Posts Tagged ‘review’

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I am thrilled to be hosting a spot on the WALKIN’ THE DOG by Chris Lynch Blog Tour

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hosted by Rockstar Book Tours.

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Check out my review and make sure to enter the giveaway!

 

 

WALKIN’ THE DOG

Author: Chris Lynch

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Pub. Date: March 12, 2024

Publisher: Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers

Formats: Hardcover, eBook

Pages: 240

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Find it: Goodreadshttps://books2read.com/WALKIN-THE-DOG

 

“Lynch is back and better, smarter, and funnier than ever.” —Jacqueline
Woodson, National Book Award Winner

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A boy learns how to be a friend from man’s best friend in this funny and
moving middle grade novel about humans being able to change and dogs changing
us from acclaimed author Chris Lynch.

In a family of strong personalities with very strong points of
view, Louis is what his mother lovingly calls “the inactivist,” someone who’d
rather kick back than stand out. He only hopes he can stay under the radar when
he starts high school in the fall, his first experience with public school
after years of homeschooling.

But when a favor for a neighbor and his stinky canine companion unexpectedly
turns into a bustling dog-walking business, Louis finds himself meeting an
unprecedented number of new friends—both human and canine. Agatha, a quippy and
cagey girl his age always seems to be telling two truths and a lie. Cyrus, a
few years his senior, promises he’s going to show Louis how to be a better
person, whether Louis wants him to or not. And then there are the dogs:
misbehaving border terriers, the four (possible stolen) sausage dogs, the rest
of Louis’s charges, and a mysterious white beast who appears at a certain spot
at the edge of the woods.

Dogs and human alike all seem to have something they want to teach Louis,
including his menacing older brother who keeps turning up everywhere. But is
Louis ready to learn the lesson he needs most: how to stop being a lone wolf
and be part of a pack?

 

 

 

 

MY REVIEW

I’m a firm believer in dogs bringing out the best in those who choose to pay heed to them. Mostly by accident, Louis winds up walking dogs the summer before he leaves homeschooling behind and enters public high school. They have a lot to teach him, and so do Cy and Aggie, just two of the people he meets while walking the dogs.

I found this book both educational and just plain fun. The characters were so true to life and the hurdles Louis had to concur were daunting yet doable. For an introvert like Louis, learning to poke his head out of his shell and socialize wasn’t easy. The author brought him to life for me and included some strong side characters that made me excited to turn each page and see how things panned out.

And a shout out to the author for giving the dogs as much characters as the humans who, by the way, have some quirky, hilarious tags that go with their personalities. Got some snickers out of me. I have someone in mind to share this book with. I think he’d enjoy the characters and life lessons as much as I did.

5 STARS

 

 

 

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Enjoy this peek inside:

  1. The Inactivist

IT’S STILL DARK OUT WHEN MY DAD WAKES ME UP.

Things are supposed to go a certain way, and this is not that way. He’s a commercial fisher, and so should be out of  the house for several hours already by the time I wake up.  When I get myself up, which I’m perfectly capable of doing.

“Louis,” he says, leaning way down close and misting me  with coffee and bran muffin and fig and orange breath. Fortunately, I love my father and his relatively healthy diet. Later,  he smells different. Fisherfolk, yeah?

“I need you, son.”

This, along with the darkness, and the absence of my  mother from the house, is a bit unsettling.

My dad doesn’t need me, or anybody else, really. At least  he’s never said so before. He’s very seafaring that way. It  soothes me, his unneediness.

It’s technically not true, anyway. He doesn’t need me;  somebody else does. But Dad needs that somebody else, so  there you have it.

“I’m short a man today,” he says, “and Old Man Dan is the only guy around who knows what he’s doing and is also  available to give me an honest day’s work.”

Old Man Dan is Mr. Evans. He’s one of those guys you  hear about who have millions of “fish stories” about the one  that got away and the biggest thing that ever swam the sea.  Old Man Dan retired from actual shing without retiring any  of the fish stories, or the scent. They say he’s got a thing called  trimethylaminuria. They also say he reeks. Kind of guy my dad  avoids in the street or the supermarket aisle on account of  those stories more than the smell, so he must be in serious  need of Dan’s assistance on this occasion if he’s prepared to  listen to that stuff all day.

“Okay, can I ask why you’re telling me this, Dad?” I ask,  without really wanting to ask it.

“Because Dan says he can only go out on the boat today  if he can get somebody to look after Amos.”

Oh no.

Amos. Dan’s multi-breed mongrel, who seems less like a  real dog and more like a cross between a portly dingo and a  badger. Everybody but Dan refers to him as Anus, because of  the smell, which reaches you about twenty-four hours before  you’re anywhere near him.

“Oh, Dad . . .”

“Please, Louis. The poor thing can’t be alone for more  than a few hours at a time, ever since Dan’s wife passed away.  You understand, of course. . . .”

Ah, Dad. I mean, I don’t think he did it on purpose, but  he did it. He can hardly be unaware that his wife, my mother, is in the hospital, as she has been for too many days the past  year. He cannot be unaware, but he also cannot have meant to  use that as a point of leverage in this conversation.

His fractured face tells me as much. He caught himself  off balance just as badly as he did me.

“I’ll do it, Dad,” I say, brushing past him both impatiently  and affectionately as I climb out of bed. He squeezes my arm,  I squeeze his, and we both look away.

When I come out of the shower and make my way sluggishly to the kitchen table, it’s still not quite sunrise. My little  sister, Faye, is eating a bowl of cereal by the dim, warm glow  of the stovetop light. It’s a scene I’m not used to, and one I  find unexpectedly pleasant. Faye can be a bit harsh under the  full glare of day.

I’m thirteen, and Faye is eleven months younger. Irish twins, they call it, but we might as well be the regular kind.  She’s as old as me in every other way, if not older. There’s a  family legend that—because Faye was not exactly a planned  baby—Dad wanted to name her Daisy. As in, whoops-a-daisy.

“Oh, for cryin’ . . . ,” Faye exclaims, letting her spoon fall  out of her hand and clatter around the tabletop. She’s not  really that shocked to see me at this hour, but it’s still a pretty  good show.

I explain the situation to her, how Dad needs a fisher, and  that fisher needs a dog sitter.

“Anus?” she asks, incredulous, but not really. “Well, I  don’t know what you showered for, because that’s just soap  and water down the drain.”

“Oh, he’s not that bad,” I say, because why not just let her  swing away.

“Not that bad, Louis? Old Man Dan still smells like chum  after all these years, and he remains only the second-raunchiest  creature in that house. And you’re going over there? You know  that’s what killed Old Lady Dan the Fishwife, don’t you? She  died of stench. It was in the obituary. I read it.”

Always good value for money, my sister.

I shrug. It should be noted that I shrug a lot. It’s my official state gesture.

“I’m getting paid,” I say. “And Dad needs me to help him  out. Those are two sound reasons. Throw in kindness to animals and we’re well into bonus territory.”

Felt like I was doing pretty well, for a homeschooled  debater.

“Oh, you’re heading into bogus territory, all right,” she  says. “Seriously bogus. And I love Dad, and animals, as much  as you do. But you know what Ma would have to say about  that other thing.”

I forgot that I wasn’t even the best debater in the house. “She’d say I should do it for free,” I moan. “But Ma would  have everybody do everything for free, and that’s why we’re  poor.”

“Oh, we’re not poor, Louis; we’re just normal.” “Yeah, well, poor is not gonna be my normal, I’ll tell you  that.”

“Fine,” Faye says. “Tell me that if you need to tell me that.  I need to tell you that Ma is expecting to see you today. So, while you’re walking the dog and grubbing the money, you  also need to make time for a visit to your mother.” “I can do that.”

“Yeah, you can do that.”

“Yeah, Faye, that’s what I said.”

“Right, I was just helping. Sometimes you need help, to,  y’know, do things.”

This is all so wrong. Not inaccurate, but wrong. “Come on, Faye. Not when it comes to Ma.”

Ma is a great many great things. Foremost among them is  probably activist. She’s renowned for it. If there’s a cause that needs  activist, she’s there, and always has been. To the detriment, one  might say, of her personal health and well-being. She cares, about  everything, more than a rational person should. In my opinion.

By contrast, I have a nickname, and it was first bestowed  upon me by that very same activist Ma.

The Inactivist.

Kind of comical, and true enough, if not exactly flattering. I don’t much like getting involved.

“Would you have gone to see her today if I hadn’t  reminded you?”

“Of course I would have. But, anyway, wasn’t today supposed to be your day?”

“Ha!” Faye says, pointing through the air between us  sharply enough to nearly hurt my chest. Like she bagged me there. Which, possibly, she did.

“What, ‘ha’?” I say. “Today was definitely supposed to be  your day.”

“What, because they’re all my day? Because I’m the girl?” My choices here, as I see them, are limited and not good.  An honest answer to that does me no favors. Pausing too  long while I come up with something better presents its own  problems. It’s like verbal waterboarding, trying to argue with  Faye.

I aim for her not inconsiderable heart as a viable option  to battling her intellectually, which is no option at all. “Faye, I don’t like the hospital. It scares me.”

She slows down, out of kindness. I’d sort of prefer it if  she sped up.

“I know, Louis. And I understand. But, too bad. And any way, it’s not a hospital, so stop calling it that.”

She’s half-right, which is about 50 percent less right than  she usually is. Ma is staying at a place they call the Knoll.  But the Knoll is on the grounds of, and functionally a part  of, a whole hospital. It’s an inpatient program that lasts four  weeks. She’s done this thing before. Later, if she still needs  them, there are outpatient programs that also last four weeks.  She won’t need them, though. I’m an optimist. Dad says I am  pathologically optimistic. Meaning, I tend to believe that things  are gonna work out, on their own, without any help from me,  the way they should. Because they will, that’s why.

Ma is in the Knoll as a direct result of the fact that she  cares too much. About everything.

That’s an insufficient explanation, probably.

She works at a shelter called A Woman’s Place. Doesn’t  just work the place. Lives it. One of their managers. Often a night manager, which can be hard going. She’s a stellar person, a soldier. The single best person I’ve ever met, as a matter  of fact. All the pain of A Woman’s Place—and that is a world  of pain—is her pain.

She’s an inspiration to me. In a way she would never want  to be.

Meaning, I’m determined that what happened to her will  never happen to me.

The more streamlined story is, she was breaking up a  fight at the shelter one night. In the course of things, she  slipped and destroyed her knee. Shredded her ACL and  MCL. Such is the esteem in which my mother is held in A  Woman’s Place that everyone on the scene—including the  two combatants—dropped everything in order to care for  her on the spot.

That care took her eventually to City Medical Center.  And to surgery. And to lots of rehab and physical therapy. And pain. Lots and lots of pain.

And painkillers.

Which isn’t an altogether accurate word, is it? Pain doesn’t  die. I have seen pain, and I have never seen it die. So the pain got to my ma. And the painkillers got to the  pain. Then the painkillers got to Ma.

But it wasn’t just the knee, was it?

Dad, who has a way with words for a fishsherdude, put it  this way: Pain got to Ma. But the pain of pain got to her more.  Everybody’s pain got to her.

She cares too much, is what he meant. Like I said.

She broke, is what happened.

The job did it to her. Then being o the job double-did  it to her. She couldn’t stand being off the job—not helping  out. Helping everybody but her.

“Please, Faye?” I say because I’m out of anything more  convincing. “Can’t you do today?”

“I did yesterday,” she says.

“Yeah, but you could do today, right?”

“Right. I could. But I’m not going to.”

“Why not?”

“Because I want you to.”

“Aw, that’s just—”

“And because Ma wants you to.”

Rats. And rats and rats again.

“She didn’t actually say that. Did she actually say that?” “She actually said that, Louis. She wants to see you. And  for you to see her. She knows you’re afraid.”

“And she wants to see me anyway.”

“Duh, Louis,” she says, and with those three  syllables wraps up the discussion.

Duh, Louis. She wants to see me because I’m afraid. Not  only because of that, but for sure it’ s partly because of that.

~~~~~

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About Author Chris Lynch:

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Chris Lynch (he/him/his)
is the award–winning author of several highly acclaimed young adult novels, including Printz Honor Book FreewillIcemanGypsy
Davey
, and Shadow Boxer—all ALA Best Books for Young Adults—as
well as Killing Time in Crystal CityLittle Blue LiesPiecesKill
Switch
Angry Young Man, and Inexcusable, which was
a National Book Award finalist and the recipient of six starred reviews. Chris is the author of middle grade novel Walkin’ the Dog. He holds an MA from the writing program at Emerson College. He teaches in the creative writing MFA program at Lesley University. He lives in Boston and in Scotland.

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Meet Chris! 

Tuesday, March 12, 2024 at 7:00pm ET

Porter Square Books (Cambridge, MA)

In conversation with Sara Farizan

 

Wednesday, March 13, 2024 at 7:00pm ET

Broadside Bookshop (Northampton, MA)

In conversation with Michael Mercurio

 

Thursday, March 14, 2024 at 6:00pm ET

Books of Wonder (New York, NY)

In conversation with Caela CarterCathy Carr, and E.L. Shen

 

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1 winner will receive a finished copy of WALKIN’ THE DOG, US Only.

Ends March 12th, midnight EST.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Tour Schedule:

Week One:

2/26/2024

YA Books Central

Excerpt/IG Post

2/26/2024

Little
Red Reads

Excerpt/IG Post

2/27/2024

@pineshorelittlefreelibrary

IG Post

2/27/2024

Country
Mamas With Kids

Review/IG Post

2/28/2024

Books
With a Chance

Review/IG Post

2/28/2024

@darkfantasyreviews

IG Post

2/29/2024

Kountry Girl Bookaholic

Excerpt/IG Post

2/29/2024

#BRVL
Book Review Virginia Lee Blog

Excerpt/IG Post

3/1/2024

Two
Chicks on Books

Excerpt/IG Post

3/1/2024

Lady
Hawkeye

Excerpt/IG Post

Week Two:

3/4/2024

@dharashahauthor

IG Post/TikTok Post

3/4/2024

Avainbookland

IG Review

3/5/2024

@pagesforpaige

IG Review

3/5/2024

Review Thick And Thin

Review/IG Post

3/6/2024

@paws.read.repeat

Review/IG Post

3/6/2024

FUONLYKNEW

Review

3/7/2024

@evergirl200

IG Review

3/7/2024

Callisto’s calling

IG Review

3/8/2024

Two
Points of Interest

Review

3/8/2024

The
Momma Spot

Review

 

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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 go HERE.

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I am thrilled to be hosting a spot on the MISS AUSTEN INVESTIGATES: THE HAPLESS MILLINER by Jessica Bull Blog Tour hosted by Rockstar Book Tours.

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Check out my review and make sure to enter the giveaway!

 

MISS AUSTEN INVESTIGATES: THE HAPLESS MILLINER

by Jessica Bull

 

 

Pub. Date: February 27, 2024

Publisher: Union Square Co.

Formats: Hardcover, Paperback, eBook, Audiobook

Pages: 368

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Find it: Goodreadshttps://books2read.com/THE-HAPLESS-MILLINER

 

A witty, engaging murder mystery
featuring Jane Austen as an intrepid amateur sleuth—the first in a series.

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Jane Austen—sparkling, spirited, and incredibly clever—is suddenly thrust into
a mystery when a milliner’s dead body is found locked inside a cupboard in the
middle of a ball. When Jane’s brother Georgy is found with some jewelry
belonging to the deceased, the local officials see it as an open-and-shut case:
one which is likely to end with his death. Jane is certain that he is innocent,
and there is more to the murder than meets the eye. Her investigations send her
on a journey through local society, as Jane’s suspect list keeps on growing—
and her keen observational skills of people will be put to the test to solve
the crime and save her brother. 

Featuring the same lively wit, insightful social commentary, and relatable
characters that have made Jane Austen books into perennial classics, this first
entry in the Miss Austen Investigates series is perfect for anyone who
enjoyed The Dante Club by Matthew Pearl or other historical
mystery books based on real people, as well as fans looking to add to their
Jane Austen collection.

 

 

MY REVIEW

I was already in my 30s when I finally jumped on the Jane Austen bandwagon. I read as much as I could get my hands on. When I had an opportunity to read about a younger version of Jane and it was a cozy mystery, which is a category I love, I had high hopes it would give me an authenticate character as Jane and all the fun and quirkiness of a cozy mystery.

I wasn’t disappointed. The going was slow at the beginning. There were a lot of characters, many that I recognized, and I had to get accustomed to Jane as more of an amateur at sleuthing. Once I got comfortable it was all great fun. There was a huge list of suspects and many false leads. That made figuring out the culprit harder for me and I was eager to find out who it was. Sped through this in one reading and will be watching for the next book in the series. It should be fun to see what kind of mystery the author drops Jane into next.

4 STARS

 

 

About Author Jessica Bull:

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Jessica
Bull
grew up in
southeast London, where she still lives with her husband, two daughters, and
far too many pets. She’s addicted to stories and studied English Literature at
Bristol University, and Information Science at City University, London. She
began work as a librarian (under the false impression she could sit and read
all day), before becoming a communications consultant. Miss Austen
Investigates: The Hapless Milliner is her debut novel.

Twitter | InstagramTikTokGoodreads | Amazon

 

 

 

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1 winner will receive a finished copy of MISS AUSTEN INVESTIGATES: THE HAPLESS MILLINER,
US Only.

Ends March 5th, midnight EST.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Tour Schedule:

Week One:

2/19/2024

Kountry
Girl Bookaholic

Guest Post/IG Post

2/20/2024

Two Chicks on
Books

Guest Post/IG Post

2/21/2024

@stargirls.magical.tale

IG Review

2/22/2024

Kim’s
Book Reviews and Writing Aha’s

Review/IG Post

2/23/2024

anitralovesbooksanddogs

IG Review

Week Two:

2/26/2024

Country Mamas
With Kids

Review/IG Post

2/27/2024

@dana.loves.books

IG Review/TikTok Post

2/28/2024

Two Points of
Interest

Review

2/29/2024

Confessions Of
The Perfect Mom

Review/IG Post

3/1/2024

FUONLYKNEW

Review

 

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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 go HERE.

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I am thrilled to be hosting a spot on the THE NIGHTMARE MACHINE by Tim White Blog Tour hosted by Rockstar Book Tours.

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Check out my review and make sure to enter the giveaway!

 

THE NIGHTMARE MACHINE

 by Tim White

 

 

Pub. Date: February 20, 2024

Publisher: Ocean Scribe Publishing

Formats:  Paperback, eBook, Audiobook

Pages: 600

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Find it: Goodreadshttps://books2read.com/THE-NIGHTMARE-MACHINE

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Purchase the book directly from Tim! There’s also a prequel novella! 

 

What
is The Nightmare Machine? Think Silent Hill meets Inception and Monster
Hunter International
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Five millennia of suffering. A pilgrimage steeped in terror. Will her quest
bring redemption or only a false promise of salvation?

Bangor,
Maine. Sara Holcomb knows what she must do. Raised within a secret order
devoted to protecting humanity from a malevolent god, the dutiful
seventeen-year-old prepares for a terrifying expedition through a world of
nightmares. So when the time comes, she convinces three close friends to escort
her on a perilous journey to an otherworldly cathedral of bone and blood.

Transported
to a land of chaos and horror while they sleep, Sara wrestles with guilt at
bringing people she holds dear to this hell from which they may not escape. And
as vicious traps and pitiless creatures tear at their bodies and minds, the
honor-bound young woman fears they won’t be strong enough to complete the
mission that will preserve mankind.

 

MY REVIEW

The first thing that caught my attention was the stunning story displayed on the cover. Yes, it pulls you in, wanting to know this girl and her story. It’s absolutely perfect for what’s revealed inside. And the title. It’s also perfect. A teenage girl, descendant of a long line of Maidens, destined to save the world. She takes three friends as protectors into a hidden world. One filled with danger. Teeming with monsters worthy of your worst nightmares. To enter. They sleep. To survive. They awaken.

The first chapter sets up the intrigue. A typical girl. One with horrible nightmares. And hints of a family secret. I was hooked and remained that way through the entire story. Sara was an ordinary girl thrust into a horrific saga. Her character was so genuinely written and I really empathized with her. She had to face things a much older person might not have handled as well as she did.

Dylan was in love with Sara. But that wasn’t why she chose him as one of her protectors. He was a boy wonder. A budding genius and curious about how things worked. His mind worked in mysterious ways and she trusted him.

Dylan and Sara both helped Dr. Alex Warner at a small recovery clinic helping people overcome their addictions. I was unsure how that made her a good choice for a protector aside from knowing Sara and Dylan. Once they began their quest, it began clear.

Tom’s place on the list of protectors was obvious.  He was a veteran of war and had survived some horrific situations. He was no stranger to violence and death and his training made him a perfect candidate to work as a team. I really enjoyed his part in the story. He was someone you didn’t want to mess with yet he had a lot of baggage and that gave him an aura of vulnerability.

I tried to envision this nightmare world the group had entered. The author did a great job of showing it to me through words and my imagination did the rest.

As for how the story moved along. I mentioned the first chapter hooked me and kept me hooked. Well that’s true. And the characters sealed the deal for me. Along with the cruel world in The Nightmare Machine and the outrageous and dangerous monsters that were unleashed in it’s pages. Whoa. I do love monsters and there were some humdingers in the book.

Packed with action, suspense and horror, I was thrilled to get everything I wanted out of this story. That was great. And even more exciting. There’s more to come! Can’t wait for that.

5  STARS

 

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About Author Tim White:

.

 

Tim White is
an author, editor, writing coach, and game designer in Phoenix, Arizona. He
started writing fiction in 1996 and nonfiction in 2006. As of 2023, he has
published more than 1,000 nonfiction articles and three nonfiction books. He
has written three novels, four novellas, dozens of tabletop role-playing game
(TTRPG) scripts, and hundreds of short stories.

Tim is a
zealous crusader for the power of storytelling to promote human flourishing. He
writes fiction in several genres, particularly one that he calls “Romantic
horror” (as in “Romantic-era novelists” such as Victor Hugo and Alexandre
Dumas, not as in “romance novel”). This little-known genre is unique in that it
uses fear as a backdrop against which heroism is sharply contrasted,
dramatized, and elevated.

Tim’s
storytelling philosophy is summed up eloquently by one of his favorite authors:

“I often
hear people say that they read to escape reality, but I believe that what
they’re really doing is reading to find reason for hope, to find strength.
While a bad book leaves readers with a sense of hopelessness and despair, a
good novel, through stories of values realized, of wrongs righted, can bring to
readers a connection to the wonder of life. A good novel shows how life can and
ought to be lived. It not only entertains but energizes and uplifts readers.” ―
Terry Goodkind

Before
transitioning to writing full time, Tim was an Army combat medic, and later, a
nurse paramedic specializing in trauma and surgery. He is a lifelong shooter
and has ranked moderately well in state-level 3-gun competitions. He loves
board games, video games, and role-playing games; cats; Pembroke Corgis; good
coffee; good books; and escape rooms. He owns an escape room venue in Arizona,
where he designs and builds every prop and puzzle in-house.

Sign up for one or all of Tim’s Newsletters!

Website | Goodreads | Amazon | BookBub

 

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Giveaway Details: (there are 2 giveaways)

Bargain Booksy Giveaway:

.

One winner will be chosen at random on 4/15/2024 and notified via email
that they have won the 20 eBooks and a Kindle.

Giveaway Link: https://www.bargainbooksy.com/thriller-giveaway-021524/

Rockstar Book Tours Giveaway:

1 winner will receive a $10 Amazon Gift Card courtesy of Rockstar Book Tours,
International.

Ends March 5th, midnight EST.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Tour Schedule:

Week One:

2/19/2024

@darkfantasyreviews

IG Post

2/19/2024

Kountry Girl Bookaholic

Excerpt/IG Post

2/20/2024

jlreadstoperpetuity

IG Post

2/20/2024

Writer of Wrongs

Excerpt

2/21/2024

The Melting Plot

IG Post

2/21/2024

A Dream Within A Dream

Excerpt

2/22/2024

Two Chicks on Books

Excerpt/IG Post

2/22/2024

GryffindorBookishnerd

IG Review

2/23/2024

Kim’s Book Reviews and Writing Aha’s

Review/IG Post

2/23/2024

@books.mo.reads

IG Review

 Week Two:

2/26/2024

Books and Zebras

IG Review

2/26/2024

@stargirls.magical.tale

IG Review

2/27/2024

@dana.loves.books

IG Review/TikTok Post

2/27/2024

Review Thick And Thin

Review/IG Post

2/28/2024

FUONLYKNEW

Review

2/28/2024

The Momma Spot

Review

2/29/2024

One More Exclamation

Review/IG Post

2/29/2024

Ramblings of a Coffee Addicted Writer

Review/IG Post

3/1/2024

Confessions of the Perfect Mom

Review/IG Post

3/1/2024

Country Mamas With Kids

Review/IG Post

 

~~~~~

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 go HERE.

 

Cold Threat
by Nancy Mehl
January 22 – February 2, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

 

 

Synopsis:

Twenty years ago, several people were murdered in Des Moines, and the only evidence left behind was a snowman ornament hanging ominously on a tree in the victims’ front lawns. With a suspect behind bars, the killings have come to an end–or so everyone thought. But now crimes with a similar MO are happening in a small Iowa town, and a local detective believes the killer is back and ready to strike again. With little time left on the clock before they have another murder on their hands, private investigators River Ryland and Tony St. Clair must work alongside Tony’s detective father to find evidence that will uncover an evil that has survived far too long. As the danger mounts and the suspect closes in, it will take all they have to catch a killer–before he catches one of them.

 

Book Details:

Genre: Suspense

Published by: Bethany House Publishers Publication Date: January 2024 Number of Pages: 336 ISBN: 978-0764240461 (ISBN10: 0764240463) Series: Ryland & St. Clair, 2

Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | Baker Book House

Enjoy this peek inside:
PROLOGUE
DECEMBER, TWENTY-­FOUR YEARS AGO
I watched as fire devoured the house as if it were a living, breathing monster, ravenous for death and destruction. It took effort not to smile as I observed the fire department desperately trying to quench the ferocious flames, the firefighters slipping and sliding on the snow and ice. But winter is no match for me. They would lose this fight. The nightmare has just begun. Inside they will find my Christmas offering. Those whom I’d judged and executed. The beast was at my command and would destroy any evidence that could lead to me. “It’s perfect,” she whispered. “I love it.” I smiled at her. “It was a long time coming.” “But you did it. I’m so proud of you.” I had to blink away the sudden tears that filled my eyes. “Shouldn’t we leave?” I nodded. She was right. At some point, the police would arrive and would most certainly look through the people gathered across the street since many times those who set fires like to watch their creations dance and light up the night. They might even take pictures. This was the only time I felt comfortable hanging around for a few minutes—­before anyone had time to scan the crowd. This was important. The first. My debut performance. I’d just turned to leave when a couple of police cars pulled up, lights flashing, their blue-and-red beams cutting through the night and the falling snow. I walked down the street, hidden behind a curtain of white. I stopped to watch as they exited their vehicles. The sight only added to my excitement. Two officers approached the fire department chief. As they talked, another officer stood on the sidewalk, staring at the structure that was being consumed. Suddenly, he shouted and pointed up toward the second floor. I had to walk back to see why. I stood behind a tree, trying not to look suspicious. That was when I saw it. A face peering through one of the windows. “Oh no,” she said, her voice breaking. “How did you miss her?” The officer who’d spotted the unthinkable began to run toward the front door, but two firefighters grabbed him and held him back while another one grabbed a ladder and put it up against the house. It was clearly a child staring at them, her eyes wide with fear. They tried to climb toward her, but it was impossible. The flames from the first floor blocked their way. I felt a wave of anger. She had defiled my righteous mission. I fought to push back my rage. I had no desire to hurt a child. She shouldn’t have hidden from me. I would have kept her safe. I sighed in frustration. This was her fault. Now all of us would have to watch as she died. There wasn’t anything I could do. I felt the urge to leave, but the police were concentrating on her. No one was focused on the crowd, so I risked staying a minute or two longer. Suddenly I heard a shout and saw the police officer who’d tried to enter earlier suddenly run toward the compromised house and through the front door before anyone could stop him. What a fool. The monster I’d created was too strong. Now there would be two additional lives sacrificed. This wasn’t my mission. Only the guilty were supposed to die. I consoled myself with the knowledge that the blame was theirs. Not mine. “Maybe he’ll get her out,” she said quietly. I didn’t respond. I knew she was upset. I couldn’t find the words to tell her that it was too late for both of them. Part of the house collapsed on the other side, away from the window where the child still stood. Everyone watched in horror. Two firefighters started to follow the officer into the house, but their chief called them back. It was clear they were frustrated, yet the chief obviously thought it was too dangerous for them to enter. He’d probably already written off the officer and the child. “It’s not your fault.” “I know,” I said. I waited for the rest of the structure to fall, but as we all watched, the unbelievable happened. The police officer ran out of the house, something in his arms wrapped up in a blanket. A firefighter ran over to take the bundle from him as the rest of the building collapsed. The officer fell to the ground. I could see his burns from here. It looked as if the cloth from his shirt had melted to his skin and part of his dark hair had burned away. Now he would always remember this night. I felt no anger toward him. Truthfully, I was relieved that the child had a chance. I’d still accomplished my mission. This was a lesson learned. I had checked out the couple carefully, and I’d watched the house. Hadn’t seen any evidence of a child. Still, I’d missed something important. I would never make this mistake again. She sighed with relief. “I’m so glad she’s okay.” A thought suddenly struck me. I hadn’t seen the child, but had she seen me? Was she now a liability to my mission? As soon as the thought came, I dismissed it. She’d been hiding. Trying to make sure I couldn’t find her. She would have been too afraid to look at me knowing I might see her too. Besides, she was so young no one would take her seriously anyway. Even if she had caught a glimpse of me, soon I would look very different. I breathed a deep sigh of relief. I was safe. The firefighters began treating the girl and the officer until an ambulance roared up. It was time to leave. I pulled my jacket tighter and let the darkness and the dancing flakes shroud me as I slipped away, but not before I glanced at the snowman ornament hanging on the tree planted near the sidewalk. As I walked away, I couldn’t help but sing softly, “Frosty the snowman . . .”

CHAPTER ONE

DECEMBER, PRESENT DAY
River Ryland stared at her phone, willing it to ring. Unfortunately, it seemed it didn’t respond well to mental telepathy. The pastor at the church she’d started attending with Tony had taught on faith yesterday. He’d brought up Mark 11:24 and Philippians 4:6. From what she could understand, faith was something you needed before your prayers were answered. As a child, she’d listened to her father preach, but he’d never mentioned anything like that. His sermons had been about sin and judgment. How to stay pure. Which was laughable since he ran off with the church’s secretary and left his daughter, son, and wife behind, humiliated and without any way to survive financially. As she continued to eye her phone, she wondered if she should start believing that God would bring more clients to Watson Investigations. Was it okay to have faith for something like that? It was clear that faith was important to God, but she didn’t want to treat Him like some kind of genie in a lamp who would bring her whatever she asked for. What was His will, and what was selfishness? She sighed quietly. Life with God was proving to be interesting. She glanced over at her partner, Tony St. Clair, and asked herself the question she’d posed so many times. What was he doing here? She’d had to leave the FBI. Severe PTSD had made it impossible for her to continue working as a behavioral analyst. Tony had been shot by the Salt River Strangler, the serial killer who’d tried to kill her, and was still dealing with some of the aftereffects. Even so, he could have gone back to work. Instead, he talked her into starting this detective agency. They’d only had two cases so far. The results had been positive. One case had to do with teachers at a local high school selling drugs—­something they stumbled across. The teachers were arrested, and the drug trade shut down. No paying client with that one. The other case had been pro bono. They’d solved that too. Thankfully, someone connected with the case—­not their client—­had given them a generous stipend. But how long would that last without some new cases? Was asking herself that question a lack of faith? She really didn’t know the answer. Tony’s long legs were crossed, his feet up on his desk. He was leaning back in his chair, writing in a notebook. He reminded her of Benedict Cumberbatch. His curly dark hair was longer than most FBI agents had worn their hair. His long eyelashes sheltered eyes that sometimes looked blue and other times appeared to be gray. Tony was an enigma. A handsome man who never dated. He used to. Before the shooting. There were definitely some women at church who had him in their sights, but he clearly wasn’t interested. Of course, she wasn’t dating either. Didn’t want to. Right now, she just wanted to figure out who God wanted her to be. It was hard to believe He needed a private investigator. She didn’t see that among the gifts listed in the Bible. “Okay, God,” River whispered. “I’m asking You to make this agency successful. I thank You for hearing me. And . . .” She gulped. “And I thank You for our new cases.” There. She shook her head. Weird, but Pastor Mason would be proud of her. She jumped when Tony’s phone rang. River listened closely. If this was a case . . . Well, Pastor Mason also said something about patience. Surely answers to prayer didn’t happen this quickly. If so, she should have started praying this way a long time ago. “Slow down, Dad,” Tony said. “I’m not sure I understand.” River was almost relieved that it was Tony’s father. If it actually had been a new case . . . well, it would have freaked her out a little. She began to straighten her desk again, only slightly listening to Tony’s conversation. It seemed to be a little one-­sided. Finally, Tony said, “I’ve got to call you back, Dad. Let me talk to River and see what she thinks. You know her mother is ill.” Pause. “All in all, doing pretty good. She has full-­time help now.” Another pause. “Okay. I’ll phone you in a bit.” After he hung up, he pulled his feet off his desk and sat up straight in his chair. His blue sweater was the same color as his eyes . . . when they were blue. Why was she paying attention to his eyes? She gave herself a virtual kick in the pants and realized that Tony looked upset. “Everything okay?” she asked. “No, not really.” “Is your dad all right? Your mom?” “No,” he said, cutting her off. “They’re fine. And before you ask, my sister’s good too.” He looked away and cleared his throat. Something he did when he was troubled or thinking. Finally, his eyes met hers. “I told you that when my dad was a rookie police officer, before he was promoted to detective, he was badly burned in a fire?” She nodded. She remembered the story. It was hard to forget. “He saved a little girl’s life.” “Yes. Well, they found two bodies in the house after the fire was put out. The little girl was the granddaughter of the couple. Thank God, Dad got her out in time.” “Yeah. Your father’s a hero.” Tony smiled. “Don’t say that to him. He won’t put up with it. I also told you that they never found the person responsible?” She nodded again, then waited for him to finish. It was obvious what was coming next. She swallowed. Was this just coincidence? Of course, this was Tony’s dad. They couldn’t charge him anything for their services. River should have mentioned in her prayer that they needed a paying case. She didn’t realize God was so literal. Trust Me. Although she hadn’t heard an audible voice, it was so clear it made her jump. Trust Me. She swallowed hard. “Uh, he wants us to help him solve a twenty-­year-­old crime?” she said. Why was her voice squeaky? “Why now? I mean, I assume he tried to close this case himself. From what you told me, he’s an excellent detective.” “He is, but he’s retiring.” “And he wants this solved before he leaves?” Tony nodded. “In a way. You see, there were two other similar murders with the same MOs in Des Moines not long after that one. The police arrested someone. Charged him with all three. Dad was never sure they got the right person.” “You never told me that.” “I never went into details because I thought it was a closed case.” “So, your father wants to make certain the case is truly closed before he leaves? It’s still a really cold case. You know how tough they are to solve after so long.” “Well, except he says it’s happened again.” “In Des Moines?” Tony shook his head. “No, up in Burlington, Iowa, where they are now. They moved there years ago because Dad felt it was a better place to live. He was convinced that Des Moines was getting too big. Too dangerous. He wanted a slower-­paced life. A safer place for Mom. Truthfully, I think he had a tough time working in Des Moines. He couldn’t get anyone he worked with to believe they’d arrested the wrong person for those murders.” “Wait a minute. So, your dad thinks the killer followed him?” He shrugged. “He doesn’t know, although I agree that it seems strange. Look, I know you have questions. I do too. Can you come to Burlington with me so we can write a profile? He wants to see if we can add something to what he has so far.” River hesitated a moment. “I know you’re thinking about your mom. Sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked. I can go alone. I shouldn’t have put you on the spot.” River shook her head. “You’re not. Now that we have Mrs. Weyland, I may be able to come with you.” Hannah, the young woman who had come in to help River’s mother during the day, had quit after finding out she was pregnant. She’d recommended her aunt, who had recently lost her husband. Agatha Weyland was sixty-­three years old and had nursed her husband through Alzheimer’s. When Hannah told her she was pregnant and had to leave her job, Mrs. Weyland had begged her to set up an interview with River. At first, she wasn’t sure if it would work since Mrs. Weyland wanted to move in. “I just can’t stay in my house anymore,” she’d told River when they talked. “Too many ghosts. Hannah and her husband love the house and they’ve offered to buy it. I was goin’ to move into an apartment, but if you have a spare room . . .” Her hazel eyes had filled with tears, and River had been touched by her. But would she change her mind and quit once she was stronger? She didn’t want Rose to get used to someone and then have her leave. River’s mother was still dealing with Hannah’s quitting. She had loved and trusted the young woman. “I’m not lookin’ for anything temporary,” Mrs. Weyland had said as if reading River’s mind. “I intend to take care of your mother until . . . well, until she no longer needs me.” This time it was River’s turn for tears. “Oh, honey,” the older woman had said, taking River’s hand. “I know what Alzheimer’s is like. I know how to take care of your precious mama. My Harold was a happy man until the day he died. I learned how to go with him wherever he was . . . and how to be whoever he needed me to be. We were happy, and your mother will be happy too. You have my word.” River had really wanted to hire Mrs. Weyland, but she was certain Rose wouldn’t give up another one of her rooms. She’d gotten upset when River and Tony had moved her original sewing space to another room even though they set it up exactly the same. They’d moved things around so River could be closer to her mother in case she needed help during the night. Now she’d have to give up her sewing room completely, even though she never used it. River was prepared for a meltdown. But after spending a couple of hours getting to know Mrs. Weyland, Rose had said, “Can’t we just move the things in the sewing room down to the basement, River? Either Agatha could move in there, or you could move into that room, and Agatha could be right next to me.” Although she was more than surprised by her mother’s request, she quickly agreed. River moved into the old sewing room, and Mrs. Weyland set herself up next to Rose. “Let me talk to Mrs. Weyland,” she told Tony. “She’s barely had time to get to know my mother. She might feel uncomfortable with me leaving town so soon. How long do you think we’ll be gone?” “Why don’t we say the rest of the week?” he said. “I think that’s enough time to create a profile. My father’s already put together a murder book, although I’m not sure how much information he’s been able to get his hands on. Hopefully, we’ll at least have some pictures and reports.” “Okay, but if Mrs. Weyland or my mother is uncomfortable . . .” “I’ll go alone and bring everything back with me.” He frowned. “I’d really like you to talk to my dad. See if he can convince you the cases are related. I know that’s not what we do when we write a profile, so we’ll be using our ace deductive skills as well.” River laughed. “I’ll call Mom now, but you might as well plan on going alone. My mother will probably have a conniption fit.” “A conniption fit? Where do you get these expressions? I truly think an old lady lives somewhere down deep inside you.” River picked up her phone, stuck her tongue out at Tony, and dialed Mrs. Weyland. *** Excerpt from Cold Threat by Nancy Mehl. Copyright 2024 by Nancy Mehl. Reproduced with permission from Bethany House Publishers. All rights reserved.

 

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MY REVIEW

It’s always a sign you’re in for a good read when the Prologue hooks you before you even get to the heart of the story. It all began twenty years ago. Several murders, a missing child and a snowman ornament.

Fast forward twenty years. The killer, The Salt River Strangler, was caught and is behind bars.  But it appears he had a partner who’s come calling and the residents of Burlington, Iowa are living in fear. River and Tony are no longer with the FBI. They have their own private investigation firm. Business has been slow and River is praying for a case. When Tony’s father calls asking for help in wrapping up the twenty year old case, they can’t ignore the request for help. That old saying, “Be careful what you wish for,” comes to mind.

This is a favorite trope of mine. Cold case and new case. Both connected.  It makes the mystery that much harder to figure out. The list of suspects, new and old is large. The clues are stale and fresh. The characters tasked with solving the case have matured. Moved on. And now they’re dragged back in. But with more experience now. And an immediate urgency to wrap the case up once and for all.

Cold Threat was every bit as good as the first book in the trilogy, Cold Pursuit. River’s stalker is still out there and I’ll be there to find out how the author wraps up her series.

4 STARS

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About Author Nancy Mehl:

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Nancy Mehl

Nancy Mehl is the author of more than fifty books, a Parable and ECPA bestseller, and the winner of an ACFW Book of the Year Award, a Carol Award, and the Daphne du Maurier Award. She has also been a finalist for the Christy Award. Nancy writes from her home in Missouri, where she lives with her husband, Norman, and their puggle, Watson.

Catch Up With Nancy Mehl: NancyMehl.com Goodreads BookBub – @NancyMehl Twitter/X – @NancyMehl1 Facebook – @nancy.mehl

 

 

 

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Book Details:

Undomesticated Women, Anecdotal Evidence from the Road by Anna Blake
Category:  Adult Non-Fiction (18+),  325 pages
Genre: Travel Memoir
Publisher:  Prairie Moon Press
Release date:  Oct  2023
Content Rating:  PG. oblique mention of dysfunctional family, no sex, drugs, etc

Book Description:

Welcome to our year of living compactly. My dog, Mister, and I took to the road pulling our A-frame trailer, the Rollin’ Rancho. I’m a traveling horse trainer/clinician, who became a non-essential worker during the COVID-19 lockdown. Then, in 2022, we bounced back. We were nomads looking for horse training adventure and liver treats. Work paid for the trip; it was part clinic tour, part travelogue, part squirrel hunt. But mostly an unapologetic celebration of sunsets, horses, RV parks, roadkill, diverse landscapes, and undomesticated women.

It’s a book made of made of adjectives and nouns, blue skies and tornado watches, resorts and reservations, open roads to the horizon, and one-lane dead-ends. We emerge from the truck in a cloud of dog hair and sunflower shells, like disoriented and scruffy rock stars in a GPS haze, not entirely lost or found.

This book isn’t about training, although there are horses in it. It’s a follow-up of Stable Relation, my first book, but my life changed in ways I would never have guessed, so don’t expect the usual sequel. Undomesticated Women is a travel memoir, a peek behind the curtains of what my job is like. I wanted to see this beautiful country, do some time travel, and explore thoughts and memories now that I’ve become a gray mare.

​Mister would tell you it’s his memoir about being tasked with the unreasonable job of guarding me against a wild range of dangers. Like eating dinner late.

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MY REVIEW

I’ve recently read some memoirs and enjoyed them and was curious about Undomesticated Women. The title intrigued me and the idea of a woman of my age traveling the country with only her dog as a companion sure had me curious how it went. And a horse whisperer to boot. I’m sure she probably doesn’t tag herself as one, but that’s what came to mind when I read about some of her experiences with the noble animals.

I was hooked right off the bat. From how the germ of an idea blossomed into a possibility and then to reality, right down to what kind of travel camper to choose, I didn’t want to miss a thing. The details of doing some practice camping on different places on her farm to see how Mister, her canine companion, would deal with the cramped quarters and being separated from the other dogs and The Dude Rancher, her husband, to how she’d cram everything she need for the long trip into the nooks and crannies, all of it was interesting… and entertaining.

I’m a horse lover. Was one of those young girls that had the statues on all my shelves, along with all those great books like The Black Stallion, Black Beauty and Little Black, A Pony, and posters hung in every available place. The author had me laughing and crying as she related her journey of cross country clinics with owners and trainers and their horses. Kind of reminded me of the show Heartland, which I love.

Anna Blake is such a great storyteller. Yes, a storyteller. This may not be a work of fiction, but all great storytellers leave you hanging on each sentence, wanting more and more. And that’s how it was with her book. If she can entertain me this much with her memoir, it makes me wonder where her imagination could take me in a work of fiction. I’d read it!

5 STARS

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Guest Post
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My Dog, The Author

After the COVID lockdown was over, I was eager to get back on the road and do my job live again. I’m a horse trainer who’d been sitting in an office chair, giving lessons in Zoom meetings. Now I wanted to see the country again. My dog, Mister, and I took to the road pulling our A-frame trailer, the Rollin’ Rancho. We were nomads traveling 14,000 miles, across 30 states, and seeing both oceans.

Driving days were long and to stay awake, I listened to audiobooks, nibbled sunflower seeds, and took my dog’s advice on when to stop for a walk. Mister was my self-care specialist. He walked me to keep my hips loose. He called me to dinner after a long workday. And he was an emotional anchor for me because no matter what other people think about me, Mister always thinks my only job is to be with him. He makes things that simple.

Writing is part of every day for me. I’ve been blogging since 2010, along with publishing books, writing poetry, and even screenplays. It’s my habit to use words to sort out my thoughts. At home, I usually write early in the morning before the chaos begins. When traveling, I’m oddly comfortable writing in an airport bar.

When I was training locally, I always kept a notebook with me to scribble down thoughts as I drove from farm to farm. In preparing for this long-distance road trip, I added some technology to keep us safer, including a cell phone holder on the dash and a voice-to-text app. At first, it was just for notes and ideas that I wanted to remember. One day, I dictated part of an essay and then felt guilty. I had already betrayed my paper tablet. Was I betraying my laptop now?

The app didn’t work that well, not speaking horse like I do. It would have to become bilingual. Once I downloaded the file, the number of corrections was bewildering. If I hadn’t edited it that night, I wouldn’t be able to recognize what I was talking about a day later. But with technology changing so fast, I’m always afraid if I don’t keep up, I’ll have to hire somebody’s kid to do my banking.

The next day, I tried again. It was a quiet afternoon on the back roads in North Carolina. I wanted to write about the last stop, so I thought out my sentences and slowly enunciated every word. Mister was in the passenger seat, strapped into his safety bed. Like most dogs, he sees me at my worst and keeps my secrets.

I paused in my dictation and thought for a long moment. The microphone was waiting. Mister sat up and let out one bark. The screen added the word “what.” Our eyes met, and he didn’t look away. Was Mister going to write a tell-all book of his own?

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Meet Author Anna Blake:

 



I’m an animal advocate, award-winning author, solo RV traveler, old-school feminist, dog companion, unabashed lover of sunsets, and professional horse trainer/clinician. I’m sixty-nine years old. I’ve done just about everything and done it well. No longer auditioning.

My books include:
Stable Relation, A memoir of one woman’s spirited journey home.
Relaxed & Forward: Relationship advice from your horse.
Barn Dance, Nickers, brays, bleats, howls, and quacks: Tales from the herd.
Horse Prayers, Poems from the prairie.
Going Steady, More relationship advice from your horse.
Horse. Woman. Poems from our lives.
Undomesticated Women: Anecdotal Evidence from the Road

I was born in Cavalier County, North Dakota, in 1954, the youngest daughter in a farm family. Now I live at Infinity Farm, on the flat, windy, treeless prairie of Colorado with a herd of reprobates, raconteurs, and our moral compass, Edgar Rice Burro. Previously, I was a self-employed goldsmith, showing one-of-a-kind artwork in galleries from coast to coast. My Denver studio and gallery was shared with generations of good dogs.

Early writing included a few screenplays, one of which was produced independently, and articles for several periodicals. Every Friday since 2010, I have posted an unconventional and popular blog about life on the farm and horse training. My unique perspective combines Calming Signals and Affirmative Training for a special method of understanding, training, and respecting animals.

connect with the author: website facebook facebook instagram ~  goodreads 

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Book Details:

  Charlie Chaloosy is Often Quite Choosy by Brad Mason, Ed. D.
Category:  Children’s Fiction (Ages 3-7), 32 pages
Genre:  Children’s Picture Book
Publisher:  Yorkshire Publishing
Release date:   January 2024
Content Rating:  G.  Suitable for everyone.

Book Description:

The Charlie Chaloosy book series kicks off with its inaugural offering, Charlie Chaloosy is Often Quite Choosy.

​The first book focuses on Charlie’s experiences as he learns lessons, gains new experiences, and grows up in a world that happens to rhyme. The story is told through the use of a playful rhyme scheme and enhanced with beautifully colored illustrations of Charlie tackling new adventures in whimsical detail. The book ends with Charlie providing two pages for the reader to become an author by writing their own story.

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MY REVIEW

Charlie is choosy. He has his favorite food and that’s all he eats. His favorite clothes and that’s all he wears. Then he begins to wonder. What if he tries new things. Joins in new activities. Perhaps he’d find new things he’d love.

Charlie Chaloosy Is Often Quite Choosy is such a fun title. Say it out loud. It rolls off the tongue. I did. I read this entire fun, rhyming book out loud. I’d turn each page. Study the delightful illustrations. Then I’d read the page out loud. It made me grin through the entire book. Imagine how much more fun it would be if you were reading it to a young one.

I have the hardcover edition and it’s lovely. Large but not too large so children can hold it and turn the smooth, colorful pages easily. And the illustrations are colorful and filled with so many things to look at. The type is large but not too large and bold so you can read it easily too. And the conclusion to the story includes two pages to write and draw on. An invite from the author to write your own story. So kids, put on those thinking caps. Come up with a fun story of your own. And remember….. you don’t have to be too choosy.

5 STARS

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Author Interview with Brad Mason, author of CHARLIE CHALOOSY IS OFTEN QUITE CHOOSY

What do you do when you aren’t writing a children’s book?

I am in my 34th year in education and I serve as a superintendent in a school district in Southern California. Caring for children by overseeing an educational organization is a macro-level way I can care for the needs of children. Writing a children’s book is much more of a micro-level approach to impacting the lives of children, because it makes progress one book and one child at a time.

Where did you find your motivation to become a children’s author?

Writing children’s literature is new to me over the last year. This book is my first foray into the filed of children’s literature. My wife and I have added six grandchildren to our ranks in the last 4-½ years and my time and focus has shifted to loving them and helping build into their little lives. I have been reintroduced to bedtime stories through the eyes and minds of my grandchildren and I saw this as a wonderful way to press in on things I feel are vital for young children. I will tell you, the thought of my writing being an encouragement to a young child is nothing short of inspiring and humbling and it will be the fuel that keeps me writing!

 

What is your hope for the Charlie Chaloosy series?

I want this book and the whole Charlie Chaloosy series to positively impact children by encouraging them to grow in confidence as they experience success by conquering new endeavors. I think Charlie is an endearing character, but he was stuck on the sidelines due to his anxiety and fears. As I get closer to retirement, I want to take Charlie and the books I have written on the road to schools and do Author Assemblies and Writing Workshops with children in elementary schools. I am a huge proponent of getting children to read. However, I’m even more convinced the key to building better readers is to building young authors and illustrators. I was taught early on in my career that you learn things best when you are responsible for teaching them. Likewise, I believe you build better readers when you teach children to become authors. I want to share my journey and learning as it pertains to Charlie Chaloosy in the hopes of inspiring a whole new generation of children to Write Your Own Story!

My dreams are big for Charlie, so stay tuned!

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Meet the Author:

My passion for children’s literature stems from 30+ years in education and my re-entry into bedtime stories with the addition of my beautiful grandchildren. I created Charlie as a means for children to learn with Charlie by having a growth mindset when it comes to facing new experiences and learning new things. Children live in a world that is traveling ever faster and my desire is to help them slow down and enjoy childhood through the adventures of Charlie Chaloosy. I hope children have fun with Charlie while engaging their minds through stories that encourage them to read, write, illustrate, and dream a little.

connect with author: website ~ facebook ~ instagram


 
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Charlie Chaloosy is Often Quite Choosy by Brad Mason Book Tour Giveaway

 

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Behind Her Smile: The Adventures of a Tall Girl from WVA and Her Life as a Stewardess by Beverly Golden Cuevas
Category:  Adult Non-Fiction (18+),  392 pages
Genre: Non-Fiction, Memoir
Publisher:  Urlink Print & Media, LLC
Release date:  August  2023
Content Rating:  PG. Suitable for adult audiences.

Book Description:

Being raised in Parkersburg,WVA, Janie didn’t have big aspirations for her life. Tired of her dead-end job at the phone company her best friend suggested she interview to become a Stewardess. Fearful she would be rejected because of her height; she was shocked when she was accepted. A whole new world opened up to her. Seeing places she had only read about, spending time with politicians, movie stars and professional athletes. One special athlete, a professional basketball player named Wendell Ladner stole her heart with his southern charm. An extraordinary ‘connection’ with Elvis Presley allowed her the unique experience to spend ‘one on one’ time with him and remain in touch until his passing. You’ll share with her the challenges of marrying someone so different from her upbringing and coping with attempts to try and fit in. Behind Her Smile reveals a devastating event that deeply affected Beverly and made her reexamine her life and what she truly wanted out of it.

BUY THE BOOK:
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add to goodreads
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MY REVIEW

I don’t read many memoirs. I prefer watching them on TV. That said, I’m glad I read this book.  A career as a stewardess was something I found fascinating when I was young. It seemed so glamorous. Jetting off to so many places. The beautiful hairstyles and the outfits they wore. I loved the high boots and short dresses. They reminded me of go-go girls. And the pilots looked so handsome in their uniforms.

Beverly tells her life story with honesty and grace. She doesn’t sugar coat events to make herself look better. She faces her decisions head on. And what a life she had. What I found most fascinating was the people who played pivotal roles in the growth of her character. She loved fiercely and grieved deeply. And it was interesting to learn how the industry changed with the years. She mentions how they used to dress meticulously for work back in the day and how much it’s changed now. How flights and boarding are handled. Had me take a trip down memory and examine these things myself. And she sure met some interesting people on her travels. The books is full of photos and I’m glad she shared them.

I mentioned I don’t read a lot of memoirs. That will change now. And I’m waiting for her next book. This is what she calls her BC book. The next one is AC and I’m curious how her life changed.

4 STARS

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Author Guest Post
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Que Sera, Sera… (Whatever Will Be, Will Be!)
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I guess I should say I owe my desire to become a Stewardess to Doris Day. The title of the movie was “Julie.”  And I do believe Doris was the first non-trained pilot to land an airplane.

I was about sixteen and my mom knew I loved Doris Day. I had a doctor’s appointment this particular day, and afterwards I went to where my mom was working at The Darling Shop in Columbus, Ohio. She told me Doris Day was appearing at the RKO Palace Theater to promote her movie. My eyes lit up. She told me I could have her permission to stay out of school and go see the movie and her. I was so excited! After watching the movie, I thought it sounded like a fascinating profession to do. But being so tall I imagined that an airline might not consider me. And I was correct but didn’t know that until I was nearly 21 years old.

My best friend wanted to interview to be a Stewardess and asked me to go with her. I reluctantly went with her to DELTA. Too tall. Next was a disastrous TWA interview where the interviewer found so many faults in me, I felt like I was crazy to even consider being a Stewardess as a career.  My friend Karen asked me to go to the last airline, AMERICAN AIRLINES with her. I reluctantly agreed. To my complete and utter surprise, the interviewer, Mr. Kiestler, took a shine to me and I got asked to report for Stewardess School in two weeks! Needless to say, I was shocked!

This began the most wonderful career I could have ever imagined having. Indirectly I feel I should thank my mom first for letting me go to see the movie. Secondly, thanks to Doris Day, who made her performance as a Stewardess so captivating and intriguing. That career was a blessing to me for 35 years, as you can read about in my book BEHIND HER SMILE.

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Meet the Author:

Beverly Golden Cuevas was born Beverly Jane Golden in Ironton, Ohio in 1945. She spent the first 10 years of her life in Parkersburg, West Virginia with her family. Her father had a job opportunity in Columbus, Ohio in 1955 so away they went. Beverly started working at the age of 14 to contribute to her family finances. She graduated Columbus North High School in 1963. She moved on to work at the Ohio Bell Telephone Company after graduation. In 1965, on the dare of her best friend she went to an interview to be a Stewardess for American Airlines. American hired her and she started her flying career in New York, then commuting from Tulsa, Oklahoma to her Dallas base. She flew both domestic and international. During her career, she never received a bad passenger letter. In 1977, she was 1 of 12 Flight Attendants selected out of 16,000 to participate in a highly coveted special assignment to work at the prestigious American Airlines Golf Classic. Her flying career ended on December 1, 2001 after 35 years. Beverly now lives in Dallas, Texas. She has been married to her wonderful husband Randy for 43 years. She has two sons, Joshua and Kaleb. She is a loving wife and mother, never missing a baseball game or school talent show, in spite of her flying schedule! Mimi is blessed to pass on her knowledge and love of life to her grandchildren Eden, Elijah, Ellie, Logan and Holly.

connect with the author: goodreads


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The January Corpse by Neil Albert Banner

The January Corpse
by Neil Albert
January 15-26, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

 

 

Synopsis:
 

Dave Garrett is a disbarred lawyer eking out a living in Philadelphia as a private eye. At noon on Friday, a law school classmate offers him what looks like a hopeless investigation. Seven years before, a man named Daniel Wilson disappeared. His car was found abandoned with bullet holes and blood, but no body. A hearing is scheduled for Monday on whether Wilson should be declared legally dead. The police have been stumped for seven years. Organized crime warned off the first investigator to look into the case. Over the course of the weekend, the case takes Dave from center city to the coal regions and back, where the story comes to what the critics called “a startling and satisfying conclusion.” Nominated as a Best First Novel by the Private Eye Writers of America when it first appeared in 1990 and the first of a series of twelve.

 
Praise for The January Corpse:

“Worthy of a Scott Turow . . . This exceptional first mystery is driven by a baffling plot and comes to a surprise ending that passes the Holmesian test.” ~ Publishers Weekly “Tantalizing twisted” ~ The New York Times Book Review “A first rate first novel.” ~ The Boston Globe

 

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery, Private Eye

Published by: Onyx Publication Date: First published January 1990 Number of Pages: 207 ISBN: 9798663201599 Series: Dave Garrett Mystery, #1

Book Links: Amazon | Goodreads

Enjoy this peek inside:
CHAPTER ONE
FRIDAY, 11:00 A.M.
I couldn’t stand the sight of him but I took his case anyway. I’d been sitting in the spectator’s section of a courtroom in the basement of the Court of Common Pleas of Philadelphia County. At night the room was used for criminal arraignments, and it showed. Everything in the room was dirty, even the air. I breathed in a mixture of grit, poverty and despair. The bare wooden benches were carved in complex, overlapping swirls of graffiti, initials, gang emblems, and phone numbers. Some people called it street art. I didn’t. To my left, fifteen feet off the ground, a clock was built into the wall. It was missing its hands and most of the brass numerals, and the few that were left were muddy brown. Not that I cared what time it was; as long as I sat there, waiting to testify, my meter was running. Today the room was being used by the Family Court for a custody case. This was the second day of trial, and the wife’s attorney was hoping to get me on the stand today. There’s no such thing as a custody case with class. The couple were both doctors, both well respected. Married ten years, two children, both girls, ages four and seven. They had separated two years ago. Each had a condo; his was just south of Society Hill in a newly gentrified neighborhood; hers was on Rittenhouse Square. They both had memberships at the usual country clubs, plus time-shares in Aspen and Jamaica. She drove a BMW and he drove a Benz. It had been amicable at first. Neither one was leaving for someone else; they just didn’t like being married to each other anymore. There was no one stirring it up. Most spouses need encouragement from a third party to get really nasty–a new girlfriend, a mother, a friend, or a lawyer. In the absence of someone to stir the pot, it was very civilized. For a while. Then, while working out a property settlement, her lawyer found that her husband had forgotten to disclose his half-interest in a fast-food franchise–a small matter of half a million dollars. In response, she dropped the blockbuster; she moved to terminate his visitation rights because she claimed he was sexually abusing the seven-year-old. He denied it and countered with a suit for attorney’s fees and punitive damages. The case had started yesterday, was being tried again today, and would probably go on for a good chunk of the next two weeks. I had very little to say, but the wife’s lawyer wanted me to testify anyway. In a close case, almost anything might make a difference. I’d followed the husband for a week, and the most interesting thing I’d found was that he read Penthouse. Plus, as I was sure his lawyer would point out on cross, Time, Sports Illustrated, Business Week, and The New England Journal of Medicine. The wife’s attorney, sitting at counsel table, turned to me, pointed to his watch, and shook his head. The cross examination of the wife’s child psychologist was hopelessly bogged down on the question of her credentials, and they weren’t going to reach me that day. The case wasn’t on again until the following Wednesday; I was free till then. I nodded, pointed to my own watch to indicate that my meter was off and headed for the door. My overcoat was already over my arm; no one familiar with the Court of Common Pleas of Philadelphia County leaves their property unattended. There used to be a sign outside the Public Defender’s office: Watch your hat, ass, and overcoat, till somebody stole it. The corridor was as filthy as the courtroom, but at least there was light. And people–lots of them. The young and shabbily dressed ones were there for misdemeanor criminal or for family law cases. The felony defendants were usually older and better dressed; they’d learned the hard way that making a good impression just might help. The best dressed of all–except for the big-time drug defendants, who put everyone to shame–were the civil trial attorneys. There was big money in personal injury work and large commercial claims, and a lot of it was worn on their backs. My own suit, when it was new, had looked like theirs; now it was dated and worn, and my tie had a small stain. I was dressed well enough for what I did now. I was nearly to the exit, feeling blasts of cold air as people went in and out, when I heard him call my name. The voice was raspy and nasal. I turned; it was Mark Louchs, a classmate from law school. He practiced with a small firm out in the suburbs. His hairline had receded since I’d last seen him, and he was wearing new, thicker glasses. His skin was red, probably from a recent Caribbean vacation. He smiled, shook my hand, and said he was so glad to see me. It was all too fast and too hearty, and I wondered what he wanted from me. “Hello, Mark. Going well for you?” “God, hearings coming out my ears. Clients calling all hours. Can’t get away from it. My accountant–I’m busy as hell–” He stopped himself. “Yeah. Fine. Look, you know how bad I feel about what happened to you. ” His voice trailed off. He’d been a jerk when I needed his help and we both knew it. I said nothing, letting the awkward silence go on. Making him uncomfortable was petty, but that didn’t stop me from enjoying it. When he was nervous, I noticed, his smile was a little lopsided. When he was certain that I was going to leave him hanging, he went on. “Look, I hear you’re doing investigations now.” “It’s the closest thing I can do to keep my hand in. And I sure wasn’t going to hang around as somebody’s research assistant.” “I tried to reach you first thing this morning. They said you were out. ” I hadn’t had time to check my messages, but I just stayed quiet. I liked leaving him under the impression that I was in no hurry to talk to him. Partly because it might give me an advantage in whatever he wanted with me, and partly because it was true. “Listen, Dave, I’d like you to do me a favor. Are you set up to handle a rush job?” I do plenty of favors, but not in business. And not for someone who didn’t respond to my request for a letter of support when I’d gone before the Disciplinary Board with my license on the line. I kept my voice disinterested and cautious. “How much a favor, and how much a rush?” “I need you to do an investigation for a case to be heard this coming Monday at one thirty.” I carefully gave a low whistle, watching for his reaction. “That gives me just the rest of today and the weekend. Pretty short notice.” “If you can do it, the fee should be no problem. I’m sure we can agree on an acceptable rate. ” I looked at his suit and at my own. I knew the money would never wind up in a suit. I had too many other bills. But it gave me something to focus on. “Let’s go somewhere and hear about it.” We put on our overcoats, cut through the perpetual construction around City Hall and wound up at a small bar near Sansom. He found a quiet corner booth and ordered two coffees. Whatever serious lawyers do after five, they don’t drink during the day. “Ever do a presumption of death hearing!” he asked. “Fifteen years ago, fresh out of law school, I did a memo for a partner.” “Familiar with the law?” “Unless it’s changed. If all you have is a disappearance, no body or other direct proof of death, the passage of seven years without word gives rise to a presumption of death. If the person were alive, the law assumes that someone would have heard from them.” “I represent the survivors of a man who disappeared under circumstances strongly suggestive of his death. His name is—was–Daniel Wilson. We filed an action to have him declared dead. The hearing is Monday afternoon at one-thirty in Norristown. The insurance company is fighting tooth and nail.” “What carrier? I do some work for USF&G and for Travelers. I’d hate to get on their bad side. ” “Neither of them. Some one-lung life insurance outfit out of Iowa. Reliant Fidelity Mutual, or something like that.” “Let’s hear some more. ” “He lived in Philly and had offices in the city and in Norristown. I figured that his office in Norristown gave me enough to get venue in Montgomery County. I don’t come into Philadelphia for trials if I can avoid it. The insurance company won’t offer a nickel, but they don’t care if it’s in Philadelphia or Montgomery County. ” “What kind of office?” “A law office. Never heard of the guy before this case, though. I made a couple calls to friends from law school, but neither of them knew him. ” “Lawyers aren’t disappearing kinds of people. We’re more like barnacles.” “Wait till you hear about the disappearance. Just after New Year’s, seven years ago. His sister was in town from LA; they planned to get together. They’re in separate cars, out in the country. Powell Township, Berks County. She finds his car off the road full of bullet holes. Plenty of blood, but no body. Police can’t turn up shit. He was never heard from again.” It was short notice, but I had no plans for the weekend. It sounded like a break from skip traces and catching thieving employees. And it paid. “The case has been kicking around for months. You didn’t decide to hire an investigator this morning.” Even in the dimness I could tell he was flustered. “Yeah, you’re right; you’re getting sloppy seconds. The Shreiner Agency was handling it till yesterday. ” I just sat there until he decided to continue. “They were doing all the usual interviews, credit checks, asset checks. They hand-delivered back the file and refunded our retainer. And a letter saying they wouldn’t be able to help any further. ” “Someone warned them off. ” “There could be other reasons.” “This thing smells to me like organized crime. That’s out of my league. ” “Look, nobody’s asking you to find who killed him, even if he’s dead. We just need to say that there’s no evidence he’s alive. That ought to be easy enough.” He didn’t say the words ‘even for you’, but I heard them. “Tell that to the Shreiner Agency. ” He finished his coffee. He was anxious to get help, but I was clearly hitting a nerve. “Yes or no?” I normally worked for a flat fifty dollars an hour. Right then, considering who I’d be working for and whatever had happened to the Shreiner Agency, I wasn’t so sure if I wanted it. “I charge my attorney’s rate–one hundred fifty per hour; two hundred for work outside of business hours, half rate for travel time, plus all expenses.” “Think you can come up with something for that kind of money?” “Haven’t the slightest idea. You know how it is. I work by time, not results.” “That’s a lot of money.” “And it’s quarter to twelve on Friday.” He gave me the kind of look I didn’t normally associate with being hired–it was closer to the expression you get when you steal somebody’s parking place. But he grunted something that sounded like “okay” and gave me his business card with his home number on it. And the Shreiner file, too–there was so little of it, he was carrying it in his breast pocket. “I’ll look this over and do what I can this afternoon. When can I talk to the sister?” I asked. “Give me your card. She’s in the area. I’ll have her at your office at nine tomorrow morning. ” “Make it seven; I don’t want to lose any time on Saturday. It’s tougher to reach people on Sunday.” “Okay, but keep me posted, will you? Remember that you’re working under the supervision of an attorney. ” “Right. ” I wanted to tell him that I was working under the supervision of an asshole, but I let it pass. Philadelphia has mild winters, but early January is no time to linger outside. I needed a quiet place to read. I went to Suburban Station and found an empty bench. The Shreiner Agency was like the Army: bloated, bureaucratic, and sluggish, and most of its best people moved along after a few years. Yet they were careful and scrupulously honest. That counted for a lot in my business. The file was only about twenty pages, and most of it was negative information. Daniel Wilson hadn’t voted in his home district since the time of his disappearance. Neither had he started any lawsuits, mortgaged any real estate, filed for bankruptcy, used his credit cards, joined the armed forces, opened any bank accounts, or taken out a marriage license. His driver’s license had expired a year after he disappeared and had never been renewed. At the time of his disappearance he had no points on his license and no criminal record. Since then, there had been no activity in his checking or savings accounts; the balances in each were a few hundred dollars. No income taxes or property taxes had been paid in seven years. None of this distinguished Daniel Wilson from somewhere between ten and fifteen percent of the population. I would need a lot more than this to convince a judge he was dead. Toward the bottom of the pile I found an interim report by “JBF,” who I knew to be Jonathan Franklin, an investigator I’d worked with before. According to the report, at the time of his disappearance Wilson was thirty years old, short to medium height, wiry build, brown hair and eyes. Paper-clipped to the corner of the first page was a black-and-white wallet-size formal photo of Wilson in a suit and tie. From the date on the back, it was probably his law school graduation portrait. Assuming he graduated at twenty-five, the picture was twelve years old. I had visions of showing it and asking people if they’d ever seen an average-looking guy with glasses and brown hair before. It was a pleasant-looking face; maybe a little bland, but presentable. His cheeks were smooth and pink, and he looked closer to twenty than twenty-five. His glasses weren’t the wire-rimmed ones that were fashionable when I was in college, or the high-tech rimless models the yuppies wore now, but good old-fashioned ones, horn rimmed, with a heavy frame. He had the kind of face clients would trust. The family background was minimal. Wilson’s father had died when he was a child; his mother was still living and worked cleaning offices in Center City. She lived in the Overbrook section of west Philadelphia. There was one sibling, a sister, Lisa, two years older; a former nurse who now lived in a small town upstate. She’d been living in LA, if I remembered Louchs correctly. I figured her for a loyal daughter who’d moved back east to be close to their mother after Daniel’s death, or disappearance, or whatever it was. Neither Lisa nor Daniel had any children. Neither had ever been married. Franklin had come up with some more about Wilson’s grade and high school education. Wilson was consistently a superior student; not brilliant, but always near the top of the class. He was seldom absent, hardly ever late with work assignments, and never a discipline problem. Several of his high school classmates had been contacted; they remembered him as serious and hardworking. He played no sports but was active with the school literary magazine and the newspaper: He had a few dates, but no one remembered a steady girlfriend. Except to tell me that he’d attended Gettysburg College, was secretary of the Photography Club, and obtained a degree in history, the college section was a blank. I wasn’t surprised; in high school everybody knows everybody. But people are too busy in college to know more than a couple of people well. Investigating backgrounds at the college level is usually helpful only if the subject was very well known or if the school was very small. I was reading with only half my attention by then; I was trying to imagine what kind of man was behind that picture. And what was the judge going to make of him. I hoped he wouldn’t decide that Wilson was the kind of loner who would pull up stakes and disappear without a word to anybody. The next section was hardly more help. After college, three years at Temple Law School, graduating about one-third of the way from the top. He passed the bar on the first try and set up practice in Center City with a classmate, Leo Strasnick. When Wilson disappeared five years later, the partnership already had three associates, with offices in Philadelphia and Norristown. Nice growth. I rubbed my eyes and looked at my watch. It was nearly one, and this was the only business day before the day of the hearing. The rest of the file would have to wait. One of the advantages of Suburban Station was plenty of phone booths. My investigation got off on the right foot. Not only was Leo Strasnick available, he agreed to see me at four that afternoon. His office was only a few blocks from the station. I tried Shreiner’s next. “Shreiner Security Agency. How may we help you?” She sounded like a recording of herself. “Mr. Franklin, please.” “And whom may I say is calling? “She was good. If my gross ever broke into seven figures, I promised myself I would get a receptionist who talked that well. And to take lessons from her. “Just say I’m calling regarding the Wilson case. ” I was curious to see if that would be enough to get me through. “Yeah, this is Jon Franklin,” was all he said, but it was enough. Something was bothering him. His words were unnaturally clipped, and his voice was too loud and too fast. “Hello, Jon, this is Dave Garrett–” “You said you were calling about Wilson?” “Yeah, right,” I said as casually as I could “Remember me, Jon? We worked together on those tools disappearing out of Sun Shipbuilding? I was–” “I remember. ” Then his voice got softer. “Dave, what do you have to do with this? We’re not in the Wilson case.” “I’ve just taken it over. ” There was silence on the other end. “I’ve read your report and I assume there’s more than you had time to put in writing. ” More silence. “Look, Jon, the case is coming up Monday, for Christ’s sake. Cut me some slack.” “You want some advice? Don’t take the case.” “The lawyer guaranteed payment,” I said, being deliberately stupid. I had a lot of practice at that. “No amount of money is worth it. ” I’d been expecting him to say that, but he was at the biggest agency in the state a fifteen-year veteran of the Philadelphia police. “Can we get together somewhere?” “I’ve told you all you need to know already,” he said, and hung up.” *** Excerpt from The January Corpse by Neil Albert. Copyright 1990 by Neil Albert. Reproduced with permission from Neil Albert. All rights reserved.

 

 

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MY REVIEW

Dave Garrett was disbarred. He couldn’t ever practice law again. He found a new niche as a private investigator and longed for a case he could really sink his teeth into. And he found it in a cold case. The mystery of what happened to another lawyer. He mysteriously disappeared seven years ago and on Monday will be declared legally dead. It’s Friday and Dave has his work cut out for him. He  wanted a serious case and he got it. Time is running out and the race is on to discover what happened to the missing lawyer while staying one step ahead of those who don’t want their secrets revealed…. at any cost.

This was quite the mystery. A cold case. A disbarred lawyer. And a whole lot of danger and events I didn’t see coming. I zipped through it. The main character, Dave Garrett was definitely the selling point in this book. He grew on me quickly. I liked his directness and his stubbornness. And I have a thing for cold cases. I like reading how the clues get sorted out and what truly happened brought to light. And the ending was a good one too. I’ve got my eye on this series now and am curious what comes next.

4 STARS

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About Author Neil Albert:

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Neil Albert

Neil Albert is a trial lawyer in Lancaster, Pennsylvania and this book is based on a real presumption of death hearing. He has completed nine of the projected twelve books in the series and hopes to finish with December within the next two years. His interest in writing mysteries was kindled by reading Ross Macdonald and Neil operates a blog with an in-depth analysis of each of Macdonald’s books, In his younger years he was an avid fox hunter. His best memory is that he hunted for fifteen years and was the only member not be to seriously injured at least once.

Catch Up With Neil Albert: www.neilalbertauthor.com Goodreads

 

 

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  Vivienne in Paris by Maria Castellucci Moore
Category:  Children’s Fiction (ages 5 to 9), 38 pages
Genre:  Children’s Book
Publisher:  Mascot Kids
Release date:   May 2, 2023
Content Rating:  G.  Suitable for everyone.

Book Description:

Vivienne in Paris follows a young Parisian girl on a journey through Paris to find what makes her tick. Join Vivienne as she discovers the sights, smells, tastes, and sounds of the city that make her feel alive. What better place to explore, observe, and delight in her senses than Paris?

This book tells a story of mindfulness and insight into how the surrounding world can really move you. It unites curiosity, wonder, and marvel to enlighten, surprise, and tickle your deepest spirit. Sometimes it’s the smallest things that bring you the greatest joy.

Buy the Book:
Mascot Books
Amazon ~ B&N
add to Goodreads
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MY REVIEW

It starts as a normal Sunday In Paris for Vivienne.  She begins her routine with a visit to see her grandfather in Luxembourg Gardens. Her normal day changes when he asks her to visit her usual stops on her bicycle ride and really stop to smell the roses, use her senses and find the thing that makes her heart sing. So, off she goes, stopping off for a delicious croissant, some cheese that melts in her mouth,  a new hat for her Grandpa, a taste of the opera and finally she found that which made her heart sing.

What a wonderful ride through Paris. Vivienne introduced me to her favorite places and I experienced her delight. I’m getting close to retirement and my best friend and I are going to Paris to treat ourselves. This book will come to mind as I walk the streets of Paris. Perhaps I’ll see Vivienne?

The illustrations are beautiful and Vivienne is a lovely young girl. It was a pleasure to experience Paris with her.

5 STARS

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Meet the Author:

Entrepreneur, first-generation American, writer, and mother to four children, María strives to bring passion and enthusiasm to all her endeavors. A lover of all things European, María has found great passion through her travels to Paris, Italy, Spain, and South America. Her affection for winemaking, foreign languages, the arts, ballroom dancing, and traveling has given María a unique and grateful perspective on life. Her love for her family and helping others through charitable giving has enabled María to thoughtfully curate purposeful life adventures.

María Castellucci Moore earned her bachelor of arts degree in finance from Dominican University on a tennis scholarship, and later pursued studying at New York University and the London School of Economics with a focus on global affairs. In 2016, with her siblings, María founded Castellucci Napa Family, a luxury wine and real estate brand. María runs her wine label and a family real estate development company in the greater Bay Area. She is a board member of the San Francisco Opera Guild and is enthusiastic about building opportunity and community through the arts.

connect with author: website facebook instagram goodreads

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Vivienne in Paris by Maria Castellucci Moore Book Tour Giveaway

 

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TheStarandTheStrangeMoon copy

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We are thrilled to share The Star and the Strange Moon this week. Read on for more details and my review!

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TSATSMHardcover2

The Star and the Strange Moon

Publication Date: November 2023

Genre: Historical Fantasy

From the author of A Witch in Time comes a haunting tale of ambition, obsession, and the eternal mystery and magic of film.

A vanished star. A haunted film. A mystery only love can unravel…

1968: Gemma Turner once dreamed of stardom. Now the actress is on the cusp of obscurity. When she’s offered the lead in a radical new horror film, Gemma believes her luck has changed—but her dream is about to turn into a nightmare. One night, between the shadows of an alleyway, Gemma disappears on set and is never seen again. Yet, Gemma is alive. She’s been pulled into the film. And the script—and the monsters within it—are coming to life. Gemma must play her role perfectly if she hopes to survive.

2007: Gemma Turner’s disappearance is one of Hollywood’s greatest mysteries—one that’s captivated film student Christopher Kent ever since he saw L’Étrange Lune for the first time. The screenings only happen once a decade and each time there is new, impossible footage of Gemma that shouldn’t exist. Curiosity drives Christopher to unravel the truth. But answers to the film’s mystery may leave him trapped by it forever.

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MY REVIEW

There’s been many a time when I sat down to read a book and didn’t look up until I finished it. Even ones as long as this one at almost 500 pages. I did have to stop reading it at one point to run an errand and quickly picked it back up when I returned. I was hooked. So hooked.

The synopsis was so intriguing. An actress, Gemma Turner, vanished during the filming of a movie in 1968. Flash forward to 2007 and film student, Christopher Kent, obsessed with finding out what happened to her after the simple act of seeing her picture on a wall drove his mother over the edge to insanity. And a secret screening of Gemma’s last acting role in L’Etrange Lune that takes place once every 10 years. Yes, it intrigued me.

As you can guess, the story jumps back and forth in time. First I’d be immersed in Gemma’s life and then I’d be immersed in what happened when she vanished and then I’d be immersed in Christopher’s present life and then his past.  That’s how this story was told and each time the story jumped to another character and time I’d be anxious to return. And that happened EVERY time with each era and character I was reading. And that’s why I couldn’t put it down. That and the fact the many character’s were so interesting, so genuine, flaws and all. Especially Gemma and Christopher. The author wrote her words and breathed life into them. I cared what happened. Felt their sorrow, their angst. How could I not.

In the hours I spent reading The Star And The Strange Moon I felt like I was transported into a fantasy world, a tragedy, a horror story…… a love story. What a fabulous feeling it was.

5 STARS

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About the Author

Constance Sayers headshotTSSM

Constance Sayers is the author of two best-selling novels: A Witch in Time (Hachette, 2020) and The Ladies of the Secret Circus (Hachette, 2021), the latter receiving both a Publishers Weekly and Library Journal starred reviews. Her work has been translated into six languages and her third novel, The Star and the Strange Moon will be published by Hachette on 11.14.23. She is a member of the Historical Novel Society, and her short fiction has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net.

She received an MA in English from George Mason University and a B.A. in Writing from the University of Pittsburgh. She lives outside of Washington D.C.

Constance Sayers

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