Archive for April, 2024



.

 

Darkness Falls

by A.E. Faulkner

 

(Nature’s Fury, #1)
Publication date: March 31st 2019
Genres: Dystopian, Young Adult

Our family trip to the beach ended before it even began. Mother Nature made sure of that.

Our parents…gone in an instant. It’s just me and my sister. 100 miles from home. No car. No phones. No money. Down to our last crumbs of food.

But just when we figure out what to do, she vanishes.

Mother Nature reached her breaking point and everyone’s paying the price. I have a feeling she isn’t done just yet.

But guess what? Neither am I.

Can Quinn survive the dark side of humanity and outrun nature’s fury? Click Buy Now to find out.

Goodreads / Amazon

~~~~~

.

.

Enjoy this peek inside:

“Aidan, man, we should probably get going soon,” Jeff says, pulling me away from the threatening spiral of memories. His interruption is a welcome distraction.

“You’re right,” Aidan says, his eyes locked with mine. “But before we go, Quinn, you need to know, you’re not safe here. Do you have somewhere else to go?”

“What are you talking about?” My head volleys back and forth between the guys. Jeff runs a hand through his short brown hair and exhales a sigh. He leans in conspiratorially and says in a hushed voice, “Look, we’ve been checking out the unoccupied homes around here. You know, just borrowing things to help us get by. But one of the trailers we went to, we thought it was empty…”

Aidan finishes for him. “Quinn, one of your neighbors is dead. We thought the trailer was vacant, so we went inside. We grabbed some canned food and other stuff from the kitchen and then we went to the bedroom to see if there were any blankets and pillows.”

Tag-teaming again, Jeff continues. “We thought the smell was some food rotting. But… we found her just lying there on the bed, lifeless. Looked like she was stabbed. There was blood on the sheets and blanket.” He pauses momentarily before breaking the silence. “We would have helped her if we could, but she was gone.”

I raise a hand to cover my gaping mouth. The scream I heard the other night. That must have been it. Why didn’t I think to go see what was happening? Maybe I could have helped her. Maybe I could have stopped it.

“Guys, which trailer? Where did you see this?” I don’t know many of the permanent residents, and if it was someone who is only here for vacations, there’s no chance I know her.

Aidan steps to the edge of the porch and points, “Two homes down in that direction. The one with the wishing well in the front yard.” I wrap my arms around myself to contain the shiver running through me. The guys exchange a look and I know what’s coming next.

“Look, we gotta go,” Aidan says. “How about we check on you tomorrow? Would that be okay? Just make sure you’re alright.” Before I can filter my thoughts, they escape my lips. “That would be really nice. Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Okay,” Jeff says, nodding. The guys eye each other, silently communicating. They hesitate for just a moment and then Aidan speaks again. “Quinn, just keep a low profile, okay? Try to keep yourself hidden. We’ll come back tomorrow night after it gets dark and we can talk more then.”

“Okay,” I say. “Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow. Or, today I guess.” The guys watch me head inside the trailer. I lock the door and peer out the window, watching them leave. I barely know them, but I sense they’re like me and Riley—good people trying to navigate their way through a bad situation.

As I tiptoe back to the bedroom and settle under the covers, I vow to tell Riley everything. She deserves to know we could be in danger here and she needs to meet Aidan and Jeff. Maybe they are our ticket out of here.
.

About Author A. E. Faulkner:

A. E. Faulkner was born and raised in Pennsylvania. When she’s not lost in a book, she loves spending time with her husband and two sons, especially while hiking, biking, or exploring nature. She loves almost everything about nature—ticks excluded, and one of her biggest fears is the repercussions we will face when nature can no longer tolerate human destruction. As such, she never tires of reading dystopian-themed tales. Stories about the end of the world absolutely fascinate her.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram / TikTok

 

Giveaway contest ribbon promo label prize. Vector giveaway banner badge design template

.
a Rafflecopter giveaway

.

~~~~~

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.

.

Graven Images: A Rock Creek Village Cozy Mystery
(Callie Cassidy Mysteries)
by Lori Roberts Herbst

 


Graven Images: A Rock Creek Village Cozy Mystery (Callie Cassidy Mysteries)
Cozy Mystery
6th in the Series
Setting – Colorado
Publisher ‏ : ‎ Lori Roberts Herbst (April 23, 2024)
Number of Pages: 280
Digital ASIN ‏ : ‎ B0CY9CQZWM
Paperback info coming soon.

.

A photo assignment at the cemetery leads Callie Cassidy to a corpse—this one above ground. Now, her search for the killer unearths some long-buried secrets…

Callie’s mother Maggie, a notorious hobby jumper, has embarked on a new pursuit—grave rubbing. When she recruits her daughter to photograph her first endeavor at the local cemetery, Callie brings golden retriever Woody and tabby cat Carl along for the outing. It’s a breathtaking autumn morning in Rock Creek Village, Colorado. Golden aspen leaves rustle in the cool breeze, and the air is filled with the scent of pine. What could go wrong on a day like this?

Then, a ghostly woman emerges from the trees, bleeding from a head wound and claiming to have no memory of how she arrived, or even who she is. Maggie quickly identifies her as a woman who disappeared from the village forty years ago—without a trace.

If that’s not enough intrigue, Woody disobeys her and sprints deeper into the cemetery. When Callie catches up to him, he is sitting sentinel at the tombstone of a recently deceased villager. And behind the stone, a man lies on the ground—with a pickaxe jutting from his neck.

Callie recognizes him as the low-level mobster who has been dating her best friend Tonya’s mother—and they’d been having problems. Did Tonya’s mother kill the man? Could it have been the mysterious woman? Or maybe someone with ties to his crime family?

Callie can’t resist investigating—and this time, Detective Raul Sanchez welcomes her assistance. Because if they can’t solve the crime soon, the town may be facing grave consequences…

About Lori Roberts Herbst

Silver Falchion and CIBA Murder & Mayhem award-winning author Lori Roberts Herbst writes the Callie Cassidy Mystery series. A former journalism teacher and counselor, Lori serves as Board Secretary for Sisters in Crime. She is a member of the SinC Colorado chapter, the SinC North Dallas chapter, and the Guppy chapter, where she moderates the Cozy Gup group. Lori spent most of her life in Dallas, TX, and now lives in Colorado Springs.

Social Media Links: Website / Facebook / Instagram / Goodreads / BookBub / Amazon

Purchase Links  – Amazon 

~~~~~

Giveaway contest ribbon promo label prize. Vector giveaway banner badge design template

I have one copy to give away Print or eBook.

Entry is easy. Just leave a comment saying which furry friend you prefer. Cat or dog….. or both!

Giveaway ends April 30th.

~~~~~

TOUR PARTICIPANTS

April 23 – Mystery, Thrillers, and Suspense – SPOTLIGHT

April 23 – Christy’s Cozy Corners – REVIEW, CHARACTER GUEST POST, GIVEAWAY

April 24 – Sneaky the Library Cat’s blog – CHARACTER INTERVIEW

April 24 – StoreyBook Reviews – AUTHOR GUEST POST

April 25 – Socrates Book Reviews – SPOTLIGHT

April 25 – FUONLYKNEW – SPOTLIGHT, GIVEAWAY

April 26 – Ascroft, eh? – AUTHOR GUEST POST

April 26 – MJB Reviewer – REVIEW

April 27 – Teatime and Books – SPOTLIGHT

April 27 – Escape With Dollycas Into A Good Book – CHARACTER GUEST POST, GIVEAWAY

April 28 – Maureen’s Musings – SPOTLIGHT

April 29 – Literary Gold – AUTHOR INTERVIEW

April 29 – Sapphyria’s Book Reviews – SPOTLIGHT

.

.

~~~~~

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.

The Eddie Shoes Mysteries by Elena Hartwell Banner

The Eddie Shoes Mysteries
by Elena Hartwell
March 18 – April 26, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

 

One Dead, Two to Go

.

One Dead, Two to Go by Elena Hartwell Get Your Copy: Amazon | B&N | Goodreads

Book One in the Eddie Shoes Mystery Series

Private Investigator Edwina “Eddie Shoes” Schultz’s most recent job has her parked outside a seedy Bellingham hotel, photographing her quarry as he kisses his mistress goodbye. This is the last anyone will see of the woman … alive. Her body is later found dumped in an abandoned building. Eddie’s client, Kendra Hallings, disappears soon after. Eddie hates to be stiffed for her fee, but she has to wonder if Kendra could be in trouble too. Or is she the killer? Eddie usually balks at matters requiring a gun, but before she knows it, she is knee-deep in dangerous company, spurred on by her card-counting adrenaline-junkie mother who has shown up on her doorstep fresh from the shenanigans that got her kicked out of Vegas. Chava is only sixteen years older than Eddie and sadly lacking in parenting skills. Her unique areas of expertise, however, prove to be helpful in ways Eddie can’t deny, making it hard to stop Chava from tagging along. Also investigating the homicide is Detective Chance Parker, new to Bellingham’s Major Crimes unit but no stranger to Eddie. Their history as a couple back in Seattle is one more kink in a chain of complications, making Eddie’s case more frustrating and perilous with each tick of the clock.

.

Go HERE for my review.

.

Two Heads are Deader Than One

.

Two Heads are Deader Than One by Elena Hartwell Get Your Copy: Amazon | B&N | Goodreads

Book Two in the Eddie Shoes Mystery Series

Private Investigator Eddie Shoes is enjoying a rare period of calm. She’s less lonely now that Chava, her card-counting mom from Vegas, is sharing her home. She also has a new companion, Franklin, a giant dog of curious ancestry. Hoping for a lucrative new case, Eddie instead finds herself taking on a less promising client: her best friend from her childhood in Spokane. Dakota has turned up in Bellingham, in jail, where she is being held on a weapons charge. Eddie reluctantly agrees not only to lend her friend money for bail but to also investigate who is stalking her. Soon after Dakota is freed, she disappears again, leaving Eddie to answer to the local cops, including her ex-boyfriend Chance Parker. Has Dakota been kidnapped? If not, why did she jump bail? What are Eddie’s business cards doing on the bodies of two murder victims? The key to these mysteries lies in Dakota and Eddie’s shared history, which ended when Eddie left home after high school. As a person of interest in both murder cases, Eddie is forced to go in search of the truth, digging into the past and facing her own demons.

.

Go HERE for my review.

.

Three Strikes, You’re Dead

.

Three Strikes, You’re Dead by Elena Hartwell Get Your Copy: Amazon | B&N | Goodreads

Book Three in the Eddie Shoes Mystery Series

Private investigator Eddie Shoes heads to a resort outside Leavenworth, Washington, for a mother-daughter getaway weekend. Eddie’s mother, Chava, wants to celebrate her new job at a casino by footing the bill for the two of them, and who is Eddie to say no? On the first morning, Eddie goes on an easy solo hike, and a few hours later, stumbles over a makeshift campsite and a gravely injured man. A forest fire breaks out and she struggles to save him before the flames overcome them both. Before succumbing to his injuries, the man hands her a valuable object. He tells her his daughter is missing and begs for help. Is Eddie now working for a dead man? Eddie wakes in the hospital to find both her parents have arrived on the scene. Will Eddie’s card-counting mother and mob-connected father help or hinder the investigation? The police search in vain for a body. How will Eddie find the missing girl with only Eddie’s memory of the man’s face and a photo of his daughter to go on?

.

MY REVIEW

You can’t help but love Eddie Shoes. She’s a tough gal and a now seasoned private investigator who has to juggle her eccentric mother, Chava, who’s always butting her nose into Eddie’s business, along with a mob connected father that tries to protect his daughter but his connections make being near him a questionable risk.

A relaxing weekend at a resort with her mother becomes a new case, or two, for Eddie when she rescues a man from a forest fire. As the man is dying he asks Eddie to find his missing daughter. With very little to go on, she’ll have to draw on all of her investigative skills to solve both cases.

What I enjoy so much about this series is the characters. Eddie is a tough cookie but also vulnerable.  Her mother, Chava, is a hoot. Another tough cookie but a bit on the zany side. And her father, who she’s just coming to really know, is a bit intimidating but also wants to be a part of Eddie’s life. These three make for some funny character dynamics.

The mystery is convoluted. Not easily solved. And I must have missed some bread crumbs as the final reveal caught me by surprise.

Fans of cozies with colorful character’s will enjoy this series. You could read this without having read the first books. The author drops some bones so you have an idea where everyone stands. But I’d recommend you start at the beginning and fully connect with these characters. You’ll catch up on all the fun that way.

I sure had a rip roaring time with this newest Eddie Shoes mystery. You can count me in for the next one!

5 STARS

.

Praise for The Eddie Shoes Mysteries:

.

ONE DEAD TWO TO GO is a well-written fast-paced story that kept me fully engaged from beginning to end. It’s one of those stories where you get to the end of a chapter and think, “Okay, just a few more pages.” And the next thing you know, you’ve read three more chapters.” ~ Mayor Sonni, Readeropolis “…an engaging mystery that will keep you stumped to the very end.” ~ Susan Sewell, Readers’ Favorite THREE STRIKES, YOU’RE DEAD gives us another vivid adventure with the quirky, genuine private eye Eddie Shoes. As usual, author Elena Hartwell’s characters are so real you feel like you could run into them at your local dive bar. Three Strikes takes us even deeper into Eddie’s complex family relationships with her charming-but-deadly father Eduardo and hilarious mom Chava, giving us further insight into Eddie’s psyche. The laugh-out-loud moments are many in this vital third installment, and you’ll find yourself wishing you could stay longer in the world of Eddie Shoes.” ~ LS Hawker, USA Today bestselling author

 

Book Details:

Genre: Private Eye Mystery

Published by: Open Road Media, March 2024

Series Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads

.

Read an excerpt from One Dead, Two to Go:
CHAPTER ONE
Call me Eddie Shoes. Not a very feminine moniker, but it suits me. My father’s name was Eduardo Zapata. In a fit of nostalgia, my mother Chava named me Edwina Zapata Schultz, even though by the time I was born she hadn’t seen my father in seven months. Edwina was a mouthful to saddle any child with, so at the ripe old age of six, I announced that I would only answer to Eddie. I didn’t have any nostalgia for a guy I’d never met, so Zapata just seemed like a name no one ever spelled right the first time. Chava wasn’t particularly maternal in any conventional sense, so not a lot of nostalgia for Schultz either. At eighteen I legally changed my name to Eddie Shoes. It said a lot about my sense of humor. Chava and I had come to an understanding. She stayed in my life as long as our contact was minimal and primarily over email. It was just enough to allay her guilt and not enough to make me crazy, so it worked for both of us. She’d always been down about my choice of career, but what did she expect from a girl who called herself Eddie Shoes? If I hadn’t become a private investigator, I probably would have been a bookie, so she should have been a little more positive about the whole thing. My career was the reason I sat hunkered in the car, in the dark, halfway down the block from a tacky hotel, clutching a digital camera and zoom lens, waiting to catch my latest client’s husband with a woman not his wife. I’d already gotten a few choice shots of the guy entering the room, but he’d gone in alone and no one else had arrived. I assumed the other woman was already waiting for him. After tailing the guy for a few days, I had a pretty good guess who the chippie would turn out to be. I didn’t think he’d hired his “office manager” for her filing skills, and sleeping with the married boss was a cliché because it happened all the time. I could already prove the man a liar. He’d told his wife he played poker with the boys on Wednesday nights, and I didn’t think he was shacked up in this dive with three of his closest buddies, unless he was kinkier than I imagined. But then, people never ceased to amaze me. December in Bellingham, Washington, often brought cold, clear weather and that night was no exception. Starting the engine to warm up sounded tempting, but I didn’t want anyone to notice me sitting there. Nice it wasn’t raining, but if the thermometer had crept much over twenty, I hadn’t noticed. To make matters worse, I’d scrunched my almost six-foot frame down in the driver’s seat for more than two hours. Even with a blanket wrapped around my shoulders, I was half frozen, and desperately hoped my mark didn’t have more stamina than I’d pegged him for. All I wanted was to go home and go to bed. And at some point, I would need to pee. Up on the second floor, the door of the hotel room I had my eye on finally opened. I brought my camera up, ready for the money shots. My earlier pics proved that the dirty white stucco on the side of the building bounced the pale glow from the minimal exterior lights enough for pictures to be clear without a flash. Even from this distance, there was a nice unobstructed view of the location. The only barrier between someone standing on the narrow walk and my camera lens was a flimsy, rusty-looking, wrought-iron railing. The balusters looked too thin to stop anyone from falling the height of the first floor to the asphalt parking lot below. I doubted anything at the tawdry place passed code. But what did I care? I wasn’t going to stay there. The “liar”—I have always been creative with nicknames—stepped out, straightening his tie. I snapped a few pictures and held my breath, hoping the other woman would come out behind him. Even if I took pictures of her exiting a few minutes later, the husband needed to be in the picture with her. A surprising number of wives would argue with me about what actually took place in these various, if interchangeable, hotel rooms. For some reason they would rather believe the info about their husband cheating was fake than admit he strayed, which confused me because I got paid either way. It felt especially crazy when they must already know the truth, otherwise they wouldn’t have hired me in the first place. But I knew better than to look for logic in the ways of the human heart and got the best evidence possible. The man turned sideways. Light from the room behind him threw his face into silhouette. He had an exceptionally generous head of hair, which made him very recognizable even in bad light. Mid-forties, and mostly in good shape, he appeared athletic as long as he didn’t unbutton his sport coat. I could see why women were attracted to him, though he didn’t do a thing for me. I preferred men a little more honest. But then, I’d never been married, so what did I know? A figure moved from behind him into the shadow of the doorway. “Come on, honey, step out into the light.” I held the camera to my eye. “One more step, so I can see your face.” The woman obliged by leaning into the cold blue glow cast by the old style, energy inefficient streetlights, her cheeks stained red in the flash of the vacancy sign. I happily clicked away as the “office manager” wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered sweet nothings in his ear. She clearly wore nothing but lingerie. She must assume no one else would be out this late on such a cold weeknight. Or maybe she enjoyed having people see her, a bit of an exhibitionist in the happy homewrecker. Whatever the cause, she had him in the perfect spot for the best pictures. I loved it when guilty people made my job easy. My photos might not be art, but they were gold in my book. No way the wife could believe this was anything other than what it looked like. Several photos later, the husband extricated himself from the mistress and she ducked back into the room and closed the door. He walked briskly toward a shiny red Chevy Camaro. The guy owned a GM dealership and drove a new car every day. He lit a cigarette, which he puffed on for a few drags before he tossed it into the gutter. Not just a cheater, a litterer. The bastard. The cigarette stench backed his poker party story and covered the smell of another woman, killing two birds with one cancer-causing stone. As soon as he pulled out onto the street, I stretched back up to full height, relieved to still feel my feet. I started up my ancient green Subaru Forrester, cranked my heater, and headed for home, relieved I didn’t have to wait around in the cold for the mistress to reappear. Whatever she did next wasn’t my concern. Having the two of them in the pictures together convinced me my work was done. The hotel was located downtown—the blue-collar north end, not the high-priced, brick, historical south end, so I dropped down to Lakeway Drive, scooted under the freeway, and wound through the streets that curved around Bayview Cemetery. Traffic at ten o’clock on a midweek winter night was light, and I arrived at my little house by ten-thirty. I downloaded the photos from the hotel onto my computer, wrote up a final bill for my client, and went to bed content. What could possibly go wrong with such an easy case? *** Excerpt from One Dead, Two to Go by Elena Hartwell. Copyright 2024 by Elena Hartwell. Reproduced with permission from Elena Hartwell. All rights reserved.

 

 

About Author Elena Hartwell:

.

Elena Hartwell

Elena Hartwell spent several years working in theater as a playwright, director, designer, and educator before turning her storytelling skills to fiction. Elena is also a senior editor with Allegory Editing, a developmental editing house, where she works one-on-one with writers to shape and polish manuscripts. If you’d like to work with Elena, visit www.allegoryediting.com. Her favorite place to be is at Paradise, the property she and her hubby own south of Spokane, Washington. They live with their horses, Jasper, Radar, and Diggy, their dogs Polar and Wyatt, and their cats Coal Train and Cocoa. Elena holds a B.A. from the University of San Diego, a M.Ed. from the University of Washington, Tacoma, and a Ph.D. from the University of Georgia. She also writes as Elena Taylor, to learn more visit www.ElenaTaylorAuthor.com

Catch Up With Elena Hartwell: www.ElenaHartwell.com TheMysteryOfWriting.com Goodreads BookBub – @elenahartwell Instagram – @elenataylorauthor Twitter/X – @Elena_TaylorAut Facebook – @ElenaTaylorAuthor

 

 

Tour Participants:

Visit these other great hosts on this tour for more great reviews, interviews, guest posts, and opportunities to WIN in the giveaway!  

 

Don’t Miss Your Chance to Win! Enter Today!

This is a giveaway hosted by Partners in Crime Tours for Elena Hartwell. See the widget for entry terms and conditions. Void where prohibited.

 

 

 

Get More Great Reads at Partners In Crime Tours

 

~~~~~

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.

.

 

.

Audio Book
Murder a la Mode: Coffee & Cream Café Mysteries
by Lena Gregory
Read by Eleanor McCormick

.


Murder a la Mode: Coffee & Cream Café Mysteries
Cozy Mystery
1st in Series
Setting – New York
Audiobook (April 23, 2024)
Publisher – Tantor Audio
Listening Length – 7 hours and 10 minutes
ASIN B0CZFBCBG7
Audio CD
ASIN ‏ : ‎ B0CZ2MCHGC
Also Available As
Paperback ‏ : ‎ 197 pages
ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 979-8853281721
Digital ASIN ‏ : ‎ B0C2LH144G

.

From author Lena Gregory comes a delicious new series that will warm your heart and leave you guessing until the very end…

When twenty-five-year-old Danika Delaney, black sheep of the Delaney clan, returns home to Long Island to take over Jimmie’s, her eccentric uncle’s old fashioned malt shop on eastern Long Island, she’s not exactly thrilled. But things start to look up when her uncle tells her she can do whatever she’d like with the shop, and it seems she might realize her dream of a small trendy café. That is, until she discovers the body of her ex-boyfriend’s estranged wife in a melted puddle of rocky road in the malt shop basement. With her two sidekicks, her sister and a good childhood friend, in tow, Dani searches for–or stumbles upon—one clue after another. But as she narrows down the suspect list, she realizes if she’s not careful she may end up in a puddle of her own…

About Lena Gregory

Lena grew up in a small town on the south shore of eastern Long Island, but she recently traded in cold, damp, gray winters for the warmth and sunshine of Central Florida, where she now lives with her husband, three kids, son-in-law, and four dogs. Her hobbies include spending time with family, reading, and walking. Her love for writing developed when her youngest son was born and didn’t sleep through the night. She works full time as a writer and a freelance editor and is a member of Sisters in Crime.

Author Links: Newsletter / Website / Facebook / Facebook Page

Twitter / Goodreads / Pinterest

.

.
AmazonB & NKobo 

Audiobooks Coming Soon! 

~~~~~

Thanks so much for visiting fuonlyknew!

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.

The Eddie Shoes Mysteries by Elena Hartwell Banner

The Eddie Shoes Mysteries
by Elena Hartwell
March 18 – April 26, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

 

One Dead, Two to Go

.

One Dead, Two to Go by Elena Hartwell Get Your Copy: Amazon | B&N | Goodreads

Book One in the Eddie Shoes Mystery Series

Private Investigator Edwina “Eddie Shoes” Schultz’s most recent job has her parked outside a seedy Bellingham hotel, photographing her quarry as he kisses his mistress goodbye. This is the last anyone will see of the woman … alive. Her body is later found dumped in an abandoned building. Eddie’s client, Kendra Hallings, disappears soon after. Eddie hates to be stiffed for her fee, but she has to wonder if Kendra could be in trouble too. Or is she the killer? Eddie usually balks at matters requiring a gun, but before she knows it, she is knee-deep in dangerous company, spurred on by her card-counting adrenaline-junkie mother who has shown up on her doorstep fresh from the shenanigans that got her kicked out of Vegas. Chava is only sixteen years older than Eddie and sadly lacking in parenting skills. Her unique areas of expertise, however, prove to be helpful in ways Eddie can’t deny, making it hard to stop Chava from tagging along. Also investigating the homicide is Detective Chance Parker, new to Bellingham’s Major Crimes unit but no stranger to Eddie. Their history as a couple back in Seattle is one more kink in a chain of complications, making Eddie’s case more frustrating and perilous with each tick of the clock.

Go HERE for my review.

.

Two Heads are Deader Than One

.

Two Heads are Deader Than One by Elena Hartwell Get Your Copy: Amazon | B&N | Goodreads

Book Two in the Eddie Shoes Mystery Series

Private Investigator Eddie Shoes is enjoying a rare period of calm. She’s less lonely now that Chava, her card-counting mom from Vegas, is sharing her home. She also has a new companion, Franklin, a giant dog of curious ancestry. Hoping for a lucrative new case, Eddie instead finds herself taking on a less promising client: her best friend from her childhood in Spokane. Dakota has turned up in Bellingham, in jail, where she is being held on a weapons charge. Eddie reluctantly agrees not only to lend her friend money for bail but to also investigate who is stalking her. Soon after Dakota is freed, she disappears again, leaving Eddie to answer to the local cops, including her ex-boyfriend Chance Parker. Has Dakota been kidnapped? If not, why did she jump bail? What are Eddie’s business cards doing on the bodies of two murder victims? The key to these mysteries lies in Dakota and Eddie’s shared history, which ended when Eddie left home after high school. As a person of interest in both murder cases, Eddie is forced to go in search of the truth, digging into the past and facing her own demons.

.

MY REVIEW

This is the second book in the series. It’s easy to jump in here if you haven’t read the first book. The author fills in the important details easily and in the right places so as not to slow down the story.

Things have been good for Eddie Shoes. While her P.I. business isn’t booming, it’s keeping a roof over her head. And she’s now got two roommates. Her mother, Chava, and Franklin, the Irish Wolfhound/Tibetan Mastiff dog that had adopted Eddie after saving her from drowning. Keeps things interesting.

Eddie’s past comes back to haunt her when her best friend from highschool, Dakota Fontaine, enters her life once again, needing to be bailed out of jail. Why she’s calling Eddie and what shes’ doing in Bellingham is a mystery soon to be revealed. As bodies start popping up and someone is pointing the finger at Eddie, she scrambles to clear her name and get to the truth. The thing is, when Dakota’s lips are moving, she’s usually lying or trying to make herself look better, so Eddie will have to do some serious sleuthing.

The more I read about Eddie, the more I like her. She’s strong willed and confident in most things, but she has a soft spot for those she’s loyal to and that makes her vulnerable. She also seems to always find trouble, which makes her stories funny and exciting.

Her old flame , Detective Chance Parker is still around, stirring up those butterflies in Eddie’s stomach. I keep hoping one of them will get brave enough to show their feelings and make a move to mend fences. I feel they are a good fit.

Chava is a force unto herself. A little bitty thing but packing tons of energy, Eddie’s mother lends humor to this series. They are something to experience, whether just getting through the day or working on a new case.

Snappy dialogue, plenty of mayhem, and genuine character’s with all of their flaws, makes Elena’s detective series a must read.

5 STARS

.

Three Strikes, You’re Dead

.

Three Strikes, You’re Dead by Elena Hartwell Get Your Copy: Amazon | B&N | Goodreads

Book Three in the Eddie Shoes Mystery Series

Private investigator Eddie Shoes heads to a resort outside Leavenworth, Washington, for a mother-daughter getaway weekend. Eddie’s mother, Chava, wants to celebrate her new job at a casino by footing the bill for the two of them, and who is Eddie to say no? On the first morning, Eddie goes on an easy solo hike, and a few hours later, stumbles over a makeshift campsite and a gravely injured man. A forest fire breaks out and she struggles to save him before the flames overcome them both. Before succumbing to his injuries, the man hands her a valuable object. He tells her his daughter is missing and begs for help. Is Eddie now working for a dead man? Eddie wakes in the hospital to find both her parents have arrived on the scene. Will Eddie’s card-counting mother and mob-connected father help or hinder the investigation? The police search in vain for a body. How will Eddie find the missing girl with only Eddie’s memory of the man’s face and a photo of his daughter to go on?

.

Praise for The Eddie Shoes Mysteries:

ONE DEAD TWO TO GO is a well-written fast-paced story that kept me fully engaged from beginning to end. It’s one of those stories where you get to the end of a chapter and think, “Okay, just a few more pages.” And the next thing you know, you’ve read three more chapters.” ~ Mayor Sonni, Readeropolis “…an engaging mystery that will keep you stumped to the very end.” ~ Susan Sewell, Readers’ Favorite THREE STRIKES, YOU’RE DEAD gives us another vivid adventure with the quirky, genuine private eye Eddie Shoes. As usual, author Elena Hartwell’s characters are so real you feel like you could run into them at your local dive bar. Three Strikes takes us even deeper into Eddie’s complex family relationships with her charming-but-deadly father Eduardo and hilarious mom Chava, giving us further insight into Eddie’s psyche. The laugh-out-loud moments are many in this vital third installment, and you’ll find yourself wishing you could stay longer in the world of Eddie Shoes.” ~ LS Hawker, USA Today bestselling author

 

Book Details:

Genre: Private Eye Mystery

Published by: Open Road Media, March 2024

Series Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads

.

Read an excerpt from One Dead, Two to Go:

.

CHAPTER ONE
Call me Eddie Shoes. Not a very feminine moniker, but it suits me. My father’s name was Eduardo Zapata. In a fit of nostalgia, my mother Chava named me Edwina Zapata Schultz, even though by the time I was born she hadn’t seen my father in seven months. Edwina was a mouthful to saddle any child with, so at the ripe old age of six, I announced that I would only answer to Eddie. I didn’t have any nostalgia for a guy I’d never met, so Zapata just seemed like a name no one ever spelled right the first time. Chava wasn’t particularly maternal in any conventional sense, so not a lot of nostalgia for Schultz either. At eighteen I legally changed my name to Eddie Shoes. It said a lot about my sense of humor. Chava and I had come to an understanding. She stayed in my life as long as our contact was minimal and primarily over email. It was just enough to allay her guilt and not enough to make me crazy, so it worked for both of us. She’d always been down about my choice of career, but what did she expect from a girl who called herself Eddie Shoes? If I hadn’t become a private investigator, I probably would have been a bookie, so she should have been a little more positive about the whole thing. My career was the reason I sat hunkered in the car, in the dark, halfway down the block from a tacky hotel, clutching a digital camera and zoom lens, waiting to catch my latest client’s husband with a woman not his wife. I’d already gotten a few choice shots of the guy entering the room, but he’d gone in alone and no one else had arrived. I assumed the other woman was already waiting for him. After tailing the guy for a few days, I had a pretty good guess who the chippie would turn out to be. I didn’t think he’d hired his “office manager” for her filing skills, and sleeping with the married boss was a cliché because it happened all the time. I could already prove the man a liar. He’d told his wife he played poker with the boys on Wednesday nights, and I didn’t think he was shacked up in this dive with three of his closest buddies, unless he was kinkier than I imagined. But then, people never ceased to amaze me. December in Bellingham, Washington, often brought cold, clear weather and that night was no exception. Starting the engine to warm up sounded tempting, but I didn’t want anyone to notice me sitting there. Nice it wasn’t raining, but if the thermometer had crept much over twenty, I hadn’t noticed. To make matters worse, I’d scrunched my almost six-foot frame down in the driver’s seat for more than two hours. Even with a blanket wrapped around my shoulders, I was half frozen, and desperately hoped my mark didn’t have more stamina than I’d pegged him for. All I wanted was to go home and go to bed. And at some point, I would need to pee. Up on the second floor, the door of the hotel room I had my eye on finally opened. I brought my camera up, ready for the money shots. My earlier pics proved that the dirty white stucco on the side of the building bounced the pale glow from the minimal exterior lights enough for pictures to be clear without a flash. Even from this distance, there was a nice unobstructed view of the location. The only barrier between someone standing on the narrow walk and my camera lens was a flimsy, rusty-looking, wrought-iron railing. The balusters looked too thin to stop anyone from falling the height of the first floor to the asphalt parking lot below. I doubted anything at the tawdry place passed code. But what did I care? I wasn’t going to stay there. The “liar”—I have always been creative with nicknames—stepped out, straightening his tie. I snapped a few pictures and held my breath, hoping the other woman would come out behind him. Even if I took pictures of her exiting a few minutes later, the husband needed to be in the picture with her. A surprising number of wives would argue with me about what actually took place in these various, if interchangeable, hotel rooms. For some reason they would rather believe the info about their husband cheating was fake than admit he strayed, which confused me because I got paid either way. It felt especially crazy when they must already know the truth, otherwise they wouldn’t have hired me in the first place. But I knew better than to look for logic in the ways of the human heart and got the best evidence possible. The man turned sideways. Light from the room behind him threw his face into silhouette. He had an exceptionally generous head of hair, which made him very recognizable even in bad light. Mid-forties, and mostly in good shape, he appeared athletic as long as he didn’t unbutton his sport coat. I could see why women were attracted to him, though he didn’t do a thing for me. I preferred men a little more honest. But then, I’d never been married, so what did I know? A figure moved from behind him into the shadow of the doorway. “Come on, honey, step out into the light.” I held the camera to my eye. “One more step, so I can see your face.” The woman obliged by leaning into the cold blue glow cast by the old style, energy inefficient streetlights, her cheeks stained red in the flash of the vacancy sign. I happily clicked away as the “office manager” wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered sweet nothings in his ear. She clearly wore nothing but lingerie. She must assume no one else would be out this late on such a cold weeknight. Or maybe she enjoyed having people see her, a bit of an exhibitionist in the happy homewrecker. Whatever the cause, she had him in the perfect spot for the best pictures. I loved it when guilty people made my job easy. My photos might not be art, but they were gold in my book. No way the wife could believe this was anything other than what it looked like. Several photos later, the husband extricated himself from the mistress and she ducked back into the room and closed the door. He walked briskly toward a shiny red Chevy Camaro. The guy owned a GM dealership and drove a new car every day. He lit a cigarette, which he puffed on for a few drags before he tossed it into the gutter. Not just a cheater, a litterer. The bastard. The cigarette stench backed his poker party story and covered the smell of another woman, killing two birds with one cancer-causing stone. As soon as he pulled out onto the street, I stretched back up to full height, relieved to still feel my feet. I started up my ancient green Subaru Forrester, cranked my heater, and headed for home, relieved I didn’t have to wait around in the cold for the mistress to reappear. Whatever she did next wasn’t my concern. Having the two of them in the pictures together convinced me my work was done. The hotel was located downtown—the blue-collar north end, not the high-priced, brick, historical south end, so I dropped down to Lakeway Drive, scooted under the freeway, and wound through the streets that curved around Bayview Cemetery. Traffic at ten o’clock on a midweek winter night was light, and I arrived at my little house by ten-thirty. I downloaded the photos from the hotel onto my computer, wrote up a final bill for my client, and went to bed content. What could possibly go wrong with such an easy case? *** Excerpt from One Dead, Two to Go by Elena Hartwell. Copyright 2024 by Elena Hartwell. Reproduced with permission from Elena Hartwell. All rights reserved.

 

 

About Author Elena Hartwell:

.

Elena Hartwell

Elena Hartwell spent several years working in theater as a playwright, director, designer, and educator before turning her storytelling skills to fiction. Elena is also a senior editor with Allegory Editing, a developmental editing house, where she works one-on-one with writers to shape and polish manuscripts. If you’d like to work with Elena, visit www.allegoryediting.com. Her favorite place to be is at Paradise, the property she and her hubby own south of Spokane, Washington. They live with their horses, Jasper, Radar, and Diggy, their dogs Polar and Wyatt, and their cats Coal Train and Cocoa. Elena holds a B.A. from the University of San Diego, a M.Ed. from the University of Washington, Tacoma, and a Ph.D. from the University of Georgia. She also writes as Elena Taylor, to learn more visit www.ElenaTaylorAuthor.com

Catch Up With Elena Hartwell: www.ElenaHartwell.com TheMysteryOfWriting.com Goodreads BookBub – @elenahartwell Instagram – @elenataylorauthor Twitter/X – @Elena_TaylorAut Facebook – @ElenaTaylorAuthor

 

 

Tour Participants:

Visit these other great hosts on this tour for more great reviews, interviews, guest posts, and opportunities to WIN in the giveaway!  

 

Don’t Miss Your Chance to Win! Enter Today!

.

This is a giveaway hosted by Partners in Crime Tours for Elena Hartwell. See the widget for entry terms and conditions. Void where prohibited.

.

 

 

 

Get More Great Reads at Partners In Crime Tours

 

~~~~~

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.

The Taste of Datura by Lorenzo Petruzziello Banner

The Taste of Datura
by Lorenzo Petruzziello
April 2 – 26, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

 

 

Synopsis:
An alluring affair in Napoli.

Nick seeks the value of an antique bracelet in his possession. He encounters Laura, an amateur medium cursed by uncontrollable visions. With Laura’s help, Nick closes in on the origin of his treasure. But as the word gets out, the quest puts them both in danger. A noir-inspired story ensnared by mystery, myth, and murder; all under a watchful eye shadowing Italy’s vibrant city of Napoli.

Praise for The Taste of Datura:

“A thrilling mystery that combines Italian history and international intrigue.” ~ Kirkus Reviews

 

Book Details:

Genre: Fiction. Noir. Crime.

Published by: Magnusmade Publication Date: April 2, 2024 Number of Pages: 370 ISBN: 9781735065441 (ISBN10: 1735065447)

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

.

MY REVIEW

Have you ever wanted to go on a tour of Napoli, Italy? The author takes you there. He ‘shows’ you with his visually written descriptions, puts you there, in Nick’s shoes, as he runs from everyone. He purchased an old bracelet and when he makes inquiries about it’s worth, people come out of the word work, wanting it… at any cost.  This causes him to turn to someone for help. Someone a bit unorthodox. Enter, Laura. A medium with her own baggage. She’s burdened with out of control visions. Together they unravel the mystery of the origin of the bracelet.

I had a lot of fun following these characters as they tried to figure out why so many people wanted the bracelet. Why they’d go to drastic lengths to get it. And what it’s origin was. Even though Laura was a medium, she felt much more grounded than Nick, He came across as confused a lot of the time. Quirky, unusual characters are my thing and I liked them both.

Looking for a noir type mystery with some mythology thrown in? Look no further.

4 STARS

 

.

Enjoy this peek inside:
PROLOGUE
Naples, Italy December 1890
The crisp breeze trickled in from the bay, across the piazza, through the narrow buildings, and brushed along the back of the neck of the elderly German archaeologist. He was determined to have his afternoon walk through the Spanish Quarter. Being out of the hotel room and in the open air made him feel a lot better. He’ll get back to Athens soon enough. Sure, he should have been celebrating the holidays, surrounded by his family and fellow archaeologists, but his health kept him from continuing on his journey. A special gift he bought in Naples was ready to be picked up, so he wanted to go get it and bring it with him to Athens. He imagined showing the piece to everyone waiting for him. If only his infection hadn’t come back, he would have been allowed to take the ship to Greece and be in Athens for Christmas as he had planned. But being stuck in Naples was a consolation, though. While he had spent some of the time in bed recovering, he had made the most of his time until the doctors could clear him to continue on his travels. For example, he was able to return to Pompeii and examine the ruins with more detail—something one cannot do during the summer holiday with the influx of tourists crowding around. So, he couldn’t really complain. After all, he was absolutely fine staying in the comforts of the wonderous and luxurious Grand Hotel, with its incredible view of the bay. Not a bad place to recover from his lung infection. As Christmas was getting closer, the visits from the doctors had diminished. Of course, the old man understood doctors had families too. Besides, they did see improvement in his condition, and said they would check in on him after the holiday. When he was feeling better, he bathed and dressed and focused his time on visiting the artifacts in the museums of Naples, including that excursion to museum and ruins of Pompeii. On Christmas Day, however, the museums were closed, so the old man had agreed to participate in the hotel’s abundant holiday lunch with other guests. The staff were kind enough to understand his condition and seat him alone at a private table, so he didn’t risk getting anyone else sick. After the meal, he had decided to take a walk to the church. A young concierge procured the old man a driver as he helped him put on his coat and handed him his gloves and hat. As he walked across the front gardens and onto the main street along the bay, the old man greeted the staff and some of the other guests he had met while he was stuck recovering in the hotel. He looked at the water, took a deep breath, and allowed the crisp, salty air to fill his lungs, immediately feeling the renowned healing powers of the Mediterranean Sea. He turned away from the bay and crossed back to the car that was waiting to take him to Piazza Plebiscito. It was not his destination, but he figured he’d take a walk to the church he had in mind. He was somewhat familiar with the area, but not enough to take himself directly to the church. It was not a problem, though, he knew he’d find it strolling around. He asked the driver to return in a couple of hours, then walked across the round piazza, onto Via Toledo. Halfway up the climbing street, he felt his body become weaker than his ambition. He forced himself to slow his steps as he continued his climb. He paused at a shop window and admired the Christmas decorations. Really, he felt his heartbeat racing and needed to catch his breath. He needed to rest. He examined the miniature figurines displayed in a religious scene, finally presented with the miracle baby they had been eagerly awaiting. Ignoring the reflection of his old face staring back at him, he looked away and saw a clearing further ahead. Deducing it to be another piazza, he would rest at a café and sort out his route to the church. He gathered his strength and continued on. He reached piazza Santa Caritá and looked around for any open café. He felt the space spinning as he turned and turned. His head felt numb, the sounds around him were garbled, as if underwater. He blinked heavily before everything turned to black… *** Excerpt from The Taste of Datura by Lorenzo Petruzziello. Copyright 2024 by Lorenzo Petruzziello. Reproduced with permission from Lorenzo Petruzziello. All rights reserved.

 

 

About Author Lorenzo Petruzziello:

.

Lorenzo Petruzziello

Lorenzo holds degrees in International Marketing and Economics, with a background in global marketing for the entertainment and life sciences industries. He writes in his spare time, drawing inspiration from his frequent trips to Italy, his first dating back to his childhood. THE TASTE OF DATURA is Lorenzo’s third book.

Catch Up With Lorenzo Petruzziello: www.magnusmade.com Goodreads BookBub – @LorenzoMagnus Instagram – @lorenzomagnus

 

.

.

Tour Participants:

Visit these other great hosts on this tour for more great reviews, interviews, guest posts, and opportunities to WIN in the giveaway!  

 

Don’t Miss Your Chance to Win! Enter Today!

This is a giveaway hosted by Partners in Crime Tours for Lorenzo Petruzziello. See the widget for entry terms and conditions. Void where prohibited.

 

 

 

Get More Great Reads at Partners In Crime Tours

 

~~~~~

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.

The Eddie Shoes Mysteries by Elena Hartwell Banner

The Eddie Shoes Mysteries
by Elena Hartwell
March 18 – April 26, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

 

One Dead, Two to Go

.

One Dead, Two to Go by Elena Hartwell Get Your Copy: Amazon | B&N | Goodreads
Book One in the Eddie Shoes Mystery Series

Private Investigator Edwina “Eddie Shoes” Schultz’s most recent job has her parked outside a seedy Bellingham hotel, photographing her quarry as he kisses his mistress goodbye. This is the last anyone will see of the woman … alive. Her body is later found dumped in an abandoned building. Eddie’s client, Kendra Hallings, disappears soon after. Eddie hates to be stiffed for her fee, but she has to wonder if Kendra could be in trouble too. Or is she the killer? Eddie usually balks at matters requiring a gun, but before she knows it, she is knee-deep in dangerous company, spurred on by her card-counting adrenaline-junkie mother who has shown up on her doorstep fresh from the shenanigans that got her kicked out of Vegas. Chava is only sixteen years older than Eddie and sadly lacking in parenting skills. Her unique areas of expertise, however, prove to be helpful in ways Eddie can’t deny, making it hard to stop Chava from tagging along. Also investigating the homicide is Detective Chance Parker, new to Bellingham’s Major Crimes unit but no stranger to Eddie. Their history as a couple back in Seattle is one more kink in a chain of complications, making Eddie’s case more frustrating and perilous with each tick of the clock.

.

.

MY REVIEW

I’m a huge fan of cozy mysteries and there are several things I need to make me love one. First is the setting. I prefer small town ones but even big cities or someplace on the other side of the pond works for me if the author can really show it to me, which Elena Hartwell did.

And then I need the author to populate it with quirky, flawed people I can connect with and almost see as someone I know. She did that too. Edwina, AKA Eddie Shoes, was a hoot. A private investigator with a tangled mess of a personal life that made me laugh. Her mother, Chava, is a card shark and a huge handful. Made me think of the Tasmanian Devil cartoon character. She’s a whirling dervish.

There needs to be a love interest. In this case it was Eddie’s ex, Chance Parker. The sparks are still there but he’s not happy with how things ended. Perhaps it ended too soon? I was excited to find out.

Last but not least is the mystery. I require lots of suspects and false leads. I’m like a bloodhound. I get the scent and won’t stop until the culprit is found. Got that with this one. And so much fun getting there.

This is a super fun beginning to a series I can sink my teeth into.  Next up is Two Heads Are Deader Than One. Tallyho!

5 STARS

 

.

Two Heads are Deader Than One

.

Two Heads are Deader Than One by Elena Hartwell Get Your Copy: Amazon | B&N | Goodreads
Book Two in the Eddie Shoes Mystery Series

Private Investigator Eddie Shoes is enjoying a rare period of calm. She’s less lonely now that Chava, her card-counting mom from Vegas, is sharing her home. She also has a new companion, Franklin, a giant dog of curious ancestry. Hoping for a lucrative new case, Eddie instead finds herself taking on a less promising client: her best friend from her childhood in Spokane. Dakota has turned up in Bellingham, in jail, where she is being held on a weapons charge. Eddie reluctantly agrees not only to lend her friend money for bail but to also investigate who is stalking her. Soon after Dakota is freed, she disappears again, leaving Eddie to answer to the local cops, including her ex-boyfriend Chance Parker. Has Dakota been kidnapped? If not, why did she jump bail? What are Eddie’s business cards doing on the bodies of two murder victims? The key to these mysteries lies in Dakota and Eddie’s shared history, which ended when Eddie left home after high school. As a person of interest in both murder cases, Eddie is forced to go in search of the truth, digging into the past and facing her own demons.

.
Three Strikes, You’re Dead

.

Three Strikes, You’re Dead by Elena Hartwell Get Your Copy: Amazon | B&N | Goodreads
Book Three in the Eddie Shoes Mystery Series

Private investigator Eddie Shoes heads to a resort outside Leavenworth, Washington, for a mother-daughter getaway weekend. Eddie’s mother, Chava, wants to celebrate her new job at a casino by footing the bill for the two of them, and who is Eddie to say no? On the first morning, Eddie goes on an easy solo hike, and a few hours later, stumbles over a makeshift campsite and a gravely injured man. A forest fire breaks out and she struggles to save him before the flames overcome them both. Before succumbing to his injuries, the man hands her a valuable object. He tells her his daughter is missing and begs for help. Is Eddie now working for a dead man? Eddie wakes in the hospital to find both her parents have arrived on the scene. Will Eddie’s card-counting mother and mob-connected father help or hinder the investigation? The police search in vain for a body. How will Eddie find the missing girl with only Eddie’s memory of the man’s face and a photo of his daughter to go on?

.

Praise for The Eddie Shoes Mysteries:

ONE DEAD TWO TO GO is a well-written fast-paced story that kept me fully engaged from beginning to end. It’s one of those stories where you get to the end of a chapter and think, “Okay, just a few more pages.” And the next thing you know, you’ve read three more chapters.” ~ Mayor Sonni, Readeropolis “…an engaging mystery that will keep you stumped to the very end.” ~ Susan Sewell, Readers’ Favorite THREE STRIKES, YOU’RE DEAD gives us another vivid adventure with the quirky, genuine private eye Eddie Shoes. As usual, author Elena Hartwell’s characters are so real you feel like you could run into them at your local dive bar. Three Strikes takes us even deeper into Eddie’s complex family relationships with her charming-but-deadly father Eduardo and hilarious mom Chava, giving us further insight into Eddie’s psyche. The laugh-out-loud moments are many in this vital third installment, and you’ll find yourself wishing you could stay longer in the world of Eddie Shoes.” ~ LS Hawker, USA Today bestselling author

 

Book Details:

Genre: Private Eye Mystery

Published by: Open Road Media, March 2024

Series Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads

.

Read an excerpt from One Dead, Two to Go:
CHAPTER ONE
Call me Eddie Shoes. Not a very feminine moniker, but it suits me. My father’s name was Eduardo Zapata. In a fit of nostalgia, my mother Chava named me Edwina Zapata Schultz, even though by the time I was born she hadn’t seen my father in seven months. Edwina was a mouthful to saddle any child with, so at the ripe old age of six, I announced that I would only answer to Eddie. I didn’t have any nostalgia for a guy I’d never met, so Zapata just seemed like a name no one ever spelled right the first time. Chava wasn’t particularly maternal in any conventional sense, so not a lot of nostalgia for Schultz either. At eighteen I legally changed my name to Eddie Shoes. It said a lot about my sense of humor. Chava and I had come to an understanding. She stayed in my life as long as our contact was minimal and primarily over email. It was just enough to allay her guilt and not enough to make me crazy, so it worked for both of us. She’d always been down about my choice of career, but what did she expect from a girl who called herself Eddie Shoes? If I hadn’t become a private investigator, I probably would have been a bookie, so she should have been a little more positive about the whole thing. My career was the reason I sat hunkered in the car, in the dark, halfway down the block from a tacky hotel, clutching a digital camera and zoom lens, waiting to catch my latest client’s husband with a woman not his wife. I’d already gotten a few choice shots of the guy entering the room, but he’d gone in alone and no one else had arrived. I assumed the other woman was already waiting for him. After tailing the guy for a few days, I had a pretty good guess who the chippie would turn out to be. I didn’t think he’d hired his “office manager” for her filing skills, and sleeping with the married boss was a cliché because it happened all the time. I could already prove the man a liar. He’d told his wife he played poker with the boys on Wednesday nights, and I didn’t think he was shacked up in this dive with three of his closest buddies, unless he was kinkier than I imagined. But then, people never ceased to amaze me. December in Bellingham, Washington, often brought cold, clear weather and that night was no exception. Starting the engine to warm up sounded tempting, but I didn’t want anyone to notice me sitting there. Nice it wasn’t raining, but if the thermometer had crept much over twenty, I hadn’t noticed. To make matters worse, I’d scrunched my almost six-foot frame down in the driver’s seat for more than two hours. Even with a blanket wrapped around my shoulders, I was half frozen, and desperately hoped my mark didn’t have more stamina than I’d pegged him for. All I wanted was to go home and go to bed. And at some point, I would need to pee. Up on the second floor, the door of the hotel room I had my eye on finally opened. I brought my camera up, ready for the money shots. My earlier pics proved that the dirty white stucco on the side of the building bounced the pale glow from the minimal exterior lights enough for pictures to be clear without a flash. Even from this distance, there was a nice unobstructed view of the location. The only barrier between someone standing on the narrow walk and my camera lens was a flimsy, rusty-looking, wrought-iron railing. The balusters looked too thin to stop anyone from falling the height of the first floor to the asphalt parking lot below. I doubted anything at the tawdry place passed code. But what did I care? I wasn’t going to stay there. The “liar”—I have always been creative with nicknames—stepped out, straightening his tie. I snapped a few pictures and held my breath, hoping the other woman would come out behind him. Even if I took pictures of her exiting a few minutes later, the husband needed to be in the picture with her. A surprising number of wives would argue with me about what actually took place in these various, if interchangeable, hotel rooms. For some reason they would rather believe the info about their husband cheating was fake than admit he strayed, which confused me because I got paid either way. It felt especially crazy when they must already know the truth, otherwise they wouldn’t have hired me in the first place. But I knew better than to look for logic in the ways of the human heart and got the best evidence possible. The man turned sideways. Light from the room behind him threw his face into silhouette. He had an exceptionally generous head of hair, which made him very recognizable even in bad light. Mid-forties, and mostly in good shape, he appeared athletic as long as he didn’t unbutton his sport coat. I could see why women were attracted to him, though he didn’t do a thing for me. I preferred men a little more honest. But then, I’d never been married, so what did I know? A figure moved from behind him into the shadow of the doorway. “Come on, honey, step out into the light.” I held the camera to my eye. “One more step, so I can see your face.” The woman obliged by leaning into the cold blue glow cast by the old style, energy inefficient streetlights, her cheeks stained red in the flash of the vacancy sign. I happily clicked away as the “office manager” wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered sweet nothings in his ear. She clearly wore nothing but lingerie. She must assume no one else would be out this late on such a cold weeknight. Or maybe she enjoyed having people see her, a bit of an exhibitionist in the happy homewrecker. Whatever the cause, she had him in the perfect spot for the best pictures. I loved it when guilty people made my job easy. My photos might not be art, but they were gold in my book. No way the wife could believe this was anything other than what it looked like. Several photos later, the husband extricated himself from the mistress and she ducked back into the room and closed the door. He walked briskly toward a shiny red Chevy Camaro. The guy owned a GM dealership and drove a new car every day. He lit a cigarette, which he puffed on for a few drags before he tossed it into the gutter. Not just a cheater, a litterer. The bastard. The cigarette stench backed his poker party story and covered the smell of another woman, killing two birds with one cancer-causing stone. As soon as he pulled out onto the street, I stretched back up to full height, relieved to still feel my feet. I started up my ancient green Subaru Forrester, cranked my heater, and headed for home, relieved I didn’t have to wait around in the cold for the mistress to reappear. Whatever she did next wasn’t my concern. Having the two of them in the pictures together convinced me my work was done. The hotel was located downtown—the blue-collar north end, not the high-priced, brick, historical south end, so I dropped down to Lakeway Drive, scooted under the freeway, and wound through the streets that curved around Bayview Cemetery. Traffic at ten o’clock on a midweek winter night was light, and I arrived at my little house by ten-thirty. I downloaded the photos from the hotel onto my computer, wrote up a final bill for my client, and went to bed content. What could possibly go wrong with such an easy case? *** Excerpt from One Dead, Two to Go by Elena Hartwell. Copyright 2024 by Elena Hartwell. Reproduced with permission from Elena Hartwell. All rights reserved.

 

 

About Author Elena Hartwell:

.

Elena Hartwell

Elena Hartwell spent several years working in theater as a playwright, director, designer, and educator before turning her storytelling skills to fiction. Elena is also a senior editor with Allegory Editing, a developmental editing house, where she works one-on-one with writers to shape and polish manuscripts. If you’d like to work with Elena, visit www.allegoryediting.com. Her favorite place to be is at Paradise, the property she and her hubby own south of Spokane, Washington. They live with their horses, Jasper, Radar, and Diggy, their dogs Polar and Wyatt, and their cats Coal Train and Cocoa. Elena holds a B.A. from the University of San Diego, a M.Ed. from the University of Washington, Tacoma, and a Ph.D. from the University of Georgia. She also writes as Elena Taylor, to learn more visit www.ElenaTaylorAuthor.com

Catch Up With Elena Hartwell: www.ElenaHartwell.com TheMysteryOfWriting.com Goodreads BookBub – @elenahartwell Instagram – @elenataylorauthor Twitter/X – @Elena_TaylorAut Facebook – @ElenaTaylorAuthor

 

 

Tour Participants:

Visit these other great hosts on this tour for more great reviews, interviews, guest posts, and opportunities to WIN in the giveaway!  

 

Don’t Miss Your Chance to Win! Enter Today!

This is a giveaway hosted by Partners in Crime Tours for Elena Hartwell. See the widget for entry terms and conditions. Void where prohibited.

 

 

 

Get More Great Reads at Partners In Crime Tours

 

~~~~~

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.

.

This one’s for the night owls of the world.

.

.

Ziggy’s Cigar

.

by Tony and Nicole Nesca

Genre: Graphic novel, Literary Fiction

.

.

One night in the life of a security guard in an inner-city highrise.

Full of after-midnight eccentrics and fringe-dwelling street people, this one’s for the night owls of the world.

Amazon * B&N * Goodreads

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

 

.

Searching for Rebellion: Two Indie Authors Form Edgy Publishing Company

Tony Nesca and Nicole I. Nesca have one question – where have all the fearless artists gone? Unable to find a mainstream publishing outfit that suited their taste for grittier writing, the Nescas formed their own – Screamin’ Skull Press.

For the Beat Generation, controversy was the norm, not the exception. Creators like Jack Kerouac, William S. Burroughs and Lucien Carr courted debate and made careers out of pushing the proverbial envelope with their poems, books, music and other creative expressions. Living on the fringes of society was considered to be more exciting and fulfilling than conforming to the mainstream.

Authors and married couple Tony and Nicole Nesca feel connected to that Generation through their own work, and their innate understanding of what it means to be artists whose work cannot be deemed ‘conventional’ by anyone’s standards.

Currently writing, editing and publishing their works through their self-publishing venture, Screamin’ Skull Press, Tony Nesca and Nicole Nesca have both cultivated individual styles but have the same mission.

“To be frank, we see too much pushed out into the world today that is bland and formulaic,” says Tony Nesca, whose unique, humorous and lyrical sixth novel, ‘Hobo’ is out now. “Every other book is a rip-off of another rip-off. The bookstores are packed with these endless vampire stories and dystopian fairy tales. Where is our Anais Nin? Our Hunter S. Thompson?” Our Virginia Woolf?

Screamin’ Skull Press exclusively publishes the worrk of the Nescas – raw, electric and with a free flowing mix of prose and poetry, their books are explorations of freedom, art, death, love, literary experimentation and living how one chooses.

“We knew that mainstream publishers wouldn’t have the courage to publish the kind of work that we want to create,” says Nicole Nesca. “It’s interesting – sometimes we wonder, could Henry Miller or Hemingway find success in today’s market?

It’s as if bravery is a dirty word in literature. Fearlessness, to me, is everything to a writer. Although we have our own styles, I think that’s one thing that Tony and I saw in each other when we met – that drive to find truth and peel back the layers in our own work.”

“I think we first fell in love with each other’s writing,” says Tony. “Which was a fitting beginning to our story.”

Tony Nesca and Nicole I. Nesca have published 19 distinct works through their Indie Press, and their journey toward a more rebellious future for literature continues.

Website * Facebook * Facebook * X * Instagram * Bookbub * Goodreads

.

Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!

.

 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

.

.

~~~~~

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.

.

It’s a romp in the swamp!

.

.

Bill’s Cajun House of Pleasure

by Alan Lampe

Genre: Historical Fiction

.

It’s a romp in the swamp of historic proportions!

Eager young reporter Jimmie Rains is assigned to write an exposé on the treatment of elderly residents of Our Lady of Sorrows Nursing Home. He soon finds that all the residents speak in awe and hushed tones of the life led by legendary fellow resident Bill Valencourt.

As a teenager, Bill was sent to work for his cranky and demanding uncle who ran a bordello on the edge of the swamp. His girlfriend, Anne Marie, was less than happy with this arrangement. As the granddaughter of the famous swamp witch Marie Laveau, she believes her magic is strong enough to keep Bill from straying. She seduces him, believing the taking of his virginity will bind him to her for all time.

When his uncle is murdered by the wife of an angry patron, Bill’s destiny is irrevocably changed, leaving him the new owner of the cathouse and setting him on the path to both riches and ruin. When he falls in love with one of his girls—the beautiful and curvaceous Ariel—Anne Marie vows revenge.

Amazon * Bookbub * Goodreads

.

.

Six chimes in descending tone came out of the radio, followed by a baritone voice.  “And now WFUX-AM 690 proudly presents the News of Louisiana with Rich Bastards.”

“Good evening Louisiana, this is WFUX-AM 690 and I’m Rich Bastards.” The new voice purred out of the radio speaker.  “Today, I have the esteem privilege of interviewing Governor Earl Long.  He’s taking a little break from the campaign trail to speak with me this evening.  Governor Long, welcome to the News of Louisiana.”

“Why thank you there, Mr. … uh Bastards, or do you prefer Rich?”

“Please governor, I’m a simple man.  Rich Bastards will be fine. Now then,” a shuffling of papers could be heard coming from the radio, “according to this here report from your campaign office, you are funneling funds to Arkansas farmers for undisclosed reasons.  Would you care to explain those reasons?”

“What?” Governor Long was bewildered.

“Your campaign office told us you are funneling funds to the farmers in Arkansas.  I’m sure your constituents would love to know why.”

“What are you talking about?  I’m not funneling funds to the Arkansas farmers.”

“Ah ha!” Rich Bastards pounced. “So you are funneling funds somewhere, just not to the northern hillbillies. Now let’s see, where could you be funneling the funds to?”

“I’m not funneling any funds to anywhere, Rich Bastards!”

“Your campaign office swears you are, Governor Long. If you’re not funneling funds to the northern hillbillies, you’ve got to be funneling them somewhere. Is it Mississippi? No, wait; they wouldn’t know what to do with the funds even if you were funneling it to them.  Lord knows they don’t spend any money on education.  Why hell, they’d probably think the greenback is some sort of mutilated, or mutant spinach plant.  So that just leaves Texas.”

“This is preposterous, man.  I’m not funneling funds to any of the bordering states!”

“But your campaign office says you are right here on this piece of paper.”  A rustling of paper followed the statement.

“Let me see that paper.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Governor, but a good reporter never reveals his sources.”

“But you’re not a good reporter!  You’re just spewing conjecture.”

“Spewing conjecture!”  Rich Bastards was bewildered.  “I’ll have you know I have never spewed anything in my adult life.  Although the étouffée at this past Mardi Gras almost came back up.  But I swear on my grand pappy’s grave that I haven’t spewed since I was a baby.”

“It’s all a lie.  I’m not funneling funds anywhere,” said the governor.

The radio went silent for a moment before Rich Bastards spoke again.  “So you’re laundering the money.  Can you believe it Louisiana?  Our own governor right here and now just admitted to laundering money in Texas.”

“I did no such thing.  You’re putting words in my mouth.”

“Oh come now, governor.  You deny laundering money with the northern hillbillies and the uneducated Mississippians, but you never denied laundering the good clean money of Louisiana through the oil soaked hands of the Texans.”

“I deny that right now.  I’m not funneling funds or laundering money to any of the neighboring states.  And that’s the truth.”

Rich Bastards paused again and then continued the interview.  “Well then, I guess that settles it.  You heard it here first, ladies and gentlemen, Governor Long is embezzling funds through off shore accounts.”

“What?!” Governor Long was beside himself.

“Oh sure, you denied the funneling of funds and the laundering of money, but you never denied embezzling funds.”

“This is utter nonsense!  I am not doing anything illegal with my campaign.  All of my funds are accounted for and verified.  I’m not a crook!”

“Oh come now governor, you’re a politician.  And as all Louisianan’s know, all politicians are crooks.  I’m confident the books you would provide for us to look at would be as fake as a… a Honus Wagner baseball card.”

“Honus Wagner!  What the hell does he have to do with this?  He has a real baseball card, you know.”

“Honus Wagner has a real baseball card!  You’re saying someone with a name like Honus is in the same league as Babe Ruth, Roy Campanella, Ted Williams and Bobby Doerr.  Now that’s preposterous Governor Long.  But let’s not change the subject.  Which nefarious enterprise are you supporting through your campaign funds?”

“For the last time, I am running a clean campaign.  I am not funneling funds.  I am not laundering money.  I am not embezzling.”

Rich Bastards was silent for a moment.  “Well that just leaves extortion.  Why Governor Long, I am shocked, yes shocked to see that a fine upstanding political figure like yourself is extorting funds from the less educated Mississippians for your own sick pleasure.”

“A minute you go you called me a crook and now you’re calling me a fine upstanding political figure.  Listen Rich Bastards, I am doing nothing illegal with my campaign.  It is all legit.  The great people of Louisiana know my record and know I’m an honest man.”

“That’s what every politician says right before they get caught with their hand in the cookie jar.  You’re brewing up some shifty gumbo that you hope the people of Louisiana will swallow, aren’t you?”

“Is there no end to you and mad ramblings?  I’m through with you and this interview.”  The sound of chair scraping along the floor could be heard, then the governor spoke again, but his voice wasn’t as audible as before.  “I have to go find out who the hell told me that talking to Rich Bastards would be a good thing and fire him.”

“Fellow Louisianan’s, the governor has gotten out of his chair and is leaving the booth.”  Rich Bastards raised his voice and continued, “Go ahead governor and leave.  You’re not the first guest to ignore the questions of Rich Bastards.  We know you’re a crook.  You’re whole campaign office says so right here on this piece of paper!”  A shuffling of papers came through the speaker.  “Wait, where is that piece of paper?  It was right here on my desk.  Did that kid from the Times-Picayune sneak in here while the governor as leaving and steal my paper?”  More shuffling of papers could be heard across the airwaves.  “I swear to you folks, I just had a piece of paper from Governor Long’s campaign office in my hand, and now it is gone.  Hell, there goes the credibility of this whole interview, with no facts to back it up now.    But don’t you worry, Louisiana, Rich Bastards wont’ stop until the truth is revealed. This is Rich Bastards for WFUX-AM 690 signing off.”

.

.

I recall the beginning of Isaac Asimov’s biography in his Foundation books where it says he “was born in the Soviet Union to his great surprise. He moved quickly to correct situation.” At the age of three, he stowed away in his parent’s baggage when they emigrated to the United States.

To many people’s surprise, I was born in Connecticut. I don’t have grand or fond memories of my time there. My family moved to Arkansas six months after my birth. I grew up a southern boy and enjoyed writing from an early age. The earliest recollection I have of writing for pleasure is a second grade writing contest. I placed second. I can’t remember if the contest was school wide or district wide, but I do remember where I finished. The prompt was “If you were stuck on a deserted island, what would you bring with you.” I wrote a fine masterpiece, one I’m sure the Smithsonian will treasure for years when they obtain it. My composition related how I would take a magic book with me and use it to conjure up the necessities and a flying carpet to leave the island. Welcome to the world of my writing.

I continued to write stories throughout junior high and high school. I wrote a science fiction series in colored magic marker, where each character was represented by a different color. Even at that young age, I found a way to remove the unnecessary tags. I believe there are over a dozen twenty-page stories in that series. I wrote a couple of science fiction trilogies, one included a comical slant. I even designed a worksheet with the mysteries of Dr. Investigator for my little sister to solve. Like a good author, I kept all these treasures. Maybe one day I’ll revise them and share them with you.

I entered the Air Force after high school and journaled my experience. On the last Sunday of basic training, at the church services, your flight is allowed to say a few words. I wrote a poem for my flight. It was read by another flight member. I still have those journals and interesting stories abound within them.

After the Air Force I continued to improve my craft. I wrote a novella and published it monthly in the newsletter of my local Society for Creative Anachronism group. That, as well as the work I did on the newsletter itself, allowed me get my Award of Arms, a lordship, within the SCA.

In the late 1990’s and early 2000’s I focused on poetry. During this time I lived in the Dallas / Fort Worth area. Teen drug overdoses were frequent and my poems drifted to telling their story. I have a poem in each of the following The National Library of Poetry anthologies.

  • A Prism of Thought
  • Soaring with the Wind
  • A Picture of Elegance
  • Outstanding Poets of 1998
  • Blossom in the Dawning
  • America at the Millennium

One of my post powerful poems, The Measure of 0.16, I wrote after a drunk driver killed four Brock High School students on December 19, 1998. 0.16 was his blood alcohol level and the event helped reduce the legal limit in Texas to 0.08. I’ve written over 80 poems and most fall into the “Tragic Poems of Life” chapter in a Word document where I keep them.

On April 20, 1999, the Columbine Massacre occurred where two students killed twelve classmates and a teacher. The school shooting dominated the news that week. It also led me to launch a memorial website, www.Columbine-Angels.com, where I tracked acts of school violence for the next ten years. The site has over 2000 entries, the most of any site that I know of. I also provide extensive data as to when and where the attacks occur. Many people from around the world visited my site and several asked for permission to use my data in their research. I wish I could have continued the site in perpetuity, but the ever-growing numbers, nearly 300 in one calendar school year, is just too much for one person. Keeping the site updated became a second job. Although I received great response from the site, I couldn’t continue to dedicate that much of life to it. From 2010 to 2015, I updated the site with acts of school violence I saw in the news. Those are fewer, but if you research diligently and consistently (i.e. twice a day like I was), you will see how violent are kids truly are. Early in 2016 I posted my last update to the site.

My former girlfriend and I developed the essence of Bill’s Cajun House of Pleasure. We truly enjoyed our time in Bayou Cove. After we separated I built our escapades into a full length novel. This historical fiction romp takes place from 1939 to 1969 in the swamps of Louisiana. Bill works at his uncle’s bordello and is in love with a descendant of the infamous Marie Laveau. Things change and he falls for one of the soiled doves under his uncle’s employ. After World War II, he and her live in Amsterdam. When they return to Bayou Cove in 1950 he builds his grand Cajun House of Pleasure. Staying informed of world events via WFUX-TV, he and his women are able to play politics with the lieutenant governor’s wife. In the ’60s the sexual fun continues to roll when a few artist stop by and find what they need to be successful. It’s a fun story with adult language and sexual situations. I hope you enjoy it.

I am currently developing my next story. The new tale is set in medieval times on a different planet. It’ll be a fun romp as my characters travel across the continent. Highlights along the way include stops in Hack, where the Hackers live; Pee-On, where the Pee-Ons live; Dead Oak and their solution to depositing their dead on a cart to be hauled off; and more.

.

Alan Lampe has been writing down tales and stories since the second grade. Over the years, his writing matured and was recognized by The National Library of Poetry. They published six of his poems in their anthologies in the late 1990s. Jotting down ideas and cranking out numerous short stories off and on throughout the first decade of the twenty-first century, he focused on his writing in 2011 instead of Super Bowl XLV.

Bill’s Cajun House of Pleasure is the brainchild of Alan and his former girlfriend. The first nuggets of this romp in the swamp were hatched eight years ago. Between workshops, critic groups, and conferences, he polished his prose in the following years. Wanting to leave no detail unchecked, he traveled to Louisiana to capture the essence of Cajun life.

Website * Facebook * X * Instagram * Amazon * Goodreads

.

Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!

.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

.

.

~~~~~

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.

.

A Twinkle of Trouble (A Fairy Garden Mystery)
by Daryl Wood Gerber

 


A Twinkle of Trouble (A Fairy Garden Mystery)
Cozy Mystery
5th in Series
Setting – California
Publisher ‏ : ‎ Kensington Cozies (April 23, 2024)
Paperback ‏ : ‎ 304 pages
ISBN-10 ‏ : ‎ 1496744934
ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-1496744937
Kindle ASIN ‏ : ‎ B0CFGF36NM

.

Carmel-by-the-Sea garden shop owner Courtney Kelly sees things others can’t—like fairies, and hidden motives for murder . . .

Courtney is delighted when her tiny friend Fiona returns from the fairy realm, appearing at the base of a Cypress tree. When her Ragdoll cat, Pixie, emerges from her own portal—aka the cat door—the three set off for a busy day. Busier than usual, since Courtney has rented a small plot of land at the Flower Farm, where she hopes to grow her own supplies for her fairy-garden business. Plus, the annual Summer Blooms Festival is coming up, and Courtney has booked a booth . . .

But the murder of Courtney’s friend, Genevieve, casts a pall over the festival. Ever since Genevieve sold her floral business, she’d been building a career as an influencer. She was perennially opinionated—but in her new role she’d become surprisingly vicious, dissing local entrepreneurs with nasty posts and unwarranted bad reviews. That’s landed a couple of Courtney’s other friends on the suspect list—including Flower Farm owner Daphne Flores. And when a second victim is discovered, seeds of doubt about Daphne’s innocence sprout in Courtney’s mind. With only a germ of a clue, Courtney will have to overturn every rock to get the dirt on the real killer . . .

~~~~~

Enjoy this peek inside:

Fretfully, Fiona sped to the far end of the patio by the learning-the-craft corner. I could see her wings trembling. She couldn’t possibly be upset by what Genevieve had said in jest, could she? On the other hand, fairies didn’t have the same sense of humor as humans. They could be spirited, but they took many things seriously.

I excused myself from my friends and drew near. “What’s wrong?”

“Whatever do you mean?” Fiona skipped along the table’s edge, arms spread as if to balance herself. She pirouetted and stared at me.

“You eeked back there.” I pointed at her to spill the beans.

She worked her tongue inside her teensy mouth as she shimmied away tension. “There’s malice in your friend’s heart, and it worries me.”

“Who? Genevieve? She was joking.” I’d recognized her playfulness the first time I’d visited her website. It was filled with witty memes. My favorite meme consisted of black words on a white background: I’ve got PMS, OCD and ADD. I want to cry and look pretty while I kill everyone, but I can’t focus on that right now. I’m cleaning. That about summed up how every woman I knew felt at one time or another, myself included.

“She wasn’t being flippant,” Fiona said. “I sensed hatred.”

I wagged a finger. “Uh-uh. Stop. You are not allowed to sense anything.”

“Yes, I can. I may intuit emotions now that I’ve been to the realm and back. I’m not allowed to read minds, and I can’t insert thoughts into peoples’ heads, but I can feel things and prepare myself for trouble ahead.” She flicked her fingers. “What’s really frustrating is that I can’t know why she is acting this way.”

“Maybe it hurt her when Oliver drummed her out of the flower business.” On one occasion, when Genevieve and I met for coffee alone, she confided that she had truly enjoyed owning Garden Delights. She’d loved making customers smile. I asked why she hadn’t looked for a job with Petunia or Daphne, but she fanned the air. By then, she’d already aimed her sights on being an entrepreneur and ultimately an influencer.

Fiona met me eye to eye. “Should I dowse her with a forgiveness potion?”

 

 

Greenish frog with mottled throat,

Little imp in speckled coat,

I will teach you how to sing in a Fairy way.

Sing in drip-drop water-notes,

Lightly as a lily floats,

Softly as the rushes swing on a Summer day.

~ Annie R. Rentoul, “A Singing Lesson”

~~~~~

About Daryl Wood Gerber

Agatha Award-winning author Daryl Wood Gerber is best known for her nationally bestselling mysteries, including the Fairy Garden Mysteries and Cookbook Nook Mysteries. As Avery Aames, she penned the popular Cheese Shop Mysteries. In addition, Daryl writes suspense including the well received The Son’s Secret, Girl on the Run, and the popular Aspen Adams series. Recently Daryl, who loves a challenge, published a Christmas romance, Hope for the Holidays. Fun Tidbit: as an actress, Daryl appeared in “Murder, She Wrote.” She loves to cook, garden, read, and walk her frisky Goldendoodle. Also she has been known to jump out of a perfectly good airplane. You can learn more on her website: https://darylwoodgerber.com

Author Links

WEBSITE    FACEBOOK       BOOKBUB      YOUTUBE    INSTAGRAM     PINTEREST     GOODREADS     TIKTOK    AMAZON    NEWSLETTER

Purchase Links – Amazon – B&N – Kobo – Bookshop

~~~~~

Giveaway contest ribbon promo label prize. Vector giveaway banner badge design template

a Rafflecopter giveaway

~~~~~

TOUR PARTICIPANTS

April 15 – Maureen’s Musings – SPOTLIGHT

April 15 – Teatime and Books – SPOTLIGHT

April 16 – Mystery, Thrillers, and Suspense – SPOTLIGHT

April 16 – Sneaky the Library Cat’s Blog – CHARACTER INTERVIEW

April 16 – The Avid Reader – REVIEW

April 17 – Christy’s Cozy Corners – REVIEW, CHARACTER GUEST POST

April 17 – Literary Gold – SPOTLIGHT

April 18 – Celticlady’s Reviews – RECIPE

April 18 – The Mystery Section – SPOTLIGHT WITH EXCERPT

April 18 – Angel’s Book Nook – SPOTLIGHT

April 19 – View from the Birdhouse – REVIEW

April 19 – Sapphyria’s Book Reviews – REVIEW

April 20 – Brooke Blogs – REVIEW

April 20 – FUONLYKNEW – SPOTLIGHT WITH EXCERPT

April 20 – Escape With Dollycas Into A Good Book – AUTHOR INTERVIEW

April 21 – Melina’s Book Blog – REVIEW, AUTHOR INTERVIEW 

April 21 – Cozy Up With Kathy – REVIEW

.

.

~~~~~

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.