This was a rocky one, a sentiment that seems to be common.

I could almost hear Fleetwood Mac songs playing in my head as I was reading.

"No one goes home early." Okay, I'm interested.

I feel like sitting and thinking and staring out a rainy window.

The formula of “Langdon with a fit, brainy brunette that can get dirty, has access to some landmark, and has a secret” is getting old.

We all need someone like Hans Hubermann in our lives.

A great book for its genre, but not my style.