Another Day, Another Dali (Serena Jones Mysteries Book #2)

By Sandra Orchard

A Fast-Paced, Keep-You-Guessing Whodunit with a Dash of Romance

When a valuable Salvador Dali painting belonging to her grandmother's friend is mysteriously replaced by a forgery, FBI Special Agent Serena Jones is called in to investigate. Serena hopes finding the thief will also mean finally measuring up to Nana's expectations. But when the evidence points to members of the owner's own household, it becomes increasingly clear that Serena won't be winning any popularity contests.

The Dali isn't the only painting that's fallen prey to the forgery-replacing thief, raising the specter of a sophisticated theft ring--one with links to dirty cops, an aspiring young artist, and the unsolved murder of Serena's grandfather.

With plenty of edge-of-your-seat moments, Another Day, Another Dali gives the plucky Serena Jones--and readers--a new high-stakes case to crack.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
• Release date: Oct 18, 2016
• ISBN: 9781493405220

Sandra Orchard

Award-winning author Sandra Orchard lives in Niagara, Ontario, where inspiration abounds for her romantic suspense novels. Married with three grown children, when not writing, she enjoys hanging out with family, brainstorming new stories with fellow writers, and hiking or kayaking in God's beautiful creation.

Book preview

Cover

1

I tore my gaze from the porch that wrapped around the drug dealer’s house and cringed at the number on my phone’s call display.

Mom said there’d be days like this.

Tanner, still decked out in his SWAT gear, peered over my shoulder as the phone vibrated insistently in my hand. Good thing you’re a field-hardened FBI agent, so you don’t let little old ladies scare the pants off you.

I sent him a silencing glare. Ignoring his grin, I turned away from the rest of the team traipsing in and out of the building, and clicked Connect. Hi, Nana, I said, injecting fake cheerfulness into my voice. What’s up?

I need you to come see me.

You nee—are you okay? My heart stuttered. If anything happened to Nana . . .

Of course I’m okay. Stop stammering, girl.

Tanner, still hovering close enough to hear her strident tones, snickered.

I placed a muffling hand over the phone.

"Excuse me, sir, I said sweetly. Don’t you have a forgery to Bubble-Wrap?"

Forgery? His stunned look was so comical I forgave myself for rushing to a verdict before my usual careful perusal. Not that I was in any serious doubt about this particular painting.

Really? he said, broad shoulders slumping. When I arrived on scene, he boasted they’d turned up art so hot it was still smoking.

Yup. Fake. I, too, felt a pang of genuine regret that the Renoir hanging in the drug dealer’s den wasn’t the one on the FBI’s Ten Most Wanted list.

But I’d left Nana hanging.

Straightening my shoulders, I put the phone back to my ear. Sorry, Nana. Um, I have to be at the youth drop-in center by seven to teach the art class, so . . . I glanced at my watch and cast about for a workable solution, but there just wasn’t enough time. I’m afraid—

Never mind, she interrupted. Obviously, you’re at work. Where you shouldn’t be taking personal calls, her tone implied. Call me when you get home.

Okay, I said to dead air.

Annoyed at myself for the guilty feeling I couldn’t stop from churning my stomach, I turned to study the front of the house once more. Something was niggling at my brain.

Um . . . Tanner, I said, hesitating.

Yeah?

There’s something . . . I squinted against the dropping September sun, mentally reviewing the interior.

He grinned. Stop stammering, girl. Spit it out.

Ha, ha. Wait . . . Oh, that’s got to be it! I stuffed my phone in my pocket and headed back inside.

Tanner followed me. "What’s it?"

I stopped at the door to the den and glanced at the window three feet from the side wall.

Serena? What’s going on? Tanner pressed, trailing me to the next doorway, this one into a bedroom.

The window is three feet from the wall, just like in the other room.

So?

Where’s the attic hatch?

Mason checked the attic.

Humor me.

Don’t I always? Tanner said. I’m a funny guy.

Uh-huh. He actually had the quickest wit of any guy I knew, even if he did run to cheesy puns sometimes.

Not that I’d admit that to him.

Over here. He steered me toward a stepladder set up near the back door. But there’s nothing up there except insulation and mice.

Mice, huh? Are you trying to scare me out of looking? I started climbing, and Tanner moved in to hold the ladder steady.

I pushed open the hatch and stuck my head into the attic.

See? Tanner said.

Yes, I do. I stepped down a couple of ladder rungs and flashed him a grin. A false wall six to eight feet in from the back of the house.

Tanner squeezed past me and beamed his flashlight around the vacant space. Unbelievable. Mason should’ve caught that.

The wall’s covered in cobwebs and dust. It wouldn’t have registered unless you were looking for it.

Tanner muttered something I couldn’t make out, but having been on the receiving end of his displeasure during my FBI training—granted, always earned—I didn’t envy poor Mason.

Tanner hoisted himself into the attic, then balance-beamed his way across a joist to the wall and examined every inch of it. I don’t see any way to access what’s behind it. He shone the light over the attic’s insulation-covered floor and then the shoe impressions he’d left in the dust on the joist. It doesn’t look like anyone else has been up here recently. There must be another ceiling access panel. He climbed back down, eyeing me with interest. How’d you know to look for a secret room?

I shrugged evasively.

Tanner followed me back to the room where the fake Renoir had been found and swept his flashlight beam over every inch of the ceiling. There’s no other way up there that I can see.

I maneuvered around the agent photographing evidence. The wall between this room and the next was decorated in wood panels and elaborate moldings that looked uncomfortably familiar. I ran my fingers along the moldings.

Tanner studied me. What are you doing?

Looking for a secret panel.

Uh-huh. And you seem to know exactly what you’re doing here, Nancy Drew, because . . . ?

I expelled a breath. There was one at my grandfather’s house, okay?

Your grandfather? The one who was murdered?

Yes. I blew away a strand of long, blond hair that had escaped my ponytail. Maybe you could be helpful instead of giving me the third degree?

Sorry. Tanner beamed his flashlight at the section of paneling I was running my hands over.

My breath caught as my fingertips made contact with the pressure sensor I’d been seeking. Tanner, I’ve found—

Wait!

Primed to open it, I tossed a frown over my shoulder. Are you really going to pull the SWAT-clears-every-room-first rule on this one?

No, I thought I’d rock-paper-scissors you for the privilege. He motioned me to get out of his way.

My finger still on the sensor, I sidestepped two feet so he’d have a clear view as I pulled back the panel. You ready? I’ll slide it open and you can call the all-clear. I slid it three-quarters of an inch and froze. Uh-oh.

Tanner cursed. Please tell me you’re messing with me.

I gulped. You don’t hear that ticking?

He crouched down and shone his flashlight through the gap I’d opened. Blast, Serena, don’t move a muscle.

Yeah, got that.

Blast!

"Tanner, could you stop using that word?"

Everybody out! He shooed away the agents conducting the search. We’ve got a bomb, people. Move it. Send Douglas in here. And call in the rest of the bomb squad. Now! Tanner returned to my side. You okay?

Sweat slid down my temple and into my eye. My arm was trembling from the strain of trying to hold the panel still. Do I look like I’m okay? I said through gritted teeth.

Tanner squatted at my side once more and squinted at the gap. The panel’s been spring-loaded. He angled his flashlight in another direction. And we’re looking at enough C-4 to level the house if you make a wrong move. An expletive slipped out. Tell me more about the setup at your grandfather’s house.

I squeezed my eyes closed, then opened them again and looked Tanner in the eye without moving my head. There was a secret staircase behind a panel exactly like this one. He figured it was built to aid the Underground Railroad.

You mean like the caves under the cobblestone streets at Laclede’s Landing?

Kind of, but his led to the attic, not a tunnel. I closed off the memories before they could—

Hey, Tanner said softly, giving me the little half smile that crinkled the laugh lines around his eyes. It’s okay. We’re going to get you out of here.

I know. He’d never let me down.

I concentrated on his six feet four inches of solid muscle reassuringly standing between me and the opening, and an idea made its way to my brain. If you can find something the same width as my two fingers, I think there’s enough back pressure on the panel to hold it in place.

Tanner shook his head. If you’re wrong, we’d have less than two seconds to clear that window.

I squinted at the small slider.

It’s eight feet away. And painted shut. Not an option, Jones.

What about tacky putty? That’ll stay put.

Tanner looked at the gap and nodded. That could work. He shoved a couple of squares of chewing gum into his mouth.

No, it can’t, Special Agent Spencer Douglas of the St. Louis Division’s bomb squad said, entering the room. The spring pressure could make the panel squish it like a raisin. Give me a chance to see what we’ve got before you try any heroics.

I gulped. Okay, this was worse than I thought. Much worse.

How are you going to access the bomb if she can’t move? Tanner demanded.

Check the next room for another access panel, I said. I cleared my throat, embarrassed by the quaver in my voice.

Did your grandfather’s place have a second one? Tanner asked.

Yes.

Tanner shot Douglas a look. Be careful. It could be booby-trapped too.

Douglas motioned Tanner out of the way, then fished a tiny camera through the crack and slanted the viewer so we could see it with him. There’s a staircase.

Our access to the secret attic room, Tanner said, sounding pleased. Just like Serena called it.

Hello? Bomb, people! I reminded them.

Douglas turned the camera toward the stack of C-4. Looks like we might have a way in from the other side that’s not booby-trapped. You two— he motioned to Mason and a bomb squad member—check the next room for another panel.

As the sound of heavy furniture being moved vibrated across the floor, Douglas moved the camera around the bomb. The detonator appears simple enough to disarm.

He glanced up at Tanner and me. I don’t get it. The drugs were left in plain view. The money was stuffed in the wall safe. So why plant a bomb?

There’s got to be something we’re not seeing. What could be so important that they’d blow up everything to protect it? Anticipation welled in my chest despite the scant quarter-inch of wood between me and an armload of plastic explosives.

Douglas pulled back the camera. They’re in. Time to get out, Tanner.

Not. Leaving. My. Wingman, Tanner ground out. His eyes radiated sincerity, holding mine with fierce intensity.

My heart did a ridiculous flip. Don’t be an idiot, I said as Douglas shook his head and left the room to supervise the bomb’s defusing. There’s no point both of us risking our lives.

Tanner’s serious look morphed into mirth, making me miss whatever Douglas had barked on the other side of the wall.

I can’t believe you didn’t catch that reference, Miss Movie Buff, Tanner said, grinning.

Huh?

"Top Gun. He leaned in close to me, taking distract-Serena-from-the-bomb to dangerously stupid levels, and smiled. Tom Cruise, right?"

I blinked.

Oh for crying out loud. Really? "You think now is an appropriate time for this?" My voice squeaked a little, to my mortification.

Okay, so I had a habit of connecting people to their Hollywood look-alikes. And I’d never told Tanner who I thought his doppelganger was. But was this really the time?

Tanner’s calm was unnatural. I can’t go to my grave not knowing what movie star you think I look like.

I— Wait a minute.

Something was fishy here. I mentally reviewed what Douglas had said . . . and that I’d missed some of it. Did he just give you the all clear? I demanded.

Tanner’s eyes widened into a picture of innocence, and my arm twitched as I quelled the urge to punch him.

Hey, careful. His hand shot out to steady mine, and my heart tripped over another beat. Your mother would kill me if I let you get blown to smithereens. He grinned. And now that your Aunt Martha is buddy-buddy with that Malgucci mob guy, he went on, "your mom wouldn’t even have to get her hands dirty. She could probably get Malgucci’s family to do me in for free."

This time I did smack him.

Douglas pushed the panel open from the other side and held up the stack of C-4. You’re batting two for two, Tanner. Your Renoir was a forgery, and so’s your bomb.

I guess they hoped it would be enough to scare off any nosy parkers, Tanner said, and he must’ve felt me tremble because he wrapped an arm around me and gave me a brotherly jostle. Hey, pull yourself together. He radioed in the rest of his SWAT team. We have a secret room to explore.

The instant the musty smell from inside the wall reached my nostrils, memories assaulted me. Okay, I clearly hadn’t been thinking straight when I’d been ready to traipse into the narrow, windowless, suffocatingly stuffy stairwell that led to the attic’s hidden room.

Now that I’d come to my senses, I stepped back to let the SWAT team do their thing. I slipped outside to grab a breath of fresh air and escape the memories.

In the driveway, the drug dealer’s 1960s Corvette had been ruthlessly disassembled by agents who’d slapped the search warrant in his hand within minutes of his return from a Kansas car show. They’d recovered thirty kilos of cocaine hidden inside the body.

A good haul, but they’d been hoping for a lot more—drugs and cash.

Itching to know if they’d found anything in the attic, I headed back inside.

Tanner whistled from the secret passage’s opening. Look what we found. He held up a painting of a ballerina. A Degas and enough cash to put you in Agent Dunn’s good books for a long time.

I chuckled. Special Agent Dunn was with the drug task force and in charge of today’s search. Good, never know when I might need a favor.

Tanner set the painting down beside the forged Renoir I’d propped against the wall. What are you doing?

I accessed the FBI’s database of stolen art on my smartphone. Combing through descriptions of missing Degases.

Tanner peered at the forged Renoir. How could you tell this was fake? I didn’t see you use a black light on it or anything.

We used to use black light to look for the fluorescing given off by new signatures added to old paintings. It makes them look like they float off the page.

Yeah, I knew it was something like that.

I bit back a smile. But nowadays, a good forger would use non-fluorescing paint or a masking varnish to counter the effect.

Okay, so how did you figure out it was fake?

The cracks. As canvas ages, the paint cracks.

Tanner frowned at the forgery. It has cracks.

Sure, but a naturally aged piece has random cracks. See these? I pointed to the predominantly vertical cracks on the forgery. Forgers, trying to duplicate the cracks, bake the finished piece, then roll it in various directions. But the deepest cracks inevitably show up in the first direction the canvas is rolled.

Tanner peered more closely. Huh.

A member of the evidence recovery team handed me Bubble-Wrap for the paintings, then slapped Tanner on the back with a chuckle. He thought we’d scored a major coup.

You find anything on the Degas? Tanner asked, ignoring the friendly goading.

Not yet. I quickly wrapped and labeled the paintings for transport. I’ll have to follow up on it tomorrow. I need to get to the drop-in center.

Tanner scooped up the leftover wrapping materials and followed me outside.

Yvonne, an agent working the search warrant and fellow movie buff, flagged me down. I got that movie you wanted to borrow in my car. She hurried off.

"You should watch Top Gun," Tanner said.

"Ha! For the record, you look nothing like Tom Cruise. You have black hair and have got to be four inches taller than him."

But good-looking, right?

I rolled my eyes.

What? You don’t think Cruise is good-looking?

I restrained a grin.

Yvonne returned with the movie before I’d finished loading the paintings.

Tanner took the DVD from her. "How to Steal a Million, he read aloud and chuckled. The bureau not paying you enough?"

I plucked it from his hands. I’ll take that. Thank you, Yvonne!

She waved, already heading back inside. Anytime. Enjoy.

A romantic comedy heist, huh? Tanner went on. At least it’s not in black and white like the one you subjected me to when I was sick. I could probably endure it if we watched it over pizza.

"No need. I hadn’t planned on subjecting you to it. Nate wants to watch it with me."

"Nate? Your building superintendent Nate?"

That’s right.

He likes old movies?

Yes.

That explains a lot, Tanner muttered under his breath.

You have a problem with Nate? If either of them should have a problem with the other, it should be Nate with Tanner, considering Tanner had mistaken him for a prowler and practically dangled him off the landing outside my door at gunpoint.

Tanner raised his hands and backed away. No, no problem. You can watch movies with whoever you like.

My heart reenacted the crazy flip it had pulled when Tanner refused to leave my side during the bomb scare.

And men wish women came with a manual.

2

The youth drop-in center where I taught painting classes was housed in a former butcher shop on a sketchy street in the North End. My grandfather started the art program to give disadvantaged youth the opportunity to explore their creative side.

On something other than the sides of buildings, as Tanner liked to add.

The drop-in center sat between boarded-up shops that weren’t always as vacant as they should be, so I liked to park my car where I could keep an eye on it through the center’s large front window. But tonight, Nana’s silver BMW occupied my usual spot. This can’t be good.

Yes, Nana continued to sponsor the art program in Granddad’s honor, but she never visited. The neighborhood made her acutely uncomfortable.

Not that I blamed her. I was a gun-carrying federal agent, and the hair on the back of my neck had prickled more than once when leaving at the end of a class. I pulled in behind her car, my stomach churning. Finding the secret passage had roused too many memories of Granddad’s murder. I wasn’t sure I could keep my emotions in check if I had to face her.

I inhaled a fortifying breath and cast a fleeting glance at the men loitering in the alley. The bells above the door jingled as I opened it.

Nana grabbed my arm with a surprisingly firm grip and tugged me toward the office. I need to talk to you.

I tossed an apologetic glance to my assistant, who was setting art supplies on the easels for the arriving students. Nana had never been one of those bake-you-cookies and read-you-stories types. Her elegant clothes and perfectly coiffed hair had made her seem unapproachable somehow. That and her sharp tongue. As a kid, I’d always been on pins and needles the second I walked in the house and caught a whiff of her flowery scent. Even at twenty-eight, I still harbored my old trepidation. And it was doubly annoying that Tanner had noticed how she pushed my buttons.

I hung my jacket and purse on the coat tree next to the office door. Nana closed the door behind us, then twisted closed the blinds in the window overlooking the main room.

Oh no, whatever bee was in her bonnet was worse than I’d feared.

She turned to me, her ruby-red lips quivering. I need a favor.

Whoa! I’m sure I must’ve looked like one of those bulgy-eyed cartoon characters, because for a few seconds all I could do was stare at her. From me?

It’s for a friend.

I squinted at her skeptically. For a friend was usually code for it’s for me, but I don’t want to admit it.

Apparently reading my thoughts, she let out a disgruntled huff. For Gladys Hoffemeier. Someone stole a painting from her house.

Ridiculously, my heart lifted. Not that I was happy her friend had been burglarized, but that Nana would actually come to me. She’d never expressed much regard for my career choice. Has Gladys reported the theft to the police?

No. Nana’s voice dropped to a whisper. Her son is on the force and she doesn’t want him to know.

Why?

That’s not important.

It was if she suspected him. When did this happen?

She’s not sure. It could’ve been more than a fortnight.

Intrigued, I sat behind the desk and pulled out a pen and paper. Which painting was stolen? I’d been in Mrs. Hoffemeier’s mansion as a child. Her art collection was quite valuable, so chances were good the painting was worth over 100K and the investigation would fall under my jurisdiction. I hoped so, because I didn’t want to face Nana’s agitation if I had to tell her the theft was a police matter.

Nana pulled the paper and pen away from me. The investigation needs to stay off the record.

The demand wasn’t one I hadn’t heard before. Rich folks hated to admit to being hoodwinked in any way that might undermine their social standing, but Nana’s friend or not . . . Until I know the facts, I can’t help her. Or make any promises.

Nana returned the pen and paper. Okay, okay. It’s her Degas.

No way! My insides did a little happy dance. Could helping Nana and solving the mystery of the Degas I’d recovered this afternoon be this simple? Do you know the painting’s title? I asked, imagining pride in my grandmother’s eyes as I presented her friend with her missing Degas.

No. But the burglar left a forgery of it in its place, if that helps.

Wow, forgeries were turning up left, right, and center. It must’ve been better than the Renoir at the drug dealer’s for Gladys not to notice the switch.

Then again, maybe she was having financial trouble and swapped it out herself. It’d explain why she was reluctant to report the crime.

Were you the one who noticed the switch? I asked. Nana had always loved to scrutinize what hung on others’ walls. She might’ve trotted out the fact that her granddaughter was an art crime detective to elevate her ability to help, clueless that our help might be the last thing Gladys wanted.

No, the appraiser did.

An insurance appraiser?

No, he works for one of those big New York auction houses.

So Gladys had been hoping to raise some money. Is she sure the painting she has now is a substitute? Unscrupulous dealers have been known to pass off forgeries to unsuspecting buyers.

Nana shot me an indignant look. Of course she’s certain. And the appraiser said the paperwork she had appeared in order.

Outside the office, the noise level rose, my students no doubt growing impatient to start. Listen, I need to teach my class now. How about you make arrangements for us to visit Gladys tomorrow so I can examine the fake and get the full story from her?

No, that’s no good. If you investigate on the bureau’s time, they might ask questions. We’ll visit her tonight after you finish here.

Uh . . . Any other night, my FBI agent alter ego—not to mention my little-girl desire to please my grandmother—would’ve pounced at the opportunity. But after today’s bomb scare, I desperately needed downtime. I can’t tonight. I already have other plans.

Work-related?

No.

Then change them.

I stiffened at her demanding tone. If I’m to investigate the theft, I do it officially. I can see her first thing in the morning. Sure, Nate would understand if I bailed from our movie night and I was eager to see if Gladys’s missing Degas was the same one I’d found, but where the investigation was concerned, Nana needed to know I was in charge.

Nana let out a disapproving tut. You always were a contrary child.

I ignored the sting and forced a smile. You can let her know I’ll stop by at nine tomorrow morning.

Yes, yes. With a dismissive wave, Nana let herself out my office door and tripped over someone’s foot. Who are you? she demanded of the guy crawling past the door on all fours.

By the time I hurried out behind her, the guy was sitting on his heels below my office window. What are you doing? I demanded. He looked like the beach-bum actor Owen Wilson with his shaggy, windswept blond hair, distinctive nose, and quirky smile.

I’ll tell you what he was doing. He was listening in on our conversation. Nana smoothed her hair bun. "I’ll

Reviews for Another Day, Another Dali (Serena Jones Mysteries Book #2)

[sarahgracegrzy · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

3.5 stars

Another fun installment in the Serena Jones Mystery series!

Likes:
Despite the 3.5 star rating, I really liked this book. Orchard's characters are priceless. Incredibly quirky, fun, and engaging; they are the best part of these books.

The mystery part was well done, and kept me on my toes until the final pages! Usually I guess the mystery pretty quickly, but not with these books.

I love the furtherance of the mystery surrounding Serena's grandfather's murder! Very emotional, and well done!

Tanner. :D <3 He's just totally awesome! I love how protective he is of Serena. And not just because he likes her, either.

The romance, or lack thereof. I love how Orchard keeps it so on the back burner. I can enjoy the mystery with a hint of romance, instead of being blindsided by an annoying love triangle. It was a little more prominent than the first book, but that's to be expected. I just ignoredskimmed the very little bit there was.

Dislikes:
Quite a few of the situations felt very contrivedforced. Too coincidental. Orchard did a good job of not letting that happen in the first book, but this book just felt full of stuff like that.

Nate. My word! His character didn't make ANY sense in this book! And I'm not just saying that because I don't like him generally. His actions, the whole situation with his brother, etc, just didn't feel like Nate, and was super confusing. I don't feel that it was wrapped up and explained in the end, either.

Some *cough cough* awkward stuff. Like Serena "discreetly" shimmying off her pantyhose at the boat launch?? Uh . . . no. A) There's really no discreet way to do that. And B) it was just really awkward and made me cringe.

All in all, I enjoyed this book! Aside from some technical issues, the story was still enjoyable, and likely something I'd read again.

CONTENT NOTE: Recommended for ages 15 due to violenceintense action, and mild attractionromance.

[becky_l-1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I love this series! The mysteries are light, but yet fraught with danger. Not only is there a love interest, it's an unsteady triangle! Both Nate and Tanner are appealing in their separate ways. Sandra Orchard inserts a unique twist here: readers can contact her with their preference of beau for Serena, and that could influence the future!! Add in a quirky aunt;parents who are trying to (un)subtly marry off Serena;and a few dealings with the mob and dirty police; and one needs to duck before the bullet spray begins!FBI agent Serena Jones has to match wits against art thieves,art forgers, and find who took the missing Dali from her grandmother's friend's home. Will Serena successfully solve the case,or will she make one too many enemies in the effort?I definitely added Another Day, Another Dali by Sandra Orchard to my favorites list. I received a complimentary copy of the book from the publisher. All opinions are strictly my own, in a freely offered review.

[polarmath · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Another page turner by Sandra Orchard. I liked seeing how Serena's mind worked as she was helping to figure out who was replacing the real thing with a forgery. As Serena investigated, she she did not always like the direction that the facts were taking her, but she continued on. I liked guessing what would happen and was delighted when I guessed right and intrigued when I didn't. A great read. I received a copy from the publisher, the review is my own.

[cherylk_44 · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

I am very saddened to report that I did not like this book. It started out good. In fact, I appreciated Serena's intelligence for picking up clues that others were not smart enough to discover. In addition, Serena could handle herself in tough situations. My issues with this book stemmed from the fact that I could not form connections with any of the other characters in the story or the storyline itself. I really tried to stick with this book but after getting to the half way mark I just did not have it in me to keep with this book any longer. However, I would be willing to give this author another try in the future

[robin661_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Another Day, Another DaliSandra OrchardBook Summary: A Fast-Paced, Keep-You-Guessing Whodunit with a Dash of Romance When a valuable Salvador Dali painting belonging to her grandmother's friend is mysteriously replaced by a forgery, FBI Special Agent Serena Jones is called in to investigate. Serena hopes finding the thief will also mean finally measuring up to Nana's expectations. But when the evidence points to members of the owner's own household, it becomes increasingly clear that Serena won't be winning any popularity contests. The Dali isn't the only painting that's fallen prey to the forgery-replacing thief, raising the specter of a sophisticated theft ring--one with links to dirty cops, an aspiring young artist, and the unsolved murder of Serena's grandfather. With plenty of edge-of-your-seat moments, Another Day, Another Dali gives the plucky Serena Jones--and readers--a new high-stakes case to crack.Review: Really like this series. I was a little slow with reading the book, but it did not fail to be a fast pace story that had so many twists and turns. I can’t decide whether Tanner or Nate should get the honor of being with Serena. It was such a fun mystery. I am already looking forward to the next book. I found that so much was resolved with Serena and her Nana. It also added some details to her Grandfather’s death. I always love the idea of a secret passage. To me that is the coolest thing! I love the writing and the characters!! This story had many twists and turns enough to keep you on your toes. There many funny moments that broke the tension. I would like to thank Net Galley and Revell for allowing me to read and review this book in return for a free copy and I was never asked to write a favorable review by anyone. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission's 16 CFR, Part 255: "Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.

[alekee_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Be ready for danger to assault around every corner, or so it seemed, and Dear Aunt Martha, seems to be in the target as well as her niece Serena. This book is another of Serena’s adventures, and this one is going to leave you wanting more, and yes some big questions are going to be answered.There are two men casually, or a bit more, vying for Serena’s attention, or are they, yes and no, but you will have to make up your own mind.You are going to be wondering who the culprits are right up to the end; I kept changing my mind, and was really surprised at who is really the bad guy! Even when she is shopping, no one is safe, and Zoe, her best friend is even afraid to be around her.Once you pick this one up your ready for a big adventure, and a bumpy ride right to the end, with a page turning read.I received this book through the Publisher Revell’s Blogger Tour, and was not required to give a positive review.

[claudia.castenir · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Another Day, Another Dali is the second book in the Serena Jones Mystery series, following A Fool and His Monet. Special Agent Serena Jones is a member of the FBI’s art crime team, but it was her Nana that got her involved in solving the theft of a Dali painting. This on the heels of rushing into a drug dealer’s home based on the possibility of a valuable painting being found on site. Then things get really interesting when Serena helps out another agent who is investigating the Russian mob. All of these cases seem to be intertwined, and all Serena knows is that someone is targeting her; the trick is to figure out which of the cases her attacker or attackers is linked to. When reading a mystery, we expect to be looking for motives, and questioning motives. In life we also look for motives, and unfortunately often make incorrect assumptions about why people do what they do. In Another Day, Another Dali Orchard drives this point home. Those incorrect assumptions may result in hurt feelings and unwanted and unnecessary consequences, feelings and consequences that could be avoided with adequate trust and communication. I am looking forward to reading Serena Jones’ next adventure, and Orchard’s next clever title. I recommend this series to cozy mystery lovers and to those “more mature” ladies who have been looking for fun characters in their age bracket. Both groups (regardless of their age) are going to love Serena’s Aunt Martha. The series makes a great vacation or fun weekend read. I thank Revell Publishing and the Christian Blog Alliance for providing me with a copy of Another Day, Another Dali in exchange for my honest opinion. I received no monetary compensation.

[vintagebeckie · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Another Day, Another Dali is the second installment in the Serena Jones Mystery series by Sandra Orchard. Orchard’s intrepid sleuth gives a first person account of her adventures discovering stolen and counterfeit art and the bad guys responsible. Serena stumbles into trouble along the way, as well as a little romance from two handsome men. With family complications and clueless suspects a bit of humor lightens up the suspense. I enjoyed Another Day, Another Dali and give it a recommended rating.Another Day, Another Dali starts out with a bang (or a close call) and the action continues with ambushes, murders, and other dangerous situations. But through it all main character Serena keeps her head as she attempts to stay one step ahead of the bad guys. I love Serena’s character. She is a trained FBI agent, yet she still has her share of doubts and fears. She puts up a good front of courage, but she shakes a bit in her shoes. Her two love interests, Nate and Tanner, are charming and sweet, and I went back and forth on which one she should pick. Other minor characters from the first book are interwoven through the novel, but this one can easily be read as a standalone. The mystery begins and ends within the book. There are a number of loose ends, however, which promise to be tied up in the future. I’m hoping Serena’s exploits continue for some time to come.For fans of light mysteries, Another Day, Another Dali is a good choice. A quick read, this book is perfect to curling up with during the long winter nights.Recommended.Audience: adults.(Thanks to Revell for a complimentary copy. All opinions expressed are mine alone.)

[lcjohnson1988_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Title: Another Day Another Dali (Serena Jones Mystery #2)Author:Sandra OrchardPages:336Year:2016Publisher: RevellMy rating is4 stars.Serena Jones is working two cases of art theft in this mystery. She goes undercover as a British hippy named Sara to try to discover the identity of an art forger. She plays her mentor, Tanner’s, girlfriend while he investigates the Russian mafia. She is also the maid of honor at her best friend Zoe’s wedding and is coerced into going bridesmaid dressing shopping. Her Nana expects her to solve the mysterious disappearance of one of her friend’s paintings in record time. So Serena has no pressure in life, right? On top of that, she has two men in her life that she says are just friends, but every time she is with one or the other, she feels attracted to them. She is confused about this and does her best to put that on the back burner.As Serena’s search for clues and asking of questions continues, she faces danger around every corner as she is mugged, shot at, unknowingly activates a bomb, and discovers a dead body and much more. She also discovers her Nana isn’t as anxious as Serena is to reopen her grandfather’s case, but she doesn’t know why. Her grandmother has always been tight-lipped about that time. Serena wonders why that is and plans to get to the bottom of things.First of all, I love the title of the two books in the series so far…very clever! The titles grabbed my attention and made me curious about the contents of the books. Aunt Martha is a hoot. I also find the romantic angle of the story entertaining. I like the recurring mystery surrounding Serena’s grandfather’s murder. Serena is slowly gathering pieces of the puzzle of the theft of one of his paintings as well as his murder. I can’t wait to find out the culprit’s identity! Another mystery is to be released in the summer of 2017 wherein I’m sure we will learn more about Serena’s romance and her ongoing fight to get justice for her grandfather.Disclosure of Material Connection: I received one or more of the products or services mentioned above for free in the hope that I would mention it on my blog. Regardless, I only recommend products or services I use personally and believe will be good for my readers. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255. “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”