My mother’s voice is like a whisper in my head. Behave yourself, Tommy.

I force my hands to loosen. Danny’s right, in a way. I did shove her. I shouldn’t have put my hands on her. Someone spends five minutes being kind, and I act like a caged animal. It takes a lot of effort to back down. “Sorry,” I say, turning away from them. “I didn’t mean to cause a problem.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to find my sister dead in her bed. Get me?”

Something snaps inside of me. Anger splits into fury. My fist swings.

I’m strong, and years of being the new kid taught me how to throw a punch. It’s stupid, and reckless, and my mother’s voice is screaming in the back of my skull.

Tommy! He is a police officer!

It sucks that he’s a cop, too, because he knows how to deflect a punch. He catches my arm and slams me into the wall of the church. My hand is pinned behind my back and I inhale brick dust. The tie drags on the bricks, too, pulling tight against my neck.

I am such an idiot.

He’s enjoying this. We’re the center of attention now. He’s probably hoping I’ll fight him so he can continue playing the badass.

I don’t want to fight him. This is her funeral. Her funeral. My throat is tight and my eyes are hot. Reason catches up with action and I’m swimming in a special blend of humiliation and shame.

I will not start crying right now. I will not.

Charlotte is smacking her brother, it sounds like. “Danny! Danny, stop it! What is wrong with you?”

Hot breath finds my neck, followed by a little shove. The bricks scrape at my skin. I expect him to hold me here, to suffer the judgmental stares of the crowd that I can hear gathering.

Or maybe he’ll tell Stan to keep me in line, or something equally demeaning.

Instead, he speaks low, just to me. “Did you get off on it? Think about it in the shower this morning? All hot and bothered for killing your mother?”

Rage flares, hot and painful, blinding me with fury. I jerk back, trying to break his hold, knowing it’s futile.

But suddenly I’m free. My head is buzzing, and he’s on the ground, yelling. Clutching his head. Charlotte is standing back, glancing between me and him, her breath quick.

Did I hit him? What just happened?

Before I can get it together, a hand falls on my shoulder, pushing me back against the wall. I feel metal against my wrist.

I freeze. Another one of these jerkoffs is cuffing me and talking about assault on a police officer.

Now Danny’s on his feet, talking about resisting arrest. He grabs my arm and drags me away from the wall. The crowd grows.

We’re heading for a police car.

I’m going to miss the funeral.

                             

Brigid Kemmerer was born in Omaha, Nebraska, though her parents quickly moved her all over the United States, from the desert in Albuquerque, New Mexico, to the lakeside in Cleveland, Ohio, and several stops in between, eventually settling near Annapolis, Maryland. Brigid started writing in high school, and her first real “novel” was about four vampire brothers causing a ruckus in the suburbs. Those four brothers are the same boys living in the pages of The Elemental Series, so Brigid likes to say she’s had four teenage boys taking up space in her head for the last seventeen years. (Though sometimes that just makes her sound nuts.)
Brigid writes anywhere she can find a place to sit down (and she’s embarrassed to say a great many pages of The Elemental Series were written while sitting on the floor in the basement of a hotel while she was attending a writers’ conference). Most writers enjoy peace and quiet while writing, but Brigid prefers pandemonium. A good thing, considering she has three boys in the house, ranging in age from an infant to a teenager.
While writing STORM, it’s ironic to note that Brigid’s personal life was plagued by water problems: her basement flooded three times, her roof leaked, her kitchen faucet broke, causing the cabinet underneath to be destroyed by water, the wall in her son’s room had to be torn down because water had crept into the wall, and her bedroom wall recently developed a minor leak. Considering SPARK, book 2 in the series, is about the brother who controls fire, Brigid is currently making sure all the smoke detectors in her house have batteries.
Brigid loves hearing from people, and she probably won’t refer to herself in the third person like this if you actually correspond with her. She has a smartphone surgically attached to her person nearby at all times, and email is the best way to reach her. Her email address is brigidmary@gmail.com.

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