Publication date: November 1st 2022
Genres: Adult, Cozy Mystery
Paranormal investigator, Feather Jones and her boyfriend, Tug have arrived in picturesque Piney Falls for their Christmas getaway. To their dismay, they learn that their suite isn’t available because the last guest, author Dash Vixen, never checked out.
Dash was murdered when a copy of his own horror Christmas anthology was used to beat him to death.
Coming to their rescue is local sleuth, Lanie Anders, who invites them to spend the holiday with her and her husband. Unbeknownst to all of them, the murderer has bigger plans. Soon Lanie, Feather and their respective other halves are embroiled in a mystery that will stretch them both to their crime-solving limits!
This is a crossover book: Feather is a sleuth from the Charming Mysteries series and Lanie is a sleuth in the Piney Falls Mysteries.
Ivy Merrilee Globe was a prolific author, completing seventy-nine books in her twenty-six years of life. Her most recent, Snowily Severed, was a short story featured in the massively popular Christmas horror anthology, Strung by the Fire.
She recently signed a contract with Brain Gravy Pictures to turn her short story into a movie.
Driving home from physical therapy, she stopped for children crossing three blocks from her home, when her neighbor’s sleigh ornament slid off the roof of their home and through her car windshield, impaling her. Ivy herself couldn’t have written such a dramatic end.
Ivy leaves behind three brothers and a cat named Ice.
“She didn’t die on the twenty-second like the other two. Find the date of the Frosty attack, Lanie,” Vem urged.
I typed in the information and when the page came up, our mood was somber. “Ivy was attacked on the twenty-second by the Frosty wannabe. They intended to kill her that day, and when it didn’t work, they came back to finish the job.”
“Poor Ivy,” Vem lamented.
My phone rang and I jumped up to answer. Even though we’d been together for several years, I was always expecting his call.
“Babe?”
“Mrs. Hill? This is the Tucson police department.”
Author Joann Keder
USA TODAY bestselling author, Joann Keder spent most of her years in the Midwest, growing up and raising a family on the Great Plains of Nebraska. She worked for sixteen years as a piano teacher before returning to school to receive a master’s degree in creative writing. A mid-life move to the Pacific Northwest led her to re-examine her priorities. She now creates stories about life and relationships in small towns while her ever-patient husband encourages her on.
This is my post during the blog tour for The Beached Ones by Colleen M. Story.
“A suspenseful ghost story that takes the reader on an existential tightrope walk to an emotionally charged ending.” ~Lance Thompson, Ghostwriter and Script Doctor
This blog tour is organized by Lola’s Blog Tours and the tour runs from 17 till 30 October. You can see the tour schedule here.
Daniel and his younger brother grew up in an abusive home. Daniel escaped. Now an established stunt rider, he intends to go back to rescue his brother. But then one jump goes horribly wrong . . .
He recovers to find himself in Iowa, unscathed, yet his life has drastically changed. His best friend won’t answer his calls. Even his girlfriend is hiding something. Increasingly terrified, he clings to the one thing he knows: He must pick up his brother in San Francisco. In five days.
From the isolating fields of Iowa to the crowded streets of San Francisco, Daniel must fight his way through a fog of disjointed memories and supernatural encounters to face the truth and pay a debt he didn’t know he owed.
Daniel A. Shepard would have been lost forever had not the lighthouse beam brought him back to life. In sweeping strokes it painted the blackness in ribbons of white, awakening his spirit with each pass over his body, gently drawing him out of the blackness into which he had fallen. He dropped his arm over his face, suspecting a crack in the hotel drapes, but the light shone through nevertheless, as if the sleeve of his fleece jacket were no more than a thin cotton sheet. He rolled over on his side. A sharp pain sliced through his thighs, forcing him fully awake. His legs were on fire. He slapped at the flames, but when he looked down, he was fully clothed, his limbs unharmed.
The ceiling twinkled, some sort of spray glitter he’d failed to notice before. But no, the sparkles were too far away. And the air smelled fresh, not the typical hotel air, heavy with the scent of old socks. He’d expected the usual lumpy beds and noisy cooling fans.
It wasn’t long before he realized this was no hotel.
He was outside.
His gaze went first to the flashing light, emanating from an airport tower, he thought, until he heard the roar of the ocean below. Having grown up in Montana, he’d never been to either coast, but now long waves gleamed like threads of lace, appearing and then fading into the deep. He stared, half unsure of what he was seeing, and still they danced in and out under a moonlit sky, the lighthouse showing them off about every twenty seconds. A breeze caressed his face, bringing with it the scent of salt and seaweed, and then he noticed the sand cool between his fingers. He lifted one hand and let the soft grains trickle over his palm. The guys had spoken about heading for the beach after the Los Angeles show, but last he remembered, they hadn’t made it out of the bar.
The pain returned, biting at his ankles, flames erupting about the hem of his jeans. He recoiled, crab legging through the sand, one hand slapping at the fire until he fell onto his back. The vision faded to reveal his jeans intact, white cotton socks covering his ankles, the fleece jacket unzipped, his favorite high-tops on his feet.
“I didn’t drink that much,” he said out loud, though his tone was less than convincing. He removed his Kawasaki cap and ran his fingers through his thick, brown hair, resting his hand on the back of his neck. Jay had asked him to join the others. They’d left the crowd on their feet, an audience of over a thousand shouting for more. They’d deserved a celebration.
“Jay?” Daniel called, “you there?”
The last show was a blur. All he could remember was his hometown of Butte, Montana, the old grandstand at the fairgrounds lit up with stadium lights as he and the six other motorcycle riders flew over the tops of hundreds of heads. But that couldn’t be right.
They were in L.A. Their last show had to have been in L.A. Behind him, city lights danced in the distance, casting a hazy orange glow into the night sky. His last run up the ramp, he’d done the dead body and the cliffhanger. Or had it been the double grab and the superman?
The night answered only in waves, the sand whispering hush.
He had to pick up Tony in San Francisco. The thought came out of the blue. His little brother was attending the marine camp he’d drooled over for years. He’d be finished on August twenty-ninth. If Daniel weren’t there, the kid would be left stranded. He glanced at his wrist, but his watch was gone. They were supposed to spend a couple of weeks together before Tony went back to school, though Daniel wasn’t sure he was going to let his little brother return to their mother’s house. Tony had been in that hellhole long enough. Daniel had an apartment now. They could both stay there.
He patted his pockets. No keys, no wallet. But something in the front right. He dug in and pulled out the Matchbox F-14 Tomcat. He’d received it as a present when he was young, for Christmas maybe, though he couldn’t remember for sure. He’d passed it on to Tony on his fifth birthday, and then Tony had given it back before Daniel had left the hellhole for good. Tony had meant it as a good-luck charm, something to keep Daniel safe while he was performing his stunts. Daniel turned it over in his hand, puzzled. A piercing whistle grabbed his attention. He tucked the toy away and stood up. Over the din of the ocean the whistle came again, a high-pitched tone that spiked and then dropped. He held his breath. There, at the shoreline, down and to the right. The waves crested and crashed, and then a distressed, wailing sound of something or someone in pain.
It wasn’t easy running in the sand, especially in high-top sneakers. Salty grains poked at his heels. As if wanting to help, the lighthouse intermittently showed the way. Here. No, over here.
.
,
.
About Author Colleen M. Story:
Colleen M. Story is a novelist, freelance writer, writing coach, and speaker with over 20 years in the creative writing industry. Her latest novel, The Beached Ones, was released with CamCat Books on July 26, 2022. Her previous novel, Loreena’s Gift, was a Foreword Reviews’ INDIES Book of the Year Awards winner, among others.
Colleen has written three books to help writers succeed. Your Writing Matters was a bronze medal winner in the Reader Views Literary Awards (2022). Writer Get Noticed! was a gold-medal winner in the Reader’s Favorite Book Awards and a first-place winner in the Reader Views Literary Awards (2019). Overwhelmed Writer Rescue was named Book by Book Publicity’s Best Writing/Publishing Book in 2018.
A lifelong musician, Colleen plays the French horn in her local symphony and pit orchestras. When not writing, she’s reading, practicing yoga, listening to music, exploring the beautiful Northwest, and making up more challenging games for her smart German Shepherd to play.
You can find free chapters of her books on her author website (colleenmstory.com) and writing website (writingandwellness.com) or connect with her on Twitter (@colleen_m_story), LinkedIn, and YouTube.
