Archive for the ‘Excerpt’ Category

 

Get Gribnitz by Howard Gimple Banner

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GET GRIBNITZ
by Howard Gimple
June 29 – July 24, 2026 Virtual Book Tour

 

 

Synopsis:

Howard Gimple, master of the comedy thriller, takes on the world of advertising in his funniest, snarkiest, most entertainingly irreverent book yet. Stew Gribnitz is a brilliant advertising copywriter with impulse control issues, an utter disdain for authority, and an unresolved demi-Oedipal complex (he’d like to murder his father but has no sexual designs on his mother). When the first act of his new creative director is to dump our hero’s best work into a garbage bin, Stew’s immediate impulse (which, of course, he can’t control) is to do unspeakable things to his new boss’s necktie while he’s still wearing it. The next day, when the necktie guy is found brutally murdered, Stew is brought in for questioning by the NYPD. He’s released thanks to an air-tight alibi, but not before his face is emblazoned on the cover of the New York tabloids, declaring him to be a cross between Son of Sam and Jack the Ripper. Stew becomes a Madison Avenue untouchable and a New York City pariah, except to his father who declares that seeing his son on the front page of his favorite paper is the first time that Stew has ever done anything to make him proud. Stew gets a gig as a part-time advertising consultant to a billionaire publisher running for Governor of Connecticut who’s twenty points behind in the polls. When the publisher’s private plane does a nosedive into Long Island Sound, Stew is the only one who knows that his deceased client had been receiving death threats from his opponent, a former FBI agent whose brother is a mob enforcer. Stew is convinced he’ll be the next victim and the authorities are convinced he’s a multiple murderer. The only way to clear his name is to find the real killer or killers, a task, well beyond his skill set, made even more difficult because the FBI, the NYPD, several suburban police jurisdictions and a homicidal hitwoman are all out to GET GRIBNITZ.

Praise for Get Gribnitz:

“…the perfect mystery novel” ~ Readers’ Favorite “…a deliciously entertaining, fun, and exciting read from cover to cover.” ~ The Mystery Review Crew

 

Book Details:

Genre: Mystromedy

Published by: Mystromedy Books Publication Date: July 1, 2024 Number of Pages: 348 ISBN: 9798990761575

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

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Enjoy this peek inside:

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On my way to the house I’m hoping Moish isn’t home. But as soon as I walk in there he is, standing in the living room, holding the Post in one hand and the News in the other. I gird myself for what’s coming. “So I guess you read about me in the paper.” His smile gets broader. “You bet I did.” “It was all a huge misunderstanding. Believe it or not, you’re my alibi. I was here with you last night when it happened.” He sticks his thumb in the air. “Of course you were. I’ll back you up a hundred percent. Just tell me what time I was supposed to be here and I’ll swear on a pile of Bibles.” He winks at me. “Old Testament, of course.” “No, really.” He shakes his head. “This is better. We were here together all night, playing pinochle. Wait a minute, you never learned to play pinochle. How about gin rummy? You know how to play gin rummy. Of course you do. Any moron can play gin rummy.” “Pop, listen to me. We don’t have to make up a story. If it ever comes up, just tell the truth.” “Okay, son,” he says, still grinning. “Whatever you say. But I still think the gin rummy routine is the way to go.” Son? He never calls me son. Putz, schmendrick or shmuck with earlaps, which for my father is the absolute worst thing you can be, are his usual terms of endearment for me, but son? Never. Since my mother died, giving me a hard time has become my father’s favorite pastime. Even more than playing cards or going to the track. After forty-five years of arguing with her, he needed someone else to yell at. Not that he didn’t yell at me when she was alive, it’s just that she was his number-one target. She told me that he never means anything by it. She used to say, “When he gets quiet, that’s when you have to worry. As long as he’s yelling, everything’s fine.” That’s why I’m so confused. Here’s the perfect chance for him to tell me what a shmuck I am for getting myself into this mess, instead he’s kvelling like I just won the Nobel Prize. “You did see the paper, didn’t you?” “Of course. I bought extra copies. I’m gonna hand them out to everyone at the track.” “And you’re not upset?” “Upset?” He puffs out his chest. “I’ve never been prouder.” “But everyone thinks I’m a cold-blooded murderer.” “I know.” There’s that grin again. “It’s terrific.” “I don’t get it.” “What’s to get? You finally made a name for yourself. Made it to the front page. The page that’s usually reserved for presidents, governors and generals. And now my boy is right up there with them.” “They made me look like a homicidal maniac. It’s not the same.” “You’re right. It’s better.” At this point I don’t know what to say, so I just stand there with my mouth open. “You know where I grew up, right?” I nod. “Yeah. Brownsville. Chester Street, right?” “You know my mother had a chicken market around the corner on Dumont Avenue?” “Of course. You told me that story a hundred times. They called her the Chicken Lady. She made you get up at five in the morning to pluck chickens before you went to school. Made you come back before you went to bed to sweep up.” “She was a hard woman, my mother. She had to be. After that goddamn flu killed my father, she had three babies to feed. But that doesn’t matter now.” His eyes start to twinkle. And Moish wasn’t usually a twinkler. “Do you know what was down the street from my mother’s store?” I shrug. “Rosie Gold’s candy store.” “Okaaaaay?” “You know who hung around Rosie’s?” “Not a clue.” He puffs out his chest. I’m thinking it’s gonna be some old-time Jewish sports hero like Kingfish Levinsky or Slapsie Maxie Rosenbloom. “Murder, Incorporated. That’s who. The toughest SOBs in the country. And they were all Jews. Louis Lepke, Abe Reles, Buggsy Goldstein. Killers, every one of them. Everybody feared them. The Italians, the Irish, the coloreds. They had class too. Money, women, fancy cars, you name it. When I was a kid, twelve or thirteen, I’d sneak out of my mother’s shop and hang around outside Rosie’s. Those guys loved me. They treated me like I was their little mascot. Their good-luck charm. I’d run errands for them. Bring them cigarettes, drinks, the paper. Whatever they wanted. And they’d throw me a twenty-dollar tip like it was a nickel. You know what that’s worth today? Five hundred dollars. I was a snot-nosed pisher with more money in my pocket than most of the grown men in the neighborhood. In a couple of years I coulda been one of them.” I don’t know whether to be impressed or aghast. “So what happened?” He shrugs. “This and that. Reles turned rat. Then he fell out of a hotel window. Pretty soon they were all dead or in jail. The Depression hit. The war happened. I spent five years in the Philippines shooting Japs. And when I came home I married your mother.” I’m a little taken aback that he puts marrying my mother in the same category as the Second World War and the Great Depression. “Besides, when your grandmother found out what I was doing, she beat the living crap outta me. Told me if she ever caught me hanging around with those bums again she’d pluck me like one of her chickens.” “Let me get this straight, your childhood dream was to be a gangster?” “It was different then, not like the scum-bums you see now. Back then, if you were in the rackets you were somebody, a big shot, a mensch.” “So seeing my commercials on TV and the awards I won, that all means nothing to you, but having everybody in New York think I’m the Jewish Dillinger, that you’re proud of?” “It’s not like you’re a senator or governor, but it’s something.” “I’m sorry to disappoint you but I really didn’t do it.” “Whatever you say.” He pauses for a second. “Listen, do you know Shifty, the bookie from back in our old neighborhood?” “Yeah, sure.” “He’s been giving me a hard time. He says I owe him some money but he’s fulla shit.” “How much money?” “I dunno, two . . . three hundred.” “Dollars?” “No, kishkes. Of course dollars.” “And you’re sure you don’t owe him the money?” “Of course I’m sure. You think I wouldn’t remember something like that?” I don’t say anything. “He says he’s gonna come over here with some leg breakers and take it if I don’t give it to him. How about you pay him a little visit and convince him to lay off?” He holds up the paper and grins. “He’ll listen to you.” “Listen, Pop. I’m not a thug. I don’t even play one on TV. There’s no way I’m gonna threaten your bookie or anybody else.” He shoots me a scornful smirk. “I shoulda known you didn’t have the guts.” He walks to the bathroom. Before he shuts the door he looks at me with disgust and shouts, “Putz!” *** Excerpt from GET GRIBNITZ by Howard Gimple. Copyright 2026 by Howard Gimple. Reproduced with permission from Howard Gimple. All rights reserved.

 

 

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About Author Howard Gimple:

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Howard Gimple

I’ve been writing for my supper for most of my adult life. First as a copywriter and creative director for several ad agencies. After I aged out of the advertising business (you’re a dinosaur at 35), I wrote English dialogue for the American releases of Japanese anime cartoons, reviewed movies for a pay-per-view television network, and was the editor of a newsletter for the New York Giants football team. I wrote the lyrics for a song used in the soundtrack of the horror film THE REJUVENATOR as well as the fight song for Stony Brook University, where I was a writer and sports editor for their alumni magazine and taught two classes, Rock and Relevance, about the influence of classic rock on politics and Filthy Shakespeare about the sexy bits of the Bard’s plays and poems that they don’t usually teach. Several of my stories have been featured in Akashic Books’ Mondays are Murder online noir series. I recently finished work on The Garbageman, a documentary about a trash hauler who saved the lives of 50,000 children in underprivileged countries with congenital heart disease. And if you’ve gotten this far on the website, you know about my novels. After living in Brooklyn, Manhattan, and Long Island, I headed west to Glendora, California, with my wife and Goldendoodle.

Catch Up With Howard Gimple:

HowardGimple.com Amazon Author Profile Goodreads BookBub – @howardgimple Facebook – @authorhowardgimple

 

Tour Participants:

Click through the other tour stops for can’t-miss reviews, insider interviews, exclusive guest posts, and more chances to win! Click here to view the Tour Schedule  

 

Get In, Enter, Then GET GRIBNITZ
This giveaway is hosted by Partners in Crime Tours for Howard Gimple. See the widget for entry terms and conditions. Void where prohibited.

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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 Siren’s Daughter

By Claire Fuge

 

Publication date: June 28th 2026
Genres: Historical

1126. The Norman conquest grips Wales. Rebellion stirs. And one woman’s choice could ignite it all.

Nineteen-year-old Angharad, the daughter of a Norman knight and a captive Welsh princess, arrives at Aberteifi Castle for her mother’s arranged marriage. But her new stepfather, the merciless Norman commander of the castle, has other plans. He demands that Angharad expose her mother, Nesta, as a secret rebel or be cast out to die.

To survive, Angharad presses Nesta to reveal the truth about her past: as a Welsh princess stolen by invaders, the victim of wars and betrayals, the seductress of kings and princes. As Nesta’s story unfolds, Angharad discovers a legacy more dangerous than she could have imagined, and must decide whether to protect her mother or herself…

Goodreads / Amazon

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Enjoy this peek inside:

In 1066, Duke Guillaume of Normandy, known to the English as William the Conqueror, won the Battle of Hastings and was crowned King of England.

In 1087, the Norman barons began their invasion of Wales.

By 1126, after countless deaths amongst the thorn-infested hills, swamps, and forests, the Normans had managed to subdue all five Welsh kingdoms. More or less.

 

Chapter 1. HOMECOMING

All Hallows’ Eve, 1126. West Wales

When the castle loomed out of the hailstorm above her, Angharad was careful not to crane her head upwards in awe as her Norman guards did. Her mother had commanded her to uphold her dignity, no matter what, so she kept her back straight and sat rigid in her saddle. Although the steepness of the hill made her feel as if spikes of ice were being hurled down at her by the castle itself, she didn’t cower. She pretended not to hear the guards cursing about having to drag a pair of heathen women out of the Welsh wildlands. She alone would be her mother’s last, unfailing support.

Angharad’s mother, Nesta, rode alongside, her imperious glare fixed on the track ahead, ignoring the water that streamed from her claw-black hair onto her horse’s flank. Even dressed in threadbare travelling clothes, Nesta didn’t look like the prisoner she was, finally recaptured by the Normans after three years of threats, bribes, and attempted ambushes. She didn’t look like a new bride either, although she was bound to marry the Constable of the castle; the contract had been sealed. No. What Nesta looked like, in the arrogant line of her jaw, in the resolute set of her flawless face, was what she was born to be.

Royalty.

During her nineteen years of life, Angharad had been reminded daily that her mother was the last living princess of Deheubarth, once the most renowned of the Welsh kingdoms. Angharad’s bloodline was the only wealth she possessed; she must look the part.

‘Amongst wolves,’ Nesta had said – and many wolves lived in the cloud-draped forests of these lands – ‘you can tell the leader of the pack from the way he draws every eye towards him. My father looked like a king from two arrowshots away, even when he was wounded from the endless wars, even when he was starving and freezing and caked in mud. Whatever fate we meet in this castle, I refuse to grovel before them. Hold your head high, Angharad. We must not disgrace the memory of our glorious ancestors.’

Luckily, deception was one of Angharad’s talents: Nesta had trained her in it since she was a child. Angharad had the skill of appearing haughty whilst at her most powerless.

When Nesta dismounted on the crest of the hill, Angharad copied, stifling a wince at the cramp in her thighs. Sixty miles they had travelled from the open meadows where they had spent their years of sanctuary amongst the Welsh: a journey of three days and nights, riding and walking through a wasteland of swamps and brambles, the Norman guards watchful behind them, bloodhounds running at their flanks to warn them of rebels and outlaws, with every hamlet full of hostile eyes and nothing to buy and almost nothing to steal. But here they were, at last.

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About Author Claire Fuge:

Claire Fuge writes historical fiction inspired by medieval Wales, the Tewdwr family and the women whose lives were shaped by conquest, loyalty and survival. Her work explores the spaces where history leaves silence, and where storytelling can bring forgotten voices back to life.

Website

 

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The Siren’s Daughter 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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Work at a funeral home can be mundane.

Until you accidentally start bringing the dead back to life.

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The Undead Mr. Tenpenny

The Cassie Black Trilogy Book 1

by Tammie Painter

Genre: Humorous Dark Fantasy Mystery

Work at a funeral
home can be mundane. Until you accidentally start bringing the dead back to
life.

“…a clever,
hilarious romp through a new magical universe”
–Sarah
Angleton, author of Gentleman of Misfortune

Cassie Black works at a funeral home. She’s used to all
manner of dead bodies. What she’s not used to is them waking up. Which they
seem to be doing on a disturbingly regular basis lately.

Just when Cassie thinks she has the problem under control,
the recently deceased Busby Tenpenny insists he’s been murdered and claims
Cassie might be responsible thanks to a wicked brand of magic she’s been
exposed to. The only way for Cassie to get her life back to normal is to tame
her magic and uncover Mr. Tenpenny’s true killer.

Simple right?

Of course not. Because while Cassie works on getting her
newly acquired magic sorted, she’s blowing up kitchens, angering an entire
magical community, and discovering her past is more closely tied to Busby
Tenpenny than she could have ever imagined.

If you like comic
fantasy whodunits with plenty of wry humor, a cast of unforgettable characters,
a touch of paranormal mystery, and piles of pastries, you’ll find it hard to
pry yourself away from this first book of the Cassie Black Trilogy.


Note: While this book delivers a contemporary fantasy
tale with snarky giggles and a few hexes, it’s fairly clean with only an
itty-bitty bit of light cursing, one fight scene, and no hanky panky or sexual
situations.

 

The Cassie Black
“Trilogy” has now grown to a very un-trilogy-like six books that include…

  • The
    Undead Mr. Tenpenny (#1 of The Cassie Black Trilogy 1.0)
  • The
    Uncanny Raven Winston (#2 of The Cassie Black Trilogy 1.0)
  • The
    Untangled Cassie Black (#3 of The Cassie Black Trilogy 1.0)
  • The
    Unusual Mayor Marheart (#1 of The Cassie Black Trilogy 2.0)
  • The
    Unbearable Inspector Oberlin (#2 of The Cassie Black Trilogy 2.0)
  • The
    Unexpected Mr Hopkins (#3 of The Cassie Black Trilogy 2.0)

 

What readers have
to say about the series so far…

  • “Wow
    and wow again! I absolutely loved this book! You get such a feel for the
    characters and the story is so fast paced you don’t want to put it
    down.”
  • “More,
    please!”
  • “I
    was unable to put this down when I started reading it. The author combines
    humour with a fast paced murder mystery all packed into a funeral
    home.”
  • “…suffused
    with dark humor and witty dialogue…”
  • “Cassie
    Black, won me over in the first book of this series, and she doesn’t
    disappoint in this one!!!”

**On Sale for Only .99cents!**

Amazon * Author’s Site * Kobo * Smashwords * Books2Read * Bookbub
* Goodreads

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READ A SAMPLE OF THE UNDEAD MR TENPENNY HERE:

 https://read.bookfunnel.com/read/t2q4kh1ayg

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The Uncanny Raven Winston

The Cassie Black Trilogy Book 2

There’s nothing
like an evil wizard to ruin a perfectly good trip to London.

Ever have one of those weeks? You’ve taken an overdose of
magic, you’ve melted a twelve-year old girl, and Magic HQ has sent a letter
“requesting” you come by to discuss your magic control issues.

No? Just me, then?

I don’t want to go. I’ve got a boss in a wheelchair (my
fault), a zombie cat who demands his treats on schedule, and no interest in
sorting out the quirks of another magical community.

But when someone slips me information tying my parents’
disappearance to HQ, I can’t pack my bags quickly enough.

I’m soon destroying historical displays, befriending
befuddled ghosts, and focusing more on uncovering the truth about my past than
on learning how to rein in my magic. Which, considering what might happen if I
fail the test HQ has for me… Well, best not to think about that.

This second book of
the Cassie Black Trilogy squeezes you through a magic portal, lodges you in a
hidden corner of the Tower of London, and plunges you into a tale of mysterious
mishaps, peculiar ravens, and TV-binging trolls.

If you like
contemporary fantasy with unforgettable characters, snarky humor, and a touch
of paranormal mystery — or if you’ve ever wondered what those garden gnomes
are really up to — you’ll find it hard to pry yourself away from The
Uncanny Raven Winston
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The Cassie Black Trilogy is a fish-out-of-water tale that
takes you from the streets of Portland to the Tower of London. It’s got magic
and mystery, pastries and zombies, sentient gnomes and an evil wizard…because
there’s always an evil wizard, isn’t there?

**Get it On Sale at Smashwords discounted for the month of
July!**

Amazon * Author’s Site *
Kobo *
Smashwords * Books2Read * Bookbub
* Goodreads

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The Untangled Cassie Black

The Cassie Black Trilogy Book 3

Sometimes taking an
overdose of magic is the least of your problems.

Not only has Cassie Black just lost two people through a
magic portal, but her archenemy, the Mauvais, is threatening to destroy city
after city if Magic HeadQuarters doesn’t hand her over to him…. a proposal HQ
isn’t exactly saying no to.

As the Magic higher ups debate her fate, Cassie refuses to
sit by and watch the grass grow between the toes of the surveillance gnomes.
Biting back her life rule to never get involved, she knows the only way to stop
the Mauvais is to go after him herself.

Which is exactly what he wants. Because the instant Cassie
falls into his hands, the Mauvais will gain the unlimited power he’s always
craved.

So don’t get captured, right? Easy for you to say.

Trouble is, there’s a traitor within HQ who’s proving to be
more devious, more powerful, and with more tricks up the sleeve than anyone
could have ever guessed.

In this page-turning
conclusion of the Cassie Black Trilogy, the curses are flying, the pastries are
plentiful, the bookworms are slithering, and the magical batteries are charged
to capacity.

If you like contemporary fantasy filled with dark humor,
paranormal mystery, and a cast of unforgettably quirky characters, you’ll love
the twists and turns of this conclusion to the first Cassie Black Trilogy.

**Get it On Sale at Smashwords discounted for the month of
July!**

Amazon * Author’s Site
* Kobo
* Smashwords * Books2Read * Bookbub
* Goodreads

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Author of humorous fantasy whodunits full of mythical
misfits and magical mishaps

Many moons ago I was a scientist in a neuroscience lab where I got to play with
brains and illegal drugs. Now, I take wickedly strong tea and turn it into
comic fantasy whodunits full of mythical misfits and magical mishaps that I
hope give you a giggle.
My tales run the gamut from the ever-expanding Cassie Black Trilogy with its
wryly humorous paranormal mysteries to the comical fantasy whodunits in The
Circus of Unusual Creatures, and from light-hearted novellas celebrating my
love of books to short fiction in which I really flex my myth-loving and
humor-craving muscles!

When I’m not creating worlds or killing off characters, I can be found
gardening, planning my next travel adventure, concocting some sort of mess in
the kitchen, or working as an unpaid servant to one very spoiled cat and some
very demanding squirrels.

Website * Bluesky * Bookbub * Amazon
* Goodreads

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Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!

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Enter The Cassie Black Trilogy Giveaway Here

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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 for The Deadly Tea organized by Goddess Fish Promotions.

Author Rachel Dacus will be awarding a $20 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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The Deadly Tea

By Rachel Dacus

 

 

Genre: Cozy Mystery

Synopsis

Most sleuths don’t have the advantage of talking to the murder victim for clues, but Saffron has a window into the afterlife. The problem is, she’s not a detective and has no wish to be.

In the charming heart of London’s Notting Hill, Saffron juggles motherhood, running an animal welfare foundation, and counseling recently deceased spirits—the invisibles. But her peaceful routine is upended when a spirit insists she solve the mystery of his untimely death. Lucas Troy pops into her awareness claiming he was killed and demanding she figure out who did it. He wants justice before he’ll agree to move on. But Saffron’s role isn’t to play detective, but to help each invisible plan for the next adventure in living. She asks Lucas if he suspects anyone in the circle at his aunt’s tea party where he died. He can’t imagine anyone wanting to kill him, but he persuades Saffron to interview them all.

She feels for Lucas, who had hardly begun his life, and she tries to persuade him that he can have a great future next lifetime, but finally she gives in and agrees to a little investigating. If she finds out something, perhaps he’ll agree to move forward. But the closer she gets to the possible killer, the more she’s in danger. Saffron has no wish to join Lucas in The Room Over There.

Settle in to a cozy mystery with a touch of the supernatural, the heartwarming chaos of family, and the charm of London’s Notting Hill. “Interesting characters, intriguing mystery.”

Enjoy this peek inside:

It was glorious to dawdle around the bohemian and vintage shops on Portobello Road, and the addition of rare April sunshine in London made it seem to Saffron like her spa day. Not that she ever got to have those, as most mothers of young children didn’t. But today, browsing and shopping, she indulged herself in a glorious solitude amid the crowds. This busy street was her paradise, and she needed just a few more things for the children’s Easter outfits, but hoping not to find them too quickly.

Traffic and people swirled around her, and she thrilled to the bright colors, food stalls, brushes of music wafting out of open doors. She would forever be a tourist in her adopted city of London. Notting Hill was so like her San Francisco Bay Area, but snootier. In many ways, more exciting.

Peering into windows, she thought about the perfect bow tie she wanted for Percy’s suit, so her seven-year-old son didn’t look like a tiny banker. Four-year-old Freida could use a flower pin for her pinafore dress. Focusing on these ideas was such a pleasure. Saffron tried to wipe the smile off her face, remembering that Londoners did not walk around smiling, though Californians often did.

A passerby jostled her, and as she stopped to check her bag, a low voice drifted down. “Hey! Anyone here?”

Hella damn. An invisible. Another drifting spirit.

“I’m here,” she whispered. “I’m busy, as you can see. You can see me, right?”

“I see a lot of hair. Curly. Are you some kind of animal?”

Saffron huffed. “You’re looking at the top of my head. Come down lower, so you can see my face.”

Some might call it being haunted, but Saffron called it helping invisibles. She wasn’t often contacted by newly dead people, but occasionally one popped into her vicinity. They always needed orientation and comfort after the trauma of dying.

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About Author Rachel Dacus:

Rachel Dacus is the author of eight novels and five poetry collections. Her fiction features love and relationships, exotic locations and intrepid heroines, and emotional journeys of self-discovery, all with a touch of the supernatural. Her poetry, stories, and essays have appeared widely in print and online literary journals and anthologies. She enjoys life in the beautiful San Francisco Bay Area, with its coast and trails where she walks her tiny but mighty Silky Terrier with her architect husband.

Website / Facebook / X / Instagram

Amazon

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GIVEAWAY

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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.

 

THOSE WHO SHALL DIE by Michael Bradley Banner

THOSE WHO SHALL DIE
by Michael Bradley
June 22 – July 17, 2026 Virtual Book Tour

 

 

Synopsis:

A collective of mystery writers, known as the Society of Fibbers, has captivated thousands with their addictive podcast—catapulting each member into the limelight. But when one of their own is found dead under chilling circumstances, the remaining Fibbers realize their newfound fame may have painted a target on their backs. Rebecca Stanchion, one of the group’s co-founders, is convinced her friend’s murder is a tragic case of domestic violence—until a sinister attempt on her own life shatters that theory and threatens her family. Meanwhile, Zach Hargrove, a fellow writer, becomes obsessed with the cryptic black cards left at both crime scenes. Each card seems to whisper a warning: the killer is watching. Is this the work of a fan driven to madness, or has betrayal seeped into the heart of the Society itself? As an annual writers’ conference approaches, Zach and Rebecca race against time to unmask the killer before the Society of Fibbers’ headline appearance turns into a deadly final act.

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Praise for Those Who Shall Die:

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“Michael Bradley has done it again! Those Who Shall Die is a thrilling novel of mystery and suspense, a tense and twisty page-turner that will leave you desperate to learn who is killing mystery authors and why.” ~ Lisa Malice, bestselling author of Lest She Forget, winner of the 2023 IBPA Best New Voice in Fiction award. “A well-written, clever whodunit with crafty twists that will keep readers guessing.” ~ Jennifer Sadera, award-winning author of I Know She Was There. “… keeps the reader’s head spinning as secrets emerge, friendships fail, alliances dissolve, and animosities rise to surface until the final betrayal is revealed. A page turner that plumbs the depths of ambition, betrayal, and murder.” ~ Jane Kelly, Author of the Meg Daniels mysteries.

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Those Who Shall Die Book Trailer:

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Book Details:

Genre: Amateur Sleuths, Suspense Thrillers

Published by: Initium Books Publication Date: July 7, 2026 Number of Pages: 388 ISBN: 9780986200243 (ISBN10: 0986200247)

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

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Enjoy this peek inside:

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Chapter One
Zach Hargrove held the serrated hunting knife in a white-knuckled grip as he silently crept forward. No room for mistakes this time. This had to be silent, swift and deadly. Just one fierce thrust into the carotid artery. It would be messy, but she had to die. Nellie sat—unmoving—in a black leather office chair, facing the third-floor windows that looked out over Old Mill Creek. If she was aware that he was behind her, she gave no sign. Her dark straggly hair hung over the back of the chair in tangled clumps. Zach couldn’t remember the last time he’d run a brush through it. She needed a wash too, but he’d given up on that long ago. Nellie had been exactly what he needed at first, but after so many years, she’d become more of a burden than a help. He hated having to move her heavy, awkward body from chair to chair, room to room. Caring for her had become arduous. No one would miss Nellie if he got rid of her . . . Her head tilted to the right, blocking her neck from his view, and he hesitated. He wouldn’t be able to strike cleanly from this direction with her head tilted. He swapped the knife from his right hand to his left. The rubber handle felt awkward in his grasp. A few practice swings with his non-dominant hand felt odd and clumsy, so he tried some overhead plunges. Maybe he could stab Nellie in the back of the neck instead. A quick blow to sever her spinal cord, and she’d die in seconds. What if he yanked her head back and ran the knife across her neck, slitting it open from side to side? He shook his head. Too clichéd. Everyone slashed throats these days. He toyed, for a moment, with driving the knife through the back of the chair and into Nellie’s back. I’d never get the knife deep enough to kill her, he thought. She’d survive with a flesh wound—if that happened, he’d never hear the end of it. With a frown, he shifted the knife back to his right hand and decided to continue with his original plan: one fast jab to the right side of the neck. Zach glanced at his prey. Nellie remained still, oblivious of what he was about to do. He inched forward, his gray Skechers silent on the plush beige carpet. His fingers tightened on the knife handle, and he drew his arm back. The muscles on his shoulder were taut, but his arm had a slight tremble. He had to get this right on the first try. After two more cautious steps, he stood behind Nellie, staring down at a scalp of unkempt hair. Oh, how he hated that hair. With one barbaric swing, he brought his arm down, but the blow didn’t go quite as planned. The knife tip deflected off her head, tangled in a clump of hair, and plunged into Nellie’s shoulder. “Damn it,” Zach shouted. He stood for a moment, studying his handiwork. Nellie slumped forward, the knife standing tall in her shoulder. He tried to withdraw the knife slowly, but the serrated blade caught on several threads and tore the seam in Nellie’s shoulder. Clumps of polyester stuffing—like giant cotton balls—tumbled out of the hole and fell to the floor. Zach let out a long sigh as he placed the knife on the nearby desk. Now he’d have to sew her up. He spun the office chair around and stared at Nellie. Her featureless face and black button eyes stared blankly back at him. Patches—both big and small—covered her arms, abdomen, head, and legs—scars of the many instances of his mistreatment. “I’m glad you don’t hold a grudge,” he said. Zach wrapped his arms around the life-size dummy and lifted her out of the chair, her canvas skin rough on his bare arms. A trail of white filling marked his steps as he manhandled her across the room and propped her up on the sofa. Dropping into his desk chair, he reviewed the previous few paragraphs he’d written just before he attempted to kill Nellie. The murder scene “seemed” to flow, but he wasn’t satisfied with the way it turned out. His antagonist—the mysterious Mr. Price—had entered the home of Dallas Kincaid with the intention of killing Kincaid’s new girlfriend. But Zach had found the scene difficult to write. There was something about the logistics that bothered him, hence his attempt to “kill” Nellie, his long-time partner for acting out crime scenes. For her part, Nellie had endured a dozen or more stabbings, being thrown from windows, run over by cars, and even shot twice. And yet she never once complained. Zach stood again, snatched a Bic pen from the desk, and paced around the room, pausing on occasion to glance out the windows that covered all four walls. The third floor of his house, his “Author’s Loft,” as he liked to call it, had a 360-degree view of the surrounding yard as well as the creek that flowed past the back of his property. The small Delaware town of Lewes hadn’t been his first choice of places to call home. But when he’d first toured the house three years ago, the bright openness of the room couldn’t have been more perfect for him. It satisfied his need for a place to write, and the room’s openness was preferred over the more confined spaces he’d seen in every other house he’d toured. He’d put an offer on the place immediately and moved in a month later. As he paced, Zach furiously clicked the button on the pen with his thumb. He passed the lone bookshelf, stuck in the corner between the adjoining walls’ windows, and paused to study the colorful hardback spines of his previous eight Dallas Kincaid Mystery novels. Five of them had become New York Times bestsellers, but not the last two. His protagonist, Dallas Kincaid, had become increasingly more difficult to write over the past couple years. The character had become too clichéd, too much like every other amateur detective in the market, and Zach was struggling to keep each new book fresh and original. He was ready for something new, something different. “This will be the last Kincaid novel,” he’d told his agent, Mariah Maddison. “Don’t be too hasty,” she’d said. “You might regret those words once the book is released.” With a sigh, Zach slipped the Bic pen into his pants pocket, returned to his desk, and hovered his fingers over the keyboard of his laptop. He stared at the text on the screen, the words fading together into a jumble of pixels that made no more sense than when he’d read them a few minutes ago. Pushing back from the desk, he growled, “Hell,” and stood, rounding the half wall that hid the stairs from view and descended into the house below. In the kitchen, Zach grabbed a Sierra Nevada Pale Ale from the fridge, twisted the top off and took a long sip. A calendar—tacked to a nearby corkboard—was open to the month of June. A quick glance over the dates made his stomach churn. He had until mid-July to finish the first draft of the next Dallas Kincaid novel. That gave him six weeks. The manuscript was only thirty percent done. He sighed as he eyeballed the next few weeks. There was an upcoming recording session for the Society of Fibbers podcast. A book signing with Jasper Stone and Martina Vargas in Virginia. He flipped up the calendar page and looked over July. The week after Independence Day was blocked out for ThrillNYC in New York City. Damn, that only gives me five weeks to finish the book. His stomach twisted in knots as his anxiety rose. Zach moved through the open dining room to the sliding glass door, stepped onto his back deck, and gazed out across the creek. The tide was out, and the muddy banks were exposed to the Tuesday afternoon sun. An eagle was perched in the tree that hung over the water. The lush cordgrass stood tall along the edges of the creek, outlining the maze of the twisting waterway. A gentle breeze rustled the tips of the grass. The faint aroma of marsh water punctuated each deep breath. So peaceful. So relaxing. He closed his eyes and listened to the tranquility around him. But it did little to subdue the angst within him. When was his next therapy appointment? Maybe it was time to try some of the meds his therapist had so often suggested. From within the house, the shrill of his mobile phone interrupted the serenity of the moment. Moving back into the kitchen, he scooped up the phone from the counter where he’d left it. The voice that greeted him was grave and somber. “Zach? It’s Rebecca. Something terrible has happened. Martina Vargas is dead.” *** Excerpt from Those Who Shall Die by Michael Bradley. Copyright 2026 by Michael Bradley. Reproduced with permission from Michael Bradley. All rights reserved.

 

 

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About Author Michael Bradley:

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Michael Bradley

Michael Bradley is an award-winning author from Delaware who started life as a radio disc jockey, working at stations in New Jersey and West Virginia. His time in radio provided him with a wealth of fond, enduring, and sometimes scandalous memories that he hopes to one day commit to paper. After spending eight years “on-the-air,” he realized that he needed to get a real job. He has spent the next twenty or so years working in Information Technology. And yes, he has said “try turning it off and on again” more times than he wants to admit. Never one to waste an experience, he used his familiarity with life on the radio for many of his suspense novels. His third novel, DEAD AIR (2020), won a Foreword INDIES Award and a IBPA Benjamin Franklin Award.

Learn more about Michael Bradley and his books:

mbradleyonline.com Amazon Author Profile Goodreads – @mjbradley88 BookBub – @mjbradley88 Instagram – @mjbradley88 Threads – @mjbradley88 Facebook – @mjbradley88

 

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Tour Participants:

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The Sea Queen’s Key

By R.S. Kellogg

 

Genres: Adult, Fantasy

At eighteen, Mira is one of the last humans in Breadcove Bay with formal training in Fire and Heat magic outside the faculty of Borealis University. Masitro has already lost a string of talented fire‑workers to failed confrontations with Shora, the Ice Queen, whose sightings creep closer to the city every month.

Mira just wants to get home for winter break.

The politics of a rogue ice queen and a missing mermaid queen get in the way.

Visit the Kickstarter NOW!

If you enjoy:

• Cozy fantasy with higher stakes
• Fairytale retellings with no romance, but all the emotions!
• Stories where asking the right questions matters more than force…

Then Welcome to the Sea Queen’s Key!

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About Author R.S. Kellogg:

R.S. Kellogg writes the Everyday Goddess Stories, the Mermaid Magic Tales, and fiction in the story realms of Breadcove Bay and Agratica, among other places.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook

 

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Camp Shifter Series

By DJ Jennings

 

Genres: Adult, Paranormal, Romance

Welcome to Camp Shifter, where one mysterious letter changes everything. Hidden from the human world, Camp Shifter helps newly awakened shifters navigate their new lives—and discover the fated mates destiny has chosen for them. Filled with irresistible attraction, laugh-out-loud moments, emotional journeys, and steamy romance, these stories feature bears, wolves, owls, and other shifters finding love when they least expect it. From enemies-to-lovers and rejected mates to second chances and insta-love, the Camp Shifter Series delivers heart, humor, passion, and happily-ever-afters in a world where fate always has a plan—and love changes everything.

Goodreads / Amazon

Now on Kindle Unlimited!

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Enjoy this peek inside:

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OWL BE BEAR FOR YOU

 

The sudden kiss took Mara by surprise, Jack’s mouth slanted against hers with a determined passion that she matched without words. For the past forty minutes all she could think about was his face, his body, his eyes, those lips. She reached up and tore her glasses off, tucking them haphazardly into the outer opening of her purse, smashed between them as passion’s frenzy took hold.

Now that she was in his arms, his thighs hard against her belly, his arms warm against her shoulders, she was nothing but pink fire and molten blood.

A beat pounded between them, as if their hearts were in sync, his tongue dividing her mouth and tickling her teeth, the kiss as dangerous as it was unnerving.

Dangerous because Mara felt herself falling for a man she barely knew.

Unnerving because it all felt so right.

She was supposed to argue with herself, fight against this tidal wave of emotion, tell herself she was being reckless and foolish.

Those words weren’t there.

Instead, there were only fevered kisses and touches that made her sigh for more. Now that she was in his arms, she wondered how she would ever live anywhere without being touched by him.

Breaking the kiss, she said breathlessly, “I’m so sorry I never answered your text.”

“You can make it up to me with another kiss.”

And before she could say yes, her tongue was in his mouth, dancing against his, their lips enjoying each other with an abandon that bordered on criminal.

“Get a room.” Two different voices, one male, one female, said the words in unison. Mara broke away from Jack and stared at Sharon and Jim. The two were laughing and nudging each other. Given Mara’s reputation as the prim and proper librarian who never dated, she could only imagine what they were thinking as she totally lost it in front of them.

“I’m—I—oh, I’m so sorry!” Mara stuttered, struggling to catch her breath and gather her wits at the same time.

Jack remained in place, his face suddenly serious, his arm remaining protectively around Mara’s waist.

Without a word, he guided her to the main door and outside.

Her back was against the brick building, his mouth hot and frenzied on hers, before she could even look up at the night sky and spot the moon. Pressing her breasts against his wide chest, she pawed at him, her hands unable to stop touching him.

All the parts that were allowed in public, at least.

Jack’s fevered breath poured onto her neck like hot silk. “I have never been like this with a woman before,” he groaned, his tongue making warm, wet love to the base of her throat. “You do this to me, though. Only you. It’s like—” His abrupt halt gave Mara pause.

“Like fate?”

 

YOU SHOOK ME HOWL NIGHT LONG

 

Prejudice against shifters was still a thing.

Oh, how it was, indeed. Risa’s heart squeezed and she fought to maintain steady breathing.

She knew what it was like to be discriminated against for being a shifter.

Fourteen months ago, Pole had dumped her, two days after she got The Letter.

Timing really was everything.

He ghosted on her. Just… disappeared. Stopped answering her texts and calls until she had to get on the flight for her month at Camp Shifter. By the time she’d returned home, he’d moved.

And changed his phone number.

Fuck Pole.

“Earth to Risa? You there?” Danielle gave her a curious look. “You seem awfully pissed about this issue.”

“What? No. I’m fine.”

“And you’re the calmest, most serene staff member here at Camp Shifter, so when you get angry, we know something’s very wrong,” Travis added with a smirk.

“I am?” She tried to deflect the anger question.

“People love your classes,” he said with a shrug.

“That’s because we’re naked.”

“And a few hate it.”

“I know,” she said with a sigh. “Some of them have a long way to go toward accepting their bodies.”

Danielle leaned forward, chin in her hand, and gave Risa a searching look. “That’s why your calmness is so important. You make people who have been shamed for their size, their shape, their very being, feel like they can be themselves for the first time ever. That’s a gift, Risa.”

The squeeze around her heart lessened.

“Thank you.”

Danielle’s worry lines between her eyes reappeared.

“And we need to do everything we can to keep all the camps running.” She stood, giving Josh and Travis looks Risa couldn’t decipher. “Let’s go talk to the medical researchers about rabies screenings,” she muttered.

“Great. Just what I want to do on draft day,” Travis said with a groan.

“Draft day?” Risa asked.

“You know. Football draft.”

Her body went cold. “Oh.”

Danielle laughed. “Not a fan?”

“I hate football.” And with that, Risa stood and took her tray to the dishwasher section, her quiet morning coffee disrupted by rabies.

And memories.

 

DARKNIGHT OF THE MOON

 

Andie sat in her 9 a.m. class, Meditation and Your Inner Shifter, and tried really hard to be aware and present.

She failed.

Shira Prakash was a wise old woman, slow and incredibly bendy. As she stared at her teacher’s braid, the long, tight weave of it going all the way down past the woman’s butt crack, Andie wondered whether Shira was a snake or a sloth. She’d learned here at Camp Shifter that asking someone what kind of animal they were could be a landmine. Some people were excited to share the reality with you.

Others found the question to be an invasion of privacy.

Andie was an open book, so she didn’t understand the people who were more introverted and secretive about the kind of animal they became when nature took over. Weren’t they all here to learn about and explore the core self?

These thoughts filled her mind, all jumbled and spinning as she sat with her legs crossed, the backs of her hands pressing into her knees. If she were being graded for Meditation and Your Inner Shifter, she would definitely be failing the course.

“Imagine your core animal,” Shira said, her elegant fingers stretching long and splayed as she moved her arm to the right, like a large bird, wings and feathers spreading. “You are receiving their vibration into your root chakra.”

A fox shifter named Sally leaned over and whispered, “What’s a chakra?”

Andie’s stomach growled in response. “I don’t know, but it sounds pretty tasty.”

Giggling, Sally quickly righted herself and closed her eyes again, hands in proper meditation position as the teacher cocked one eyebrow but said nothing. The fox’s red hair rested in long tendrils on her shoulders, her slightly slanted eyes beautiful when closed.

“If it is hard to focus,” Shira said, “consider labeling what you are experiencing inside, as you attempt to peel back layer after layer to access your inner shifter. No one is perfect when it comes to meditation. In fact, that is why we call it practice,” she continued.

Andie felt an enormous sense of relief at that. At least there was a reason why she couldn’t figure out how to do this. Calming her mind was as foreign to her as climbing Mount Everest.

“When you find yourself invaded by stray thoughts that take you away from accessing the emptiness that you seek, just give them a name: ‘That’s a thought.’ When you think about lunch as you’re trying to find your inner animal, think to yourself, ‘That’s a thought.’ When your mind drifts to a bill you forgot to pay, or a craving for coffee, or ‘Did I remember to take my medication this morning?’, just tell yourself, ‘Oh! That’s a thought’; ‘Oh! That’s a thought.’”

Sally leaned over and whispered, “And if you can’t stop thinking about DarkLover, ‘Oh! That’s a thought.’”

Andie covered her mouth, giggling hard. She had felt him outside, her pores tingling and alert, aware of him out there. How do you go through session after session of training, she wondered to herself, when the very person you want to meet most is there on the periphery? He was on the edges of the camp, she knew.

No one had told her this. It was more than instinct, even. She knew it, the way that she knew who she was. It was there, planted deep inside her by some force she didn’t understand. Nothing in her life had compared to this feeling, pure sensation and an intuitive knowing combined inside to create a strange power that connected her to him.

Was she imagining this? Was her obsession with DarkLover running amok, just some wish-fulfillment frenzy that she was indulging?

She didn’t know. She couldn’t know. She wouldn’t be satisfied until she met him.

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About Author Darla Josephine:

The author of the Camp Shifter series, Darla Josephine “DJ” Jennings, is originally from Ohio but now lives in Massachusetts in a household full of people who drive her nuts, but she loves them anyhow. She fills her days with writing, business management, and the never-ending task of herding cats.

Learn more about her in the New York Times bestselling novel, Random Acts of Crazy by Julia Kent, where she stars as one of the main characters. That’s right! DJ Jennings isn’t real, but Julia Kent sure is. 🙂

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Instagram

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The Wednesday Box

By Jonathan Kieran

 

Publication date: June 18th 2026
Genres: Dark Fantasy, Fantasy, Horror

Some stories begin with “Once Upon a Time…”
This one begins with loneliness.

From the bestselling author of WistWood comes THE WEDNESDAY BOX, an illustrated supernatural horror novel for readers who love the haunting edge of stories like Coraline, The Thief of Always, The Graveyard Book, Neverwhere, and The Nest.

“At its heart, it’s a brilliant coming-of-age tale that isn’t afraid to get dark, showing the world through the eyes of a young girl dealing with heavy, adult-sized burdens.”

“Beneath all the strange events, this is also a story about exhaustion, poverty, protection, and the terrible compromises people make when they’re trying to survive. That emotional foundation makes the darker turns of the story hit much harder.”

May has learned to survive in a world of shrieking subway rails, soot-stained skies, and apartment hallways where silence, caution, and never asking for too much are simply facts of life.

But when a hulking stranger in a raincoat the color of broken promises begins to haunt her steps—on the train, in the tunnels, at her own door—May realizes that keeping quiet will no longer keep her safe.

Wednesday is the only day May cannot be alone.
The only night.

And when her weary mother leaves her with a new caretaker, May discovers that the tempting contents of an ancient box hold dangers far worse than anything she has ever feared

The greatest danger, however, is not what hunts her, but the impossible choice before her…
Tell the truth and risk losing the one person she cannot live without.
Or keep silent and face the darkness alone.

Because below the city, something is hunting.
And it knows her name.

“You’ll feel for May, just as I did. It’s quietly devastating in all the right ways.”

Goodreads / Amazon

Only 99c for a limited time!

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PRAISE for The Wednesday Box

“I was absolutely gripped by how this story manages to be both terrifying and incredibly moving. At its heart, it’s a brilliant coming-of-age tale that isn’t afraid to get dark, showing the world through the eyes of a young girl dealing with heavy, adult-sized burdens. It feels like a fever dream you don’t want to wake up from—part mystery, part dark fairy tale—and the pacing is just perfect. It never rushes; instead, it lets the mystery coil around you until you’re completely pulled in. If you’re looking for a book that challenges you and lingers in your mind long after you finish reading, this is it.”

“From the very first page, The Wednesday Box pulls you into a world of creeping dread and unsettling wonder, masterfully balancing psychological darkness with raw emotional stakes. Thoughtful, tense, and hauntingly beautiful, this is a story whose rich atmosphere and emotional intensity will linger with you long after the final page is turned. You’ll feel for May, just as I did. It’s quietly devastating in all the right ways.”

“With The Wednesday Box, Jonathan Kieran delivers a striking dark fable that effortlessly bridges the gap between coming-of-age fiction and sophisticated adult fantasy. While the story centers on a young heroine navigating a perilous world, its core themes—confronting class divide, deep-seated neglect, and the sheer psychological weight of enduring hardship—track directly with mature, real-world anxieties. Kieran weaves a starkly beautiful tapestry of gothic atmosphere and fairy-tale danger, prioritizing emotional realism over easy genre tropes. It is a sharp, unsettling, and lyrical read that will deeply resonate with anyone drawn to high-stakes psychological tension and evocative, atmospheric storytelling.”

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About Author Jonathan Kieran:

Jonathan Kieran is an author and illustrator with a passion for world travel and ancient history—and an occasionally bewildered grasp of the present. He lives in a rustic house in the woodlands not far from Big Sur, California, where he awaits the future confidently with plenty of firewood, a new cat named Beezley, mercurial internet access, a magical footbridge (troll-infested and everything), and a reasonable supply of Cabernet Sauvignon. There also appears to be a significant Pinot Noir backup; viticultural shortages are not to be countenanced.

Jonathan’s interests are eclectic. He is as likely to regale you with an account of his latest misadventures in the Midi-Pyrénées as he is to ask if you happen to have any spare cookies about the house—and if so, whether you might part with five of them. Nothing piques his interest like a good old-fashioned discussion about cryptozoology, Tuscan cuisine, classical English literature, the perils of pop culture, or the harrowing details of great white shark attacks.

In addition to running up and down various mountainsides to burn off calories accrued from the wanton consumption of baked goods, Jonathan enjoys a good party with people unafraid to laugh, and he veritably lives for bedtime.

He is the author and illustrator of The Wednesday Box, WistWood and the Enchanted Heritage Chronicles, with more adventures to come.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / X / Amazon / Instagram

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Welcome to Pine Cove.

The Mayor is a dog, B&B guests are fugitives, and the pancakes
are burnt.

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Recipe For Murder

A Pine Cove Mystery Book 2

by Marla A. White

Genre: Cozy Mystery

Mel O’Rourke traded her LAPD badge for the quiet life,
running a bed-and-breakfast in tiny, quirky Pine Cove.

But when Jackson Thibodeaux, the charming café owner who broke her heart,
stumbles back into town, her tranquil second act is toast. While attending a
culinary academy in New Orleans, Jackson found the body of a classmate. The
police rule it a suicide, but Mel’s instincts—and Jackson’s near miss with a
bullet—scream murder.
Between a cooking school full of shady suspects, a reformed cat burglar for a
sidekick, and a complicated love triangle involving the deputy sheriff, Mel has
her hands full.

Perfect for fans of the sweetness of Jenn McKinlay and the snark of Elle
Cosimano’s Finlay Donovan.

 

Amazon * Apple
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* Kobo * Bookbub
* Goodreads

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“Dang, woman. You want to take my
certification test for me?” She noticed with no small amount of satisfaction
that, although he’d done a decent job, she’d bested him. Again.

“You’ll do fine,” she teased as she
ejected the clip, put the gun down, and began to reload. Even with the EZ
loader she’d gotten as a birthday gift from her parents a few years ago, she
struggled to get the bullets in. Her father, an ex-cop himself, thought her
lack of dexterity was hilarious.

“Here, let me help you.” Gregg
closed the distance between them, standing so close she felt the heat of his
body. The tang of cordite, pine trees, and the summer blooms scattered around
the outdoor firing range tickled her nose, conspiring to make the moment sort
of romantic as his rough, calloused hands met hers. The thought sent a zing of
electricity through her that she couldn’t quite explain. Before this got any
weirder, she stepped away.

“Gah, I could hear the ‘little
lady’ part of that statement even without you saying it. I’ve got this, thanks
anyway.”

Rather than be offended, he
laughed. They continued practicing their firearm skills for another twenty
minutes until Gregg complained the sound of Mel’s stomach rumbling was loud
enough to be heard even through his protective ear gear. “It’s throwing off my
aim. Are you ready to call it a day?” She felt the heat rise to her cheeks in
embarrassment. “Pizza?”

“You haven’t by chance changed your
stance on the sushi spaghetti combo restaurant, have you?”

He laughed. “No way. You’re welcome
to a sausage caterpillar roll. It’s a hard pass for me. Besides, the pizza
joint carries Redrum beer.”

As they headed to his car, she
teased him. “You can’t fool me, you’re a secret wine lover. And you “know the
name for a type of sushi? I’m impressed.”

She slammed into him when he
suddenly stopped walking. He turned and glanced down at her, standing a good
six inches taller. There was a twinkle of amusement in his eyes as he put one
hand out to steady her, the other to her lips. “Shh, I have a reputation to
protect.”

For a moment, it looked like he was
going to move in to kiss her. For a moment, Mel wanted him to. But whatever
spark had been in his eyes wavered to uncertainty, and he ushered her to his
car without another word.

****

“You’d better hope your boss never
finds out you know all the words to that musical or he’ll insist on drug
testing you.” Mel laughed as Gregg opened the lobby door for her, still
murmuring away in a surprisingly pleasant singing voice. She didn’t normally
wait for any man to open a door, but her hands were full, holding the box of
pizza they’d gotten to bring back for the vultures she knew would be waiting
for her at the inn. He held the door with one hand, a bottle of wine they
planned on sharing while binging episodes of a British cop series they loved
gripped in the other.

As she expected, Gemma, Grandma,
and Poppy materialized from the great room at a speed that suggested they’d
been sitting near the window watching for their return. Their grim expressions,
however, made her stop short. “All right, out with it. Why are you three acting
so weird? We’re twenty feet inside the door, and there hasn’t been one smart
ass remark yet. Who died?” When no one answered, a cold dread bloomed in the
pit of her stomach. She might have dropped the pizza if Poppy hadn’t snatched
it out of her numb hands. “Seriously, is everyone okay? Did something happen?
Is it Liam?”

“No, Mel, it’s me,” a voice said
with a distinctly more pronounced Southern drawl than he’d had the last time
they spoke. An exhausted, pale, but determined Jackson emerged from the
shadows, rubbing at his temple as if to ease an ache. “I really need your
help.”

Relief, anger, hope, and about a
dozen other emotions Mel couldn’t identify came crashing down all at once. “I’m
going to need you to open that wine,” she told Gregg.

He twisted the top off with his
bare hand since their favorite brand of chardonnay didn’t use a “cork. “Done,”
he said as he handed her the chilled bottle, the outside damp with sweat.

She took a healthy gulp straight
out of the bottle before addressing Jackson. “All right, out with it. What do
you want, and it better be good after the bullshit you pulled on me.”

“There’s been a murder.”

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Framed For Murder

A Pine Cove Mystery Book 1

After a life-changing injury, Mel O’Rourke trades in her
badge for bed sheets, running a B & B in the quirky mountain town of Pine
Cove. Her peaceful life is interrupted when an old frenemy, the notorious and
charismatic cat burglar, Poppy Phillips, shows up on her doorstep, claiming
she’s been framed for murder. While she’s broken plenty of laws, Mel knows
she’d never kill anyone. Good thing she’s a better detective than she is a cook
as she sets out to prove Poppy’s innocence.

The situation gets complicated, however, when the ruggedly handsome Deputy
Sheriff Gregg Marks flirts with Mel, bringing him dangerously close to the
criminal she’s hiding. And just when her friendship with café owner Jackson
Thibodeaux blossoms into something more, he’s offered the opportunity of a
lifetime in New Orleans. Should she encourage him to go, or ask him to stay?
Who knew romance could be just as hard to solve as murder?

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Mel gaped slack-jawed at her brother, whose palm covered his face. “Why did you
kidnap Grandma?”

“I did not—ugh!” He answered from behind his hand before shaking off his
frustration and moving to the back seat of the truck to grab their bags. “Mom
forced me to bring her. That’s what the delay was all about. She’s been driving
her crazy, and then this morning she lit the kitchen on fire.”

“She what?!”

“I wasn’t there, so I don’t know exactly, something about the toaster and a
curtain. Anyway, Mom convinced her she should come help you out and halfway up
the mountain she wove this kidnapping story.”

“Help me? How, by greeting guests with her charming personality?” She loved her
grandmother, but her salutation and scathing condemnation of the inn with just
one glance were pretty mild for the old woman. When she really got on a tear,
the best thing was to go to a movie until she wore herself out.

“Beats me but pro tip, do not let her in the kitchen.” Balancing the bags in one hand,
Liam enveloped her with his free arm. “At least, not until we make sure the
insurance covers curtain fires.”

“No need to worry, I just hired someone today who is great in the kitchen.”

He looked at her askance. “Great as in better than you or someone who is actually
a good cook?”

“Shut up.” She laughed in response to the insult. “The guests this morning raved
about the food. For however long she stays, I think she’ll be a plus in the
breakfast department, anyway.”

“Where did you find this culinary genius? Did you put out an ad already?” He held the
door open for Mel and they entered the lobby.

“We didn’t, she found me.” She looked around. “Where’s Grandma?”

The echoes of laughter led the siblings into the Great Room where their grandmother
sat in front of the fireplace chatting away with Poppy. They turned toward Mel
and Liam as they entered.

“Mel, your mother is a hoot,” she gushed.

She narrowed her eyes at the alleged ex-thief, who had to know perfectly well the
woman in front of her was too old to be her mother. Grandma O, however, took
the compliment to heart and patted Poppy’s hand, gracing her with one of her
rare beaming smiles.

To Mel’s surprise, Liam skidded to a dead halt. She turned back to see why and
received the icy blast of the unmistakable storm in his eyes. She’d seen the
same dark expression in the mirror when she was furious. What did he have to be
so angry about? Before she could ask, he dropped their bags and launched into
full hissy fit mode.

“You!” he bellowed at Poppy.

The brunette seemed sincerely surprised at his response. Swiveling her head to see
who else was in the room and finding no one, she met his gaze and pointed to
herself with an exaggerated, “Who, me?” expression.

Her brother spun, targeting his rage at her. “Don’t tell me this is who you hired?”

“You’re only being a grump because you haven’t tried her bacon,” she joked, hoping to
deflate the situation. Years of trying to nail her for any number of jobs she’d
pulled off had frustrated Mel, but she had to admit she always liked her style.
Despite her suspicions when she found Poppy in the lobby this morning, so far
she’d been nothing but charming and kind of fun, so what had she done to piss
off easy-going Liam in the two minutes since they met?

Her brother crossed his arms, stubbornly jutting out his square jaw. “There’s no
way that woman is working here. She nearly killed you once, I’m not giving her
a second chance.”

“You two have met?” The information surprised her, so she let the macho b.s. slide
for now. She didn’t need anyone to protect her, but his anger rolled off him so
calling him on his chauvinism skittered close to throwing gasoline on a fire.

“We had to watch her on the news sound bites, taking her bows for saving your life,
while you lay in that hospital bed, broken and in agony.” Mel had never seen
his eyes blaze with such fury before. She’d been so focused on her own
suffering she’d never thought about what her family had gone through. Liam
clearly had been carrying steamer-trunk sized baggage. “Nobody bothered to
mention she’s the one who put you in danger in the first place. Or that you’re
crippled for life, thanks to her.”

“Crippled?” Poppy’s brows furrowed, her eyes darkening.

“Easy, drama queen,” Mel snarled, “nobody’s crippled.”

“We used to go rock climbing and now you can’t even mount a set of stairs without
getting dizzy.” His exasperation exploded as he paced to the far end of the
Great Room to stare out the floor-to-ceiling glass door at the patio and brook
beyond. What really hurt was he sounded more bummed out for himself losing a
climbing partner than concerned about her.

“Is that true?” Poppy sprang up.

“I’m working on it.” Embarrassed by the whole conversation, she busied herself with
tidying the morning newspapers the guests had left strewn around the sitting
area.

“She nearly killed you, she’s not working here,” Liam repeated without turning away
from the view outside.

Grandma O’Rourke rose to her feet with more nobility than agility, stood between her
two grandchildren, and pronounced, “I like her, and I say she stays,” before
tottering off to the kitchen in a self-professed search for the infamous bacon.

Of course, she liked Poppy, she just paid her a huge compliment. Never mind if she
was guilty of what Liam accused her of doing or not. After putting the last
section of the newspaper back in place, Mel noticed the below the fold story on
the front page and tightened her fist until she almost tore the paper in two.

Scientist Killed in Daring Heist

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Marla White is an award-winning novelist who
prefers killing people who annoy her on paper rather than in real life. Her
first full-length mystery novel, “Cause for Elimination,” placed in several
contests including Killer Nashville, The RONE Awards, The Reader’s Favorite,
and finishing second in the Orange County Romance Writers for Romantic
Suspense. Originally from Oklahoma, she lived in a lot of other states before
settling down in Los Angeles to work in the television industry.  She currently
teaches at UCLA Extension and gives seminars about the art of script coverage.
When she’s not working on the next book, she’s out in the garden, hiking,
cheering on the LA Kings, or discovering new craft cocktails.

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For Liberty and Love

By Shanna Hatfield

 

(Petticoats & Patriots, #1)
Publication date: June 16th 2026
Genres: Adult, Historical Romance

Courage built a nation. Love made it worth fighting for.

Throughout 250 years of American history, a well-loved locket finds its way into the hands of eight spirited heroines—each standing at the crossroads of love and destiny, and each inspired by a true patriot. As it journeys from one heart to the next, these stories unfold with sweet romance, unwavering hope, and a deep love of country, proving that even in uncertain times, love is always worth the risk. Start reading the Petticoats & Patriots series today!

She never intended to become a spy … or fall for one.
Philadelphia, 1776

As whispers of revolution turn swell into a roar for freedom, Lucy Carlson is no longer content to simply watch from behind the counter of her father’s jewelry shop. When a mysterious woman—none other than Martha Washington—leaves behind a locket, Lucy discovers the piece is more than a pretty keepsake. The necklace is a secret vessel for the revolution that carries the promise of love.

Drawn into a dangerous spy ring, Lucy begins crafting coded messages concealed within the locket’s clever design, living a secret double life and risking everything she holds dear in a time of sacrifice and war.

Continental soldier Branch Barton is a man defined by duty. Tasked with rooting out traitors, he moves through the shadowed world of deception and divided loyalties. He’s trained to trust no one, yet he finds himself drawn into a slow-burning connection with the jeweler’s spirited daughter.

But when Lucy begins to suspect Branch may be a Redcoat in disguise, their fragile bond is tested by mistaken identity, growing mistrust, and the threat of betrayal.

In a war where even allies can become enemies, Lucy and Branch must navigate a world of hidden truths and guarded hearts. With the fate of the colonies—and their hearts—hanging in the balance as Lucy delivers a message in enemy territory, will they find the courage to trust each other and choose love?

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Enjoy this peek inside:

Lucy rushed into the shop and drew up short at the sight of the man who had stood across the street earlier, leaning against her workbench. Despite being so taken aback by his presence, she couldn’t help but admire his muscular form and his handsome features.

When he removed his cocked hat and nodded politely, her gaze fell on the sun-kissed golden hair of his head, traveled down to expressive brows that raised slightly at her perusal, and hesitated at soulful eyes the color of moss caught in a beam of sunshine. His full lips and defined jawline added to his masculine allure. As he straightened and stepped toward her, she had the fleeting thought that he moved with strength and purpose, as though he was in full control of himself and his surroundings.

“Hello, Miss Carlson,” he said in a soft, deep voice that made Lucy’s knees feel unexpectedly weak.

Or perhaps the weakness came from realizing she’d stupidly left the ledger open and out in plain sight for anyone to read the entries. Not that she nor her father had anything to hide, but she didn’t think the tall man with a commanding bearing had any right to know who purchased merchandise in their store.

“May I help you, sir?” Lucy asked in a crisp tone as she strode behind the workbench, closed the ledger, and slid it onto the shelf where her father kept it.

“I came to retrieve something my…” He hesitated just long enough for Lucy to grow suspicious of his intentions and motives. “… aunt left here. A pair of gloves. Aunt Patsy sent me to retrieve them.”

Lucy could have easily handed over the gloves, which were sitting next to her tools just inches from where she stood, but she didn’t. Surely, he had to know she’d seen him lingering across the street, watching for Patsy.

Did the man mistake her for a complete dunce? Or did he think his attractive features and a voice that rumbled like a summer thunderstorm wrapped in velvet would leave her so captivated that she would bow to his every whim and wish?

Affronted, she stiffened and lifted her chin. “I will give … Patsy the gloves when I next see her. If that is not her preference, then please bring a note from her to indicate otherwise.”

“I assure you, Miss Carlson, I mean no harm. My aunt was quite distressed to realize she’d misplaced her gloves. They were a gift from someone quite dear to her heart, and it would be a tragedy for her to lose them.”

“And I assure you, Mister …” She paused, since the man had failed to introduce himself.

“Barton. Burwell Barton at your service,” he said with a bow, then offered her a boyish grin that caused her stomach to flutter. “But my friends call me Branch.”

“Branch,” she repeated, wondering if the name had anything to do with the series of barely noticeable moles on his left cheek that were shaped like a curved tree branch.

As though he could read her thoughts, his fingers brushed over his cheek. “A mark from birth, I suppose. Now, may I please have my aunt’s gloves?”

Lucy shook her head. “No, you may not. I intend to place them into her hands myself, sir. Now, unless I can interest you in a set of buckles or perhaps a snuff box, then I’ll have to ask that you depart. My family is waiting for me.”

“My apologies, Miss Carlson.” He backed toward the door. “My intent was not to insult or upset anyone.”

“Yes, well, I …” When she looked up into his face and caught him smiling, it was as though all the words she’d planned to say fell back down her throat. Mercy, but he was handsome with those sharp cheekbones and a bottom lip that seemed designed for passionate kisses.

Passionate kisses? Heavens above! What was she thinking? For all she knew, this man could be one of the king’s spies.

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About Author Shanna Hatfield:

USA Today Bestselling Author Shanna Hatfield writes sweet romances rich with relatable characters, small town settings that feel like home, humor, and hope.

Her historical westerns have been described as “reminiscent of the era captured by Bonanza and The Virginian” while her contemporary works have been called “laugh-out-loud funny, and a little heart-pumping sexy without being explicit in any way.”

When this farm girl isn’t writing or indulging in rich, decadent chocolate, Shanna hangs out with her husband, lovingly known as Captain Cavedweller. She also experiments with recipes, snaps photos of her adorable nephew, and caters to the whims of a cranky cat named Drooley.

To learn more about Shanna or the books she writes, visit her website http://shannahatfield.com or find out more about her here: linktr.ee/ShannaHatfield

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GIVEAWAY

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For Liberty and Love Blitz

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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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