Archive for September, 2016

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Today Charles Day and Month9Books are revealing the cover and first chapter for the Bram Stoker Award Winning THE LEGEND OF THE PUMPKIN THIEF, which releases October 18, 2016! Check out the gorgeous cover and enter to be one of the first readers to receive a eGalley!!
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On to the reveal! 

 

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Title: THE LEGEND OF THE PUMPKIN THIEF
Author: Charles Day
Pub. Date: October 18, 2016
Publisher: Month9Books
Format: Paperback, eBook
Find it: Amazon | B&N | TBD | Goodreads
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As the townsfolk sleep, something creeps into the neighborhood. Hidden in shadows, its presence is as old as time itself, its intent not born of goodness.
Nick, a teenager who fancies himself a detective, wakes to find his carved masterpiece missing. Now a mystery is afoot, and Nick has his first assignment, to find out who or what is snatching up the town’s pumpkins and why.
Unfortunately, as with all great detectives, obstacles stand in Nick’s way—the neighborhood bully and his cronies, and the strange old lady and her dog who share the run-down house at the end of Nick’s block. As Nick investigates, an urban legend unravels . . . .
The Legend of The Pumpkin Thief.
Nick fears the legend as he embarks on the most dangerous adventure of his young life. Collecting clues, getting ever closer to the true nature of evil, he learns that curiosity comes with a high
price.
“Charles Day’s The Legend of the Pumpkin Thief should be every Halloween-crazy kid’s favorite book–and a lot of us adults will love this wonderful tale as well. Part mystery, part fantasy, and part perfect Halloween scary story, it all adds up to 100% sheer delight. Bravo to intrepid young detective Nick, that black-suited Pumpkin Thief, and Charles Day for putting them together in this
sweet-‘n’-spooky novella.”
~Lisa Morton,
four-time Bram Stoker Award winner and author of The Halloween Encyclopedia.
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A quick note from the author:
As the townsfolk sleep, something creeps into the neighborhood. Hidden in shadows, its presence is as old as time itself, its intent not born of goodness. Nick, a teenager who fancies himself a detective, wakes to find his carved masterpiece missing. Now a mystery is afoot, and Nick has his first assignment, to find out who or what is snatching up the town’s pumpkins and why. Unfortunately, as with all great detectives, obstacles stand in Nick’s way—the neighborhood bully and his cronies, and the strange old lady and her dog who share the run-down house at the end of Nick’s block. As Nick investigates, an urban legend unravels . . . . The Legend of The Pumpkin Thief. Nick fears the legend as he embarks on the most dangerous adventure of his young life. Collecting clues, getting ever closer to the true nature of evil, he learns that curiosity comes with a high price.
 
When I fist saw the cover, I was blown away at just how cool and creepy it was. I mean, it’s almost identical to the vision I had of the evil legendary character who shows up and a new town every year for Halloween. As an artist myself, I really dig all the colors and inks. Kudos and congrats to the artist. You rock, buddy. 
Hugs,
Jaime

 

Excerpt

Chapter OneNick sniffed the cold air that had started to settle in and around Chesterville, New York, his quaint, upstate hometown located in the Catskill Mountains. Halloween was one day away, a Friday this year. Nick looked forward to the holiday, one of his favorites, next to Christmas, of course. However, today he had something he enjoyed even better: a great mystery.

Nick flipped through the final pages of yet another mystery novel that fed his mind with exciting characters and great plots. As he sat in bed with his new favorite book held in his sweaty palms, the earth could have exploded into smithereens, his house pulled from its foundation by a tornado—it didn’t matter what catastrophe might occur at this moment; Nick found himself fully immersed in the final chapter with his favorite characters.

He loved stories about missing people, crazed or degenerate criminals intent on doing their victims harm, or a detective two clues away from capturing his suspects.

Although he was only twelve, Nick had already completed a good number of mystery novels in his short life. He kept his own personal collection in a large cardboard box on a shelf in his closet, safe above wooden hangers holding football jerseys, dyed T-shirts, and ripped blue jeans, and he was about to add this latest mystery to his library. Just a few pages to go and he would know what these characters were up to … until he heard a voice from downstairs.

“Nicky, time for dinner! I’m not going to call you again,” his mother yelled up the stairs, apparently for the second time. Yes, nothing interrupted his concentration when he neared the end of a good mystery book—except his mom, with her threatening voice.

Nick’s mother was not unlike other mothers in the neighborhood. He had some friends whose moms were the same when it came to gathering their families for dinner, but tonight was not the night. He wanted to finish the final pages before stepping back into reality.

“I’ll be down in a minute, Ma!” Nick screamed back, but his eyes still focused on the book. Sure, he knew he’d be in trouble if he didn’t heed her call. Dad would eventually come upstairs and yell at him for not showing up at the table on time. So he bookmarked the page, took a quick peek at himself in the mirror on his way out of his room, admired the short blond hair, blue eyes, and thin physique—still looking good, guy—then quickly ran downstairs to join his family.

As Nick walked into the dining room, he saw Samantha, his younger sister, still ten but going on sixteen, already seated at the table with a generous portion of meat and potatoes
falling over the edge of her plate. Her dark hair, pulled up into pigtails, bobbed as she inhaled the aromas. And, coming out from the kitchen with freshly baked dinner rolls, was Mom.

“Sit down, Nicky,” Mom said, passing him by while the smell from those warm rolls filled his nostrils and made his mouth water.

As Nick suspected, Mom, adorned in a silk blouse, yellow skirt, and high heels, was dressed as if she’d just stepped out of one of those beauty magazines scattered about the house. However, he focused on those dinner rolls she’d placed on the table. He had to have one. As he went to grab a roll, Samantha’s annoying voice short-circuited his growing appetite to savor the warm goodness.

“Glad you could make it, snot-face,” she said, smiling at Nick.

There she was, in all her glory, his pigtailed brat of a sister.

Nick’s appetite suddenly disappeared. He stared at Samantha, who continued to smile, and wondered how … how he could make his sister’s life miserable at that very moment.

“That’s it, sis. Fill up on all that food you got there on your plate so you can keep getting nice and fat, because—”

“Ma!” Samantha yelled.

“Knock it off, Nicholas. Leave your sister alone and let her eat,” Mom said.

Of course, Samantha screaming was always his fault. Whether or not his sister was wrong didn’t matter; it seemed that he’d be the guilty one. In fact, Nick knew that even if she stood on the dinner table and kicked the plates full of food to the floor, with his parents witnessing the whole event, he’d still be the guilty one, accused of making her do it.

“Yeah, okay … I know it’s my fault. Even though she called me snot-face, I’m the one who’s guilty.” Nick gestured, using his hands to show his frustration. “Whatever.”

Nick watched his father come in while he argued.

“I don’t care much who’s at fault; what I want is for everyone to stifle it and eat your food … understood?” He sat down at the head of the table.

“Ma, have a seat and join us.” He looked to his left. “Nick and Samantha, not another word out of you two, or you’re both grounded.”

That’s what Nick wanted to hear—fairness. His dad was harsh when it came to disciplinary things, but he also was fair. Nick could reason with him on occasion, and he liked that.

“Oh, by the way,” his father said, looking confused, “I was coming in from the rain and noticed the jack-o’-lantern on the steps out front is missing. Anybody know where it went?”

He knew his dad wanted an answer from him, by the stare he sent deep into Nick’s eyes. The Stare of Death!

Nick felt singled out again. Sure, Dad, blame it on me. Score another win for Sam.

Nick heard the drops of water as they exploded on the roof. Loud tapping sounded against the windows from the windswept rain. Halloween is tomorrow. Maybe one of the local punks in the neighborhood took it to use as a flying projectile. I don’t know.

Nick figured that since eggs were hard to come by on Halloween, especially for kids his age, it had to be a teenager who’d stolen their pumpkin to toss around instead. That would make a nice mess on some unsuspecting neighbor’s driveway.

Then it hit him. Here was his chance to find out who may have taken the carved-out pumpkin and, just maybe, assist in the apprehension of the punk. After eating most of his dinner, Nick excused himself from the table and ran up to his room to gather a few items.

He shut his door, surprised his parents didn’t question his early departure from their nightly dinner ritual. Not even an evil eye glanced his way from his mom. That had certainly made him feel better. No need to get on Mom’s bad side.

There was another good reason to venture out and start his investigation: to be far away from his sister.

She was trouble.

Besides, there was a mystery to solve, the case of the missing pumpkin, and he figured he’d start by checking to see if any of his neighbors were missing their pumpkins.

The new mystery reminded him of the stories he’d heard among his classmates: the urban legend of the Pumpkin Thief. He’d cut out an article about this legend from the school’s newsletter a few years ago, when he’d first heard the story, intrigued by the creepiness of it all.

Nick wanted to read the article again. He went to his desk and rummaged through his stack of papers until he located the piece of tattered print, written by some kid, a Jeffery Beamer, in the Journalism Club. He’d certainly done his research on the urban legend. Nick re-read the whole thing while standing.

“Legend of the Pumpkin Thief, by Jeffery Beamer.

“One thing that truly amazes me is urban legends. I’ve heard a few good ones over the years, some from watching TV, others from Googling urban legends. So when some of my older friends in school shared with me the Pumpkin Thief legend, I just had to do a little bit of research. And this is what I found.

” Legend has it that around Halloween, this evil creature, the Pumpkin Thief—a tall, green-bean-thin figure in a black suit and large, orange tie, with a massive orange pumpkin for a head and carved-out eyes, nose, and jagged mouth—would sneak into a town of his choosing and snatch up the pumpkins at night. He’d collect as many as he could hold, then he’d carry them away to a secret location.

“Why did he snatch up all the pumpkins? Well, my dear readers, folklore said it had to do with him trying to stop the townsfolk from using them to ward off evil spirits. You see, without the pumpkins to protect their homes, they were prey to all the ghosts, ghouls, and goblins that float around on Halloween, having fun on the one night when they get to celebrate all things horror. They run amok and frighten trick-or-treaters. It’s their night, and the Pumpkin Thief does what he can to allow them to have fun on this special night.

“Now, although the urban legend has been discredited, I was able to retrieve some stories from people who said they have evidence that he is indeed real.

“It appears that a few local towns had confirmed that this Pumpkin Thief visited them. They had their pumpkins stolen, and on Halloween night, weird things happened to a few of the townsfolk. Some said they saw ghosts peering into their homes through the windows. One person claimed that floating chased about his bedroom Another said his doorbell kept ringing, but no one was there. I even found a few photos from a nearby town that showed strange, large, orb-type lights floating above their homes on Halloween night.

Of course, experts discredited these allegations. It seems no one had concrete evidence of a Pumpkin Thief caught red-handed grabbing pumpkins; nonetheless, the legend continues. Which town will be next?

Nick stopped reading. He had enough to go on. One missing pumpkin certainly did not qualify as a visit from the Pumpkin Thief. But it was kind of cool, getting all worked up the night before the holiday, a special holiday devoted to celebrating evil and dead things. And the article intrigued him. Maybe I should look into this some more, find out who else might have been visited by this legend since Jeffery wrote the article. I need to track down this kid. I’m sure he’s got more to tell.

He replaced the article on the pile of papers and went to pack his jacket pockets with all the detective tools he’d need for tonight: a flashlight, cell phone, and a small pair of binoculars. Those were all he had, so far. He’d ordered some other items out of one of his detective comic books, but they hadn’t shipped yet. He loved all the detective gadgetry!

He knew what he wanted to do when he grew up. He wanted to be a detective with the police department. He wasn’t sure how to get there, but between his parents, teachers, and those guidance counselors they had in the big high school he’d be eventually attending, he’d find his way. Once he had the title of detective, and access to all that high-tech gadgetry he’d seen on his favorite TV shows, he’d be happier than an ant in a picnic basket.

And now that his family’s pumpkin had gone missing, most likely stolen, he’d been given the perfect opportunity for an early taste of detective work. Just the thought of it excited him as he began preparations for tonight’s quick investigation.

Nick sat on his bed for a moment longer, still imagining how, one day, he’d succeed at what he wanted to do. Detective work. The girl. The cars. The life.

Nick had to stop thinking so much about the future and instead concentrate on solving the mystery afoot. He already had an idea about who may have put their grubby hands on his pumpkin. Lou, the bully of his neighborhood! He stood and walked out of his room, closing the door behind him, then to the top of the stairs. But when he approached the top step, he saw his evil little sibling with the pigtails at the bottom, looking straight up at him.

Samantha put both hands on her hips and smiled. “Where are you going? I’m telling.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Sam. What is your problem? You’re ten, but sometimes you act like a spoiled baby. Do you really hate me that much?”

Nick hoped a little guilt would soften his sister up, and possibly keep her from saying anything to their parents. She seemed to have a relentless desire to make his life a living mess.

For real.

“You’re playing stupid detective again, right?” She smiled, her arms folded. “Well, you’re going to need me if you want to solve a mystery because I know how to be a real detective.” She continued to smile while blocking Nick’s exit.

He knew her motive. She wanted to follow her big brother through a night of detective work, a complete gathering of clues, and hopefully witness a crime get solved through the quick actions of her detective brother.

He also figured she’d tell all her friends that her older brother could solve any crime that dared to enter her neighborhood. He could see it in her eyes. “Yeah, sure. Get your coat and let’s go. It’s getting dark out.”

Nick wasn’t the least bit happy about having to drag Samantha along, but he didn’t want her telling her friends and their parents any lies about his motives. Besides, she might be able to help keep an eye on things.

***

Nick and Samantha left the house together, first telling his parents he was taking his sister across the street to his friend’s house. He knew they would’ve noticed Samantha missing, with her always under their feet.

As they crossed the street, Nick took out his flashlight. He directed its yellow beam to his neighbors’ stoops and porches in search of pumpkins. He pointed the light at each home, every porch that may have displayed a pumpkin, as he walked farther down his street, Samantha by his side.

He was having trouble getting a clear view. Although the rain had stopped, a misty fog had taken over, reflecting the beam of his flashlight back into his eyes. That made it difficult for him to check for pumpkins, even with some porch lights on. But as far as he could tell, none of the houses had any pumpkins on their porches, either. That bothered him.

Eventually he made it to the last house on the left, the home of Mrs. Needlewhitter, an eighty-seven-year-old widow who hated children. Nick knew she was a mean old lady, and he usually did his best to steer clear of her. Tonight was different. He needed to check her porch, just like he’d checked the others.

Nick slowly approached the gate, then jumped back in sheer fright, pulling his sister to the ground with him. Baxter, the old lady’s German Shepherd, slammed up against the fence, barking, snarling, and showing off his white canines.

Samantha cried and screamed, “I want to go home!”

Her loud voice made the dog bark even more.

“Come on, sis, let’s go. He can’t hurt you. He’s behind the fence,” Nick said, lifting her up off the wet grass that left a fresh, green stain on the knees of her white pants. He shined his flashlight on Mrs. Needlewhitter’s porch, noticing a few smashed pumpkins by her bottom stoop.

Could that be it? Had he found the culprit? An eighty-seven-year-old, half-crippled, almost blind, gray-haired … pumpkin thief?

Baxter stood on his hind legs, his massive front paws hanging over the top of the gate, snarling and barking at Nick as he came closer for a better look. He shined his flashlight in Baxter’s eyes, turning them red as blood, reminding him of a movie he’d seen last week on the Chiller Channel about this dog gone bad, evil incarnate, determined to do harm to those who’d messed with him while he was still a pup.

Nick shook this thought from his head and, instead, focused his attention on the front porch.

The porch light turned on.

“What’s going on out there, Baxter boy? You see trespassers, is that it?” Mrs. Needlewhitter yelled through the screen door. “Get ’em, boy. Rip ’em to shreds. Dirty rat punks.”

Nick couldn’t understand why she said what she did, but he wasn’t waiting around to find out what would happen next. He grabbed hold of his sister and ran across the street, not looking back as they sprinted home. He still heard the old lady’s dog, barking in the distance.

When they reached their house, Nick walked his sister up the front porch steps, and then opened the door. He gave his tearful sister a nudge inside. “Go, and don’t say a word to Mom or Dad, you hear?”

She didn’t look back or reply as she walked indoors.

He quickly shut the door, then sat down on his front steps to think of what he needed to do next. He’d found a few broken and smashed pumpkins, and Mrs. Needlewhitter might just be the pumpkin culprit, but why?

How?

How could she manage to sneak around and grab all those pumpkins? Or could this be the work of Lou, the bully? Or worse. Has the Pumpkin Thief chosen this town for this Halloween? My town? Now Nick had even more reason to find this Jeffery Beamer.

In the interim, Nick knew he had to gather some evidence, so he thought up a plan, a great plan on how he’d get closer to those pumpkins scattered about Mrs. Needlewhitter’s yard. This was going to be his first real detective work, and he knew deep inside that he was so ready to accomplish the task.

 

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Charles Day is the Horror Writer Association’s Mentor Program Chairperson, Co­-Chair for the NY/LI Chapter, and a member of the HWA Library committee. He is also a member of the New England
Horror Writers Association, the American Library Association, and the Young Adult Library Services Association.
He is also the Bram Stoker Award® nominated author of the YA novel, THE LEGEND OF THE PUMPKIN THIEF. He’s also published his first adult novel DEEP WITHIN and the first book in his
Adventures of Kyle McGerrt trilogy, a YA western heroic fantasy, THE HUNT FOR THE GHOULISH BARTENDER, and his first co­authored novel with Mark Taylor, REDEMPTION
His forthcoming publications and projects in development for 2014 include a comic book series
based on the ADVENTURES OF KYLE McGERRT trilogy, his first middle­ grade series, THE
UNDERDWELLERS, and his third YA novel, IMMORTAL FAMILY.
On the publishing business side of things, Charles is the owner of Day Media and Publishing in New York, which houses the successful imprints, Evil Jester Press, Evil Jester Comics, and Hidden Thoughts Press (mental wellness collections,)
He’s also an artist and illustrator, who is passionate about creating the many characters he’s brought to life in his published, or soon to be published works. You can find out more about his upcoming writing projects, check out his illustrations and art, or find out what he’s cooking up next with that evil dude­in­the­box, the evil Jester, by visiting his Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/charles.day.92

 

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3 winners will receive an eGalley of
THE LEGEND OF THE PUMPKIN THIEF. International.
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Welcome to The Friday 56 hosted by Freda’s Voice.

 

This is a really fun meme!

The only rules are to grab a book (any book), turn to page 56 or 56% in your eReader and find a sentence or a few (no spoilers) that grabs you and post it.

Then go over to Freda’s Voice and leave your link so we can visit your 56!

My 56 for this week is from:

Curse Of The Boggin

The Library #1

by D. J. MacHale

29358358

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Genre: Children’s Horror / Paranormal / Fantasy

I couldn’t find anything good to share on page 56, so I’m sharing something from pages 5 and 6 in the hardcover .

Page 5

His hand slowly dropped lower, growing closer to the mysterious message. As his fingertips were about to touch the odd markings, an ominous growl came from under the bed.

Page 6 

…the blanket came to life. It flew across the floor to the center of the room, stopped suddenly, and fell to the floor, revealing the culprit.

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Read on if you want to know more.

Synopsis

Enter the Library, where no one knows how the stories end . . . and finding out will be terrifying.
 
There’s a place beyond this world, beyond the land of the living, where ghosts go to write their unfinished stories—stories that ended too soon. It’s a place for unexplained phenomena: mysteries that have never been solved, spirits that have never been laid to rest. And there’s only one way in or out.

It’s called the Library, and you can get there with a special key. But beware! Don’t start a story you can’t finish. Because in this library, the stories you can’t finish just might finish you.

Marcus O’Mara is a 13 year old guy at a crossroads. He constantly finds himself in trouble at school, with his friends, and with his adoptive parents. Marcus doesn’t believe things can get any worse for him…until they get worse.

Much worse.

He begins seeing strange and impossible visions; gets thrown into paranormal danger and is haunted by a mysterious ghost with a singular goal: to give him a key.

It’s a key that opens the door to a mysterious library. When that door opens, the incredible adventure for Marcus and his friends begins as they learn the truth about Marcus’ past and uncover the strange world of unfinished stories that are found on the shelves of the Library.

AMAZON

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Leave your link and I’ll drop by your 56.

Thanks so much for visiting fuonlyknew!

You can find a list of my reviews HERE.

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Mummy’s Little Angel

by JW Lawson

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Genre: Psychological Thriller

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My Review

I tell you what. After reading this story about a family that could win The Most Dysfunctional Award, I don’t think either of these twin sisters could be tagged Mummy’s Little Angel.

What a tangled, ugly mess these girls are. And the mother isn’t much better. She’s popping pills left and right, and doing everything she can to avoid facing the big truth. One or both of her daughter’s is a psychopathic killer.

You get the story from three POVs. That of each sister, Annie and Maggie, and the mother, Joanne. It wasn’t hard to keep track of who was speaking as the author highlights each one in bold print. Otherwise, I think it would be hard to distinguish between them as all three are a mess.

This one really had me cranked up. If this were a movie, I’d be saying, “Come on mom, can’t you see they’re manipulating you?” By the end, I didn’t care who did what to who, I just wanted whoever deserved to pay for what they did, to pay.

Looking for something twisted? For character’s that have more baggage than an airport terminal? And enough suspense and mystery to keep your head spinning? Give this a go. It’ll mess with your head.

4 Stars

Mummy’s Little Angel is the first place winner of World’s Best Story!

worlds-best-story

Synopsis

Joanne didn’t believe that her life could become worse than it already was. She had lost everybody and everything she had loved. She was alone. Surely she had suffered enough? The press had called her identical twins psychopaths. Her Maggie. Her Annie. But she still loved them, even though one of them had killed her husband, Jeff. Joanne believed that his murder had been an accident. How could one of her girls be a murderer? She knew them better than anybody else. They were good girls really.

She just had to prove it.

The brutal murder of her god-daughter Laura had never been solved. Items were missing when Laura’s remains had been discovered: clues that could lead to the capture of her killer. One of them was Laura’s doll … the doll that Joanne later discovered in her home. Joanne is facing the most horrific dilemma of her life. Has the wrong woman been imprisoned? Could her child have used such brutality against her best friend? Or could both women be innocent after all?

She needs to find somebody for her daughter to confide in; somebody she will trust. She needs a miracle. There is only one person who can help. He is compassionate and caring, with an amazing ability to gain the trust of the most difficult patients. He is Joanne’s only hope. He is Jonathan Davies.

Buy the Book:

Amazon ~  Barnes & Noble ~ Friesen Press

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Author JW Lawson

jw-lawson

Award Winning Author, JW Lawson is already gaining recognition for her writing talents in the US and world-wide. The second of a trilogy of sensational thrillers,Mummy’s Little Angel is the winner of the highly acclaimed Worlds Best Story competition and has also received some outstanding reviews from the professional team of judges in the competition. She is currently writing her third thriller, Crossroads which will be available in 2017 and the final book of the current series, Hush Little Baby will be available in 2018.

Connect with the author: Website  ~  Twitter  ~  Facebook

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Follow The Tour

Sept 5 –   Mystery Suspense Reviews – book spotlight / guest post

Sept 6 –   Ali – The Dragon Slayer – review / guest post / giveaway

Sept 7 –   Cheryl’s Book Nook – review / author interview / giveaway

Sept 7 –   Fantastic Feathers – review

Sept 8 –   Book Crazy Scrapbook Mama – book spotlight / author interview / giveaway

Sept 8 –   Keenly Kristin – review

Sept 9 –   The Autistic Gamer – review

Sept 12 – Cover2Cover – book spotlight / giveaway

Sept 12 – The World As I See It – review / giveaway

Sept 13 – Books, Movies, Reviews. Oh my! – review / giveaway

Sept 13 – Celticlady’s Reviews – book spotlight / giveaway

Sept 14 – Musings Over Nothing – review / author interview

Sept 15 – T’s Stuff – review / author interview / giveaway

Sept 16 – The travelogue of a book addict – The Book Drealms – review / giveaway

Sept 19 – Readers Muse – review

Sept 19 – A Mama’s Corner of the World – book spotlight / guest post / giveaway

Sept 20 – The Silver Dagger Scriptorium – review / guest post / giveaway

Sept 21 – Lisa Loves Literature – book spotlight / author interview / giveaway

Sept 21 – Life as Leels – review

Sept 22 – fuonlyknew – review / giveaway

Sept 23 – Bound 4 Escape – review / giveaway

Sept 26 – Sylv all about books and films – review / guest post

Sept 27 – The Best Books Ever – review

Sept 28 – Book and Ink – review

Sept 29 – The Cubicle Escapee – review

Sept 30 – Bookmyopia – review

Sept 30 – Room With Books – review / guest post / giveaway

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Check out my list of reviews HERE.

For a list of free eBooks updated daily go HERE

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stillwell-banner

Title: Stillwell: A Haunting on Long Island
Author: Michael Phillip Cash
Publisher: Chelshire, Inc.
Pages: 192
Genre: Paranormal/Horror

stillwell

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My Review

I’m always in for a haunting tale. This was really good.

You have a man who has lost his wife to illness. He’s coping with grief and struggling to take care of his children.

Finally, he goes back to work, taking a listing for a mansion that’s purported to be haunted. He quickly discovers it is. And also finds out an evil entity is holding his wife’s spirit captive.

There’s also something strange happening with one of his children. The young one is being haunted in his dreams and awakens many nights terrified by horrific nightmares.

It’s all he can do to keep it together. So many demons to battle, real and otherwise, past and present.

Michael’s characters are always genuine. They could easily be someone you know. In Stillwell, I feel he dug real deep for these characters. You can’t help but empathize with some of them. Loath others. And hope you never meet some in a dark alley.

The author gives you a solid mystery, some eerie interludes, and enough creepy atmosphere to make your hairs stand on end and keep you looking over your shoulder at every tiny noise.

If you’re a fan of hauntings, this is one for you.

4 Stars

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Synopsis

Paul Russo’s wife just died. While trying to get his family’s life back in order, Paul is being tormented by a demon who is holding his wife’s spirit hostage on the other side. His fate is intertwined with an old haunted mansion on the north shore of Long Island called Stillwell Manor. Paul must find clues dating back hundreds of years to set his wife’s soul free.

For More Information

Book Excerpt:

Paul turned from the dark window, twitching the drapes back in place. It was cold in the house; it had the dank feel of being unused. It had only been empty for a week, and yet it held a stale feeling of overripe food and decaying garbage.

The kids would be coming home tomorrow. He had sent them to his sister’s place for the past week. It was too hard to have to worry about their schedules when he was sitting by Allison’s side. The funeral was yesterday, and he asked his sister to keep them one more day. He needed to have some time to collect himself. He’d spent the last twenty-four hours sitting in the dark, staring at nothing, his mind too numb to think.

Lisa had taken over with the brisk efficiency of the nurse that she was trained to be. Stella was eating once again and Jesse and his twin, Veronica, were able to sleep at night. His sister’s was the safe house, and while he desperately missed his children, he couldn’t deal with their everyday drama while he stayed with Allison for her final weeks.

He played with the chain around his neck then placed the gold band that hung from it on his lips. He closed his eyes, feeling alone. It was his wife’s wedding band and it had never left her finger from the time he had placed it there almost fifteen years ago.

Everything happened so fast. Too fast. His mind replayed the last six months in a montage of colors flashing like an out-of-control merry-go-round. Only it wasn’t a happy ride. Well, he sighed, he had to admit that he did feel relief. It felt wrong to have this burden taken off his shoulders, but his wife didn’t have to suffer anymore. He admitted to himself that he was weary too. She had gone from bad to worse in such a short time. She had slipped into a coma. He held her skeletal hand for a solid week, watching hope die alongside his wife. His family had brought in food, but he felt no hunger. As he stayed by her side, nothing seemed important. Paul stared at her face, memorizing every curve, her deep dimple, the mole she hated above her upper lip. Every second counted, and he wouldn’t waste a minute on himself. His future yawned ahead in a great vastness of nothing that stretched endlessly before him. Alone, mute, and his thoughts jumbled in his head, he couldn’t find words to say what he needed. Did she know how happy she had made him? Did Allison understand how much she meant to him? Could she know that his heart was so numb, he felt as though he were a corpse? Though he sat caressing her hand, could his wife sense the man next to her was spent, empty? It was that burnt-out feeling like after drinking so much that the liquor loses its taste and cigarettes burn with dying fire.

The irony was that he was the smoker, even though he had stopped when the twins were born, thirteen years ago. Allison wouldn’t have it in the house. He cheated at work, chewing gum to disguise the smell on his breath. It had always been a huge fight, and while she painted all kinds of devastating scenarios if he continued to smoke, they never expected her to be the one to fall victim to cancer.

The twins were a rare handful for them. Married for just over a year, they were unprepared for the incessant work. He was building his reputation as a go-to guy for the McMansions that dotted Long Island’s North Shore. The pull of work and two newborns tested their marriage. Allison breast-fed until utter exhaustion—or as he liked to call it “udder” exhaustion—made her stop. She always laughed at that.

Jesse, his son, was all brooding intensity, while Veronica, the elder twin by six minutes, was sweet, faithful, and resilient. They were golden children, kissed by sunlight, with blond hair, freckles, and odd silver eyes, like their mother. They communicated in a strange language that worked only for the two of them. A silent collusion between the twins created a special insight, and they knew exactly what the other was thinking. When words finally arrived, they could finish each other’s sentences.

While he was happy with his family, Allison had wanted another child. Reluctantly, he agreed and was shocked at his devastation when she miscarried. His despair turned to relentless hope, and although they faced a period of secondary infertility, he pushed for seven years, and they became pregnant once again. He called her “Stella Luna,” because she was the stars and moon to him.

With Stella, he had time to play. She was a fey child, filled with whimsy and a touch of an old soul.

Brown-haired and brown-eyed, she was the image of his older sister. Shut out of the twin’s world, he made sure she never felt alone. When she turned two, her soulful brown eyes induced him to give up smoking once and for all. God, he wished he had a cigarette. Right now.

The house screamed with silence, its heavy pall smothering any sense of light. It closed over him. The acid ache in his gut he’d been experiencing since she got sick made its presence known. Padding to the kitchen, he went in search of milk to put out the fire. After he opened the refrigerator door, he stood for a minute staring at the empty shelves. He smelled the open carton of milk and recoiled at the odor. He never remembered buying it and could only guess how old it was. Well, the milk was plainly spoiled, as was the cheese. They had to be at least a month old. Maybe he should just eat the yogurt, let it kill him, and the kids would be done with mourning. Two for the price of one, he thought as he slammed the door. He’d have to go food shopping at some point. Yep, the kids were coming home tomorrow.

~~~~~

Author Michael Phillip Cash

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Michael Phillip Cash is an award-winning novelist and screenwriter. His novels are best-sellers on Amazon under their genres – Young Adult, Thriller, Suspense, Ghost, Action Adventure, Fantasy, Paranormal Romance and Horror.

Michael writes full-time and lives on the North Shore of Long Island with his wonderful wife and screaming children. You can follow him @michaelpcash.

 

Author Links: Website | Blog | Twitter |Facebook | Goodreads

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Other books I’ve read by the author.

Click on the covers for my reviews.

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22070838  24037140  26835271  The History Major

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The Surrendered
Case Maynard
Published by: Blaze Publishing
Publication date: September 20th 2016
Genres: Dystopian, Young Adult

After a financial collapse devastates the United States, the new government imposes a tax on the nation’s most valuable resource—the children.

Surrendered at age ten—after her parents could no longer afford her exorbitant fees—Vee Delancourt has spent six hard years at the Mills, alongside her twin, Oliver. With just a year to freedom, they do what they can to stay off the Master’s radar. But when Vee discovers unspeakable things happening to the younger girls in service, she has no choice but to take a stand—a decision that lands her on the run and outside the fence for the first time since the System robbed her of her liberty.

Vee knows the Master will stop at nothing to prove he holds ultimate authority over the Surrendered. But when he makes a threat that goes beyond what even she considers possible, she accepts the aid of an unlikely group of allies. Problem is, with opposing factions gunning for the one thing that might save them all, Vee must find a way to turn oppression and desperation into hope and determination—or risk failing all the children and the brother she left behind.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Kobo

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First Chapter of Surrendered by Author Case Maynard

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZY_tGuxPLyI&feature=youtu.be

EXCERPT

A sinking feeling washes over me. “We’re going to Meadowood.”

He responds without opening his eyes, “I want answers.”

I start to argue that this will be a fool’s errand, but in truth, I want the same answers he does. “Do you think the man who rescued Oliver was with the Southies?”

“I don’t know who else it could’ve been.” He sits up and stretches. “It must’ve been them, and I want to know why they changed the plan without informing us. The Master and his Regulators got to the rooftop very quickly after I fired that shot. I have to wonder if someone told them we were there.”

“You think the Southies took Oliver to get the combination and then set the Regulators on us? Why would they do that?”

He rubs his face. “It doesn’t make any sense. But something’s not adding up.”

I ponder this, thinking about my brother’s strange plea. “I know you think I’m insane, but I can’t help but feel like Oliver knew someone was going to take him; I swear it felt like he was speaking to me when he said not to interfere. But that doesn’t make any sense, either. He’s been behind the fence for years.”

Cason yawns and tries to shake off the effects of the Papaver. “I don’t think you’re crazy; his message did seem odd for someone who was about to hang for a crime he didn’t commit. I don’t know, but hopefully he’ll be at Meadowood and you can ask him yourself.”

My mood elevates as I realize I may only be hours away from a reunion with my brother. The pain in my arm forgotten, I try to concentrate only on this knowledge, confident we’ll have our answers soon enough. “I didn’t get a chance to thank you for earlier. You could’ve just turned me over to the Master and walked away, but you didn’t. I’m grateful for that.”

I feel a little embarrassed as soon as the words leave my mouth. Normally I’m not one to share my feelings, but the Papaver Flower makes me breathless and lightheaded and loosens my tongue.

He reaches for me, careful not to jostle my splinted wrist, and pulls my face to his. “I’m probably going to ruin that sentiment by telling you the Master would never have let me go anyway, but know this—” he runs the pad of his thumb along my lower lip and meets my eyes “—if everyone else in the entire world leaves you to fend for yourself, if your father, your mother, your brother disappoint you, if God himself decides you aren’t worthy . . . you’ll still be able to count on me. I’ve got your back, Vera.”

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Author Bio:

With over 20 years’ experience in the legal and medical fields, Case Maynard decided to trade in her briefs and reports to write the stories that have been floating around in her head since childhood. She lives with her two teenagers and husband in South Georgia, while maintaining a long-distance liaison with her oldest daughter and partner in crime in Alaska. When not writing, she enjoys reading as often as possible, binge watching anything good on Netflix, and all things NCAA football (Go Noles!). You can learn more about Case and her stories on her website.

Website / Facebook / Twitter

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The Crimson Eyed Dragon

By D.M. Trink

Genre: YA Adventure

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School is over for the summer! All Jared wants to do is sleep, swim, and delve into as many computer and video games as possible. Life has other plans for him, however, and everything transforms one fateful afternoon when Jared accompanies his mom to an antique shop.

He is inexplicably attracted to a magnificent silver dragon statue with eyes that glow like precious rubies. When Jared brings the statue home, he initiates a chain of events that catapults him and his friends Griffin and Chase into a great adventure solving the mystery of the crimson-eyed dragon. Joined by Chase’s sister Amber, the teens discover that the statue holds a vital clue to the previous owner’s life. They embark on an innocent quest, but the secrets that unfold lead them into unimaginable danger that could ultimately destroy all of their lives.

Goodreads * Amazon * Smashwords

excerpt

It was a dragon figurine with red eyes and wings spread out for flight.  Jared was entranced, dragons ranked right up there with  his interests in sword and sorcery. The statue was about a foot high and maybetwo feet across in width but it appeared solid  and heavy so Jared took great care picking it up to examine it more closely. It was fascinatingto Jared with its intricate  etchings and mottled appearance. The silver was blackened in its deep grooves but that made it all the more beautiful. The  eyes glowed like precious jewels and the dragon’s features looked majestic.

As Jared carefully turned the statue over to  examine its underside one of the eyes fell out. Jared’s reflexes were quick and he managed to catch it before it hit the ground.  He looked around quickly to see if anyone had noticed his predicament but everyone in the shop was otherwise engaged.  Jared swiftly righted the dragon and examined the empty socket. The lighting in the shop was dim so he couldn’t make out  exactly how it had been attached. He tried pushing the ruby-colored orb into the opening but it only fell out again when moved.

“Nothing to do but confess!”  Jared muttered to himself.   

“I hope it isn’t a priceless artifact.”

about-the-author

dm-trink

I grew up in Greenfield Park, Quebec where I got my CEGEP diploma in Commerce at Dawson College. I had just finished one year at McGill University majoring in Economics when my family decided to move to Ontario.

After moving with them I switched my career path to the medical field. I consequently trained as an x-ray technologist and worked in that occupation for about ten years. Since then I have co-owned and operated a family business, done bookkeeping, and worked in retail where I have made some wonderful friends.

I currently live in Hamilton with my favourite guys (my husband Ben and my son Alex), and sometimes with my stepsons Michael (thanks for all the computer help!), David and Stephen. We feel lucky to have them nearby where we can watch them grow up, have careers, and start to have delightful families of their own. I am also grateful to know that I have the love and support of my mom, sister Ninette, brothers Darryl and Hillary and of course all the Trinks!

I have enjoyed writing short stories and poetry since my high school days. I always wanted to try writing a romance novel and Wrapped in a Rainbow is that accomplishment. I am presently working on a book in a very different genre; it is more in the style of a Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew-type of mystery story (but maybe I will add a bit of romance!)

Facebook * Goodreads * Website

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Is that cover something or what! So rich in color and so chilling at the same time. Perfect for the story contained inside the pages.

Check out my review. You might have found your next mystery suspense read!

Title: Touching Death
Author: Becky Johnson
Publisher: Independent
Pages: 209
Genre: Mystery/Suspense

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My Review

I’m huge on character driven stories and really enjoy a strong female protagonist. I got that in Touching Death, along with a fun mystery.

Rachel is down but not out for the count. Her rich boyfriend dumped her for some arm candy, and the creep stole her money, even though he’s got plenty of his own. She’s living in a box, a tiny flat, with a mattress on the floor and empty cupboards and fridge. She does have all of those designer clothes though. They come in handy for working as curator at the museum.

The author has a great character in Rachel. She doesn’t whine about her predicament. She’s not vindictive towards her ex, much. And she keeps her financial woes close to the vest. It was sad yet uplifting to meet such a wonderful character. Did I mention her sense of humor? She has plenty of that too.

It’s finally here, the biggest night of Rachel’s life. She set up the main exhibit for the museum and poured her heart and soul into it. Things don’t go as planned at the opening event. She stumbles upon a dead body, and it mysteriously disappears by the time she leads the police to its location.

Now she has a big red target on her back, and not much help forthcoming from the doubtful police. She’s going to have to use her “woowoo” to solve the case, or she might be put on display as: dead girl here.

 Rachel’s touch/know gift, her ability to touch objects and sense things, ramps up the suspense. There are some pretty dark scenes she’s witness to. I think the author gave this book a great title to represent her story.

There’s the potential for some romance too. I like how the author had her character’s become friends, with room for their relationship to develop into something more.

If you like a good paranormal mystery with some suspense and a touch of romance, I “sense” you’ll enjoy Touching Death.

4 Stars

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Synopsis

Rachel Angeletti knows things. She always has. With one touch she sees secrets, emotions, lies. Her gift helps her to be the best museum curator in Chicago. It also makes her personal relationships difficult.
Her life is complicated enough when a run in with her ex and an unanticipated vision sends her reeling. One touch and she sees death. One touch and she is thrown into the midst of killer’s dark fantasy. Now Rachel is in a fight for her life against a killer she knows too little about.
With danger stalking her around every turn Rachel is in a thrilling race against the clock. Can she catch a killer before he catches her?
Touching Death will take you on a riveting, page-turning, journey into the mind of a killer and the heart of a survivor.

For More Information:

  • Touching Death is available at Amazon.
  • Discuss this book at PUYB Virtual Book Club at Goodreads.

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Book Excerpt

I was eleven the first time I saw someone die.

It was hot. The kind of hot where your shirt sticks to your back and every breath feels thick and heavy. The waistband of my plaid, pleated school uniform was itchy. It was always itchy, but in Chicago in early September with the temperature in the nineties, I could barely stand it.

“Look,” my best friend April gave my arm a sharp and eager tug, “I can’t believe he’s talking to her.”

I looked across the museum where she was pointing. Jonathan Adams. With his dark hair and blue eyes he was the cutest guy in our class. He was talking to Carol, the prettiest girl in our class and our sworn enemy. April had such an intense crush on Jonathan. She had already named their children and when we played the name game she always wanted to get him.

While April plotted revenge on her arch nemesis, I looked across the Ancients room in The Chicago Museum of Anthropology and Archeology to where Billy Masters stood by a glass display case. His hair was unruly and stuck up in odd peaks from his forehead in complete disregard of the rules. His white, button-down shirt hung out over his waistband. Technically, he was wearing the school tie; he just wore it tied around his belt loop, a bright red flag of rebellion. I never wanted to admit it, but when I daydreamed and played the name game, I was always looking for Billy Masters.

Our class slowly moved through the large room. My teacher, Ms. Daniels, stood at the front of our group lecturing on the Egyptian Empire. With her graying hair pulled back into a tight bun, her stockings sagging around her skinny legs, and her soft and squeaky voice the lecture didn’t keep my attention. Her high-pitched voice faded to the background as I gazed at the surrounding exhibits. They were all so beautiful and fascinating. My imagination ran wild with stories and images. I imagined hands cupping a bowl or pulling a comb through a child’s hair. In my mind’s eye a thousand stories and possibilities ran wild.

We walked through the center aisle of a room, clustered with pottery and remnants of houses. I felt the strangest urge, the almost all consuming desire to touch. My fingertips itched. The power of it drew me. The crumbled edges of the pottery bowl almost begged me to touch them. Only a velvet rope and a few feet separated me from that tantalizing edge.

One touch. No one will know.

I didn’t even realize I’d stepped forward until the velvet rope stopped me from going any further. Vaguely, I heard my teacher discussing social structure and family groups, but the pounding of my own heart overpowered all other noise.

Rachel, the past whispered, “come. See. Life and death.”

I reached my hand out and my fingers brushed the edge of the bowl.

Laughter.

Raised voices.

Yelling.

Screams.

Crying.

The images bombarded me — a woman sat in front of a fire pit making dinner for her family. A dispute nearby grabbed her attention. Two men were fighting. The crowd surged and pulsed with the energy of the fight. Screamed words sounded foreign to my ears, but the emotion made perfect sense — fear, anger, uncertainty.

Only the woman with the bowl saw the little boy standing too close to the fighters. Only the woman with the bowl saw the danger. She screamed his name. Her screams went unheard in the din. The crowd moved with the fight, their bodies cutting off her view.

The bowl was clutched tight in her fingers as she struggled forward, pushing people aside. It grew eerily quiet. The crowd slowed, then paused responding to a different energy. Shoulders and heads slumped as they parted before her. The little boy was on the ground. A bloody rock lay near him. She dropped the bowl as she surged forward, screaming.

I awoke on the ground in front the display my face wet and my throat raw with the echo of the screams still ringing in my ears.

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Author Becky Johnson

 becky-johnson

Books are Becky Johnson’s passion and always have been. She used to get in trouble in school for reading during class!
Becky has Master’s degrees in social work and history, and for her day job she is a social worker. In her writing she tries to answer a question that is important to both social work and history: Why? She always wants to know why people do the things they do or feel the way they feel.
When not reading or writing she enjoys yoga, photography, cooking, and makes a pretty mean chili!

Her latest book is the mystery/suspense, Touching Death.

For More Information:

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Teaser

Teaser Tuesdays is a weekly bookish meme, hosted by MizB at Books And A Beat.

Anyone can play along! Just do the following:
• Grab your current read.
• Open to a random page.
•Share two (2) “teaser” sentences from somewhere on that page
BE CAREFUL NOT TO INCLUDE SPOILERS! (make sure that what you share doesn’t give too much away! You don’t want to ruin the book for others!)
• Share the title & author, too, so that other TT participants can add the book to their TBR Lists if they like your teasers!

 

My Teaser for this week is from

The Ice Bridge

by  Katheryn Meyer Griffith

6401176

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Genre: Adult / Mystery / Romance

My teaser from 8% in the eBook.

 After she unpacked, she stretched out on the bed and drowsily watched the boats trolling the lake. She watched the seagulls flying over the shoreline. Eventually their swooping and soft crying lulled her to sleep and she rested better than she had in weeks. A deep comforting sleep that helped to wipe away the past and nudge her into the future.

Sorry this was a bit long. It was such a lovely, peaceful scene. I swear I could hear the waves brushing the shore, the gulls calling to each other, and catch the slightly fishy scent of the water.

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I’m hosting another Tag Team Review and Giveaway Event next week for The Ice bridge. Be sure to stop by on the 29th to catch the review and two chances to win the book!

Read on if you want to know more.

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Synopsis

She’ll fall in love again…with a man and the island. Charlotte returns to her Aunt Bess and Mackinac Island, a quaint retreat that welcomes summer tourists and allows no cars to renew herself and write about the island’s ghosts.She’s come to help Bess with her heartache, an ended love with Shaun, and to renew a friendship with neighbor Hannah. In winter Mackinac closes down and everyone looks forward to the ice bridge that freezes across the Straits of Mackinac. Until Hannah disappears into the icy waters crossing it.Everyone says it’s an accident. But Charlotte and her admirer cop friend, Mac, don’t think so. Something isn’t right. Hannah was too smart to go off the path. So it’s murder…but why…how…by whom?In the end, it’s Mac-and perhaps Hannah’s ghost-who saves Charlotte and Bess’s lives when the killer decides they’re too close to the truth and tries to kill them, too.

AMAZON

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How about you? Got a tease? Tell me!

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The Madonna of Notre Dame Banner

The Madonna Of Notre Dame

by Alexis Ragougneau

29363299

Release date: October 11, 2016
at New Vessel Press

ISBN: 978-1-939931-39-3
210 pages

Genre: Thriller

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My Review

This is a tangled thriller with a murder not easily solved.

A woman’s body is found in the ambulatory of the chapel, Our Lady Of Seven Sorrows. Seemingly, she’s been there for hours. No one realized she was dead.

Now, it’s a scramble to discover who killed her and what message they were sending by posing her body and leaving it at such a public venue.

I’m not familiar with the working of the Catholic faith so I found it fascinating to read a story that delves into the inner workings. And the translation to English was well done, the story flowed quickly.

This was unfamiliar territory, the church and the foreign setting, and I enjoyed the rich descriptions that helped me to visual and appreciate the beauty of such settings.

The intriguing cast of character’s, including the police and priests, made this a straight through read for me as I unraveled the clues and finally found out who killed the Madonna and why. I was surprised, yet not surprised. Surprised at who did it. Not so much as to why.

I’d recommend this to those who enjoy a tightly written thriller with a good dash of mystery.

4 Stars

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Synopsis

Fifty thousand believers and photo-hungry tourists jam into Notre Dame Cathedral on August 15 to celebrate the Feast of the Assumption. The next morning, a stunningly beautiful young woman clothed all in white kneels at prayer in a cathedral side chapel. But when an American tourist accidentally bumps against her, her body collapses. She has been murdered: the autopsy reveals disturbing details. Police investigators and priests search for the killer as they discover other truths about guilt and redemption in this soaring Paris refuge for the lost, the damned, and the saved. The suspect is a disturbed young man obsessed with the Virgin Mary who spends his days hallucinating in front of a Madonna. But someone else knows the true killer of the white-clad daughter of Algerian immigrants. This thrilling novel illuminates shadowy corners of the world’s most famous cathedral, shedding light on good and evil with suspense, compassion and wry humor.

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Excerpt

A little farther, he greeted two cleaning women who were

finishing sweeping the north transept, hushed a group of Chinese

tourists whose cackling echoed through the cathedral, which was

otherwise still quiet at that time, then, pushing his cart, set off

along the black and white tiled floor of the ambulatory. That’s

when his colleague, the guard, came to mind. Immediately, he

saw her. Or rather, in the half light, he just made her out.

The bombshell was indeed there, at the very end of the

ambulatory, perfectly still, alone, as though delicately placed on

the bench outside the chapel of Our Lady of the Seven Sorrows.

Gérard approached and started emptying the nearest candle

rack. The few candles lit by the first visitors of the day spread

more shadow than light, so that what he was able to distinguish

was a form rather than a body, a profile rather than a face. She

was wearing a short white dress made of such sheer fabric it followed

closely every curve, every bend in her flesh. Her black

hair, shimmering in places, cascaded over her neck and shoulders

like a river of silk. Her hands, joined in prayer like those

of a child, rested on her bare thighs. On her feet, held demurely

together under the bench like those of a schoolgirl, she had a

pair of high-heeled pumps so white and varnished that it was

futile to resist a glance. They underlined her slender ankles and

the contours of her calves.

Gérard lost himself in the contemplation of this stunning

figure, forgetting for a moment his boxes of candles, his cart, his

hassles, and the monotony of his work as sacristan. However, he

was soon interrupted by the crackle of a radio, the one he wore

at his belt, emitting his name.

“Guard to sacristan … Gérard? … Gérard, do you read me?”

“Yes, I can hear you. What do you want?”

“Did you go look?”

“I’m right here.”

“Is she still there?”

“Yes. Good as gold.”

 “And?”

“Definitely explosive … You were right.”

He put back his walkie-talkie with the guard’s laughter still

resounding from it, then, somewhat reluctantly, finished cleaning

out the candle rack. Behind him, a handful of worshippers

were already entering the chancel, where the nine o’clock

Mass was about to begin. He had to get the necessary liturgical

accessories ready. Father Kern was officiating this morning, and

Father Kern did not tolerate delays.

A little later, he again had occasion to go through the ambulatory.

An automatic dispenser of medals stamped with Ave

Maria Gratia Plena had just become jammed and a tourist, a

corpulent American woman, was tormenting the refund button.

In the chancel, the Mass was following its course. Father

Kern was delivering the day’s homily in his metallic, authoritative

voice, plunging the cathedral into a respectful silence. As he

opened the cover of the medal dispenser and the jammed coins

fell one by one as though from a piggy bank, Gérard ventured

a glance at the young woman dressed in white. She was there,

she hadn’t budged, her hands still clasped together on her pale

thighs, her two pumps still united. Outside, the sun was rising

straight up in line with the chapel and, penetrating the stained

glass in the east, was starting to bathe the young woman’s translucent

face in a red and blue halo worthy of a Raphael Madonna.

Motionless on her bench reserved for prayer, protected by a rope

that isolated her from visitors and gave her the appearance of a

holy relic, she stared at the statue of the Virgin of Seven Sorrows

with an oddly vacant expression.

Gérard closed the medal dispenser and took a couple of steps

toward the young woman in white, but the American tourist was

already ahead of him. She took a bill from her handbag and

pushed it through the slit in the stand, then took four candles,

which she lined up on the nearby rack before lighting them one

by one. Their flickering light finally illuminated the girl’s face.

The tourist crossed herself and approached the bench. In a

heavily accented whisper, she asked the young woman in white if

she could sit next to her in order to pray. Still motionless, the girl

did not deign to reply, her eyes as though transfixed by the statue

of Our Lady of the Seven Sorrows. After repeating her question

and still not obtaining an answer, the American deposited her

posterior on the bench, the wood groaning slightly beneath her

weight. Then, as if in slow motion, as if in a nightmare from the

dead of night, the white Madonna slowly nodded. Her chin came

down on her chest then, gently, almost gracefully, her whole body

toppled forward before collapsing on the checkered tiles.

That’s when the fat American woman started to scream.

~~~~~

Author Alexis Ragougneau

Alexis Ragougneau
is a playwright and
The Madonna of Notre Dame is his first novel.
He has worked in Notre Dame Cathedral
helping monitor tourist crowds
and knows well its infinite secrets
and the forgotten souls who linger in its darkest corners.

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It’s never too early to start gathering Christmas reads and this will be a perfect story to add to your list.

What’s that? Do you smell cinnamon and sugar cookies? LOL

The Christmas Cookie Shop

by Ginny Baird

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Genre: Contemporary Romance

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Synopsis

Come home this Christmas to…

 

CHRISTMAS TOWN, TENNESSEE

 

Where everyday dreams come true!

 

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Ginny Baird brings you the start of a brand new holiday series…

 

THE CHRISTMAS COOKIE SHOP

 

(Christmas Town, Book 1)

 

Hannah Winchester is down on her luck and disillusioned with love, but her fortunes are about to change. When Hannah inherits a defunct bakery in East Tennessee, her first thought is to sell it and settle her substantial debt. Then the townsfolk welcome her warmly and she’s taken with the joyful spirit of the place, where stores employ holiday themes and residents have surnames like Christmas and Claus. After a handsome lawman comes to her aid dressed as Santa, Hannah learns he’s more than a hot guy in a red suit and shiny black boots. Sheriff Carter Livingston has joined in the cause of rejuvenating the town, and he’s encouraging her to do her part. Hannah’s great-grandmother, Lena, sold special holiday cookies that brought hope and renewal to the people of Christmas Town. Yet Hannah has plans elsewhere and isn’t looking to stay. Can she possibly reopen the shop known for kindling romance—without sacrificing her heart?

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Enjoy the fun excerpt.

Hannah held back the door, greeting the men on the street. Frank Cho gave a friendly smile, bomber jacket zipped up tight and thumbs hitched in his utility belt. “You must be Hannah.”

“Thanks for coming by, and on such short notice.”

“No problem,” Frank said as Carter followed him indoors, tipping his hat her way. “Electricity’s nothing to mess with.”

Just as Frank spoke, Carter locked on her gaze. Seconds ticked by as winds howled across the threshold. Frank turned to her, puzzled, and Carter reached up and smoothly shut the door. Hannah noted the paper bag in his hand. Its logo read The Elf Shelf Book Shop.

“Good to see you, sheriff.” Hannah shot him a smile. “Been shopping?”

“Had some errands to run.” Carter awkwardly cleared his throat. “On this street.”

Frank paused in unzipping his jacket to scrutinize them both. In a flash, his face registered understanding. “I’ll just go check things out, while you two get acquainted.”

“Oh no, we’ve—”

“Met,” Carter finished for her. His eyes were a thicket of pines: lush, green, and inviting. Heat warmed her cheeks as Carter removed his hat and pressed it to his chest.

“Right.” Frank repressed a grin. “In that case, reacquainted.” Hannah was vaguely aware of Frank turning her way. “Fuse box?”

“Kitchen,” she said weakly, never taking her eyes off Carter’s.

Frank clucked his tongue. “Uh-huh. Uh-huh.”

As he trailed away, Hannah could have sworn he said, “Major power surges could be an issue.”

Carter shifted his hat to the hand holding the bag. “Hannah…”

“Frank seems to have gotten the wrong impression.”

“What impression is that?”

Her color deepened. “That you and I—”

“But we’re not,” he assured her firmly.

“No.”

“Not even in the least.”

Hannah shook her head.

“The only thing is…”

Hannah waited, her heart drumming.

“We could be, if you wanted.”

“Could be what?”

“Going out.” A sly smile crept up his lips. “You did kind of invite me.”

“The rain check.” The words were a breathy whisper.

“Yeah.” Carter raised his free hand and lightly traced her lips with his thumb.

Hannah’s pulse raced and butterflies went wild within her.

“How about that rain check?” he continued. His palm was on her cheek now, the heel of his hand cradling her chin. Carter took a step closer. Only his hat and the shopping bag stood between them. “Can I cash it in?”

Copyright © 2016 Ginny Baird

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AUTHOR Ginny Baird

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Romance writer Ginny Baird has published novels in print and online and received screenplay options from Hollywood for her family and romantic comedy scripts. Whether writing lighthearted romantic comedy or spine-tingling romantic suspense, she delights in delivering heartwarming stories.

She is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author, a Top 10 Best Seller on Kindle, NOOK and iBooks, and a #1 Best Seller in several Romance and Women’s Fiction categories. When she’s not writing, Ginny enjoys cooking, biking and spending time with her family in Virginia. Ginny loves hearing from her readers! She invites you to visit her website and connect with her on social media. http://www.ginnybairdromance.com/

 

AUTHOR FOLLOW LINKS

Amazon / Website-Blog / Facebook / Twitter / Goodreads

BUY & TBR LINKS

Amazon: US / UK / CA / AU

B&N / Apple / Kobo / Goodreads

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Thanks so much for visiting fuonlyknew and Good Luck!

For a list of my reviews go HERE.

For a list of free eBooks updated daily go HERE

To see all of my giveaways click on the lucky horseshoe below!

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