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Contents

Copyright and Disclaimer

About Dark Wine at Dawn

Join Jenna Barwin's VIP Readers

1. The Challenge

2. Anger Management

3. Reconciliation

4. His Choice

5. New Job Complications

6. The Offer

7. Plans Change

8. Dead Bodies Seem to Follow Her

9. Confidential

10. The Ex-Boyfriend

11. Divided Loyalties

12. Unwelcomed Interruptions

13. Still Not Ready

14. Impossible Accusations

15. Unwarranted Interrogation

16. Vengeance
17. Quick Switch

18. New Directions

19. Resigned to the Inevitable

20. Good News, Bad News

21. Lead, Follow, or Shut Up

22. Hope

23. A Gift

24. Trepidation

25. Third Time’s the Charm

26. Mortal Demands

27. Immortal Demands

28. Holding the Line

29. Twisted Tales

30. We’re Through

31. Letting Go

32. Unwelcomed Sleep

33. Killer Instincts

34. What a Headache

35. Horrorfest Videoconference

36. Winging It
37. Digging Deeper

38. Retreat

39. The Hunt

40. Don’t Lose Him

41. Oops

42. Moonset

43. The Chase is On

44. He Who Helps Himself

45. Turning the Tables

46. Dealing the Cards

47. Betrayal…Maybe

48. Laid Bare

49. Hunger

50. Reunited

51. Cutting a Deal

52. Against Common Sense

53. Life or Death

54. The Gambit

55. No Means No

56. Consequences
57. The Truth

58. More Unpleasant Surprises

59. Frying Pan

60. Into the Fire

61. Roasting

62. On the Carving Board

63. Clear Your Desk

64. Wake Up and Smell the Coffee

65. Surprise Visitors

66. Vacation, Finally

Also by Jenna Barwin

Acknowledgments and Dedications

Acknowledgments and Dedications

Dark Wine at Dawn by Jenna Barwin

Copyright © 2023 Jenna Barwin. All rights reserved.

This book or any portion of it may not be reproduced in any form or

by any means, or used in any manner whatsoever, without the

express written permission of the publisher or author except for the

use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, public

entities, products, places, events and incidents are either the
products of
the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any
resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, public
entities,

locales, or actual events is purely coincidental. Any trademarks,

service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be
the

property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference.
Opinions of the characters are not necessarily those of the author.

Printed in the United States of America

First printing & ebook edition, 2023

Hidden Depths Publishing

Dana Point, California

www.hiddendepthspublishing.com

Cover design: Covers by Christian (Christian Bentulan)

Images used under license from Stock.adobe.com and

Shutterstock.com and Jacob Lund Photography ApS

Cover art is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted in
the cover is a model or artist’s creation.

Editing team: Katrina Diaz-Arnold, Refine Editing, LLC; Trenda K.

Lundin, It’s Your Story Content Editing; Arran McNicol, Editing 720.

Library of Congress Control Number: 2023906564

eBook ISBN 978-1-952755-11-8

Print 978-1-952755-12-5
1) Paranormal Romance 2) Urban Fantasy Romance 3) Vampire
Romance 4) Vampire Mystery 5) Vampire Suspense 6) Paranormal

Romantic Suspense 7) Romantic Fantasy

V1.0

Dark Wine at Dawn by Jenna Barwin

Copyright © 2023 Jenna Barwin. All rights reserved.

This book or any portion of it may not be reproduced in any form or

by any means, or used in any manner whatsoever, without the

express written permission of the publisher or author except for the

use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, public

entities, products, places, events and incidents are either the
products of

the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any

resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, public
entities,

locales, or actual events is purely coincidental. Any trademarks,

service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be
the

property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference.
Opinions of the characters are not necessarily those of the author.

Printed in the United States of America

First printing & ebook edition, 2023

Hidden Depths Publishing

Dana Point, California

www.hiddendepthspublishing.com

Cover design: Covers by Christian (Christian Bentulan)

Images used under license from Stock.adobe.com and

Shutterstock.com and Jacob Lund Photography ApS

Cover art is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted in
the cover is a model or artist’s creation.

Editing team: Katrina Diaz-Arnold, Refine Editing, LLC; Trenda K.

Lundin, It’s Your Story Content Editing; Arran McNicol, Editing 720.

Library of Congress Control Number: 2023906564

eBook ISBN 978-1-952755-11-8

Print 978-1-952755-12-5

1) Paranormal Romance 2) Urban Fantasy Romance 3) Vampire

Romance 4) Vampire Mystery 5) Vampire Suspense 6) Paranormal

Romantic Suspense 7) Romantic Fantasy

V1.0

About Dark Wine at Dawn

How many ways can a Christmas vacation go wrong?

On their first vacation together, Henry and Cerissa travel to the New
York so Henry may renew the

vampire bond with his maker, Anne-Louise—he has no choice in the

matter—but after the bond’s

renewed, he plans to spend two weeks playing tourist with Cerissa.

But when Anne-Louise offers him a way to escape the maker-child
bond forever, what she demands

in exchange for his release is beyond the pale, and it turns Henry and
Cerissa’s much-needed vacation

into a battleground.

To make matters worse, mortals start popping up dead—and staying

that way. Based on

circumstantial evidence, the security chief for the New York vampires
arrests both Henry and Anne-

Louise for conspiracy to murder.

Cerissa must move into overdrive and use her skills analyzing vampire
DNA to prove Henry’s

innocence. Because if she doesn’t succeed before dawn arrives, this

trip to New York may be his last.

About Dark Wine at Dawn

How many ways can a Christmas vacation go wrong?

On their first vacation together, Henry and Cerissa travel to the New
York so Henry may renew the

vampire bond with his maker, Anne-Louise—he has no choice in the

matter—but after the bond’s

renewed, he plans to spend two weeks playing tourist with Cerissa.

But when Anne-Louise offers him a way to escape the maker-child

bond forever, what she demands
in exchange for his release is beyond the pale, and it turns Henry and
Cerissa’s much-needed vacation

into a battleground.

To make matters worse, mortals start popping up dead—and staying

that way. Based on

circumstantial evidence, the security chief for the New York vampires
arrests both Henry and Anne-

Louise for conspiracy to murder.

Cerissa must move into overdrive and use her skills analyzing vampire
DNA to prove Henry’s

innocence. Because if she doesn’t succeed before dawn arrives, this

trip to New York may be his last.

Praise for Dark Wine at Dawn

“Immortal shenanigans at their finest! What a ride!”

~InD’tale Magazine

“A tantalizing murder/mystery with a vampirish slant. Everything is

there that readers of vampire

novels love. It’s sexy, it’s exciting, and it’s unpredictable.”

~The Wishing Shelf

“Dark Wine at Dawn hurls WOW moments across its pages like the
whale that unexpectedly

breaches beside your boat, nearly throwing you overboard. I actually

shrieked out loud twice.”
~ Shari Bonin-Pratt’s Ink Flare

Praise for Dark Wine at Dawn

“Immortal shenanigans at their finest! What a ride!”

~InD’tale Magazine

“A tantalizing murder/mystery with a vampirish slant. Everything is

there that readers of vampire

novels love. It’s sexy, it’s exciting, and it’s unpredictable.”

~The Wishing Shelf

“Dark Wine at Dawn hurls WOW moments across its pages like the
whale that unexpectedly

breaches beside your boat, nearly throwing you overboard. I actually

shrieked out loud twice.”

~ Shari Bonin-Pratt’s Ink Flare

Join Jenna Barwin's VIP Readers

Want to know about new releases, and receive special

announcements, exclusive excerpts, and other

FREE fun stuff? SUBSCRIBE here to join Jenna’s VIP Readers and
receive Jenna Barwin’s

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And if the above subscribe button doesn’t work, to sign up go to:

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Join Jenna Barwin's VIP Readers

Want to know about new releases, and receive special

announcements, exclusive excerpts, and other
FREE fun stuff? SUBSCRIBE here to join Jenna’s VIP Readers and
receive Jenna Barwin’s

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And if the above subscribe button doesn’t work, to sign up go to:

https://jennabarwin.com/jenna-barwins-newsletter/

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The Challenge

The Challenge

NEW YORK COLLECTIVE—EARLY DECEMBER

S now fell gently, blanketing the balcony on the tenth floor of the
mid-Manhattan high-rise, the late

dusk sky obscured with clouds, the magenta fading to deep grays.
From the living room couch,

Cerissa Patel watched a blue jay land on the balcony rail and steal
the last peanut she’d left out for

the birds.
Instead of staring at the skyline, she could be reading, watching
television, or doing just about

anything other than obsessing over what was happening twelve

floors above her.

But her mind wouldn’t cooperate, so she sipped on her glass of

Cabernet and stared out the

balcony’s floor-to-ceiling window, focused on the hodgepodge view of

skyscrapers pressed close

together—some shorter ones made of old tawny bricks, some taller

ones of glass and steel, with the

Empire State Building and its art deco style and iconic spire in the
distance. All the buildings were lit

up against the night sky.

Despite the stately view, her mind immediately shot back to the
problem worrying her: Why hasn’t

Henry returned?

For this trip, she and her fiancé shared the richly appointed one-
bedroom apartment. The elegant

lodgings, part of the guest floor at the New York Collective, were
courtesy of Anne-Louise. Cerissa

took another sip of wine and tried to relax while she waited for Henry
to finish his visit with his

maker.

So far, he’d been gone longer than he should have been.

Although Enrique Bautista Vasquez—Henry to his close friends—was
over two hundred years old,

Anne-Louise refused to let the blood bond between them die and
insisted on biting him multiple times

a year to keep the maker-child connection alive.

To limit the interruptions her demands made on their life together,

Henry and Cerissa had cut a deal

with her. In exchange for only taking his blood twice annually, Henry
would build a house on his

property in California, so when Anne-Louise visited Sierra Escondida,

she could lodge there.

Until construction on the new dwelling finished, Henry preferred to

travel to New York to see his

maker. Cerissa had joined him for this trip, having planned events for
a fun two-week vacation. Now,

she waited for him to return from Anne-Louise’s second feeding of

the calendar year, so they could

finally begin their exploration of the city together.

Despite the relaxing evening view and the promise of a fun vacation,
irritation rode her. Obsessing

over the situation wasn’t helping. She did her best to accept the fact
Anne-Louise wouldn’t let go. But

the longer she waited, the more her worry grew. Her growling
stomach, hungry for dinner, didn’t help

either.
the balcony on the tenth floor of the mid-Manhattan high-rise, the
late

The front door flew open. “Esa puta! Ahora todo se va a la mierda.”

dusk sky obscured with clouds, the magenta fading to deep grays.
From the living room couch,

Startled, Cerissa jumped to her feet and set the half-drunk wineglass
on the coffee table, almost

Cerissa Patel watched a blue jay land on the balcony rail and steal
the last peanut she’d left out fortoppling it. Henry calling his maker a
whore, and complaining that it was all going to shit, whatever

“it” was, couldn’t be good. “Quique—”

Instead of staring at the skyline, she could be reading, watching

television, or doing just about

His already expanded pupils blew wider, turning his normally

bourbon-brown beauties almost

solid black. “I will not spend a minute longer in the Collective’s

building. We are leaving. Pack.

But her mind wouldn’t cooperate, so she sipped on her glass of

Cabernet and stared out theNow.”

balcony’s floor-to-ceiling window, focused on the hodgepodge view of

skyscrapers pressed close

To say Henry and Anne-Louise didn’t always get along was an

understatement, but this was far

together—some shorter ones made of old tawny bricks, some taller

ones of glass and steel, with themore anger on his part than Cerissa
had seen before.
Empire State Building and its art deco style and iconic spire in the
distance. All the buildings were lit

Her bestie, Karen, had warned her that joining Henry while he visited
his maker might be a bad

idea. But she’d wanted to see New York at Christmas. The city was so
beautiful, so magical, so

Why hasn’t exhilarating all lit up and decorated for the holiday. So,
she’d embarked on the cross-country trip with

her eyes wide open.

For this trip, she and her fiancé shared the richly appointed one-
bedroom apartment. The elegant

That didn’t mean she’d tolerate being Henry’s whipping girl.

lodgings, part of the guest floor at the New York Collective, were
courtesy of Anne-Louise. Cerissa

“Wait a minute. You don’t give orders, remember?” She eyed him in
his dark charcoal wool suit,

took another sip of wine and tried to relax while she waited for Henry
to finish his visit with histhe stark white dress shirt unbuttoned at the
top, his long ebony hair tied back—and fang marks absent

from his bare, sensual throat. “What happened?”

“Anne-Louise went too far this time. Please, pack.”

Although Enrique Bautista Vasquez—Henry to his close friends—was

over two hundred years old,

That answer wasn’t satisfactory at all. His vague reply failed to

explain the sudden change in
Anne-Louise refused to let the blood bond between them die and
insisted on biting him multiple timesplans. “Did you at least renew
the blood bond?”

He shook his head vigorously, and his ponytail whipped with the
motion. “No. It doesn’t matter. I

To limit the interruptions her demands made on their life together,

Henry and Cerissa had cut a dealrefuse to spend one more night
here. Not as her guest.”

with her. In exchange for only taking his blood twice annually, Henry
would build a house on his

Damn. “If we leave now, when will you renew the bond? You were
supposed to get the bite done

tonight, so we don’t have to see her again until next year.”

Until construction on the new dwelling finished, Henry preferred to

travel to New York to see his

“I will figure it out later.” He marched into the bedroom, tossed his
suitcase onto the bed, and

maker. Cerissa had joined him for this trip, having planned events for
a fun two-week vacation. Now,started taking his clothes from the
closet.

she waited for him to return from Anne-Louise’s second feeding of

the calendar year, so they could

She shivered. The Alatus Lux crystal embedded in Henry’s wrist

connected their emotions as

sensations, and his anger chilled her.

Despite the relaxing evening view and the promise of a fun vacation,
irritation rode her. Obsessing

She followed and touched his arm to regain his attention, hoping the
contact would calm him

over the situation wasn’t helping. She did her best to accept the fact
Anne-Louise wouldn’t let go. Butwithout using her aura. “We can’t
leave—we need some place to stay for tonight. It’s four weeks

the longer she waited, the more her worry grew. Her growling
stomach, hungry for dinner, didn’t helpbefore Christmas. Everything’s
booked. But if you can find us a hotel to move to, I’ll pack and go

with you. But until you have a solid plan, I’m not packing.”

“We have no need of a hotel. Only a plane.”

Startled, Cerissa jumped to her feet and set the half-drunk wineglass
on the coffee table, almost

“It’s too late in the evening for you to fly us to California and arrive
before dawn—”

toppling it. Henry calling his maker a whore, and complaining that it
was all going to shit, whatever

“On the contrary. My plane is being made ready as we speak. If we

leave now for La Guardia

airport, we will reach Sierra Escondida before sunrise.”

His already expanded pupils blew wider, turning his normally

bourbon-brown beauties almost

She inhaled a breath. He’d dressed in the handsome suit so they

could go out together as soon as he
solid black. “I will not spend a minute longer in the Collective’s
building. We are leaving. Pack.returned. “But I haven’t had dinner. I
was waiting for you to return, for your company. And… I wanted to
see New York at Christmas—all the lights and ice skating. We even
took lessons so we

To say Henry and Anne-Louise didn’t always get along was an

understatement, but this was farcould skate together.”

“We can skate another time.”

Her bestie, Karen, had warned her that joining Henry while he visited
his maker might be a bad

“Henry, I scheduled two weeks off work to be here with you. Think
about this. Talk to me. Besides,

idea. But she’d wanted to see New York at Christmas. The city was so
beautiful, so magical, soyou can’t pilot the plane when you’re this
angry. It’s not safe.”

exhilarating all lit up and decorated for the holiday. So, she’d
embarked on the cross-country trip with

He growled angrily. Growled.

He’d never growled at her before. In her presence, maybe, but not at
her.

Accompanying the growl, he glowered, his expression turning darker.

“Wait a minute. You don’t give orders, remember?” She eyed him in
his dark charcoal wool suit,

That was it. She refused to stay there one minute longer. After
grabbing her coat, purse, and the cute
the stark white dress shirt unbuttoned at the top, his long ebony hair
tied back—and fang marks absentlittle mink-colored fake-fur hat
Karen had talked her into buying, she marched to the front door.

In a whoosh, Henry blocked her from reaching her objective. He

pointed at the bedroom door.

“You aren’t leaving. Go pack.”

That answer wasn’t satisfactory at all. His vague reply failed to

explain the sudden change in

“No. You can come with me to Katie O’Leary’s restaurant, and we can
talk, or you can wait here

while I go out for dinner. I’ll be back in two hours.”

He shook his head vigorously, and his ponytail whipped with the
motion. “No. It doesn’t matter. I

He growled again.

She felt like thumping his chest and saying, “Bad dog,” but didn’t.
Instead, she looked him in the

Damn. “If we leave now, when will you renew the bond? You were
supposed to get the bite doneeyes and said, “Stop that right now.”

In response, he leaned against the front door, arms crossed, gripping

his biceps and tapping one

“I will figure it out later.” He marched into the bedroom, tossed his
suitcase onto the bed, andfinger.

“Henry, you’re being childish.”

She shivered. The Alatus Lux crystal embedded in Henry’s wrist

connected their emotions as
“I am not being childish. I’m your mate. You should honor my wishes
in this.”

“Clearly, Anne-Louise got under your skin and you’re reacting. I won’t
honor wishes you haven’t

She followed and touched his arm to regain his attention, hoping the
contact would calm himfully explained to me. Now come with me,
and we can discuss whatever is bothering you over dinner,

without using her aura. “We can’t leave—we need some place to stay
for tonight. It’s four weeksor wait here alone—but either way, quit
blocking the door.”

before Christmas. Everything’s booked. But if you can find us a hotel

to move to, I’ll pack and go

He didn’t move.

She refused to stay and pander to his mood. Brushing her sleeve
back, she opened her watch

crystal, tapped the face, and flashed to the hallway outside the
apartment. Using Lux technology was a

calculated risk, but the odds were small that anyone would notice her
sudden appearance in the

“On the contrary. My plane is being made ready as we speak. If we

leave now for La Guardiahallway.

In a few steps, she arrived at the elevator and stabbed the call
button, punching the down arrow

She inhaled a breath. He’d dressed in the handsome suit so they

could go out together as soon as hemultiple times for good measure,
then ordered a taxi pickup on her phone. This close to Grand
returned. “But I haven’t had dinner. I was waiting for you to return,
for your company. And… ICentral Station, she wouldn’t wait long.

wanted to see New York at Christmas—all the lights and ice skating.
We even took lessons so we

The rapid heartbeat, tight throat, and sweaty palms, which always
occurred when adrenaline

flooded her system, finally slowed, relaxed, and dried as she rode the
elevator. Then it hit her: her

Lux supervisors would see the fight. The contact lenses she wore
recorded everything—except

“Henry, I scheduled two weeks off work to be here with you. Think
about this. Talk to me. Besides,certain personal moments, such as
making love to Henry—but she could do nothing to stop the Lux

from viewing the domestic dispute, as much as she hated the

violation of her privacy.

By the time she reached the curb, the taxi waited for her, and she slid
into the back seat, again

doubting the wisdom of joining Henry on this trip. Perhaps Karen had
been correct. But she would

think clearer after she ate.

That was it. She refused to stay there one minute longer. After
grabbing her coat, purse, and the cute

The light snow would have made the street magical, with the
sparkling white lights in the parkway

trees, except Henry had taken a lovely night and turned it into a
battlefield.
, Henry blocked her from reaching her objective. He pointed at the
bedroom door.

Why? Why wouldn’t he discuss what angered him?

Getting out of the cab in front of the famous Katie O’Leary’s

restaurant, she pushed those thoughts

“No. You can come with me to Katie O’Leary’s restaurant, and we can
talk, or you can wait hereaside. She’d earlier reserved a table for two,
and the maître d’ agreed to seat her by the big picture

window that ran the width of the restaurant, even though her
companion was running “late.” It was a

weeknight, and there were plenty of open tables.

She felt like thumping his chest and saying, “Bad dog,” but didn’t.
Instead, she looked him in the

The waitress greeted her right away. “May I bring you anything while
you’re waiting?”

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to order. I don’t know when he’ll join me.”

In response, he leaned against the front door, arms crossed, gripping

his biceps and tapping one

Or if he would at all.

The waitress angled her stylus, prepared to take down the details on
the electronic pad. For an

appetizer, Cerissa ordered their best scotch and a bowl of steamed

clams, then for dinner, added a

swordfish steak pan-fried in lemon butter and capers, along with

rosemary potatoes, to be
“Clearly, Anne-Louise got under your skin and you’re reacting. I won’t
honor wishes you haven’taccompanied by a glass of the house
Sauvignon Blanc.

fully explained to me. Now come with me, and we can discuss
whatever is bothering you over dinner,

After the waitress left, Cerissa propped her phone against the white
ceramic caddy that held

packets of sugar, opened the e-book app, and read, not caring if
anyone found her activity strange. She

would calm down, enjoy her meal, and be ready to talk with Henry
when she returned.

She refused to stay and pander to his mood. Brushing her sleeve
back, she opened her watch

The scotch arrived, as did the clams and a freshly baked sourdough
loaf. She tore off a piece,

crystal, tapped the face, and flashed to the hallway outside the
apartment. Using Lux technology was adipped it into the clam broth,
and moaned when she bit through the hard crust soaked in broth.
She

calculated risk, but the odds were small that anyone would notice her
sudden appearance in thethen used the little seafood fork to pry
loose the clam meat and enjoy the well-spiced shellfish.

Soon, the tension in her chest unwound, and she hadn’t even sipped
the scotch yet.

In a few steps, she arrived at the elevator and stabbed the call
button, punching the down arrow
During her three months engaged to Henry, she’d learned not to tie
herself to his moods. She could

multiple times for good measure, then ordered a taxi pickup on her
phone. This close to Grandchoose to be happy even when he was
being his demanding, broody self.

Sometimes all it required was a little space and a good meal.

The rapid heartbeat, tight throat, and sweaty palms, which always
occurred when adrenaline

Except—she couldn’t shake the lingering worries as they hovered in

the back of her mind,

flooded her system, finally slowed, relaxed, and dried as she rode the
elevator. Then it hit her: herdistracting her from the smutty novel she
read.

Lux supervisors would see the fight. The contact lenses she wore
recorded everything—except

He wouldn’t leave New York without her, would he?

certain personal moments, such as making love to Henry—but she

could do nothing to stop the Lux

No. Absolutely not. He loved her and would never, ever abandon her.

More importantly, what had Anne-Louise done to upset Henry?

Cerissa took another bite,

By the time she reached the curb, the taxi waited for her, and she slid
into the back seat, againpondering the matter and nodding to herself.
She couldn’t imagine what new mischief his maker had

doubting the wisdom of joining Henry on this trip. Perhaps Karen had
been correct. But she wouldcreated to stir his anger so much. Yes,
indeed, that was the better question. What had Anne-Louise done?

The light snow would have made the street magical, with the
sparkling white lights in the parkway

And Cerissa wouldn’t hold back asking him when they reunited.

Getting out of the cab in front of the famous Katie O’Leary’s

restaurant, she pushed those thoughts

aside. She’d earlier reserved a table for two, and the maître d’ agreed
to seat her by the big picture

window that ran the width of the restaurant, even though her
companion was running “late.” It was a

The waitress angled her stylus, prepared to take down the details on
the electronic pad. For an

appetizer, Cerissa ordered their best scotch and a bowl of steamed

clams, then for dinner, added a

swordfish steak pan-fried in lemon butter and capers, along with

rosemary potatoes, to be

After the waitress left, Cerissa propped her phone against the white
ceramic caddy that held

packets of sugar, opened the e-book app, and read, not caring if
anyone found her activity strange. She

would calm down, enjoy her meal, and be ready to talk with Henry
when she returned.

The scotch arrived, as did the clams and a freshly baked sourdough
loaf. She tore off a piece,
dipped it into the clam broth, and moaned when she bit through the
hard crust soaked in broth. She

then used the little seafood fork to pry loose the clam meat and enjoy
the well-spiced shellfish.

Soon, the tension in her chest unwound, and she hadn’t even sipped
the scotch yet.

During her three months engaged to Henry, she’d learned not to tie
herself to his moods. She could

choose to be happy even when he was being his demanding, broody

self.

Sometimes all it required was a little space and a good meal.

Except—she couldn’t shake the lingering worries as they hovered in

the back of her mind,

distracting her from the smutty novel she read.

He wouldn’t leave New York without her, would he?

No. Absolutely not. He loved her and would never, ever abandon her.

More importantly, what had Anne-Louise done to upset Henry?

Cerissa took another bite,

pondering the matter and nodding to herself. She couldn’t imagine

what new mischief his maker had

created to stir his anger so much. Yes, indeed, that was the better
question. What had Anne-Louise

done?

And Cerissa wouldn’t hold back asking him when they reunited.
Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Anger Management

Anger Management

COLLECTIVE APARTMENT #1010—SHORTLY AFTER CERISSA’S

DEPARTURE

H enry clenched his fists, then released them. The rage bubbling
through his chest meant

following Cerissa risked disaster. For the same reason, she was right.
It was unwise to get

behind the controls of a plane in his current mood, as much as he

hated admitting the truth. And he

refused to abandon Cerissa in New York—he loved her too deeply to

leave the city without her.

So they’d have to talk this through before he could convince her to

terminate their vacation, which

meant joining her for dinner. But he had to settle himself enough to
speak civilly about Anne-Louise’s
latest unreasonable demand.

Resigned to staying one more night, he grabbed his coat and cane,
then dashed out the door and to

the elevator. As part of his two-week vacation, he’d planned on

visiting Saint Patrick’s Cathedral. He

checked the church’s schedule on his phone, hoping luck was with
him.

It was. The church offered confession between three and nine p.m.,
accommodating those who

worked—or slept—during the day.

As he walked, he sent a message to the general aviation service

canceling the plane for tonight.

Minutes later, he arrived at the church. He stood outside, reflecting

on the beautiful gothic-style

building, the spires like fairy lace covered in snowflakes, and peace
touched his soul, chasing away

the rage from earlier.

He’d lived in New York when they began constructing the cathedral,
but work halted when the

Civil War started, and he left New York around the same time, so he
wasn’t there to see the structure

finished in 1878.

Still, he enjoyed visiting the old building, one of the few existing from
the period when he’d called
New York home. Back then, he’d made his living as a restaurateur
and chef. Enrique’s Restaurant,

which he’d christened after his given name, had specialized in cuisine
from his birthplace: Veracruz,

Mexico.

Striding inside Saint Pat’s, Henry slid a generous donation into the
tithe box slot, then took a pew,

knelt, and made his heart ready. When he stood to enter the
confessional line—which had grown

longer while he prayed—he tried to set aside his irritation over the
wait, and realized he had one

more sin to confess. Tapping on his phone’s notepad, he reluctantly

added the sin of impatience to his

confession list.

He inhaled a deep breath and let the peace of the room fill him
again. Beautiful poinsettias

bordered the steps on both sides of the carpet leading to the altar,
and hanging lights illuminated the

stained-glass windows.

The line moved forward again, and a carved wood door swung out.
His turn. He stepped into the

then released them. The rage bubbling through his chest meantopen
booth. According to the name placard, Father Pearson would hear his
confession. “Bless me,
following Cerissa risked disaster. For the same reason, she was right.
It was unwise to getfather, for I have sinned. It has been seven days
since my last confession. These are my sins.” He behind the controls
of a plane in his current mood, as much as he hated admitting the
truth. And heglanced at the list on his phone. “I allowed my righteous
anger at someone else affect my relationship

with my fiancée.”

So they’d have to talk this through before he could convince her to

terminate their vacation, which

The priest chuckled. “Righteous?”

meant joining her for dinner. But he had to settle himself enough to
speak civilly about Anne-Louise’s

“My ma—er, I mean, my ex-wife made a demand that was

outrageous, impossible.”

“And your fiancée—how did you express your anger at her?”

Resigned to staying one more night, he grabbed his coat and cane,
then dashed out the door and to

“I yelled and demanded she immediately leave New York with me.”

the elevator. As part of his two-week vacation, he’d planned on

visiting Saint Patrick’s Cathedral. He

“You did not strike her?”

“No. Never.”

It was. The church offered confession between three and nine p.m.,
accommodating those who

“And you did not call her names?”

“No—I wouldn’t. But I was quite demanding and persistent, and I
raised my voice at her.”

As he walked, he sent a message to the general aviation service

canceling the plane for tonight.

“I understand. Continue your confession, please.”

Minutes later, he arrived at the church. He stood outside, reflecting

on the beautiful gothic-style

“Impatience at waiting in line.” Some of the sins unique to being a

vampire couldn’t be explicitly

building, the spires like fairy lace covered in snowflakes, and peace
touched his soul, chasing awayconfessed to a mortal, although he’d
practiced other ways to frame them. “Thoughts of gluttony that I

did not act upon.”

He’d lived in New York when they began constructing the cathedral,
but work halted when the

He then named a few lesser sins.

Civil War started, and he left New York around the same time, so he
wasn’t there to see the structure

The priest offered him suggestions for dealing with anger, insightful
ideas—reminding him of the

advice he’d received from Father Matt back home—and gave him a
penance of five Hail Mary

Still, he enjoyed visiting the old building, one of the few existing from
the period when he’d calledprayers.
New York home. Back then, he’d made his living as a restaurateur
and chef. Enrique’s Restaurant,

He made an act of contrition, thanked the father for his time, and
exited the booth. Performing

which he’d christened after his given name, had specialized in cuisine
from his birthplace: Veracruz,penance immediately had been
ingrained in him, so he stopped in a pew to say the prayer
repetitions,

then strode through the vestibule and out into the night.

Striding inside Saint Pat’s, Henry slid a generous donation into the
tithe box slot, then took a pew,

Having made himself right with God and gained control of his rage
once again, he had more

knelt, and made his heart ready. When he stood to enter the
confessional line—which had grownamends to make.

longer while he prayed—he tried to set aside his irritation over the
wait, and realized he had one

more sin to confess. Tapping on his phone’s notepad, he reluctantly

added the sin of impatience to his

He inhaled a deep breath and let the peace of the room fill him
again. Beautiful poinsettias

bordered the steps on both sides of the carpet leading to the altar,
and hanging lights illuminated the

stained-glass windows.

The line moved forward again, and a carved wood door swung out.
His turn. He stepped into the
open booth. According to the name placard, Father Pearson would
hear his confession. “Bless me,

father, for I have sinned. It has been seven days since my last
confession. These are my sins.” He

glanced at the list on his phone. “I allowed my righteous anger at

someone else affect my relationship

with my fiancée.”

The priest chuckled. “Righteous?”

“My ma—er, I mean, my ex-wife made a demand that was

outrageous, impossible.”

“And your fiancée—how did you express your anger at her?”

“I yelled and demanded she immediately leave New York with me.”

“You did not strike her?”

“No. Never.”

“And you did not call her names?”

“No—I wouldn’t. But I was quite demanding and persistent, and I

raised my voice at her.”

“I understand. Continue your confession, please.”

“Impatience at waiting in line.” Some of the sins unique to being a

vampire couldn’t be explicitly

confessed to a mortal, although he’d practiced other ways to frame

them. “Thoughts of gluttony that I

did not act upon.”

He then named a few lesser sins.

The priest offered him suggestions for dealing with anger, insightful
ideas—reminding him of the

advice he’d received from Father Matt back home—and gave him a
penance of five Hail Mary

prayers.

He made an act of contrition, thanked the father for his time, and
exited the booth. Performing

penance immediately had been ingrained in him, so he stopped in a

pew to say the prayer repetitions,

then strode through the vestibule and out into the night.

Having made himself right with God and gained control of his rage
once again, he had more

amends to make.

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Reconciliation

Reconciliation
KATIE O’LEARY’S RESTAURANT—AROUND THE SAME TIME

T he swordfish and the wine arrived. Yum. Cerissa continued reading

as she ate, and the growing

sense of calm seeped into her bones as she distracted herself with
someone else’s fictional

problems.

A short time later, an itchy feeling caused her to retreat from the
book, like she was being watched.

A ping through the crystal told her Henry lurked nearby.

Glancing up from her phone, she found him standing on the other
side of the picture window. He

had forgotten his hat, and light snowflakes stuck to his long hair.
Stray strands from his ponytail hung

to his shoulders. At least he’d remembered to wear his coat and

gloves.

She had bought the Inverness wool coat for him as a joke, since a
soap opera vampire of a bygone

era had made the classic English style memorable. But Henry liked
the Inverness and wore the

protection against cold so he’d blend in with mortals—he couldn’t

walk around without a coat in the

middle of a snowy winter’s night.

He stood there, back straight, holding the brass knob of his black
beechwood cane with both hands,
staring at her. The cane wasn’t a stylistic choice, nor did he need its
support while he walked. The

hollow beechwood concealed a silver dagger, which he could

withdraw by gripping the brass knob

and twisting, so he didn’t touch the silver. The hidden knife was
illegal, but the police rarely bothered

a gentleman such as himself.

She suspected he had a small Beretta in his back holster, ignoring

New York’s strict gun laws. He

never went unarmed when out alone. Then again, he served as a

reserve police officer. Did his

reserve status provide an exception to the rule?

She made eye contact but couldn’t read his mood. He’d blocked the
crystal other than to tell her he

was nearby. She motioned to the seat across from her and tilted her
head in invitation.

He gave a lone nod and entered the restaurant, checked his coat and
gloves, but kept his grip on the

cane. One-handed, he brushed the snow out of his hair, and his
ponytail came undone. Stripping off

the rawhide thong that held the strands back, he shook his head,
letting his long hair hang naturally.

Since she liked his hair loose, she took it as an attempt to appease
her. The perfectly tailored suit
he wore blended in with the other business types scattered
throughout the elegant restaurant.

Taking the seat across from her, he said, “Thank you for inviting me
to join you. Under the

circumstances, I would have understood if you had ignored me.”

She laid her fork on the plate and reached for his hand. “I love you. I
wouldn’t turn you away.”

He averted his eyes, bowing his face toward the tablecloth. “I know.
And I had no right to focus my

anger on you. I’m sorry.”

. Cerissa continued reading as she ate, and the growing

“Thank you, Henry. I appreciate your apology. But we don’t have to

discuss what happened right

sense of calm seeped into her bones as she distracted herself with
someone else’s fictionalnow.” She was enjoying her meal too much to
disrupt it with another argument over Anne-Louise. But

she wouldn’t let him put off their discussion indefinitely. If he didn’t
share more details by the time

A short time later, an itchy feeling caused her to retreat from the
book, like she was being watched.they returned to the apartment,
then she’d push harder.

“Of course, perhaps…later,” he replied. “I just wanted to apologize

now.”

Glancing up from her phone, she found him standing on the other
side of the picture window. He
Relief coursed through her, and she gave him an encouraging smile.
Choosing a new topic, she kept

had forgotten his hat, and light snowflakes stuck to his long hair.
Stray strands from his ponytail hungher conversation light and picked
up her fork to resume eating her dinner. “You look like you’ve been

outdoors in the snow for a while. Did you go somewhere?”

She had bought the Inverness wool coat for him as a joke, since a
soap opera vampire of a bygone

“I walked to Saint Patrick’s Cathedral and went inside.”

era had made the classic English style memorable. But Henry liked
the Inverness and wore the

“Really?”

protection against cold so he’d blend in with mortals—he couldn’t

walk around without a coat in the

“It’s near the Collective. You might say it was on the way here. Just a
brief detour.”

Cerissa appreciated the way he’d so quickly adjusted his attitude.

“You seem calmer. Your visit

He stood there, back straight, holding the brass knob of his black
beechwood cane with both hands,there must have helped.”

staring at her. The cane wasn’t a stylistic choice, nor did he need its
support while he walked. The

“It did. I needed the tranquility after… Well, to use one word Father
Matt explained to me, my
hollow beechwood concealed a silver dagger, which he could
withdraw by gripping the brass knobrelationship with Anne-Louise is
dysfunctional.”

and twisting, so he didn’t touch the silver. The hidden knife was
illegal, but the police rarely bothered

No kidding.

At some point, she hoped he’d convince Anne-Louise to let him cut
the apron strings. The maker-

She suspected he had a small Beretta in his back holster, ignoring

New York’s strict gun laws. Hechild blood bond was a significant part
of the problem. “How did you feel, being in Saint Patrick’s

never went unarmed when out alone. Then again, he served as a

reserve police officer. Did hisagain?”

“Peaceful. It’s a beautiful structure, and seeing the symbols of my

faith displayed was reassuring.

She made eye contact but couldn’t read his mood. He’d blocked the
crystal other than to tell her heThe young priest on duty heard my
confession, and I found his advice…helpful.”

“That’s good.”

He gave a lone nod and entered the restaurant, checked his coat and
gloves, but kept his grip on the

They stopped speaking when the waitress came by. “Good evening,
sir. May I get you something?”

cane. One-handed, he brushed the snow out of his hair, and his
ponytail came undone. Stripping offShe cleared away Cerissa’s empty
plate and ran a silver table scraper across the tablecloth to remove
the crumbs. Henry straightened back as the silver tool swept by him,
and Cerissa raised an eyebrow,

Since she liked his hair loose, she took it as an attempt to appease
her. The perfectly tailored suitsurprised the restaurant used actual
silver.

“Nothing for me, thank you,” Henry replied. “But Cerissa will have the
cheesecake for dessert, and

Taking the seat across from her, he said, “Thank you for inviting me
to join you. Under thebring me the check, please.”

Cerissa shook her head. Yes, she wanted the cheesecake. But it
would be nice sometimes if he’d

ask. In some ways, he knew her too well now. And she recognized
that his insistence on paying for

He averted his eyes, bowing his face toward the tablecloth. “I know.
And I had no right to focus myher dinner was both an attempt at
reconciliation and an act of dominance.

She let the matter ride.

“Thank you, Henry. I appreciate your apology. But we don’t have to

discuss what happened right

The waitress returned and placed the dessert plate, along with a
snifter glass on the table. Three

now.” She was enjoying her meal too much to disrupt it with another
argument over Anne-Louise. Butcoffee beans floated in the clear
liquid. “Your cheesecake, and Sambuca. Would madam like anything

she wouldn’t let him put off their discussion indefinitely. If he didn’t
share more details by the timeelse?”
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Book
Review Digest, v. 16, 1920
 This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United
States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away
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included with this ebook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you
are not located in the United States, you will have to check the
laws of the country where you are located before using this
eBook.

Title: The Book Review Digest, v. 16, 1920

Sixteenth annual accumulation. Reviews of 1920 books

Author: Various

Editor: Mary Katharine Reely

Pauline H. Rich

Release date: February 20, 2024 [eBook #73004]

Language: English

Original publication: Minneapolis, MN: The H. W. Wilson

Company, 1905

Credits: Richard Tonsing and the Online Distributed

Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file
was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BOOK

REVIEW DIGEST, V. 16, 1920 ***
Transcriber’s Note:
New original cover art included with
this eBook is granted to the public
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This ebook was created in honour of

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 THE

BOOK REVIEW DIGEST

SIXTEENTH

ANNUAL CUMULATION

REVIEWS OF 1920 BOOKS

EDITED BY
MARY KATHARINE REELY
AND
PAULINE H. RICH

DESCRIPTIVE NOTES BY
EMMA HELLER SCHUMM
AND OTHERS
THE H. W. WILSON COMPANY
NEW YORK
1921
 Contents

Publications from which Digests of Reviews are

Made
Book Review Digest Devoted to the Valuation of
Current Literature Reviews of 1920 Books
List of Documents for Use in the Smaller
Libraries
Quarterly List of New Technical and Industrial
Books
Subject, Title and Pseudonym Index To Author
Entries, March, 1920—February, 1921
Directory of Publishers
 THE BOOK REVIEW DIGEST

Vol. XVI February, 1921 No. 12

PUBLISHED MONTHLY BY
THE H. W. WILSON COMPANY
New York City 958–964 University Avenue

Entered as second class matter, November 13, 1917 at the Post

Office at New York, under the act of Congress of March 3, 1879.
Terms of Subscription

One year $12.00

Single numbers 1.00
Semi-annual cumulation (August) 2.00
Annual cumulated number, bound (February) 5.00

Terms of Advertising
Combined rate for Book Review Digest, Cumulative Book Index
and Readers’ Guide to Periodical Literature $60 per page per month;
two of these publications $50; one of these publications $40 per page
per month. Smaller space and contract rates furnished upon request.

The editorial staff for the year has consisted of

Mary Katharine Reely, Pauline H. Rich, Emma Heller
Schumm, Elsie Jacobi, Wilma Adams and Selma
Sandler. Acknowledgments are also due to Miss
Corinne Bacon who contributed the classification
numbers for the first months of the year, and to Miss
Eleanor Hawkins who succeeded her; to Miss Mary
E. Furbeck of the New York Public Library for the list
of documents for small libraries; and to the Applied
Science reference department of Pratt Institute
Library for the quarterly list of technical books.
In addition to the periodicals listed on the reverse
side of this page the following magazines have been
drawn on for occasional reviews: Mississippi Valley
Historical Review, Social Hygiene, Mental Hygiene,
Socialist Review, Nation [London], Theatre Arts
Magazine, Drama, World Tomorrow, Chemical &
Metallurgical Engineering, and a few other technical
journals. The literary supplement to the New York
Evening Post, now issued under the editorship of
Professor Henry Seidel Canby of Yale University, is
an important permanent addition to the list of
periodicals. During the year the magazine which
began its career as the Review, changing later to
Weekly Review, has been listed under its original
name.
The year just past has been notable for a number of
novels of unusual quality. Among them is a group of
books by and about women: Clemence Dane’s
“Legend,” Catherine Carswell’s “Open the Door,”
Miss de la Pasture’s “Tension,” and Mrs Holding’s
“Invincible Minnie.” Three others are novels of the
Middle West: Sherwood Anderson’s “Poor White,”
Floyd Dell’s “Moon-calf,” and Sinclair Lewis’s “Main
Street.” Zona Gale’s “Miss Lulu Bett” might be named
in either class.
“George Santayana has recently spoken of the
barbarian realities of America. ‘The luckless
American who is born a conservative, or who is
drawn to poetic subtlety, pious retreats, or gay
passions, nevertheless has the categorical excellence
of work, growth, enterprise, reform and prosperity
dinned into his ears: every door is open in this
direction and shut in the other; so that he either folds
up his heart and withers in a corner—in remote
places you sometimes find such a solitary gaunt
idealist—or else he flies to Oxford or Florence or
Montmartre to save his soul—or perhaps not to save
it.’ That is and has been the traditional conception of
aesthetic fate in barbaric America, especially in the
hinterland beyond the Hudson. But the past ten
years, and particularly the years since the war, have
shown new possibilities to the present literary
generation. The Bohemian immigrant in Nebraska,
the local dentist in Wisconsin, the doctor’s wife in a
small Minnesota town, the young newspaper man in
Iowa, the co-educated farmer’s daughter in Ohio—all
these figures can be seen with the same meditative
zeal, the same creative preoccupation, as the ripened
spiritual personalities of Europe.”—New Republic.
We now have anthologies and year books for the
short story, for the best plays, for magazine and even
for newspaper verse. The annual volume of the
Digest might be added to the list as the year book for
book reviews. Without entering into elaborate
summaries and statistics we may say that the two
most reviewed books of the year are Keynes’s
“Economic Consequences of the Peace” and Wells’s
“Outline of History.” And without attempting to
create a new category of “best” reviews we may
suggest that the following will be found well worthy
of reading: Richard Burton’s review of “The Ordeal of
Mark Twain” by Van Wyck Brooks in the Bookman of
January, 1921; W. S. Braithwaite’s review of “Smoke
and Steel” by Carl Sandburg in the Boston Transcript
of October 16, 1920; the reviews of Sinclair Lewis’s
“Main Street” by Carl Van Doren in the New York
Evening Post, Nov. 20, 1920, and by Francis Hackett,
in the New Republic, Dec. 1, 1920; and J. Saywyn
Shapiro’s review (with footnotes) of Wells’s “Outline
of History” in the Nation of Feb. 9, 1921.
Publications from which Digests of
Reviews are Made

Am. Econ. R.—American Economic Review. $5. American

Economic Association, New Haven, Conn.
Am. Hist. R.—American Historical Review. $4. Macmillan
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Am. J. Theol.—American Journal of Theology. $3. University of
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Astrophys. J.—Astrophysical Journal. $6. University of Chicago
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Ath.—Athenæum. $5.60. 10 Adelphi Terrace, London, W. C. 2.
Bib. World—Biblical World. $3. University of Chicago Press,
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Washington St., Chicago, Ill.
Bookm.—Bookman. $4. G. H. Doran Co., 244 Madison Ave., New
York.
 Boston Transcript—Boston Evening Transcript. $5.50.
(Wednesday and Saturday). Boston Transcript Co., 324 Washington
St., Boston, Mass.
Bot. Gaz.—Botanical Gazette. $9. University of Chicago Press,
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Cath. World—Catholic World. $4. 120–122 W. 60th St., New York.
Class J.—Classical Journal. $2.50. University of Chicago Press,
Chicago, Ill.
Class Philol.—Classical Philology. $4. University of Chicago Press,
Chicago, Ill.
Dial—Dial. $5. 152 W 13th St., New York.
Educ. R.—Educational Review. $3. Educational Review Pub. Co.,
care of G. H. Doran Pub. Co.
Elec. World—Electrical World. $5. McGraw-Hill Company, Inc.,
10th Ave. at 36th St., New York.
El. School J.—Elementary School Journal (continuing Elementary
School Teacher). $2.50. Dept. of Education, University of Chicago,
Chicago, Ill.
Engin. News-Rec.—Engineering News-Record. $5. McGraw-Hill
Company, Inc., 10th Ave. at 36th St., New York.
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Co., 4th Ave. and 30th St., New York.
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 J. Geol.—Journal of Geology. $4. University of Chicago Press,
Chicago, Ill.
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Economics Assn., 1211 Cathedral St., Baltimore, Md.
J. Philos.—Journal of Philosophy. $4. Sub-Station 84, New York.
J. Pol. Econ.—Journal of Political Economy. $4. University of
Chicago Press, Chicago, Ill.
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Ja ’21) $3. University of Chicago Press, Chicago, Ill.
Lit. D.—Literary Digest. $4. Funk & Wagnalls Co., 354–360 Fourth
Ave., New York.
Modern Philol.—Modern Philology. $5. University of Chicago
Press, Chicago, Ill.
Nation—Nation. $5. Nation Press. 20 Vesey St., New York.
Nature—Nature. $14. Macmillan Company, 66 Fifth Ave., New
York.
New Repub.—New Republic. $5. Republic Publishing Co., Inc., 421
W 21st St., New York.
N. Y. Times—New York Times Book Review. $1. N. Y. Times Co.,
Times Square, New York.
No. Am.—North American Review. $5. North American Review, 9
East 37th St., New York.
Outlook—Outlook. $5. Outlook Co., 381 Fourth Ave., New York.
Pol. Sci. Q.—Political Science Quarterly. $5. (including
supplement). Academy of Political Science, Columbia University,
New York.
Pub. W.—Publishers’ Weekly. Zones 1–5, $6; 6–8, $6.50. R. R.
Bowker Co., 62 W. 45th St., New York.
Review—Weekly Review. $5. National Weekly Corporation, 140
Nassau St., New York.
R. of Rs.—American Review of Reviews. $4. Review of Reviews
Co., 30 Irving Place, New York.
 Sat. R.—Saturday Review. $5.60. 9 King St., Covent Garden,
London. W. C. 2.
School Arts Magazine—School-Arts Magazine. $3. Davis Press,
Inc., 25 Foster St., Worcester, Mass.
School R.—School Review. $2.50. Dept. of Education, Univ. of
Chicago, Chicago. Ill.
Science, n.s.—Science (new series). $6. Science Press, Garrison. N.
Y.
Spec.—Spectator. $7.80. 13 York St., Covent Garden, London. W.
C. 2.
Springf’d Republican—Springfield Republican. $10.50. The
Republican, Springfield, Mass.
Survey—Survey. $5. Survey Associates, Inc., 112 E. 19th St., New
York.
The Times [London] Lit. Sup.—The Times Literary Supplement.
$7.40. The Times, North American Office, 30 Church St., New York.
Yale R., n.s.—Yale Review (new series). $3. Yale Publishing Ass’n.,
Inc., 120 High St., New Haven, Conn.

In addition to the above list the Book Review

Digest frequently quotes from New York Call; New
York Evening Post; Bulletin of Brooklyn Public
Library; Cleveland Open Shelf; N. Y. Best Books; N.
Y. Libraries; N. Y. City Branch Library News; New
York Public Library New Technical Books; Pittsburgh
Monthly Bulletin; Pratt Institute Quarterly Book List;
St. Louis Monthly Bulletin; Wisconsin Library
Bulletin (Book Selection Dept.), and the Quarterly
List of New Technical and Industrial Books chosen by
the Pratt Institute Library.
 OTHER ABBREVIATIONS

Abbreviations of publishers’ names will be found in the Publishers’

Directory at the end of this number.
An asterisk (*) before the price indicates those books sold at a
limited discount and commonly known as net books.
The figures following publisher’s name represent the class number
and Library of Congress card number.
The descriptive note is separated from critical notices of a book by
a dash.
The plus and minus signs preceding the names of the magazine
indicate the degrees of favor or disfavor of the entire review.
An asterisk (*) before the plus or minus sign indicates that the
review contains useful information about the book.
In the reference to a magazine, the first number refers to the
volume, the next to the page, the letters to the date and the last
figures to the number of words in the review.
 Book Review Digest
Devoted to the Valuation of Current
Literature
Reviews of 1920 Books