Occasionally I receive books to review free from the publisher. This in no way affects my review of the book.
From the back cover: Ida Mae Babbitt, president of the Omni 2nd Ward Relief Society, didn't mean to become a spy. But when visiting teaching stats are low, and she learns that one family under her care is in financial trouble, she'll do whatever it takes to make sure they have what they need. If that includes planting surveillance cameras in their home and watching them from a parked car in the woods . . . well, isn't that what any caring Relief Society president would do?
With the help of her counselors, Arlette and Tansy, Ida Mae soon learns that there's more to the situation than meets the eye.
"The persons depicted in this book are professional fictional characters. Do not try this at home."
And if that's not enough to clue you in that you're in for a great ride, you don't read enough.
Sure, Secret Sisters is in a niche market. Unless you're LDS, much of what is discussed by the main characters may be confusing. But considering the millions of LDS Relief Society members, that's a nice sized niche. So, what did I think of this book?
In all fairness, I adore Tristi Pinkston's writing style. I've read all of her books and they make me laugh, cry and keep me reading--sometimes all night long. I found Secret Sisters to be up there among her best work. From the beginning, when I first stepped into Ida Mae's world, I felt like I was right by her side experiencing everything she did. It's a special author who has a talent to queue you into a character's thought processes, but I could with Ida Mae. At times I laughed. I also smiled--a lot. And, at one point, she made me hungry. (Chapter 13 has chicken enchiladas. Consider yourself warned. Oh, and her cookies, and brownies--man, I may have to go bake something.)
Secret Sisters is a delightful, face-paced read with something going on at every turn of the page. And, as you can see from the picture, it's a beautiful book too. Pick up your copy HERE. And get ready to giggle your socks off.