Archive for September, 2025

 

Barnabas Bartholomew and the Undead Freshmen

by Matthew Lett

 

Publication date: September 16th 2025
Genres: Coming of Age, Fantasy

Death isn’t the end of education—at least not at UniverZity U., where fourteen-year-old Barnabas “Barney” Bartholomew is about to begin his freshman year.

As a recently raised zombie trying to make his undead mother proud, Barney must navigate the haunted halls of an underground mausoleum-turned-school, where strict Crypt Keepers enforce ancient rules and mysterious passages hide untold dangers. With fellow freshman facing expulsion for merely refusing to eat their grits, Barney knows he’ll need more than just good grades to survive. But when he discovers his beloved grandfather’s connection to this shadowy institution, Barney realizes there might be more to UniversZity U.—and himself—than meets his speckled blue eyes.

Goodreads / Amazon

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Enjoy this peek inside:

“What in the heck is a lich?” Barney asked.

“It’s a member of the Undead class, like us, except it was brought back to life by a sorcerer or a necromancer for evil purposes.”

“What sort of evil purposes?” Barney asked. There was a knot in his stomach; a bundle of nerves resting on the edge of a guillotine.

“Hard to tell,” Pudgy replied. “Depends on what the sorcerer wants the lich to do. He could use it as an assassin, I suppose, to knock off his enemies, or as a bodyguard. Or in this case, a guard dog over a graveyard.”

“But why a graveyard? What would a sorcerer want in a graveyard anyway? And what if it’s not even there? This lich thing. Suppose it’s gone?”

Pudgy shrugged. “Then it’s gone and we don’t have to worry about anything. But if it is real, and there is a lich wandering around, it’ll be looking for souls to eat. That’s why we need the crucifix, to repel it.”

’Souls to eat?’” Barney repeated. “Are you serious?” He felt light-headed for a second; the world beyond his eyes in a lazy swoon.

“Quite serious,” Pudgy answered. “That’s what liches do. They eat the undead, and if they can, they’ll eat their souls too.”

Barney’s face paled at the thought. An undead cannibal running around the graveyard? That’s what it was! An undead cannibal! The dead eating the dead, for Christ’s sake!

Pudgy caught the look on Barney’s face; pallid, the sickly color of cream cheese left out in the sun for too long. He snickered. “Hey, calm down. It’s a legend, remember? We’ll be fine. Trust me.”

Barney didn’t answer, his tongue frozen to the roof of his mouth, when Millicent cleared her throat. “Guys?” She tapped the face of her wristwatch. “We need to go if we plan on making curfew. You can discuss the ins-and-outs of liches later, but we need to move.”

“You’re right,” Pudgy said. “I’ll take the lead with the flashlight. Milly, you’ll be behind me. Barney next and then Marcy, and I don’t want you two kissing back there. Agreed?”

Barney blushed clear to his toes. Marcy smiled at him. Millicent laughed out loud and Pudgy winked at Barney, who was staring at the tops of his shoes with a sheepish grin. “Yeah, yeah, okay…” he mumbled. “Funny, real funny, now can we go?”

And so they entered the southwest tunnel, its passages by now near memorized. It was more of a home away from home for the children; its twists and turns nothing more than well-travelled streets and avenues in their hometowns.

Barney stepped through (minus his flashlight which he’d given to Pudgy), when a thought struck him like a phantom stone in the darkness: Pudgy never fully answered my question, he thought. Why the graveyard? Why would a sorcerer (or a necromancer, for that matter) want a lich guarding a graveyard for him? Hmmm…

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The trip to the graveyard took less than forty-five minutes, and the four of them arrived to find the wrought iron gates unlocked, and the tombstones shrouded in a silky mist of pale fog. A raven, with one eye missing, was perched on a spire atop the gate. It looked down at the children, as if considering their plight, then cawed in its shrill voice a single word they heard all too well:

BEWARE!

The raven took flight after its portent of doom. It did a hop and a half-skip, spread its wings, and then soared over the face of the moon reflected in the wavering mist. The raven disappeared as Pudgy opened the gate in a scream of rust. It was loud in the tranquil of the graveyard; as good as any doorbell that rings after midnight.

“Smooth move,” Barney quipped.

“Sorry,” Pudgy said. “I didn’t expect that. Let’s go.”

They walked through the gates; their eyes blind, sinking in what they could not see. Silence–the full-time caretaker of the grounds–greeted them. Distant thunder rolled over the clouds in the east. Lightning followed and took a snapshot of the graveyard for posterity’s sake.

And had there been a black cat perched on the back of a tombstone, with its yellow lamp-lit eyes and its spine arched in a splay of fur, it would not have surprised Barney in the least. The graveyard was spooky, if not picturesque in the simmering light of the moon; a mural better suited on the backdrop of a Halloween landscape.

“What now?” Barney whispered. The air was dank, hollow

somehow. There was no need to whisper, but the graveyard almost

demanded—dared that it be so upon its consecrated ground.

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About Author Matthew Lett:

Matthew Lett was born in Kassel, Germany. Currently, he lives in Sapulpa, Oklahoma with his wife of 39 years, and their two daughters, who also reside in Oklahoma. He’s also a Veteran of the United States Navy, serving on both the U.S.S. Saratoga and U.S.S. America aircraft carriers from 1985-1989. Matthew has been a prolific writer for over 20 years and is a multi-published author with an array of Novels, Novellas, Novelettes, and assorted short stories in a variety of genres. Most of his work can be found in Horror/Suspense/Mystery categories.
During his leisure time, Matthew enjoys rock-n’-roll music, attends church on a regular basis, watches Mystery Science Theatre 3000, reading, and playing with his 3 grandchildren. And of course, Writing. His books include such titles as, “He Who Walks the Corridors,” (Wolf on Water pub.), “Trail of Love and Death,”, “Woodview Heights: Legacy of Decadence” Trilogy and “Barnabas Bartholomew and The Undead Freshmen.”
Matthew Lett can be reached via e-mail for comments, feedback, and suggestions at matthew74107@yahoo.com

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Barnabas Bartholomew and the Undead Freshmen Blitz

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Author Libby Kay has baked up another Pinegrove FD Romance!

Check out the yummy cover reveal!

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Thanksgiving Overruled

A Pinegrove FD Novel Book 3

by Libby Kay

Genre: Contemporary Small-Town Firefighter Sapphic Romance

Everyone wants to
hear those three little words during the holidays…

Where’s the casserole?!

Winnie Kerr wants to utter another three-word phrase to her girlfriend, but
Thanksgiving has other plans. After spending far too much time on work, this
legal eagle decides an impromptu road trip to visit her sister is the perfect
time to tell her girlfriend she loves her. What could go wrong during a few
days away from work, right?

Mari Balogh has a problem, she’s madly in love with her girlfriend and cannot
get those three little words off her tongue. After being burned before from her
unsupportive family and a string of bad breakups, this paralegal is guarded.
She happily agrees on a road trip to Pinegrove, eager for the space to profess
her affections. How hard can it be, right?

From a little trespassing and a kitchen nightmare to a surly cat and a series
of misunderstandings, the road to I love you is rife with
hiccups. Can these two find their way to happily ever after? Or will their
relationship go up in a puff of sweet potato casserole scented smoke?

But Pinegrove has proven that love is
never overruled!

Return to small-town Pinegrove, Georgia, the romantic setting of Libby Kay’s
endearing novels, When Sparks Fly and Old Flames, as well as the 2026 novel
about another of the hunky firemen in town. Don’t miss any of the action or
romance!

**Releases Oct 28 – PreOrder Now!**

Amazon * Apple * B&N
* Kobo * Bookbub
* Goodreads

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When Sparks Fly

A Pinegrove FD Novel Book 1

**Only .99cents for a limited time!**

Amazon * Apple * B&N * Kobo *
Bookbub * Goodreads

 

Old Flames

A Pinegrove FD Novel Book 2

**Releases Oct 7th – PreOrder Now!**

Amazon * Apple * B&N * Kobo *
Bookbub * Goodreads

 

Libby Kay lives in the city in
the heart of the Midwest with her husband. When she’s not writing, Libby loves
reading romance novels of any kind. Stories of people falling in love nourish
her soul. Contemporary or Regency, sweet or hot, as long as there is a happily
ever after—she’s in love!

When not surrounded by books,
Libby can be found baking in her kitchen, binging true crime shows, or on the
road with her husband, traveling as far as their bank account will allow.

Libby cohosts the Romance
Roundup podcast with Liz Donatelli where they recommend romance books and
interview authors, influencers, and publishers. Check it out for your weekly
dose of romance!

Website * Facebook
*
Instagram * Bookbub
*
Amazon * Goodreads

 

Follow the reveal HERE for special content and a $10 giveaway!

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Thanksgiving Overruled Cover Reveal

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Thanks so much for visiting fuonlyknew and Good Luck!

For a list of my reviews go HERE.

To see all of my giveaways go HERE.

 

Ride a Dark Trail by Winter Austin Banner

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RIDE A DARK TRAIL
by Winter Austin
September 15 – 26, 2025 Virtual Book Tour

 

 

Synopsis:
A Bounty of Shadows Book

 

Will her life philosophy, “Do right, fear no man,” get her killed?

A string of bad luck has left former Army helicopter pilot Dot Ybarra with a serious case of wrecked nerves and a need for peace and solace at her family’s Idaho ranch. Instead, she encounters a desperate mother who stumbles onto their land, begging Dot to rescue her kidnapped daughter.

There’s a bounty on the kidnapper’s head, and fugitive recovery agent T.J. Roman is not about to let that paycheck slip through his fingers. Together, he and Dot rescue the child.

But their actions set off an explosion of secrets in Euskadi. The sheriff is slinking around with a new shady sidekick, Dot’s friends are stabbed, and armed mercenaries attack her ranch, forcing her to use her hunting and archery skills to defend her family. Cornered by the unknown enemy’s three-pronged attack, Dot and her charges retreat deep into the Payette National Forest. Isolated in the mountainous forest, separated from T.J. and any help, Dot must make a hard choice: fight or walk away?

Will her first recovery job be her last?

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Praise for Ride a Dark Trail:

“With sharp characters you’ll want to stand up and root for, Winter Austin creates an eye-popping Idaho setting for us to enjoy with Ride a Dark Trail.”

“Echoes of Yellowstone meets Magnum P.I. come together in a chilling Idaho plot you’ll want to get to the bottom of.”

“After reading Ride a Dark Trail, you’re going to hope there’s a real-life Dorothy Ybarra out there in today’s world.”

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MY REVIEW

Talk about intense. This mystery thriller kept me focused and feeling anxious to know how the characters could overcome so much adversity and survive to live another day.

There are a lot of characters to keep track of which can slow down the reading experience. It didn’t slow down mine. It ramped it up. I wanted to know how they all crossed paths and what their roles were, good or bad.

There are many engaging characters. Dot stood out the most. I like a strong, heroic female protagonist who’s also got some chinks in her armor. Leaving the military and giving up her role as a helicopter pilot had to set her back. But when a stranger pleads for her help in finding her daughter, she can’t ignore a call to action. When things got tough, Dot got tougher and once again trusted her instincts. And when I got to know her mother, I knew where she got her mojo from.

There’s also an opportunity for romance when a man from Dot’s past shows up. TJ is also working the young mother’s case, but from a different angle. Dot and TJ decide two heads are better than one and work together to find the missing child. This is where they start to connect romantically. I liked them together but was glad the romance was downplayed and not a main part of the story.

For mystery and thriller fans, this is a must read. There’s a whole lot of bread crumbs to follow and conspiracy and danger rear their ugly heads. Sure did keep me turning the pages.

It’s always a good thing for me to try a new author and series and enjoy the writing and the story. This was a good choice.

4 STARS

 

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Book Details:

Genre: Modern Western Thriller

Published by: Tule Mystery Publication Date: August 18, 2025 Number of Pages: 310 ISBN: 9781967678082 (ISBN10: 1967678081) Series: Bounty of Shadows, Book 1

Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Apple | Goodreads | BookBub | Tule Publishing

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Enjoy this peek inside:

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Chapter 1

His ghost always joined her for the final drag on an Ave Maria Dark Knight cigar.

He started appearing two months into her newly formed habit. Always in his sweat-stained, gray Open Road Stetson and wool-lined coat with a few less wrinkles in his face. Here, in the goats’ lean-to, where she’d taken to hiding out to have her smoke so as to not offend her mother’s senses.

At his first appearance, she swore it was a hallucination. The second time, she flipped out. With each appearance since she became more belligerent, while he grew more persistent.

Biloba, why do you keep doing this thing?” She blew out the smoke. “Go away, Aitonatxo.” Her grandfather shook his head. One of the goats meandered through his transparent legs, disrupting his stern reproach. Aitona turned his withering look to the red-brown doe munching on hay. “Goats. She just had to get goats.” A smile twitched at the corners of her mouth as she drew on the cigar for the last time. One year after her grandfather passed, her mother had sold the last of the sheep, turned the ranch into an outfitter and hunting business, bought horses and mules for it, then goats just for the hell of it. The small herd had come in real handy in keeping the overgrowth of underbrush and weeds under control, saving the ranch a time or two from wildfires. The milking goats also made convenient pack animals when there was need for nourishment up in the mountains. Aitona didn’t roll over in his grave. No, he came back to fucking haunt her and complain about the goats. “Dorothy Ybarra, where are you?” His specter vanished with her last puff of smoke. Before her mother could barge into the goats’ lean-to and give her hell for smoking in the building, Dorothy ground the butt into the bottom of her boot. One disapproving familia was enough, even if Aitonatxo was an apparition of her mind. Angela Ybarra rounded the edge of the lean-to’s weathered support post, her pack of mutts in tow. The goats scattered, except for a leggy dark brown female who’d taken a liking to Dot and exuded copious amounts of stubborn. That doe would not be deterred by no dog. Exactly twenty years older and just as whipcord lean as her daughter, Angela Ybarra was the polar opposite when it came to Dot’s tornado in a trailer park personality. But that didn’t stop Angela from pulling the matriarch card every chance she got. Angela wrinkled her nose and gave Dot a pointed look but held her tongue. Dot hadn’t burned down any buildings. Yet. Her mother reached out and scratched the doe’s withers. “I’ve got a new elk hunting party coming in later today. We’re taking them out to that nice valley for their hunt. I need to grab a few supplies for the trip. In the meantime, would you round up your gear and check it over?” “You sure you want me up there with you?” “I need you, Dot. This is a new group to me.” In other words, Ama wasn’t comfortable being on her own with this bunch. Most of the hunters Angela outfitted were longtime customers she had built a strong rapport with and trusted. She took on new clients only if there was a long lull between her regulars and funds were tight. Since Dot’s return to the ranch, she’d been her mother’s backup when one of the local sheep herders wasn’t available to ride out with Angela. Dot’s presence on hunts was a good deterrent for wannabe suitors or general dickheads. Not that Angela Ybarra couldn’t hold her own—she was Samo Ybarra’s daughter after all and had sent many a man intending ill-intent back to civilization with a limp and severe damage to his manhood. Dot, on the other hand, was less accommodating. The pervs usually woke up in the hospital, cuffed to the bedrail. “Ama, you don’t need to earn the extra cash. I can spot you.” “No.” Angela sliced the air with a disapproving finger. “Your army and pilot funds are yours. Don’t waste them on my business.” “Come on!” “I’ll hear no more of it.” Angela checked her watch. “I’m going. Be ready.” She slipped from view, her canine pack following. Dot’s guard goat gave a very goat-like nicker as she munched on weeds bold enough to dare grow in their pen. It might have been a year since the crash. She might have been released from physical therapy with a clean bill of health two months ago. And she might be in the best physical shape of her life since basic training and flight school. Still, Dot hadn’t spent more than two hours horseback in the last six months. Riding into the foothills of the Payette National Forest and getting to that valley her mother spoke of meant at least an eight-hour ride. Probably longer if this new hunting party wasn’t used to long hours in the saddle. Dot groaned. Good thing she loved her mother. She rose from the goats’ favorite climbing stump and vacated the lean-to. At the corner, she glanced back at the spot where Aitona had appeared. He’d died while she was away at training. It ate at her for years that she hadn’t been here to see him crossed over to the other side and be with his beloved Dorothy—Dot’s namesake. Though somehow he hadn’t quite left the ranch. He wanted to know. Or maybe she was using his specter to ask herself the question. Why did she do this thing? She was hale and hearty, ready to get back in the air. God knew the forest service hadn’t stopped calling. Yet she couldn’t pull herself away from her current predicament. Why? “I’m doing it for Ama,” she said to the air. *** Excerpt from Ride a Dark Trail by Winter Austin. Copyright 2025 by Winter Austin. Reproduced with permission from Winter Austin. All rights reserved.

 

 

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About Author Winter Austin:

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Winter Austin

Winter Austin perpetually answers the question: “were you born in the winter?” with a flat “nope,” but believe her, there is a story behind her name. A lifelong Mid-West gal with strong ties to the agriculture world, Winter grew up listening to the captivating stories told by relatives around a table or a campfire. As a published author, she learned her glass half-empty personality makes for a perfect suspense/thriller writer. Taking her ability to verbally spin a vivid and detailed story, Winter translated that into writing deadly romantic suspense, mysteries, and thrillers. When she’s not slaving away at the computer, you can find Winter supporting her daughter in cattle shows, seeing her three sons off into the wide-wide world, loving on her fur babies, prodding her teacher husband, and nagging at her flock of hens to stay in the coop or the dogs will get them.

She is the author of multiple novels.

Catch Up With Winter Austin:

AuthorWinterAustin.com Amazon Author Profile Goodreads BookBub – @WinterAustin Instagram – @iasuspensewriter Facebook – @author.winteraustin

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Tour Participants:

Visit these other great hosts on this tour for more great reviews and opportunities to WIN in the giveaway! Click here to view the Tour Schedule

 

 

JOIN IN ON THE GIVEAWAY:

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

Ride a Dark Trail by Winter Austin (eBooks)

Can’t see the giveaway? Click Here!

 

 

Get More Great Reads at Partners In Crime Tours

 

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Thanks so much for visiting fuonlyknew and Good Luck!

For a list of my reviews go HERE.

To see all of my giveaways go HERE.

 

The Icing on the Cake

by Grace Worthington

 

(Love in Maple Falls)
Publication date: September 24th 2025
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance, Sports

Rule #1: Never fall for a hockey player. So why does my dating coach—who also happens to play hockey—make me want to break every rule I’ve set?

Neesha
It starts with one conversation with a stranger…and suddenly, everything changes.
He won’t tell me what he does for a living, and maybe that should be a red flag. But after the hardest year of my life, my new neighbor feels like a lifeline—calm, capable, and always there when I need him.

When he offers to be my dating coach, I tell myself it’s harmless. That he just wants to help.
But behind that cinnamon roll smile, he’s hiding something—and I’m starting to fall for him anyway.
I told myself we were just friends.
So why am I dreaming about kissing the one man I swore I’d never fall for?

Lucian
Keeping my hockey identity secret was supposed to be temporary—just long enough to figure out my next move with the girl next door.
There’s just one problem: she’s sworn off hockey players for good.
She asked me to help her fall for someone else and be her dating coach.
But I’m the one falling now.
And when she finds out who I really am, I might lose the only woman who’s ever made me want something more than the game.
I stopped pretending it was a fake date a long time ago.
But when our fun leads to feelings? That’s the icing on the cake.

Tropes in The Icing on the Cake

  • Cinnamon roll hero
  • Secret identity
  • Neighbor romance
  • Stars Hollow/Gilmore Girls vibe
  • Cupcake baker heroine
  • Handy hero who fixes things
  • Forced proximity
  • Practice dating / fake dating

The Icing on the Cake is a slow-burn, secret-identity hockey romance featuring a cinnamon roll hero who falls hard for the sweet cupcake baker next door.

Goodreads / Amazon

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Enjoy this peek inside:

“You need practice dating. I could help.” He shrugs. “No pressure. No commitment. Just proving it’s possible to have a good time with a friend.”

A friend—someone safe and harmless to my heart.

I stare at him. “You’re joking, right?”

“I wouldn’t joke about this. We could even go to a public place together if that makes you feel safer.”

Most guys would be focused on convincing me they’re fun or interesting, but Lucian’s defense is that he’s trustworthy.

And that’s my issue.

“Think about it,” he begins, not pressuring me at all. “You already know where I live. And with me, what you see is what you get—even when I’m sweaty and covered in sawdust—so there’s nowhere to go but up.”

I can’t tell him that seeing him sweaty and covered in sawdust was actually incredibly attractive.

I blink, stunned that he’s actually serious about this proposal. “Does this mean you’re my dating coach?”

“If you want me to be,” he says, studying my face. “Though I have to ask what exactly you think you need to practice—because from where I’m standing, you seem to have the basics covered.”

I let out a nervous laugh. “Are you kidding? I can barely string two coherent sentences together. Case in point: ‘Hi-ho’ was my greeting to you. No one wants to date the Seven Dwarfs.”

He tilts his head, considering this. “I don’t know. Snow White seemed pretty happy with them. And for the record, your ‘Hi-ho’ was actually kind of cute.”

“Well, I feel like I’ve forgotten how to make conversation that doesn’t revolve around cupcake orders,” I admit. “Besides, you probably have women lining up to go out with you.”

“Not really,” he says quietly, before looking back at me. “You want to know what dating a good man looks like? I could show you.”

My pulse skips a beat. “Show me how?”

“Well, we’re alone. We’ve got time now.” He pauses. “What if I gave you a quick demonstration, just so you know what to expect?”

Something flutters in my stomach. “A demonstration?”

“Just the basics. How a guy should treat you, what good conversation feels like, how to read the signals. Think of it as a preview of coming attractions.”

This is definitely not what my friends had in mind when they said to flirt with Lucian.

Or maybe it is.

“Okay,” I say before I think better of it. “Show me.”

He catches my gaze while my heart dives off a cliff.

“If this were a date,” he says, “the first thing I’d do is make sure you felt comfortable. That starts with eye contact.”

His gaze remains on mine, never wavering. “Most people are afraid to really look at someone, but eye contact is everything. It shows you’re present, that you’re interested in the person, not just waiting for your turn to talk.”

I find myself caught in his impossibly blue eyes, my heart beating wildly in my chest.

“Then, if the moment feels right…” He reaches toward me, his fingers brushing mine. “Small touches. Like this.”

I almost can’t breathe as he gently takes one of my hands.

“Most people rush through moments like these,” he says, his voice low. “But the small touches matter. They tell you everything.”

“Like what?”

“Like whether someone’s patient or impulsive.” His thumb starts stroking slowly over my skin. “Or whether they’re paying attention to how you respond.”

I swallow hard, failing to hide that I’m totally entranced by this.

“What else?” I ask, not even caring if this is real or not. I’m here to practice—to master the art of whatever this is between us.

He moves closer still. “Proximity,” he murmurs. “Letting someone into your space. Reading their response. And not moving away.”

He’s closer than ever now, and for one wild moment, I see him differently—not like someone I’m practicing with, but someone I’d actually want this to be real with.

“And then?” I ask, my voice barely audible.

His eyes graze down my face for just a second. The corner of his mouth quirks up. “And then…you always leave them wanting more.”

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About Author Grace Worthington:

Grace Worthington eats, breathes, and geeks out over sweet romcoms. So it’s no surprise that she believes that laughter and love are a cure-all for pretty much everything in life. After a short stint working in musical theatre (where she was often cast in comedic roles), she instills her books with witty banter, lovable characters, and a story that moves your heart and soul. Her inspiration includes quaint towns by the beach, romantic comedy movies from the ’80s & ’90s, and the crazy shenanigans of her family. Snag a free sweet romcom at graceworthington.com

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Instagram

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The Icing on the Cake Blitz

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Thanks so much for visiting fuonlyknew and Good Luck!

For a list of my reviews go HERE.

To see all of my giveaways go HERE.

 

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Welcome to my stop on the virtual book tour for My Husband Almost Killed Me organized by Goddess Fish Promotions.

Author Linda Beason will be awarding a $10 Amazon or B&N Gift Card to a randomly drawn winner. Don’t forget to enter!

And you can click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

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My Husband Almost Killed Me

By Linda Beason

 

 

Genre: Memoir

Synopsis

“If you ever leave me, I will kill the kids then I will kill you.”

“I can’t help but think of other women who may be facing similar situations, even now in a time and generation when these events can easily be exposed as much as they could be hidden. I wish I could reach each one of them, look into their eyes and tell them: you don’t have to live like this. Life can be better; you can choose a different path. It’s not easy, trust me, I know that more than most people do, BUT IT’S WORTH IT.”

This book is an autobiography about a woman raised on a large farm who learned to drive a large tractor at the age of seven, then spent many years plowing, planting and harvesting crops and taking care of the farm animals. After three years in the Marine Corps, she married her college sweetheart who became a drunk and abused her for seven horrible years before he almost killed her then disappeared. After she recovered she and her three kids fled to Florida to hide so he wouldn’t find them and finish the job.

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Enjoy this peek inside:

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A few weeks ago, after one of Phil’s drunken rages, I decided that the kids and I would start camping out in the cornfield surrounding the house to avoid getting in his way. The plan was simple: we’d head out about an hour before he typically staggered home and stay hidden and out of sight until we were sure he had returned and passed out in bed. After that, we would crawl back into the house, get tucked in, and wake up the following day when Phil would have recovered from his stupor, and we could go back to being a regular family until we had to do it all over again at night. This way, we could avoid the brunt of his tirades and tantrums, and, most importantly, I could retain some semblance of peace, normalcy, and quiet for myself and my kids.

So far, it had been working.

As far as the kids were concerned, any chance to camp out in the fields was a fun opportunity they couldn’t miss. They were now used to the earthy, starchy, grassy smell, the sound of crickets chirping, and the occasional rustle of small rabbits nearby scurrying through the underbrush. Bailey and Ryan usually wore themselves out singing nursery rhymes and playing with their toys under the tent. Then, using a dim flashlight, I read bedtime stories to them while cradling Brooke and rocking her to sleep. When they were all fast asleep, I would keep watch, waiting for Phil to arrive and timing our return to the house.

The plan was working, but tonight, Brooke’s feeble cries threatened to disrupt it. She had initially fallen asleep in my arms, but for some reason, her eyes opened back up moments later, and since then, she’d been crying and refused to go back to sleep. I tried to cradle her even more, hoping the cry would let up, but it only grew louder. I wasn’t worried about a neighbor hearing us and calling the cops to report a lost, crying baby in the fields; the house closest to our field was a good half-mile away. I was more worried about Bailey’s and Ryan’s sleep being interrupted and the possibility of Phil’s sudden return.

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About Author Linda Beason:

Born and raised on an Indiana farm, Linda Beason was steeped in the rhythms of rural life and nurtured by the enduring love of a close-knit family.

From an early age, she embraced responsibility and excelled throughout her school years. As an alumna of Purdue University— where she earned degrees in both agriculture and accounting—Linda distinguished herself academically and professionally, later working for several corporate companies, most notably the Green Giant Company, and serving honorably in the Marine Corps.

Yet despite a childhood filled with warmth and promise, Linda’s adult life took a harrowing turn when she entered a marriage that would test the very limits of her strength. For nearly a decade, she endured domestic abuse at the hands of a dangerous man whose fury was fueled by alcohol and an insatiable need for control. That turbulent period sent her racing through a whirlwind of experiences that would forever alter her path. Even in the darkest moments, however, Linda clung to her faith in God and the quiet confidence of a Midwesterner.

Linda passed away in 2024 while writing this book. Through these pages, she hoped to inspire women to overcome the challenges of toxic relationships and the hardships of motherhood, reminding them that even the deepest wounds can heal and that the promise of a brighter tomorrow is always within reach.

Buy Link: Amazon / Goodreads

 

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Murder at the Wedding by Christine Knapp Banner

MURDER AT THE WEDDING
by Christine Knapp
September 8 – October 3, 2025 Virtual Book Tour

 

 

Synopsis:
A Modern Midwife Mystery

 

Birth, death, mayhem, and murder…

Maeve O’Reilly Kensington loves her job as a nurse-midwife at Creighton Memorial Hospital in the quintessential New England seaside town of Langford. Nothing could bring her more pleasure than helping women usher new life into the world… except possibly having a child of her own with her husband, Will. In the meantime, she’s happy to celebrate the families of those she treats, and content to support her husband in his newly formed catering business. However when Creighton Memorial’s Chief Obstetrician suddenly drops dead at his daughter’s extravagant wedding reception, catered by Will, Maeve’s two worlds collide in the worst possible way. Suddenly murder is on the menu, and Maeve is desperate to help her husband and find out who killed the doctor. With the help of her wealthy, acerbic sister Meg and quick-witted Boston Irish mother, Maeve sets out to solve a murder and clear her husband’s name. Can she stay one step ahead of the killer? Or will they strike again… this time closer to home?

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Praise for Murder at the Wedding:

“Christine’s writing style is very entertaining with sensory laden description of the various environment, characters, and even the state of Maeve’s cookies and knitting. Clever & Entertaining Gem!” ~ Kings River Life Magazine “Readers will fall in love with this series immediately!! I highly encourage and suggest you grab your copy.” ~ Cozy Mystery Book Reviews

 

Book Details:

Genre: Cozy Mystery

Published by: Gemma Halliday Publishing Publication Date: June 10, 2022 Number of Pages: 249 ISBN: 9798835432134 (pbk) Series: Modern Midwife Mystery Series, Book 1

Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | BookBub | Audiobooks.com | Gemma Halliday Publishing

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MODERN MIDWIFE MYSTERY SERIES

Check out the full Modern Midwife Mystery series: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads | Gemma Halliday Publishing

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Murder on the Widow's Walk Modern Midwife Mysteries book #2 Christine Knapp Murder on the Widow’s Walk, #2 Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads | Audiobooks.com   Murder on the Books Modern Midwife Mysteries book #3 Christine Knapp Murder on the Books, #3 Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads | Audiobooks.com   Murder at First Light Modern Midwife Mysteries book #4 Christine Knapp Murder at First Light, #4 Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads   Murder on the Green Modern Midwife Mysteries book #5 Christine Knapp Murder on the Green, #5 Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads

 

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Enjoy this peek inside:
from CHAPTER TWO of
Murder at the Wedding
The parking lot at St. Andrew’s Episcopal was filled almost to capacity. Despite a recent visit to the car wash, my Jeep looked out of place next to all the Mercedes, BMWs, Range Rovers, Jaguars, and Porsches. I took out and quickly scanned the engraved linen cream invitation. It read: Matrimonial Ceremony of Charlotte Alexis Whitaker and Brooks James Hawthorne IV St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church Langford, Massachusetts Saturday, the eighth of June, at two o’clock in the afternoon As I approached the massive church, I saw all the pink plantings and railings wrapped in white tulle with pink peonies at precise intervals. It was a floral tour de force that must have taken an army of gardeners and florists a few days to accomplish. Inside there were pink roses, peonies, and hydrangeas everywhere. The scene was right out of InStyle Magazine. I wondered, were there any pink flowers left on the East Coast? On the West Coast? As I squeezed into the last row, a large choir serenaded the full house in the loft above the congregation. The choir began to sing “My Spirit Sang All Day” as Mrs. Whitaker, resplendent in a strapless, rose silk Carolina Herrera with a vibrant pink cabbage rose behind one ear and a necklace of marble-sized, green South Sea pearls, was ushered to the left front pew. Really? Strapless for the mother of the bride? Well, she does look amazing. A hush fell over the crowd. The stained-glass doors closed, and the groom and his men filed to the altar. Did one have to be six feet two, gorgeous, and ripped to be in this wedding party? As the first strands of Wagner filled the air, the doors opened, and down the aisle came Anastasia Bleeker. She was one of the bride’s four-year-old charges at Miss Bloomfield’s School, where wealthy, pregnant women enrolled their offspring-to-be to claim a coveted spot. Anastasia was wearing a white tulle fairy-tale gown with a dark rose-colored sash. A circle of petite, light pink roses and baby’s breath crowned her chin length, straight, white-blonde hair. She carried a small, white wicker basket in one hand, and with the other, she started to drop pale pink rose petals down the long aisle. Channeling Lady Di, I thought. Next came the ring bearer, Barrington Cabot. He was another nursery school trust-fund-baby-in-the-making in white linen shorts and jacket and a head of black, curly hair. Then six breathtaking models, or rather bridesmaids, dressed in rose-colored tulle skirts and pale pink lace wrap blouses, floated down the aisle carrying white and pink hydrangeas wrapped in rose-colored ribbons. They looked like an upscale version of an ad for the United Colors of Benetton. After a slight pause, the stained-glass doors parted again, and Dr. Whitaker appeared in his morning suit, standing at Charlotte’s right side. She was breathtaking in a Vera Wang white silk ball gown glittering with thousands of tiny seed pearls. A deep rose satin ribbon wrapped around her bouquet of white peonies. Her Belgian lace veil trailed behind her down the aisle. The ceremony went on amid candlelight, roses, and organ music. It was like being in a dream, albeit a very, very expensive dream. Finally, vows were exchanged, there were no objections, and Charlotte and Brooks were off to the photo-taking session in a vintage, white Bentley. As they left, the guests milled about outside the church for a bit and then headed to the reception. Evelyn Greyson, the sixtyish director of Obstetric Nursing, stood at the top of the church stairs as I exited. She was dressed in a powder blue suit with a short jacket with peplum and knee-length, fitted skirt. A pearl necklace, her ever-present pearl brooch, and small pearl stud earrings completed the look. Her graying hair was, as usual, in her trademark chignon. “Beautiful wedding,” I said. “Magnificent,” Evelyn replied. “Dr. Whitaker wouldn’t have it any other way. See you at the reception, dear.” And then she strode off to her car. Evelyn always agreed with everything Dr. Whitaker said and did. She worshipped him. Did she also have an unrequited crush on him? I quickly greeted a few colleagues but didn’t linger because I wanted to see how Will was doing. The Country Club was buzzing with activity when I drove through the porte cochère, pulled up to the main entrance, and handed my keys to a valet. The grand foyer was glittering with hundreds of candles and still more massive floral arrangements in blush pink. A string quartet played Pachelbel’s “Canon in D” beside the grand staircase. Out on the veranda, the wedding party was taking pictures before an expanse of green lawn and brilliant blue sky and sea. It would be a wedding album worthy of its own issue of Town & Country. Large silver serving trays were circulated among the guests, offering tiny crab cakes topped with dill aioli, mini beef Wellingtons, smoked salmon pinwheels, and tomato and goat cheese on toast points. There were massive silver bowls of fresh shrimp on ice on round marble tables. “Maeve! Maeve! Over here!” one of the midwives called. Looking around the ballroom, which held table settings for six hundred guests, I saw that the Creighton Memorial staff was on the right side of the room while family and friends were on the left. I waved to the midwives but walked over to the table where Grand, Will’s grandmother, was sitting with Will’s parents, Will’s sister, Eloise, her husband, Taylor, and Will’s younger brother, Teddy. “Hello, Maeve.” William stood and extended his hand. Never a hug, never a kiss on the cheek, just a handshake. “Hello, so nice to see you all,” I replied, shaking his hand as I nodded to the table. I saw that Lydia, my mother-in-law, was outfitted in a mint green silk cocktail dress with a large diamond necklace and matching drop earrings. She tilted her head toward me and smiled but said nothing. “The Country Club is such a perfect wedding venue,” I offered. “Quite lovely,” she replied. “You look beautiful, Maeve,” Grand said. “Thanks, Grand.” “Sweet dress,” Lydia said. Sweet dress? What, am I five years old? Lydia was a master of the backhanded compliment, and she was not my biggest fan. Keep it together, Maeve. Eloise was in a sleeveless, pale green and cream striped dress with an emerald and diamond pendant and earrings. Like mother, like daughter. “Well,” I said, “enjoy the meal. Will has been creating a masterpiece.” I saw William’s and Lydia’s smiles tighten. They did not respond. They were not pleased with Will’s chosen profession. “I can’t wait,” Grand said. I gave a little wave and headed over to find my table. Scanning the room, I saw my sister, Meg, cross her eyes and raise her wine glass in a mock salute. Meg was the Langford real estate agent of choice for the wealthy and had been invited along with other top business leaders of the town. She knew I had just navigated a minefield with my emotionally distant in-laws. As soon as I reached my table, I quickly sat down and took a long drink of chardonnay. Herend Chinese Bouquet china in pink, Gorham Newport Scroll sterling, and Baccarat crystal decorated each setting. My gosh, they’ll have to pat everyone down before they leave. Murray Alfond, the famed orchestra leader, turned on his mic and said, “Please be seated while the bridal party arrives.” There was sustained applause as Charlotte and Brooks triumphantly paraded into the ballroom. “The bride and groom will dance to a classic personally chosen by Brooks,” Alfond announced. “The Very Thought of You” wafted through the room as Charlotte and Brooks took to the floor. They obviously had attended many ballroom dancing classes in preparation for this moment, and they danced impeccably. Then the entire wedding party sashayed to “Fly Me to the Moon.” It was like watching La La Land. They were all perfectly coiffed, dressed, and ready for filming. Plus, they could dance. When they were done and returned to their seats, Alfond intoned, “Please bow your heads while Reverend Lucas Mathers says grace.” The Episcopal pastor of St. Andrew’s, Reverend Mathers, was slightly rotund with flushed pink cheeks. He ran his hand through receding black hair, obviously feeling the weight of this moment. Then he bowed his head. “Dear Holy Father, thank you for this glorious day! What a wonderful celebration! We ask you to bless Charlotte and Brooks, as well as their families and friends, and we beseech you to grant this special couple a life together that is happy and blessed. We further ask you to bless this fabulous repast and grant your blessings on all present. Amen.” Gee, that was short. He must be hungry. A phalanx of waiters served the first course of spring green and white asparagus spears with shaved red onion. As we started in on the delicate vegetables, the best man, Ry Farmington, took the microphone and asked all to raise their glasses in a toast to the couple. “Brooks has been like a brother to me since our first day at Hollis in Harvard Yard. We’ve seen many adventures together—none of which, out of respect for your patience and his reputation, I will go into here.” He paused for applause and a few knowing hoots. “In the words of the Bard, No sooner met but they looked; No sooner looked but they loved; No sooner loved but they sighed; No sooner sighed but they asked one another the reason; No sooner knew the reason, but they sought the remedy; And in these degrees have made a pair of stairs to marriage Please rise and toast to their lives together.” Six hundred guests rose and toasted the couple. Then came truffle-scented tenderloin with dauphinoise potatoes and tender baby carrots. I snuck a look first at the Whitaker table and then at William and Lydia. They all seemed to be enjoying the meal, and I prayed that all the reviews would be excellent. For dessert, a chocolate mousse with a crème brûlée center was placed at each setting. I knew the wedding cake would be cut and served later. Just then, the wait staff re-entered the room. They set a Baccarat champagne flute filled with pink champagne at each place. A hush came over the ballroom. Dr. Whitaker was standing at the head table, staring the crowd into silence. Then he picked up his glass and smiled adoringly at Charlotte. Everyone listened as he gave a long, loving toast to his daughter. Finally, he took a moment to gather his thoughts before saying, “Charlotte, your mother and I found this magnificent champagne in France a few years ago and had it shipped in for your wedding.” Mrs. Whitaker stared at Dr. Whitaker with a huge Miss America smile. Dr. Whitaker continued, “Would everyone please rise and toast my lovely daughter Charlotte and her husband, Brooks.” He lifted his crystal flute to his lips and took a sip while beaming at Charlotte. Immediately, his cheeks turned scarlet, and he started to wheeze. The crystal dropped from his hand and shattered on the ground. He clutched at his throat while making extensive gasping attempts to pull in a breath. Then he went limp and collapsed to the floor. The room erupted into pandemonium. *** Excerpt from Murder at the Wedding by Christine Knapp. Copyright 2022 by Christine Knapp. Reproduced with permission from Christine Knapp. All rights reserved.

 

 

About Author Christine Knapp:

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Christine Knapp

Christine Knapp practiced as a nurse-midwife for many years. A writer of texts and journal articles, she is now thrilled to combine her love of midwifery and mysteries as the author of the Modern Midwife Mysteries. Christine currently narrates books for the visually and print impaired. A dog lover, she lives near Boston.

Catch Up With Christine Knapp:

ThoughtfulMidwife.com Amazon Author Profile Goodreads BookBub – @cwknapp4478 Instagram – @maevecw Threads – @maevecw X – @chriswknapp Facebook – @Christine Whelan Knapp TikTok – @maevecw

 

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Canyon of Deceit by DiAnn Mills Banner

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CANYON OF DECEIT
by DiAnn Mills
September 8 – October 3, 2025 Virtual Book Tour

 

 

Synopsis:
A rescue team searches for a missing young girl and suspects all is not as it seems in this high-stakes romantic suspense novel from the author of Lethal Standoff and Facing the Enemy

When wilderness survival expert Therese Palmer receives a frantic phone call from former colleague Professor Rurik Ivanov, she is shocked by the news that his young daughter, Alina, is missing—and that Rurik wants Therese’s help finding her. She’s sure Rurik hasn’t given her the whole story . . . especially since he refuses to report the kidnapping to the police. Yet with a child’s life hanging in the balance, Therese can’t turn down this mission. She knows the clock is ticking and she can’t do this alone.

Therese reaches out to Texas Ranger Blane Gardner, whom she met seven months ago during one of her training courses in wilderness survival skills. Blane’s specialized training and background with the Crisis Negotiation Unit make him uniquely prepared for this search-and-rescue mission. He agrees to help Therese and to accept Rurik’s terms to keep Alina’s disappearance quiet, and as the two begin working together, Therese is determined the spark growing between them won’t distract from their mission to save Alina.

Traversing deep into the desert of Guadalupe Mountains National Park, Alina’s last known location, Therese and Blane struggle to separate truth from lies within the mix of intel they’re receiving. As they close in on answers that suggest the involvement of Russian organized crime and a high-profile international assassination attempt, they must fight to rescue Alina before she becomes an innocent casualty of a much bigger plot—no matter the risk to their own lives.

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Praise for Canyon of Deceit:

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“…Time was running out, and the chilling certainty settled in Alina’s life depended on them unraveling the truth before the ruthless men hunting them closed in. With danger at every turn, Therese and Blane had no choice but to trust each other, even as the secrets they carried threatened to pull them apart…” ~ Sue Garland, Christian Novel Review

“Set against the rugged, dangerous beauty of the Guadalupe Mountains, Canyon of Deceit is a riveting tale of high stakes, survival, and trust that I couldn’t put down. DiAnn Mills has crafted a page-turning novel. This is romantic suspense at its finest!” ~ Elizabeth Goddard, award-winning author of Storm Warning

“A pulse-pounding blend of romance and suspense, Canyon of Deceit has a gripping plot and unforgettable characters with a story that keeps you on the edge of your seat until the very last page.” ~ Carrie Stuart Parks

“Buckle up, readers! Canyon of Deceit is a heart-pounding suspense packed with intrigue on every page. Danger, action, and adrenaline-fueled drama make this a must-read for fans who crave edge-of-your-seat adventure.” ~ Natalie Walters, bestselling, award winning author of the SNAP Agency series

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Plus, Canyon of Deceit includes two original songs written by the heroine, Therese—one from her childhood and one that captures the depth of her love and transformation as an adult. These heartfelt lyrics come to life in custom-recorded tracks that reflect the emotion and spirit of the novel.

Click here to listen and step deeper into Therese’s world.

Book Details:

Genre: Romantic Suspense

Published by: Tyndale House Publishers Publication Date: September 9, 2025 Number of Pages: 352 (pbk) ISBN: 9781496485151 (ISBN10: 1496485157) pbk

Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Walmart | Goodreads | BookBub | Tyndale House Publishers

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Enjoy this peek inside:

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Chapter One
New Caney, Texas October, Thursday, Current Day Therese

The shrill ring of my mobile phone jolted me awake at 2:00 a.m., a haunting prompt that emergencies seldom emerged in daylight. Someone had ventured into the wilderness and needed me to lead a rescue mission. My skills of trekking over precarious terrain to find victims who suffered from physical injuries, dehydration, starvation, or all three, kept me on alert. At times I viewed my life like a Star Trek tagline, “Where no man has gone before.”

I grabbed the phone off my nightstand. Unidentified caller. “Hello?” “Ms. Palmer, this is Professor Rurik Ivanov from Houston Leonard University. We met nearly a year ago. You taught a course in wilderness survival as an adjunct professor.” I captured a mental image of the Russian man—gray-blue eyes, stone-gray hair, angular face. “Yes, sir. How can I help you?” “I apologize for the hour, but I’m in a desperate situation.” The angst in his voice zapped me into guarded mode, especially when I barely knew the man. I snapped on my bedside lamp. “Are you all right?” “No, ma’am, which is why I’m calling you. Do you remember my wife and daughter?” “I met them both at a faculty dinner last Christmas. A lovely family.” “My wife was murdered today, and kidnappers have taken my daughter.” I inhaled sharply, and alarm for the professor’s family fired hot from the soles of my feet. “Daria? Alina? What happened?” “A man called me late this afternoon while I prepared to leave for home. He said he’d taken Alina. Then he sent a link to a video showing my wife’s execution—” He stopped abruptly, his final words drumming into my senses. The seconds ticked by, and I waited. “I watched Daria grab her chest and struggle . . . The blood rushed from her precious body—my dear Daria’s life gone forever.” He grappled again to control his tear-filled voice. “He said they would release Alina unharmed if I paid three million dollars. They’d call with instructions. When the man hung up, I hurried home thinking it had to be a terrible mistake or someone had used AI to generate the video. On the way, I phoned Daria and the call went to voice mail. I also redialed the man who’d contacted me. The phone rang repeatedly, but the number offered no way to leave a message. I contacted Alina’s school and learned Daria had picked her up before noon. “At home, reality rooted. A lamp and a table in the living room lay in pieces. Daria would have fought hard, but there were no signs of blood. I didn’t recognize the place in the video where they killed her. I even checked for geotag information on the clip, but it had been stripped. I later clicked on the link . . . the video had disappeared.” I ached for his loss. “What do the police say?” Silence answered me, then Rurik finally said, “Contacting them is impossible. The man warned me against telling anyone who works in law enforcement, or I’d never see Alina again.” He sobbed into the phone. “Please, give me a moment.” “Take all the time you need.” The professor taught Russian language and literature at Leonard University and was highly respected and liked among faculty and students. I’d enjoyed our occasional chats, and he’d observed some of my classes. What had he done to upset the wrong people? “Thank you. I can talk now,” he said. “I have no idea where the killers have taken Daria’s body or how to find Alina. Neither do I suspect anyone.” I willed my pulse to slow. “Professor, the police are trained in handling confidential matters and how to find who is responsible. They have families and understand what you’re going through.” “And endanger my daughter?” Panic throbbed in his ragged voice. “I’m sorry.” My grief over losing Kate many years ago surfaced raw and bleeding. “Are you alone?” “Yes. At home.” “Are there family or friends who can stay with you?” “My family is in Russia, and I do not trust anyone.” “You could very well be in danger too.” “My welfare is unimportant.” “Who are these people, and why has your family been victimized?” “I have no idea. The man refused to identify himself, but he did say ‘we.’ Maybe he thinks I have money or believes I have done something criminal to my country or to the US.” What was he not telling me? I tossed off my blanket and stood in my bedroom, shivering, not from the cold but the horror of this unfolding story. “Professor Ivanov, I’m confused. Why call me? This is a job for the police or the FBI.” “I cannot risk my daughter’s life. You are my only hope to find Alina. You have the skills to get her back.” I ran my fingers through my hair. “I’m a wilderness-survival specialist, nothing more. I’m not equipped to carry out a hostage negotiation without backup, which is another reason you need to involve the authorities.” More questions bolted into my mental space like a landslide. “How would I find her?” “That’s where I can help you. Alina has GPS trackers hidden in her shoes. Not even Daria knew about them.” “Why would you track your young daughter?” “Alina’s biological mother died when she was a baby, and I’ve been consumed with protecting my daughter ever since. I checked my phone app and learned at one thirty this afternoon, Alina was taken to a private landing strip west of Houston. I called there, and a woman who worked in the small office said no one had filed a flight plan. But she made a mistake. The tracker had stopped registering.” He coughed and asked me to wait while he got a glass of water. A connection at Harris County Office of Homeland Security & Emergency Management popped into my consciousness. They had the technology to confirm the date and time a plane took to the skies and where it landed. “I’m better. I apologize for my lack of control,” the professor said. “My app showed tracking again near an abandoned airstrip in a remote area south of Hobbs, New Mexico. The tracking indicated ground-speed movement for two and a half hours to a section on the north side of Guadalupe Mountains National Park called Dog Canyon. That’s where the tracking ended, and I’ve detected nothing since. I assume the kidnappers parked the vehicle and proceeded on foot with Alina. Research shows the area is off-grid. Ms. Palmer, did they remove her shoes? How would they expect her to walk in bare feet?” My thoughts trailed to the worst possible scenario. Why take Alina to a remote location unless they planned to dispose of her body there? Another argument lay with logic. Why go to the expense of transporting a kidnap victim there when they had the ability to dispose of her body in their backyard? A morbid idea, except true. Whatever the reason, they risked exposure from security cameras until they reached an off-grid area. “I can’t stress enough how the authorities have technology and skills to find Alina. They can unravel valid threats and comprehend the danger of taking your story to the media.” “The man who called me said they’d be watching my every move. I bought a burner phone tonight to call you.” His anguish rippled through me, interfering with my ability to think clearly. “What about the ransom?” “I can liquidate assets here and in Russia to meet their demands, but the statistics on kidnappers returning my Alina alive are not good. Perhaps they would accept what I can put together now. I’m sorry . . . I wish I had an answer. Why harm an eight-year-old little girl?” “I have empathy for your grief.” Daria’s lovely face and the white-blonde-haired little girl refused to leave me alone. “Although I could lead you into Dog Canyon, I have no idea how to pull her out of the clutches of dangerous men. You’d need armed law enforcement and possibly a negotiator.” “That would draw attention. I’ll pay you whatever you want.” “Money is not the issue, Professor—” “Alina means more to me than anything else in this world. What is love but to take ownership of a problem and do all I can to stop those men?” “What if I fail?” The terror of not finding his daughter alive resurrected an echo from the past that had shaped my career. “Can you live with yourself if you don’t try?” Unaware, he’d pressed my weakest button. “I’ll hear you out. But I don’t believe you’ve given me the whole story, and I need the truth before I risk my life.” “I’ve . . . I’ve given you all of it.” “You’ve stated what you want me to know. What have you done or not done in this tragedy that Daria is dead, Alina is missing, and you can’t go to the police? *** Excerpt from Canyon of Deceit by DiAnn Mills. Copyright 2025 by DiAnn Mills. Reproduced with permission from DiAnn Mills. All rights reserved.

 

 

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About Author DiAnn Mills:

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DiAnn Mills

DiAnn Mills is a bestselling author who invites her readers to step into stories where suspense meets adventure and romance warms the heart. Known for crafting unforgettable characters tangled in unpredictable plots, DiAnn believes every breath we take unfolds a story waiting to be told—so why not make it thrilling? Her novels have consistently landed on bestseller lists including CBA, ECPA, and Publishers Weekly, and have won prestigious awards such as the Christy, Selah, Golden Scroll, Inspirational Readers’ Choice, and Carol awards. DiAnn is a founding board member of American Christian Fiction Writers and Conference Advisor for the Blue Ridge Mountains Christian Writers. She actively participates in Advanced Writers and Speakers Association, Mystery Writers of America, the Jerry Jenkins Writers Guild, and International Thriller Writers, DiAnn passionately invests in helping fellow authors succeed through mentoring, book coaching, and editing. She travels nationwide speaking and teaching engaging writing workshops. A proud coffee snob who roasts her own beans, DiAnn also enjoys diving into good books, experimenting in the kitchen, and unabashedly spoiling her grandchildren—whom she insists are the smartest kids in the universe. She and her husband make their home under the sunny skies of Houston, Texas.

Connect with DiAnn online for behind-the-scenes glimpses, writing tips, and lively discussions:

diannmills.com Amazon Author Profile Goodreads – @DiAnnMills BookBub – @DiAnnMills Instagram – @diannmillsauthor X – @DiAnnMills Facebook – @DiAnnMills YouTube – @DiAnnMills

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Tour Participants:

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CANYON OF DECEIT by DiAnn Mills (Gift Cards)

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Girl Lost by Kate Angelo Banner

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GIRL LOST
by Kate Angelo
September 22 – October 17, 2025 Virtual Book Tour

 

 

Synopsis:
The King Legacy

 

A LOST BABY

Luna Rosati found acceptance and comfort with her childhood foster family, but when she became pregnant at sixteen, she gave the baby up for adoption and left without a word. Now a CIA counterintelligence officer, Luna wants to reconcile her fractured sense of self by finding the only blood family she has–the teenage daughter she’s never met. As Luna closes in on learning the girl’s identity with the help of her mentor, Stryker, she prepares to meet him in her old neighborhood–the last place she wants to be. Then Stryker is captured.

AN INESCAPABLE PAST

Special Agent Corbin King changed his last name to escape the shadow of his convicted father serving a life sentence. When he runs into Luna, the object of his failed teenage romance, the two must put their pasts aside and work together to expose a secret that someone’s willing to kill for.

A DEADLY THREAT

But when they encounter a kidnapping, missing bodies, and murder, the secrets Corbin and Luna are keeping from one another are only the beginning of the threat they face with more than their own lives at stake.

A gripping Christian romantic suspense thriller with CIA intrigue, second chances, and found family. Perfect for fans of clean thrillers, faith-based fiction, and emotional page-turners by Lynette Eason, Colleen Coble, Jessica R. Patch, and Charles Martin.

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Praise for Kate Angelo:

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“Kate Angelo skillfully unveils the savagery of greed under the pretense of good.” ~ DIANN MILLS, bestselling writer

“An exciting story that will capture readers’ emotions while also taking them on a pulse-pounding, suspenseful roller coaster ride they won’t soon forget.” ~ NANCY MEHL, author of the Erin Delaney Mysteries

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Book Details:

Genre: Christian Romantic Suspense Thriller

Published by: Revell Publication Date: September 23, 2025 Number of Pages: 336 pages, Paperback ISBN, Pbk: 9780800746636 (ISBN10: 0800746635) Series: The King Legacy, Book 1

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

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Enjoy this peek inside:

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From Chapter 1

“What are you doing here, Luna?” The honeyed tone he’d used on the waitress morphed to granite.

“Since when does the FDLE investigate missing persons?”

“Since when do you talk to Stryker? Or any of us, for that matter?”

“Why do you keep answering questions with another question?” Although she knew good and well she’d started it.

The squiggle of a blue vein bulged at Corbin’s temple, and she kind of enjoyed it. “Since we gave our baby up for adoption. Since you cut me out of your life.” His finger stabbed the table to punctuate each sentence. “Since you left town without a word and never looked back.” Another crack formed. His words knifed her heart. Images of a teen beggar girl on the streets of Pakistan played through her mind. The one with dark hair and eyes that mirrored her own. The girl’s striking resemblance to herself had brought Luna back to the time when she held a tiny life in her arms. The baby girl she’d given up—not because she wanted to, but because she refused to let her child suffer the life she’d had. The daughter she’d brought into being was somewhere out there in the world, and she needed Stryker to tell her where. The pang cut deep, but Luna gathered her composure and locked her emotional armor down tight. She wasn’t the only one who’d walked away. “You broke up with me, Corbin. You told me you didn’t want to be a father. You made that choice. I just made sure our daughter had a future.” The skin around his collar flushed crimson. She could see his neck straining. “I can’t believe you—” A sharp glint of light flashed through the storefront windows. Whatever Corbin was saying faded into nothingness. She watched Stryker emerge from his rusty old Jeep parked across the street. His hair, a blend of salt and pepper, hung in a knot at the nape of his neck. Aside from the silver strands, he looked like the same athletic man she’d known when she was a teenager. Years melted away. She saw the man who’d seen the good in her, even when she was a mess of anger and bad choices. The man who’d taken a lost and confused girl and forged her into something stronger, something more. He’d pulled her back from the edge, shown her a different path. And somehow, against all odds, the rebellious girl who’d once cursed every cop in sight had become a government agent. He’d challenged her, pushed her, never let her give up on herself. And she hadn’t. Would he still recognize that girl in the woman she’d become? A black SUV slammed to a halt outside. Doors flew open. Three dark figures jumped out, faces swallowed by masks, bodies muted by black tactical gear. Guns. They had guns. Luna was on her feet before she knew what was happening. Her brain put it together on the fly. Outside. Help Stryker. Corbin’s chair scraped back. Clattered over. He was on her heels. Stryker wouldn’t go down without a fight. With his reflexes, he could disarm a shooter and break a few bones faster than she could blink. His resistance would buy them the priceless seconds they needed to get outside. One man pointed a Taser at Stryker and squeezed the trigger. Two barbed probes shot through the air and embedded into the back of Stryker’s neck, sending fifty thousand volts of electricity screaming through his body. The other two men caught him under the arms before he hit the sidewalk and hauled his limp body into the back seat. Luna and Corbin burst outside. Shouts. A woman screamed. But Luna’s eyes were laser focused on the dark vehicle. The doors slammed shut. Corbin had his gun out. “Police! Stop or I’ll shoot!” The SUV’s engine roared. The vehicle lurched forward, tires shrieking, grabbing traction. It fishtailed, sideswiping two parked cars. Then it swerved back on course, speeding down the street. It blew through a stop sign and disappeared around the corner. Bits of red and yellow confetti littered the street and sidewalk. Luna crouched and used her fingernail to scrape up a few of the tiny round dots. Corbin sprinted half a block chasing after the vehicle before he stopped. Feet set shoulder width apart. Knees flexed. Arms extended and ready to fire. She marched over and slapped her palm on the muzzle of his gun to shove the barrel down. “Put that away. You can’t shoot into a busy street at a fleeing vehicle.” He was breathing hard. “No plates. They wore masks. Should be able to get surveillance footage and interview witnesses.” Like her, Corbin was already thinking of the next steps. She had her phone out, thumb hovering over the screen. The secret code used to send secure cables to the Agency wouldn’t work on this plain smartphone. The only person whose number was stored in this one had just been kidnapped. Corbin muttered something Luna couldn’t hear. He had a hand on his waist. The tail of his blazer was pushed back, showing the gun in its holster on his hip. He rattled his name, badge number, and their location into his phone. “I’m reporting a confirmed kidnapping in progress. Requesting immediate backup and notify detectives.” With Stryker gone, she had no reason to stay. Time to start searching for him. She did an about-­face and went back inside. Angie was on the phone in hysterics. It’d be a wonder if the dispatcher could make sense of the gibberish behind her sobs. Luna marched to the table and picked up her purse. Paused long enough to drain her lemonade and toss a twenty on the table before heading back outside. Corbin fell into step beside her, phone still pressed to his ear. “Where are you going?” She kept walking. “Hey, you can’t leave a crime scene.” He grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. She caught his hand in a wrist lock and rotated his forearm until his knees buckled. “You’ve gotten slow in your old age.” She flashed a thin smile and shoved him, releasing her hold. Corbin stumbled a few steps. The look on his face was almost worth the agony of seeing him again. She turned and headed for her car. The last person she’d ever wanted to see was Corbin King. Not here. Not now. Not ever. “Luna! You can’t just walk away. Luna!” Stryker was not only her mentor but a father figure. She wouldn’t stand by and let someone hurt him. Besides, he was the one who’d arranged the adoption. Handled everything himself, outside the system when she was too young and emotionally wrecked to question the details. Back then, she hadn’t wanted to know. Convinced it was better that way. But that had changed. Now, without Stryker, she had no way to find the only blood relative she had left. And after everything she’d lost in Pakistan, she could not afford to lose anything else. The weight of it all didn’t matter. She would save Stryker. She would find her daughter. And she would do it without Corbin King. *** Excerpt from Girl Lost by Kate Angelo. Copyright 2025 by Kate Angelo. Reproduced with permission from Kate Angelo. All rights reserved.

 

 

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About Author Kate Angelo:

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Kate Angelo

Kate Angelo is the Publishers Weekly bestselling author of Hunting the Witness, Selah Award winner of Deadly Holiday Hijack, and Amazon Top 100 Bestseller of Driving Force. Kate works alongside her husband championing stronger marriages and families. Her journey from foster care to bestselling author fuels her fast-paced romantic suspense, where flawed characters discover hope and healing through life’s fiercest trials and relationships. When she’s not putting fictional people through the wringer, she’s out creating real-life happily-ever-afters at conferences and events nationwide. .

Learn more about Kate Angelo:

KateAngelo.com Amazon Author Profile Goodreads – @kateangeloauthor BookBub – @kateangeloauthor Instagram – @kateangeloauthor X – @thekateangelo Facebook – @kateangeloauthor

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The Itch of Greed

by Christa Nardi

 

(Izzie Di Sante Mysteries, #6)
Publication date: September 22nd 2025
Genres: Adult, Cozy Mystery

A dark cloud hangs over baseball season in small town Rosedale when star pitcher Randy Kampton is taken out of the game for good.

The DA is determined to pin the crime on Cole Rigley, a friend’s brother and fellow pitcher, citing the fierce competition for a major league trade as his motive for murder. Rigley’s brother, asks Henry and reluctant restaurant owner Izzie Di Sante to help prove his innocence. Adding fuel to the fire, Kampton stole Rigley’s girlfriend months earlier.

While Kampton’s pitching skills are universally acknowledged, no one, not fans or teammates, has a kind word to say about him, making for a long list of suspects. Rigley, on the other hand, is respected for his talent and team spirit. The wild card is another pitcher recovering from a car accident, whose open roster spot has all three men vying for the same prize.

In Rosedale, loyalty to the minor league team runs deep, and Izzie’s digging into the players’ pasts draws resentment from fans, police, and management alike. When the team’s PR person is targeted after meeting with her, the threats become all too real. The closer Izzie gets to uncovering the truth, on and off the field, the higher the stakes, and the more dangerous the game becomes.

Goodreads / Amazon

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Enjoy this peek inside CHAPTER 1:

An alert sounded on my phone as I entered Cenare, the Italian restaurant I owned with my sister Chloe. While Chloe was a foodie, I took care of the business side of things. Before our parents died, I freelanced as a journalist following homicides in New York City.

I was committed to the restaurant and Chloe, but my passion was murder, so I kept the homicide alerts coming. Occasionally, if one sparked my interest, I took some time to search out my next story. Homicides provided a rush the restaurant business didn’t give me. I put my things down on the small table in the kitchen area and pulled up the message.

“Breaking news! The Rosedale Thorny Bats will be hurting this season. Their best pitcher, Randy Kampton, died under suspicious circumstances. His body was discovered by the custodians in the Thorny Bats locker room early this morning. Stay tuned for details.”

The announcement prompted me to check my other sources for unsolved homicides, although I’d never heard of the Thorny Bats or Kampton. I assumed if the man was a pitcher, the sport was baseball. It was spring and our guests or employees occasionally mentioned baseball. Growing up, Chloe and I spent most of our time in the restaurant. We lived and breathed Cenare.

My escape was writing. I knew from experience that the death of those close to you changed your life. My stories focused on the impact of a sudden death – usually a homicide – on those left behind. I found less resistance from law enforcement when I focused on cold cases or those that were stalled. Most often, my casual interviews with those who knew the victim provided clues to the killer.

Unfortunately, sometimes the killer targeted me. Having lived in New York City for five years, I was prepared for that, even in small town Pinewood, Maryland, where murders rarely happened. With the first ever murder in our small town a few years back, I clashed with the local police detective when the immediate conclusion was a burglary, and I disagreed. For the record, I was right.

With the murder of an athlete, Kampton’s death would likely be quickly solved if the alert was any indication. Not finding anything else of note in the alerts, I went through my morning routine of checking income, paying bills, placing orders, and taking inventory. At least I used my degree in business management. I preferred taking care of those tedious tasks before anyone else arrived.

As usual, Chloe arrived with a breakfast treat as I finished the accounting and started the inventory.

“Good morning, Chloe. Those look and smell delicious.”

“Thanks, Izzie. Help yourself. I got this idea in my head and combined ingredients from an apple brownie recipe and a cinnamon streusel cupcake. Ryan assured me they were more than edible.” With money from the estate and the restaurant, Chloe had completed her training at the culinary institute nearby. In and out of the restaurant, she often created dishes. Breakfast for me and whomever else wanted a taste tended not to be traditional Italian. For the restaurant, she kept with the family tradition and stuck to Italian dishes.

I chuckled. “I don’t know how you can cook here all day and then try out new things when you get home.”

“Well, Ryan brought some work home that he needed to get done like yesterday. Only he didn’t get the assignment until that morning.” She shrugged. “I got creative in the kitchen while he worked.”

Since she and Ryan married a few months ago, she hadn’t been as creative with her morning treats, though I could always count on her to provide my breakfast. When she took a week off for her honeymoon, I had to fend for myself, usually stopping at the local bakery on my way to work.

“It’s delicious! Not quite brownie and not quite muffin. Still very moist and I’m a sucker for cinnamon and apples. I’ll have to freeze some of these for the next time I see Henry. Now that he’s taken the detective exam and he may be working part time in Franklin, I hope to see him more often.”

Henry and I had started off as friends and our relationship moved forward from there. He was always a willing assistant and backup when I pursued a story. Helping me out prompted him to pursue his private investigator credentials.

“Speak of the devil.” I showed Chloe the phone, took the container of treats, and sat down at the table.

“Hi, Henry. How are you?”

“Good. I may have a case for you and wanted to give you a heads up. Do you have a few minutes?”

I grabbed a piece of paper off the nearby printer. “Sure. What’s going on?”

“You know the guy who always gives me a hard time about driving an automatic or having a family car? Phil Rigley?”

“Dark hair, hazel eyes, not quite as tall as you, and maybe a year or two younger. A southern twang.”

“That’s him. He called this morning, wanting my opinion. His brother, Cole, plays ball with the Thorny Bats. Cole contacted Phil this morning. Something about a player dying and the police interviewing everyone. Phil didn’t have many details, but he wanted me to look into it.”

My phone pinged with an alert. “I caught one announcement earlier and then another just came in. A custodian found Randy Kampton, a pitcher for that team, dead this morning. It was a sports broadcaster the first time, the usual police blotter the second time. Nothing else. Where did the Thorny Bats come from? Is there a new major league team in Maryland?”

“No. The Baltimore Orioles is the only major league team. The Thorny Bats is a triple-A minor league team out in Rosedale. The players are good and some eventually get picked up by a major league team. I played in college and a few of my teammates went on to the minor leagues. We lost touch but I may see if I can locate them.”

“The news I caught indicated a suspicious death. Thorny Bats is a weird name for a team though.”

“Minor league teams often have interesting names, usually related somehow to their location and often suggested by fans. Rosedale, thorns, and baseball bats – Thorny Bats. Makes perfect sense to me.” He chuckled. “Keep me posted. If it’s a homicide, Phil thinks his brother will be a person of interest. Both Cole and Kampton are pitchers, and Kampton stole his girlfriend.”

“Both would give Cole two motives. I’ll call you after lunch with any updates. Katie just walked in. Right now I best finish the inventory and start the lunch prep.”

Katie was a chef-intern from the culinary institute. We’d hired two to help Chloe and relieve her of 12-hour days. A brunette in her mid-twenties, Katie stood a good six inches shorter than my five foot ten, with the figure of someone who competed in gymnastics through high school and still used her gym membership. She added to Chloe’s energy in the kitchen. Chloe hummed and listened to her favorite tunes when not directing Katie. They worked well together and became fast friends.

Jerry, another intern, comes in mid-afternoon, when Katie leaves. Jerry towers over Katie at six foot. Husky, he looks more like a bodyguard than a chef. Before switching careers after twenty years, Jerry worked for stuffed-shirt lawyers as a paralegal. He burned out about the time his mother became ill. He started as a server and moved into the second intern position. Jerry’s personality and age lent itself to being a calming influence in the kitchen.

“Katie, be sure to try Chloe’s latest breakfast treat, but save some for Henry, please.”

She laughed. “Will do.”

Inventory done, I moved to the restaurant side. As I dressed tables, Jennifer, the manager, joined me. She became the manager when the original manager left. A long-term employee since before Chloe and I took over, Jennifer was in her mid-thirties, older than both Chloe and me. She continued in the role of server most often, but also helped with training new servers, and took on hostess responsibilities when I took time off to chase down a story.

As the waitstaff filtered in, I raced upstairs and put on a dress, a throwback to when our parents were alive. Our mother thought it added an element of class and set Cenare apart from fast-food places. As I reentered the kitchen area, I took a deep breath. I might not be a foodie, but the smell of the spices made me smile.

Lunch went smoothly and I fidgeted at the hostess stand. I wanted to check my computer and phone for any updates on the Kampton death. It had been months since a case grabbed my attention. This time, it sounded like Henry and his buddy wanted me involved. I wasn’t too sure how the league, minor or otherwise, would appreciate me asking questions. Sometimes questions uncovered secrets best left untold, at least from their perspective.

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About Author Christa Nardi:

Christa Nardi is an accomplished author of cozy mysteries with an edge – still no graphic violence or sex or profanity, but touching on social issues. Christa’s background is in higher education and psychology, much as her protagonists, Sheridan Hendley in the Cold Creek and Sheridan Hendley mystery, along with Stacie Maroni in the Stacie Maroni mystery series. She has always loved mysteries – reading them, writing them, and solving them. She reviews books on her blog, predominantly cozy mysteries.

Christa is a member of Sisters in Crime and can be found on occasion at Bouchercon, Killer Nashville, or Malice Domestic. She writes four series: Cold Creek Cozy Mysteries, Sheridan Hendley Mysteries, Stacie Maroni Mysteries, and the Izzie Di Sante mysteries. Christa also collaborates with Cassidy Salem in writing the Hannah and Tamar Mysteries, featuring teen sleuth sisters.

When not writing or reading, Christa and her husband enjoy travel, their three grandchildren, and their dogs. Christa supports dog rescue and local shelters.

Website / Goodreads / Twitter / Instagram

 

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Be careful what you wish for.
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The Rich Guy’s Wife

by Bonnie Traymore

Genre: Psychological Domestic Thriller

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When a struggling
young career woman gets swept off her feet by a wealthy, handsome guy, she
ignores the nagging feeling in her gut that it’s too good to be true. But when
she digs into his past, dark secrets emerge. And it might be more dangerous to
get out.

 

Be careful what you wish for.

Mother’s voice rings in my ears
as I stand perfectly still in the darkness, fearing that each breath I take
will be my last. I’m crouched down in the closet with blood on my hands,
my legs and back aching to move, even an inch.

But I can’t. One twitch, one cramp, and I’ll bang into a shelf and give myself
away.

When Stefan Zeigler swept me off my feet four months ago, I had to fight the
voice in my head telling me that my new boyfriend was too good to be true:
handsome, wealthy enough to own a home in the Hamptons…and totally into me.

Or was that Lucy’s voice, my gal pal attorney friend who doesn’t need a man to
live large? Or my mom’s voice, warning me of controlling prenups and the
dangerous secrets of the superrich?

I’d always dreamed of a better life, and working my way there wasn’t going so
well for me, with my pile of student loan debt, a rent-controlled apartment in
Manhattan I could barely afford, and a stable but low-paying PR job.

Is it so bad that I dared to believe in a fairy tale ending, even after I found
out about his felon brother? Or his nefarious business associate? Or the fact
that his last girlfriend looked a lot like me—and seems to have
vanished into thin air?

But now I see that fairy tales have a dark underbelly beneath the
glitter, just like my life right now. I’m Erin. I got what I wished for. I’m a
rich guy’s wife now.

And it just might be the death of me.

Rebecca meets The Boyfriend in this twisty,
unputdownable domestic thriller full of psychological suspense, perfect for
fans of Freida McFadden, Kaira Rouda, Emily Shiner, Daniel Hurst, and Liv
Constantine.

 

What readers are saying:

“If you like dark fairy tales with chilling secrets and gasp-worthy
twists, you’ll fly through this one like I did!” – NetGalley Reviewer,⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

“With sharp writing, well-paced twists, and just the right amount of
tension, this was a true page-turner—I didn’t want to put it down! Be
careful what you wish for… ” – NetGalley Reviewer,⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

“An unputdownable page-turner set in Manhattan and the Hamptons,
that ramped up to a great ending.” –
NetGalley Reviewer⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

“Such a good book. I finished it in less than 24 hours, which is
quick for a busy mom. The last few chapters flew by. Great book for a quick
mystery/suspense fan.” – NetGalley Reviewer,⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

The Rich Guy’s Wife is a gripping domestic
thriller. What starts as a fairy-tale romance quickly morphs into
a dangerous nightmare full of secrets, blood, suspense, and a chilling
question: did her dream come with a deadly price? Highly recommend if you love
suspenseful reads with multiple viewpoints and unexpected twists!” – @somethingunread,
Bookstagram

The Rich Guy’s Wife is so addictive that I couldn’t set it
down even if I wanted to. I devoured this thriller in two sittings.”
—Steph Nelson, Author of The Final Scene

“Bonnie Traymore is at the top of her game in this twisty thriller about
wealth, love, and the secrets we all keep. Beautifully plotted, it kept me up
reading until dawn!” – Leslie Lutz, Award winning author of Sweetest
Darkness

“Bonnie Traymore really nails it again in this deliciously twisty psychological
thriller that will keep you guessing until the very end.” R.G. Belsky,
Author of the award winning Clare Carlson series

 

Amazon
*
Bookbub *
Goodreads

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Bonnie Traymore is the Amazon bestselling author of ten
domestic/psychological thrillers. Her thrillers feature strong but relatable
female protagonists who peel back the layers of suburban American life and give
readers a peek inside. The plots explore difficult topics such as jealousy,
infidelity, murder, and the impact of psychological disorders, but she also
includes bits of romance and humor to lighten the mood from time to
time.

Bonnie loves Hitchcock movies, psychological thriller
novels, coffee, and dark chocolate, not necessarily in that order and sometimes
simultaneously. She has a doctorate in United States history and resides in
Honolulu with her family. She’s an active member of International Thriller
Writers and Mystery Writers of America.

Website * Facebook * Twitter * Instagram * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads

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Follow the tour HERE for special content and a $20 giveaway!

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The Rich Guy’s Wife

 

 

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Thanks so much for visiting fuonlyknew and Good Luck!

For a list of my reviews go HERE.

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