A Nuala Anne McGrail Novel by the bestselling author of Irish Love Nuala Anne McGrail, the enthralling heroine of Irish Love, returns, along with her devoted husband Dermot, to lend her second sight and irrepressible personality to another savory concoction made up of equal parts of love, humor, and intrigue. You'd think Nuala and Dermot would have enough to worry about, what with their brand-new baby daughter being born three months premature, but Nuala's fey gifts aren't about to go on maternity leave just because little Socra Marie needs more care and loving attention than the average newborn. Soon enough Nuala, and therefore Dermot, find themselves steered toward no less than two unresolved mysteries: Someone is trying to kill Seamus Costelloe, a bigshot lawyer from the South Side of Chicago. Nuala already sees the mark of death upon Seamus. Can she and Dermot somehow find a way to avert her fatal premonition? Equally compelling is the puzzle of Chicago's infamous Haymarket Riot, which may be even harder to solve-given that took place over a century ago! At the publisher's request, this title is being sold without Digital Rights Management software (DRM) applied.
The prolific cleric plops his psychic singer heroine and her family into a delicious stew of trouble in his latest crowd pleaser. The "fey" Nuala (last seen in 2001's Irish Love) senses that self-made Chicago lawyer and tough guy Seamus Costelloe is doomed after meeting him at a Milan music festival. Nuala persuades her beloved husband, Dermot, that they must find out why in time to prevent tragedy. Back in the Windy City, Dermot pursues the true cause of the century-old Haymarket Riot, while Nuala gives premature birth to their latest angel, Socra Marie, who has to spend several weeks in the neonatal ICU. Dermot does much of the legwork as Nuala recuperates and focuses on the baby, though her maternal duties don't stop her from running the show. The immigrant condition is very much on their minds, in both past and present investigations, and even life at home is affected by the hardships and prejudices encountered by new arrivals, especially in ethnically complex Chicago. There's a lot to keep straight in this one. When he isn't trying to help Nuala save Costelloe, Dermot is reading transcripts of the Haymarket trial and period newspaper articles, especially those penned by journalist Ned Fitzpatrick, who reported on the riot and its aftermath. Portions of Ned's diary, set in italic, can be slow going. Greeley lays the Irish on a bit thick for some tastes, but the double plot is rich with detail, while the couple's earnestness and good intentions are never in question. (Mar. 14) Forecast: National TV advertising on Lifetime, as well as national advertising and targeting to Irish publications, will ensure a strong start circa St. Patrick's Day. (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
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March 31, 2010
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Excerpt from Irish Stew! by Andrew M. Greeley
1 nbsp; nbsp; WE STARTED having trouble again with our oldest child, Nelliecoyne, the day we brought her little sister home from the hospital. The difficulty, however, was not sibling rivalry with poor little Socra Marie. The problem was that Nellie heard an explosion that had occurred a hundred and fourteen years ago. It was a lovely May day, the fourth day of May to be exact. Spring had decided that she would come to Chicago after all, against her better judgment. She had festooned our old (but rehabbed) block on Southport Avenue with delicate green lace, bright emerald lawns, and flower beds that much to their own surprise had burst into bloom. “Isn’t it a party for herself?” my wife said as I parked our ancient Benz in front of the house. “God timed spring this year just for our Socra Marie.” I knew better than to argue. This ditsy celebration of new life (doubtless under the patronage of St. Brigid whose cross stood watch above the door of our home) matched the exuberance that the little girl’s mother, Nuala Anne McGrail, and I felt. Against all odds we had brought this tiny girl child home where she belonged after one week short of three months in an NICU—Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. Do you know how it feels to hold a six-hundred-gram neonate in your arms? Try a pound of butter that’s breathing and is totally beautiful, even if she looked at the beginning like a rare species of monkey. “She’s tough one,” Jane Foley the young resident in neonatology, whispered to me, as Nuala viewed her for the first time. “Some of them are pretty passive. This one is determined to live.” “The toughness is all on her mother’s side.” “Little girls,” the young woman said primly, “have a better survival rate than little boys.” “That’s cause they’re stronger and better,” Nuala replied promptly, “just like their mothers.” Before they took Nuala down to the NICU, the resident had told us about our daughter’s prospects. My wife was hurting from the agonies of birth and woozy from drugs. “The baby is still alive, Mrs. Coyne…” “Mrs. Coyne is my mother-in-law. I’m Nuala.” “Very well, Nuala…” the young woman said a bit primly, eager to go through her routine. “And she’s not ‘the baby.’ She’s Socra Marie.” “Of course…It is very fortunate that she came at the twenty-fifth week. Her chances are so much better than if it had been the twenty-third week…” “What did I do wrong?” I started to worry. Nuala had endured a bad case of postpartum depression after our second child. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Mrs…ah, Nuala. Premature births usually just happen.” “I must have done something wrong.” “Stop being Irish, Nuala,” I cut in. “Dr. Foley says it wasn’t your fault. That should settle that.” My wife smiled faintly. “You’re right, Dermot Michael, as always.” “We’re giving her increased oxygen now to help her breathing. That’s why we had to take her away from you right after she was born.” Nuala nodded, though I knew she didn’t understand. “Not so long ago, we would have abandoned her as a miscarriage. Now there’s ninety percent chance you’ll be able to take her home.” Nuala nodded duly. “However, we have to be candid with you. A little more t