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James Patterson is the most popular storyteller in the world. He’s created unforgettable book series including Alex Cross and Jane Smith. He’s co-authored number one bestsellers with Dolly Parton and Viola Davis. But his latest co-author holds a special place in his heart, his wife Susan. The Pattersons have a new novel, just published, called “The Mother-Daughter Book Club.” It’s an instant New York Times bestseller.
Mary told the Pattersons that she loved the book, which is about the reunion of four friends and their daughters in Italy to talk about books, life, and secrets.
Mary asked James about his co-authors. He said Susan is his favorite.
“I’ve become really good friends with Dolly Parton,” James told Mary. “The latest one, out now, with Viola Davis, [‘Judge Stone’] will be fighting against ‘Mother-Daughter’ on the bestseller lists.”
“We had fun,” Susan said. “We did three children’s books together, then we did ‘Things I Wish I Told My Mother,’ which was an inspiration for this one. It was so much fun. I want to do another one.”
“The Mother-Daughter Book Club In Paris,” James suggested.
“I’m sold,” Susan agreed.
Mary asked the Pattersons if they traveled to Italy for research for “The Mother-Daughter Book Club.” Susan said they visited Lake Como and lived the experiences in the book.
“The book was sort of finished by then, but it helped us put a personal touch on it,” Susan said. “Where we had lunch, we felt like it would be perfect for Grace and Danny. This could be their first lunch. The church with the four women saints, we thought that would be perfect for her because she’s a woman and a minister. ”
“You have four mothers and five daughters,” James added. “We deal with love stories. Not in a tawdry way. And secrets. At the end of the three days, they have a night of secrets.”
Mary asked Susan about the creation of Grace’s character.
“For some reason or another, we thought [of her] as a minister, just cause it was a little different and unexpected,” Susan explained. “As she organically developed, she became my favorite character.”
“Grace has a great secret that she reveals,” James said.
Mary asked James if he imagined as he grew up in Newburgh, New York, that he would have this great success in the book industry.
“It’s very lucky for me,” James revealed. “I don’t work for a living. I play for a living, which is a great thing for anybody. I’ll tell you what’s been driving me for the last few years. This isn’t my language, and I think it’s more important for 20 year olds than it is for me. And it is: my time here is short. What can I do most beautifully? And this is a beautiful thing to do: write a novel with your wife.”
You can read an excerpt from “The Mother-Daughter Book Club” and get the book below.
You can also listen to Mary’s entire conversation with the Pattersons on The Club Calvi Podcast
The books may contain adult themes.
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“The Mother-Daughter Book Club” by Susan and James Patterson
From the publisher: Between their busy lives and their far-flung residences, the Mother-Daughter Book Club—four longtime college friends and their five daughters—more often discuss the books on their nightstands via 2 a.m. texts than in-person meetings. And maybe it’s just as well, after what happened at their last get-together …
So it’s an emotional reunion when they finally gather again, this time on the spectacular shores of Italy’s Lake Como. Sightseeing excursions, reminiscing fueled by “Como-politans,” and a hint of vacation romance all build toward the book club’s trademark “Night of Secrets.”
These friends, and sometime rivals, are close readers—of novels, memoirs, and of each other. But as the years and the distance cast shadows and doubt, confidences and sympathies turn into surprising revelations.
Susan and James Patterson live in New York and Florida.
“The Mother-Daughter Book Club” by Susan and James Patterson (ThriftBooks) $23
Excerpt: “The Mother-Daughter Book Club” by Susan and James Patterson
Elin,
Mother of Brigid
I don’t want to jinx anything, but I don’t know how I got this lucky.
That’s the thought running through my mind as I sit here in the gracious lake house I rented for the weekend, pleasantly full from dinner and just a bit sleepy from two and a half glasses of wine. It’s been a long and lovely day. A soft summer rain patters against the windows. With me in the large but cozy living room are my three best friends in the world. And in the kitchen, giggling like little girls, are our beautiful daughters.
To whatever higher power assigned Mariella Marciano, Grace Townsend, and me to the same University of Wisconsin-Madison freshman dorm corridor way back when (a fourth- floor walk-up in Adams Hall): Thank you, I owe you. Big- time. We three have been like sisters ever since, and we tease Jamie Price about being our new young friend — because we’ve known her for only twenty years, and she’s only in her forties. I hired Jamie to be Brigid’s nanny (and my Girl Friday) back when Brigid was in elementary school. We bonded immediately, and within a year, Jamie was the fourth member of our gang.
We all call and text each other regularly. We always send cards on birthdays. Some years we take trips together — to Florida beaches or New York City museums. We’ve bonded over our careers and Christmas on Nantucket, Madeline Miller and menopause.
This year, the sparkling waters of Lake Geneva have been the perfect backdrop for a wonderful three days spent talking about our lives, our hopes, and — of course — our favorite books.
We’re constantly emailing each other book recommendations, and we keep an Excel doc of hundreds of novels, with columns showing which of us has read what and how much we liked it. (Grace recently gave Middlemarch an A; Mariella said it was way too long and gave it a C-minus.) Like most book clubs, we spend about 5 percent of our time talking about actual books; the other 95 percent is taken up by talk of jobs, family, and gossip. The stuff of life. But books are our inspiration. So if I text Jamie, for example, at two o’clock in the morning because I just finished reading the most recent Tana French novel, she certainly won’t think I’m weird.
We’ve had a few bumps in the road, of course. Some years, Mariella is too busy touring the world to stay in regular touch, and everyone gets a little offended. Grace was mad at me for two months when I canceled a planned meet-up at the Emily Dickinson Museum. And last year we got in an actual fight about whether Station Eleven was better as a book or a TV series. But 99.9 percent of the time, everything is great. These are the women that I rely on most in the world. I don’t know how I’d survive without them.
Our girls are all wonderful friends with each other, too, and they’ve joined us for this particular trip. (I still call them girls; I can’t help it.) And we are now, Mariella has declared, an official organization, because she has given us a name.
The Mother- Daughter Book Club. A.k.a. the MDBC.
Grace says we should have t-shirts made — MDBC 4-Ever!
Her daughter, Merry, told her that this idea is “totally cringe.”
Merry’s probably right. But I’d wear one anyway. I’m too old to care about what anyone else thinks about my fashion choices.
We are so, so lucky, I think again. And then I knock on wood, just to be safe.
Mariella lifts a perfectly arched eyebrow at me. “Elin, why are you banging on the coffee table?”
I shrug and tuck my hand back into my pocket. “No reason.”
I take a sip of peppermint tea and sigh. I don’t want tonight to be our last night. For one thing, this weekend’s been way too much fun, and I’m not ready to go back to real life yet. And for another, Mariella has just stood up and planted herself in the center of the living room. Judging from the look on her face, she’s getting ready to make an announcement.
If I know Mariella — and I do — she’s going to demand we all go skinny- dipping or play high- stakes Truth or Dare or something equally dramatic. She can’t resist a grand finale.
“Ahem!” she says, and I watch as Grace and Jamie stop their chatter and snap to attention. As a corporate attorney, I’m used to being in charge at my job, but Mariella is definitely the one in charge when we’re all together. Brassy, big- hearted, and bossy: that’s Mariella Marciano.
“My loves, it is our final night,” she says, “and for that reason we must do something very special.”
See, I knew it.
She smiles slyly. “Which is why I have decided that tonight is the Night of Secrets.”
“Not sure I like the sound of that,” Jamie says. She pushes her coppery red bangs away from her forehead and takes a big sip of wine.
“If you are wondering what that entails exactly,” Mariella goes on, “I will tell you: Each of us needs to confess something big. Something juicy.“
Grace tucks her long hair behind her ears. She’s the only one of us who doesn’t color her hair, but those silver waves look incredible on her. With her wide blue eyes, high cheekbones, and tall, girlish frame, she could practically be a Ralph Lauren runway model. “Don’t we tell each other everything already?” she asks reasonably.
“Nobody tells people everything,” Mariella says.
You’re right. We all have our little secrets, I think.
And our not-so-little ones.
Jamie looks fidgety. “This could be dangerous,” she says.
Yes, it could. I sink deeper into the couch, hoping I can make myself less visible. But Mariella points a perfectly manicured finger at me anyway.
“Elin,” she commands, “you go first.”
I hold up my hands like I can ward her off. “I plead the Fifth,” I say.
“None of your lawyer- speak!” Mariella declares. ” ‘Fess up.”
I glance into the kitchen, where I can see my daughter, Brigid, making popcorn, laughing with Merry and Zoey, two girls she’s known nearly her entire life. “I think Grace should go,” I suggest.
“Grace is a woman of God, Elin,” Mariella says patiently, as if I’ve forgotten that our friend’s a minister. “How juicy can her secret be?”
When Grace laughs, her blue eyes sparkle. “I don’t know, you might be surprised,” she says.
“Wonderful! I look forward to it. Elin, you’re still going first.”
I could revolt. Say “I don’t think the Night of Secrets is such a good idea.” But I’ve learned from decades of experience that it’s easier for everyone if Mariella gets her way.
Luckily, I’ve been mulling something over in my mind for months. It’s not a juicy secret, but it’ll have to do.
“I think I might leave my job,” I say. I’ve been a civil litigator at a giant law firm for almost my entire career. Think seventy- hour weeks, lots of travel (we have clients from all over the US), and a high level of stress. I’ve been burned out for years, but I’ve never said the q-word. Admitting out loud that I want to quit actually makes me feel a little bit ill.
Hopefully that’s just from the extra helpings of Grace’s gooey brownies I had after dinner.
The room erupts in cheers. My daughter, Brigid, the oldest of the girls, pokes her head out of the kitchen. “What’s going on out here?”
Zoey, Mariella’s daughter, says blithely, “Oh, the Badgers probably scored a touchdown or something.”
The rest of us look at each other in disbelief. “Zoey!” I chide, “it’s summertime! Football season doesn’t start until the end of August!”
Zoey shrugs. “I don’t pay attention to sports.”
Mariella throws up her hands. “I have told her all about how we looked forward to our epic nights in Camp Randall Stadium — the tailgate parties, the touchdowns, the Jump
Around, the singing of ‘Varsity,’ the 5th Quarter. But her brain is filled up with skin care routines. There is no room for anything else.”
Zoey does have beautiful skin — smooth and olive, not a wrinkle in sight. But she’s still in her mid- twenties. “It’s okay,” I assure her mother. “Not everyone has to be a Badgers fan.” Then I say to Zoey, “The cheering was because my friends are really excited about the idea that I might finally leave my job.”
Brigid raises one eyebrow at me. “Are you serious?” she says.
“Serious as a heart attack,” I say.
“Mom,” Brigid says gently. “A heart attack is a medical emergency. Not a figure of speech.”
“Dr. Mackenzie bustin’ her mom,” Zoey murmurs.
“I don’t mean to be uptight,” Brigid explains. “I just saw so many of them in ER rotations that —”
“That you know they shouldn’t be taken lightly,” I say.
“And you’re right.” “As usual,” Zoey adds.
Brigid grins. “Well, I’ll believe that Mom’s leaving her job when she cc’s me on the resignation letter.”
“Ha! I’ll make sure to do that.”
“Anyway,” Mariella continues, “the four of us are telling secrets. Come join us!”
“My secret is that I didn’t finish The Covenant of Water,” Zoey says.
“Please, that’s no secret,” says Merry, Grace’s daughter, who has appeared next to Zoey in the doorway. “But shouldn’t we wait until Meg and Kathleen get back?”
Jamie looks startled. “What, the twins are still gone? I thought they were in the kitchen with you!”
I look at my watch. Jamie’s girls had roared off in Meg’s new Jeep to get ice cream at Kilwins almost two hours ago, even though we’d all gone there earlier to sample their legendary hand- paddled fudge (I’m partial to the sea- salt chocolate caramel). The town of Lake Geneva, a community of stately mansions known as the Newport of the Midwest or the Hamptons of Chicago, is less than seven square miles, so it’s not as if the twins could’ve gotten lost. This isn’t even unfamiliar territory to them. They grew up in the town next door. I can’t imagine what on earth is taking them so long.
“Unless they’re hiding in the pantry, they’re not here,” Zoey says. “But don’t worry — we’ll make them spill all the tea when they get back. We won’t take it easy on them!”
Jamie looks out the window. The rain’s coming down harder now, pounding on the skylight, slashing against the windows. “They’d better hurry up,” she says.
“In the meantime, I’ll go,” Grace offers. As soon as she says it, she immediately starts to blush. Grace never wears makeup, but suddenly it looks like she’s put an entire pot of rouge on her cheeks. She must have a real secret! But when she speaks, it’s so quiet that no one can hear her.
“What?” Mariella cries. “Speak up!”
From The Mother-Daughter Book Club by Susan and James Patterson. Copyright © 2026 by James Patterson and reprinted by permission of Little, Brown and Company, an imprint of Hachette Book Group
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